#which is where my gaslighting feels are partly coming from though so it's not like that's not relevant to the issue at hand

[nostalgia-tblr]

have to say one thing fandomwise i'm not enjoying about RTD2 is him getting/taking credit for positive moves when he'd previously been very much part of the problem and we're just pretending that bit never happened. davros shouldn't be a disabled villain, yeah, but you were fine with it before, even adding the wheelchair-using villain in that s2 cyberman story, and i want to know what changed and when. like that's actually a thing worth discussing, what kind of awareness-raising actually works and what didn't?

the tardis is accessible now. good! but the old tardis was just a flat studio floor, it was nu who (back at RTD1) that started adding pointless stairs to the set just because it... looked nice? apparently? so i am glad it has at last lost the useless stairs (for now at least) but why did it have them in the first place? cos i already know that the real answer is "because nobody involved in the production even realised it was an issue." which is normal! i accept that people mostly don't think of these things because they don't have to! even in fandom the fans who first noticed the ramps in the new tardis were the ones with some interest in disability rights (often because they or someone close to them is disabled - as i said most people don't have to be aware of these things (though it'd help tremendously if they were)).

idk there's a level on which i feel like i'm being gaslit? i mean good on him for having learned over time on a number of issues, but pretending he didn't learn makes it all seem a bit disingenuous and also takes away from the fact that he clearly has done some thinking on things and has come to new conclusions, which is good and the sort of thing we can praise without pretending there was no problem to begin with.

[ouatsqincorrect]

Hi, I really love reading your different hcs about the charming-swan-mills-stiltskin fam! So I'm not sure if you've been asked this previously but I'm wondering what headcanons you have about Regina's childhood. I feel like Cora definitely did a number on her a kid, no doubt.

oh absolutely—whether or not it was because she didn’t have her heart or because she was just genuinely a bad person, cora hurt regina big time during those formative years

there were a few moments where regina saw bits and pieces of a cora who could have loved her, but the older she got, the more cora harped on her and the harder things became

because cora wanted her to be queen and would stop at nothing to get there (i mean, she literally forced her daughter to marry a man three times her age just so she could be higher up in the royal chain and live vicariously through regina)

regina was subjected to a lot of royal training as a kid and anything cora considered “childish” was strictly forbidden

she did attend balls sometimes—after all, her family was royalty—and cora would tell her that at these events, she was to be seen and not heard

which is why she doesn’t know how to dance until david teaches her in camelot. cora thought she looked “too ridiculous” dancing and forbade it

she'd gaslight regina quite a bit too. when regina would complain about something (whether it was "my head hurts" or "i'm cold"), cora would tell her she was just being dramatic

which is partly why it takes so long for regina to truly accept that her brain is the way it is because of everything she's been through

a lot of that self hate regina carries with her comes from cora too. many of the things she hates most about herself came from cora’s consistent belittling

also have to mention her father because even though henry sr. was a bit of coward, he was still regina's biggest supporter throughout this time in her life

although he never put a stop to cora's abuse, he would try to comfort regina when he could (he'd sing her a lullaby or sneak in sweet treats cora wouldn't let her have)

[and-claudia]

His Heir pt 23 (Darth Maul x pregnant! reader)

Taglist Here

Masterlist Here

Word count: 3457

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, public-ish sex, P in V, Qi'ra bc she's a warning, GASLIGHTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, masturbation, fingering... I think that's it let me know if I missed something

image not mine

It was hard to imagine I was already 15 weeks pregnant. If I’m being honest, not much felt different from the past few weeks except my stomach had gotten bigger.  At my last appointment, we were told that the baby was measuring about 2.5 weeks ahead of where they actually were which I already knew to expect. Luckily Maul had already helped me order practically a whole new wardrobe that would last me hopefully through the whole pregnancy. 

The only new symptom was I constantly wanted Maul. I had never been or felt this needy ever in my life. Maul didn’t seem to mind this one bit though and had asked me over every night for the past week. I had never actually asked to come over for that purpose until about a week ago. I had tried to take care of my neediness on my own but it just was not working at all. At the moment it felt nice but afterward, I was just left wishing it were Maul. 

I was finally fed up so after the weekly meeting last week I hung back after Qi’ra left. 

“Is everything alright?” Maul asked. 

“Yeah.” I sighed, eyeing the tattoos on his exposed chest. 

Focus, Yn. Focus. 

Maul tilted his head slightly in confusion. 

“You said you would help me with anything during this pregnancy, right?” I asked. 

“Of course.” He answered immediately. 

I took a deep breath, now or never. 

“Okay, I’m just going to be honest with you, Maul. I’ve been like unexplainably horny for the past week. Nothing I’ve tried has helped either. Can I please come over tonight?” I hated the way it came out all whiny. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner, darling?” He asked, with nothing but pure concern, “Of course you can. I’ll make us dinner and take care of you.” 

I wasn’t sure why but I had partly expected him to tease me, even just the slightest bit. But he wasn’t. He was just concerned and understanding. I felt tears prick my eyes.

“Thank you.” I said, fanning my eyes to keep from crying. 

“Of course…” He said sincerely before smirking, “Will you be able to make it through the day? We could always leave early.” 

“Tempting.” I smiled, “I’ll let you know at lunch how I’m feeling.” 

Luckily I made it through the day that day, but today didn’t look as promising. Hell, the day hadn’t even started and I wasn’t doing too well. Maul had already gone to his office, leaving me to sleep for another hour before I needed to get up and get ready as well. However, I wasn’t asleep. I was laying in Maul’s bed, hand between my legs, trying to convince myself that it was Maul down there. It was no use. I needed him.  

I got up, got ready for work and hurried to Maul’s office. I knew he wasn’t doing anything that was technically important, he was just preparing for the day. Upon hearing his door open he looked up. 

“Yn? Why are you here so early?” He asked. 

I shrugged and walked over to his side of the desk. I sat on it and looked down at him. 

“We have at least an hour before anyone else comes in for work…” I said, suggestivly. 

He quirked up one of the ridges on his browbone. 

“That’s true… Any ideas on how to fill that time?” He asked, setting down his holopad and standing up. 

“Yeah, I got a few.” 

He stepped between my legs and I reached up pulled his face down to mine to press a kiss to his lips. He kissed back without hesitation, immediately taking control. A smal moan left my lips. I rolled my hips agaisnt his desk, searching for some type of friction, but untimatle I just ended up nudging my bump against Maul’s torso. 

“Someone’s needy.” He commented, hands coming to grip my hips. 

“Shut up.” I mumbled. 

With my mouth open to speak, he slipped his tongue in and explored my mouth. The taste of his mouth never got old. I could get drunk off of it. It was intoxicating. I felt his warm hand travel up my thigh and under my dress. Higher. Higher. Higher. Finally he reached where I needed him the most. My legs parted without him having to ask. Just as his finger tips grazed over my folds he pulled away. 

“Are you not wearing anything under this?” He asked.

I shook my head. 

“Naughty girl.” He tsked. 

I shrugged and pulled him back to me. He continued to kiss me as his hand returned to where it was. 

“So wet.” He commented. 

“Maul, please.” I begged as his lips moved from my lips to my neck. 

His fingers began pumping in and out of my entrance as his thumb rubbed tight circles on my clit. I leaned back out my hands, pushing my hips as close to the edge of the desk as I could. My head tilted back, giving him more space to leave his mark. It felt amazing but I wanted more. 

I sat up more and reached blindly until they found the waist of his pants. I tugged him forward a bit by my grip on his pants, clearly trying to show him what I wanted. 

“Please.” I asked. 

He pulled away from my neck and brought one of his hands to cup my cheek. 

“I would love to, darling, but there’s not really a good place to do that in here. At least not now that we have to watch out for this one.” He said as his hand came to rest on my bump. 

I usually love and relish in the moments that he talks about our baby but right now I had other things on my mind. 

“There’s a couch in my office.” I said. 

“Your shared office.” He corrected. 

I rolled my eyes, “She never comes in early. Please.”  

I pouted my lip and gave him my best pleading eyes to really drive it home. 

“I can’t say no to you.” He mumbled before pressing a kiss to my lips. 

It was short and sweet before he stepped away and allowed me to get off the desk. I took his hand in mine and lead him through the door that connects the two offices together. 

Once we had crossed the threshold I turned around and began kissing him again. He guided me back to the couch as his hand traveled up to the top of the zipper of my dress, undoing it with one swift motion. I reached and grabbed the bottom of the tunic he was wearing.

“Fair is fair. You get to see my tits, I get to see you.” I said. 

He laughed against my lips slightly. 

“I don’t have breasts, dear.”

“You know what I fucking mean.” I mumbled, leaning back in to kiss him again but he pulled away. 

“You’ve got such a mouth on you when you’re all worked up.” He teased as he pulled off his shirt and dropped it to the ground. 

“Yeah I know, but you love it.” I shot back. 

He undressed the rest of the way, leaving us both naked as he ushered me to sit down on the lavish couch. As he went to kiss me again, it felt like he was crowding my personal space, causing me to shrink under him slightly. He used this to guide me to lay back as he came to hover over me gently. 

While supporting his weight on one hand, he used his other hand to line himself up. After a quick nod from me he began to slide into me. 

My eyes clenched shut. One hand gripped Maul’s upper arm while the other one dug into the fabric of the couch. 

“Fuuuck.” I moaned out and he eased himself in further and further until he was completely in. 

“How the hell are you still so tight? I’ve fucked you every night this week.” Maul mumbled. 

My walls clenched slightly at his words, causing him to be squeezed even more. 

“Shit.” He dropped his head back, chest visibly rising and falling as he tried to breathe deeply. 

“Please tell me that you’re okay for me to move now. If you keep squeezing me like that, I won’t last long.” He said. 

My brain was already fuzzy and all I could do was nod. He pulled back before sliding back in. We’d had sex enough during the past week that he didn’t even have to remember where that sweet spot was. It was all instinctual at this point. 

My high pitched moans felt like they were echoing off the walls along with Maul’s occasional grunt. 

With one hand still supporting himself over me, he brought his other hand to work on my clit again.

My back began to arch slightly and my eyes screwed shut. 

“Maul.” His name left my lips in breathy moans. 

I was walking the line between absolute pure bliss and overwhelming overstimulation and it was sending me to my climax at an almost alarmingly fast rate. 

Then suddenly, Maul stopped mid thrust as the door to the office opened suddenly. My eyes snapped open and my head turned to the door where Qi’ra stood, looking down at her holopad. 

When she stepped in, she glanced up and let out a scream, dropping the device in her hands as she saw both of us naked, fucking on the couch. Her eyes shifted from Maul, then to me, then back to Maul before she locked eyes with me. 

"Don't you know how to knock? Get out!" Maul snapped as he breathed heavily. 

She was clearly too stunned to speak. I smirked as I reached up to cup Maul’s cheek to get him to face me again before I pulled him down to meet my lips with his. That was all it took for Maul to get the hint. He smirked against my lips then rolled his hips to continue his trust into me that had been so rudely interrupted. I moaned against his lips as Qi'ra continued to stand there. 

When I pulled back Maul turned his head to look over to the side at Qi’ra who’s eyes were still locked onto me. 

"Okay, well don't just stand there! Either get to work or get out!" Maul snapped, causing her to suddenly return to the moment. 

She shook her head and screwed her eyes shut before rushing out of the room, nearly tripping over her own feet. 

Maul looked back down to me. 

"Well your work day just got a bit more interesting." He teased, dropping his head down to kiss my neck. 

"Shut up and keep fucking me." I said, strteching my head back to give him more acesss to my neck.

I felt his warm breath dance across my skin as he let out a small, amused laugh at my request. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled before moving on to work on a new marking. 

He began rubbing tight circles on my clit again as the pace of his hips quickened. I was once again racing to my climax. 

“Maul, ‘m close.” I mumbled. 

He continued on, not letting up for even a split second. It wasn’t long until my walls clamped tightly around him, causing him to falter slightly. He finally lessened the pressure on my clit, but continued to pump his hips, helping me ride out my high as long as possible. The increase of friction had him racing to his own climax. I felt him twitch slightly, knoiwng what was to come. On his next thrust he buried himself seemiingly impossibnly deeper before he came. The feeling of his release had me a moaning mess beneath him. 

“Maul.” His name came out as an almost choked moan. 

“I know, I know.” He said gently as he continued to rock his hips as he empty out every last bit of his release deep within my walls. 

My eyes fluttered shut as i laid there trying to catch my breath, chest heaving. Maul slowly pulled out then shift my seemingly weightless body so he could laydown behind me as he turned me to lay on my side. I kept my eyes closed but brought one arm to tuck un my head. Maul did the same then brought his free arm to wrap around my waist as his hand rested on my bump. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to the skin just beanth my ear. 

“I wish we could, but we can’t stay like this for long. We do have work that needs to be done.” He whispered. 

I gave a small nod, “Just 5 minutes.” 

He hummed in response and relaxed a bit more behind me. His body radiated warmth and it was nearly impossible to not feel completely relaxed. I wasn’t sure how long we laid there but now, Maul was gently waking me back up. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep completely.” I said, blinking in the bright light of the room. 

“It’s alright. It wasn’t very long. We need to get moving though, the housekeeping droids will be here soon to clean up.” 

I nodded and slowly sat up with him following close behind. Their was a robe sitting on the foot of the couch. 

“I figured you would probably want to go get cleaned up a bit before returning for work.” Maul said as he reached for it and handed it to me. 

I took with a smile before leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you.” 

I stood with it and began to slip it on, “I’ll probably just run to my quarters real quick since it’s closer.” 

I said and he nodded as he stood to collect his own clothes from the ground and redressed. Once he was I stepped in front of him to give him one last kiss. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit.” I said. 

“Take your time.” He said before we both went our separate ways. 

Instead of just rinsing off quickly, I decided to actually take my time. About an hour later, the housekeeping droids had cleaned the office. And I was returning to the office to actually start my day. 

"Good morning, Qi'ra." I said as I walked into our shared space. 

She looked up at me blankly.

"You okay? You seem a bit pale." I commented. 

Quickly her face heated up and turned red as anger was set ablaze in her eyes. 

"It was Lord Maul this whole time!?" She asked. 

"What?" I cocked my head to the side in mock innocence. 

"You've been fucking Lord Maul all this time! I don’t know how I didn’t put two and two together before. Back when we were ordering the supplies for the compound, the pregnancy tests. You said you were seeing someone, why didn’t you say it was Lord Maul?" She yelled. 

"Qi'ra, I have no idea what you're talking about. Maul and I are not hooking up. I’m carrying his heir. That’s all." I said, I knew denying it would piss her off even more than me just admitting to it. 

I had been waiting for this moment, I was going to have some fun with it. 

"Yes you do! I saw you two!" 

"What? Saw who?" I asked, I looked at her like she had gone crazy. 

"You and Lord Maul were having sec right there on that couch!" She said.

"What couch?" I said. 

“That one!” She said, pointing to where the piece of furniture should have been.

I wasn’t aware that the housekeeping droids removed it from the office which was making this whole thing 10 times better on my end. 

“Qi’ra, did you like drink or something before coming into work? I’m not going to rat you out or anything, but damn. You’re seeing shit, maybe take the day off.” I said, walkign over to sit down at my desk. 

“I know what I saw.” She insisted. 

“Look I don’t know what you saw. But I can asure you that I wasn’t having sex with anyone this morning. Unless sex is slang for puking your brains out. I spent my morning in the refresher with morning sickness.” I said. 

"Oh yeah? Then who did I see?" She crossed her arms over her chest. 

"I don't know, wasn't me, though." 

"Yes it was and you are so going to get fired for it." She said. 

"Okay, I’ll humor you for a moment. Let’s say I did have sex with Maul, on a couch in here that ahs since mysteriously diapereared, I’m not hooking up with him, but just this one time, let’s pretend I had sex with him. Please explain to me how telling Maul that him and I had sex would work, Qi'ra?" I asked trying to get her to ralize how stupid she sounded. 

"It’s clearly an unprofessional work relationship." She said smugly. 

I couldn’t help myself, a loud lush left my lips and I looked at her from where I sat.

"Okay, for starters, in case you hadn’t noticed, we don’t work in a typical work enviroment, Qi’ra. This is a crime syndacate. Normal work protocol doesn’t really exist here. Two, I just want to make sure I’m tracking corectly. You're going to go tell Maul that you caught him and me fucking in this office. Right, that’s your plan?" 

I was desperately trying to get her to relize the major flaw in her plan. 

"Exactly! When he sees how unprofessional you've been, you'll be gone." 

"So, I just want to clarify, you think you saw Maul and I having sex in here this morning, you know think that I've been ducking him for sometime now. So, you're going to go tattle on me to Maul, and you expect him to fire me?" I asked.

She nodded. 

“Qi’ra, let me ask you this. If Maul is the one I’m having sex with, so in other words, he’s been fuck me, why would he fire me if he’s apart of it too?” 

I could see the moment the lightbulb flipped on her head. She stuttered, trying to formulate an answer but failed miserably, "I know what I saw." She snapped finally. 

I threw my hands up in surrender. 

“You know what, Qi’ra, I won’t argue with you. If that’s what you think you saw, then so be it. All I know is that I wasn’t in here this morning. I don’t know what Maul was up to, maybe he has someone.”

I had honestly expected to feel a little hurt by even just saying that, but I was surprised to find it had no effect over me. Perhaps it’s because I knew that despite the fact that we weren’t officially together, Maul and I were much more than just two friends having a baby. Did I want a relationship with him? Of course I did, but I wasn’t sure how to tell him. 

“Why would he be fucking in our office?” She asked quietly. 

I wasn’t sure if she actually meant for me to hear her or not, but I was going to answer regardless. 

“Maybe you finally messed up enough and he’s replacing you.” I said. 

“Or you.” She shot back. 

“Qi’ra my spot here is secure. I’m having his baby, rember?” 

“How could I forget? You flaunt it around constantly…” She mumbled the last bit but once again I heard her. 

“I’m not flaunting it. Just because I’m no longer hiding it, doesn’t mean I’m suddenly flaunting it around. And it’s not my fault that literally everyone else besides you is excited about the future of Crimson Dawn.” I shot back. 

“Whatever, Yn… Just know, if I find out that you’re lying to me and you are hooking up with Maul, and trust me I will find out the truth, I will make you regret it.” She said. 

“Careful. Maul said to report anyone who threatens me or our child. That sounded like a threat to me. I’ll give you one last chance. But if you threaten me again, I’ll let Maul take care of you. And you know by now that there won’t be any coming back from that.” 

My last comment seemed to have gotten her to shut up. She didn’t have anything to say back to me after that. I picked up and began working on my datapad. Focussing on my work was hard though, my mind kept wandering to Maul. It wasn’t like earlier though… no, now I couldn’t help but think about how I was in love with him and how I was finally going to tell him. 

A/N: Remember to always GASLIGHT Qi'ra, Girlboss as Maul's head advisor, and Gatekeep Lord Maul

Taglist: @fan-g0rl @mxkyrie @onceuponanightmareisawme @lothiriel9 @wordsfromshona @kgbtardis @wondermia69 @mh073099 @ktrivia @fifithexeno @perseny @justalittletomato @pomiotszatana @ameliachastain @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @its-me-meg @kbarnes-2001@bluusugar @happyheartsss @clairebear1621 @rljart @xxxqueenlaufeysonxxxxo @lilallybug @ghoulishjester

@kizzyxren if this was/is your tag it does NOT work!!

[imnosuperman12]

To All the Boys I’ve (Kissed) Before pt 3

JW

This is the one that hurt. And coincidentally, I ran into him at IKEA this weekend.

Before I get carried away, the lesson here is that when someone shows you who you are: believe them.

It's not that I don't believe in second chances, clearly. It's moreso that when you're shown a pattern of behavior, don't expect things to change just because time has passed.

My time with you was fun. It was light. You were the first boy that bought me flowers. I'd always wanted to go to a cute painting class, and you took me to one the week after my birthday. I'll never forget the giddy feeling I felt leaning into you as we waited in line to get our paintbrushes. Or the feeling of making pizza from scratch in your kitchen. Or my sides hurting from dying laughing while watching the timeless classics: Freaky Friday and Bridesmaids. When it was good, it was good.

It's the pulling your hand away in public, the feeling of the distance between us even though you're standing right there, the unwarranted ghosting, and the weeks of me gaslighting myself that followed. Not once, but twice. And I hate that I let you have that power over me.

The first time around, I asked myself all the questions. Was it something I did? Did I come on too strong? Show too much of myself too quickly? Carefully made myself calculate where things went wrong when they seemed to be going well.

Just when I was getting over you, I get a text out of the blue saying that you were in a weird headspace, were going to therapy, and wanted to meet up again for coffee.

Green flags, I said. Maybe this time, I said.

Maybe I'll finally be enough.

More coffee dates. Challenging each other on which Taylor Swift era was the best one. Talks of upcoming travels, aspirations of the future. Reflections on how much we each have grown since moving to Seattle.

A string dates later on our second shot together, and I get the text. "It's just not clicking for me."

And I think a part of me would have reacted differently, had I not had the experience I had with SD. A taste of my own medicine. Stringing along someone who is completely fine, who is completely kind, but just isn't the one.

"We gave it our best shot." I said. "Thanks for communicating." Was about all I could muster up.

I certainly cried over it. Partly because I genuinely thought this could be something. But mostly because I let myself be fooled not once, but twice.

Most of all, I'll remember the release of your hand and the miles of distance I could feel between us despite standing right next to each other on the day before it happened each time. Like a flip of a switch. The chemistry, off.

So I can't say I was completely blindsided, and I did learn that I just have to trust my gut when something feels off.

I don't harbor any bad feelings towards him and genuinely hope he finds happiness. I'm just nervous that I'm gonna bring my guarded feelings into the next guy that I try with. I think on some level I should be intentional about protecting myself, but I still believe in allowing yourself to feel all the feelings and communicating what you feel when you feel them. Even if that leaves you vulnerable.

At least you know it's real.

[simplycourageousx]

Venting

I’ve literally had the worst week. I thought I had covid, had to take 4 days off work whilst I waited for test results which eventually came back negative after getting an inconclusive. I was then diagnosed with a lung infection. I called my work and told them I can come back as I’m not contagious and they told me to get a return to work form from my doctor before I came back. So I booked an appointment for the next day, went to my doctor, was told I had high blood pressure and asthma too but that they can’t give me a return to work form as I was never signed off I was just following government guidelines.

I get out of the doctors and I have a phone call from my work, where I begin to tell my manager hey, I just got out of the GP and I’m coming right now to see you. She stopped me talking to tell me that actually, I was fired. Told me not to bother going in.

I have bpd so the fatal blow this would cause anyone was heightened by 10 and so I went instantly into a manic episode and took my £45 to the pub, had a few drinks and then returned home but not before I went to the shop and bought a bottle of vodka. I got home and got very drunk, cried and cried and had a breakdown on the phone to the crisis team who literally said “we care, but we do have a very long queue of other people needing help so we are going to have to keep this short”.

Ended up drunkingly ordering a pizza with the last of my money and crashed out after eating it. I woke up feeling like shit obviously but it was more than just the hangover; I recognised it straight away. I suddenly didn’t want to talk to anyone. Didn’t want to read a book. Tiktok didn’t interest me. Nothing. I stayed at home in bed for 3 days with the lights off and the blinds down and just stared at the wall. I didn’t eat, partly because I had no motivation to get out of bed but also I couldn’t even if I wanted to because I had no money.

The rest of the week has been much the same. My infection isn’t getting any better and I’ve not ate for 5 days now. The days are blending in together. I walked past a mirror yesterday and didn’t recognise the person looking back at me. I tried to call my mum to ask if she could make me some dinner yesterday, to which she said no, and I tried again tonight but I got the same answer. She made sure to send me a photo of her dinner to me though.

It’s like 6:30pm now, and about 20 minutes ago I suddenly felt extremely sick and ended up throwing up, and it was pure red. With what I assume could be blood clots as there were dark red/black lumps there too.

I don’t know what’s happening to me but I’ve pissed everyone off by being ill, losing my job and asking for food so now I don’t have anyone left to call or ask. But I’ve lost all care now.

I’m going to be homeless AGAIN at the end of this month because I lost my job and won’t be able to pay rent. Which means I’ll have to move back to my mums and endure all that entails; gaslighting, verbal abuse, physical abuse, being in the house I was SA in…everything. I feel like I’ve been wandering around the country for years looking for home, somewhere I feel safe. And every time I think I find it, it turns sour. I don’t think there will ever be a place that I belong.

I don’t know where I’m going with this really but I needed to get it out.

[surfalldaybaby]

”A Very Long and Comprehensive Analysis of Feyre’s Experience w/ Trauma and Abuse

- This is not a kind analysis of Nesta but please still read it if you want. It’s not in the wrong tags tho so please don’t rant about how much you love Nesta. I love that for you. Personally, I hate her. :)

Also- I use many of the quotes that @feysandlover and @dont-rattle-aelin used to prove her point that Nesta is abusive because she pulled many of the really jarring ones. 

I was looking through the Rhysand tag and for some reason someone posted something comparing Nesta and Feyre in terms of their trauma, and they said that Nesta had experienced way more trauma than Feyre and I-

That’s disgusting.

First - don’t compare trauma

Second- they were wrong and lacked critical thinking skills that left out Feyre’s full experience with abuse

Nesta was sexually assaulted ( which nobody talks about enough) and her family’s fortune flipped making them poor overnight. Because of this she fostered anger towards her father. I get that. I sympathize with that. She is then taken away from her life and forcefully changed into fae. I cannot imagine what that felt like for her. It must have been devastating. Her whole identity was shifted in one day and she went from hating fae to being fae. Confusing and overwhelming. She then goes into war and develops PTSD and depression from her experiences. She sees her father die and is unable to reconcile her anger and his death. It’s horrible and I cannot even begin to understand the depth of her emotions here. I have zero issue saying that about Nesta because it’s true she has gone through extaordinary trauma and I cannot imagine how she fully feels. She deals with this trauma in unhealthy ways because they only exacerbate her feelings of worthlessness. Not her fault. However, she also treats Mor and Feyre and Rhys in disrespectful ways and Cassian and her have an unhealthy dynamic where they insult each other. Her and Amren have a shaky and partner like relationship but it is by no means a sturdy one. Az and Nesta don’t seem to have a relationship at all. She has no true healthy relationship with anyone but Elain, and you could argue even that is not truly healthy.

Much of Nesta’s trauma is due to extraneous factors and a multitude or variables. It’s valid and it matters just as much as Feyres. They are both real. However the amount of traumatic experiences she has gone through does not come close to rivaling that of Feyre’s and to even try and compare them is disgusting. Trauma should never be compared but I want to show Feyre’s experience in a broader light to show her development from a scared girl to high lady

Feyre was never an active abuser in any relationship she was always the one being abused. Nesta was abused and she was also the abuser. It is important to point that out because it heavily impacts Feyre’s story.

Also, I believe the reason Feyre became so accustomed and slipped so easily into being a victim to Tamlins abuse is because Feyre was already the victim of emotional abuse from her sisters. We see this everyday, research shows that victims of abuse go back to abusive relationship and form new relationships that center around abuse because they are used to it and find it comforting. This is an extraneous point that you can agree with or can argue against it’s just a personal connection I made. However, it is very evident how Nesta and Elains treatment of Feyre affects her. She has no self confidence, she remains illiterate and with no real knowledge of polite manners ( something important in the real world, something that holds her back from being able to assimilate into the real world), her spirit is broken down at home because she knows  that verbal attacks are going to come and Nesta is going to lash out and say horrible disgusting things to her if she asks her to do something or holds her accountable for her lack of work. She is constantly degraded for everything that she does and it has a pronoucned effect on her psyche throughout the trilogy and novella. 

Like Nesta, Feyre also had to go through her family losing their fortune, she also had to bear the weight of her promise to her mother, she had to support her sisters financially going into the forest alone to hunt animals just as big as herself at 14. She never had money for herself because her sisters took it from her. Like they literally took all her money to buy things they did not need, leaving Feyre with basically nothing.

“I’d love a new cloak,” Elain said at last with a sigh, at the same moment Nesta rose and declared: “I need a new pair of boots.””“I kept quiet, knowing better than to get in the middle of one of their arguments, but I glanced at Nesta’s still-shiny pair by the door. Beside hers, my too-small boots were falling apart at the seams, held together only by fraying laces... I drowned them out as they began quarreling over who would get the money the hide would fetch tomorrow…”

 And Nesta complains and whines and doesn’t stop gaslighting Feyre because of her lack of hard work. But, she doesn’t want to do work herself because she thinks it’s beneath her. 

“I thought you were going to chop wood today. Nesta picked at her long, neat nails. “I hate chopping wood. I always get splinters. She glanced up from beneath her dark lashes. Of all of us, Nesta looked the most like our mother—especially when she wanted something. “Besides, Feyre,” she said with a pout, “you’re so much better at it! It takes you half the time it takes me. Your hands are suited for it—they’re already so rough.” My jaw clenched. “Please,” I asked, calming my breathing, knowing an argument was the last thing I needed or wanted. “Please get up at dawn to chop that wood.” I unbuttoned the top of my tunic. “Or we’ll be eating a cold breakfast.” Her brows narrowed. “I will do no such thing!”

She doesn’t care about Feyre or the fact that starving is their new reality. Poverty is what they live in. We all know if Feyre didn’t go hunting Nesta would be furious at Feyre and belittle her and make her feel small and responsible for their hunger.

“Take those disgusting clothes off.” 

“Any bit of praise for anyone—me, Elain, other villagers—usually resulted in her dismissal.”

“Is there a problem, Feyre?” She flung my name like an insult, and my jaw ached from clenching it so hard.”

“You stink like a pig covered in its own filth. Can’t you at least try to pretend that you’re not an ignorant peasant?”c“Take those disgusting clothes off.” 

“What do you know?” Nesta breathed. “You’re just a half-wild beast with the nerve to bark orders at all hours of the day and night. Keep it up, and someday—someday, Feyre, you’ll have no one left to remember you, or to care that you ever existed.” She stormed off, Elain darting after her, cooing her sympathy. 

Then Tamlim comes and kidnaps her. More trauma. She falls in love with him, I think partly because of Stockholm Syndrome and also because he shows her a level of kindness that she was not given at home, and then he disappears so she has to go back to her life with her sisters. Her sisters have all the benefits of her being stolen away bcs Feyre was able to provide their old house and wealth back through Tamlin’s gift. Her sisters literally never did anything to provide for themselves or help their father or sister. If you really think about that situation as a whole it’s devastating. Then she goes to save Tamlin and finds that her home and her loved one was basically destroyed. She goes to save him.

While under the mountain Amarantha humiliates and tortures her for fun. She makes her run around trying to get away from a monster, her illiteracy is exploited for amusement while she is under pressure of death by fire, she is forced to kill fae in order to save her love, and she has to suffer with her injuries in a basement where everyone is rooting against her.

Then she fucking dies. And like Nesta she is forced to become fae in order to survive. Like she can’t catch a break. Her whole life has really just been horrible and so traumatic. A series of abuses.

That’s not even all! She goes home and is deeply depressed and struggling with PTSD and Tamlin, who she literally was tortured and died to save, takes advantage of her sexually because he is too scared to acknowledge that she is struggling. He uses her body for his pleasure while she throws up every night after he leaves her bedroom due to the nightmares she gets from saving hundreds of fae. She is also forced to fit into a box that she doesn’t want- wearing dresses, pretending to be happy, becoming a figurehead as Tamlins bride knowing that it means she will have to be submissive and have children. Lucien emotionally abused her and ignores her obvious depression because of his own fear of what Tamlin would say. He is a bystander. She is so broken that she stops caring about everything, even painting, the one thing she always loved. Then he traps her in his house which is traumatizing again because she was just trapped under the mountain! Even the people she loved, the people she trusted, continually can’t stop abusing her.

She finds happiness and stability later on after intensive work on herself, and months of building healthy relationships, but she is still troubled because of the guilt she feels from the townsfolks anger and their sense of righteousness for her actions even though she did the best she could in every circumstance. When she goes to try and save those townspeople it becomes clear that Nesta still hates her. She shows Feyre no kindness. The only reason she is allowed to use the house, the one that Feyre got for them, was because of Elain. Even after that Nesta insults her repeatedly for being fae. Those statments from the first book that I quoted higher up in this post are just a small part of how she speaks to Feyre in the following three books after she finds out that she is fae. Even after Feyre saves her and supports her she continues abusing and blaming Feyre. She continues to insult. degrade, shame, and humiliate her to uplift her own lack of self worth. Its a technique to stop her own insecurity and depression but it is in no way excusable. It’s no wonder Rhysand hates her. She abused his mate for years- something that he experienced under the mountain (shame, gaslighting, and humiliation). That is her life. She goes on to see her father murdered. She suffered so much in such a short amount of time is a wonder she wasn’t more broken.

Don’t come to me saying Nesta experienced more trauma to prove your point that Nesta is a good person and not responsible for her actions because she “feels to much” and is a woman that is cruel, and prideful, and unapologetic “bcs that’s who she is.” She has to be held accountable for her actions, her attitude, and her lack of words and apologies to everyone she wronged- especially her sister.

Feyre sacrifices her childhood, her body, her mental health, and her life in order to provide the stability that her sisters felt was their norm. They are inherently priviledged because of that sacrifice. They felt and still feel entitled to her money, and her loyalty, and that of her friends and mate. They survive because of Feyre. And Feyre never once called them out on their behavior, not even when they continually disrespected her after she provided them with a place to live and money to live off of. This was due to her feelings of guilt and the trauma that she had continually been victim to as a child and in Tamlins court.

Some of y’all use the excuse that they never asked Feyre to do any of that and I’m genuinely appalled that that is even a response to her genuine sacrifice. Her mother asked her to take care of them. Nobody was stepping up. Nesta was not going to go into the forest and neither was Elain, both for different but equally disappointing reasons. They both would have let the family starve. Also, Nesta and Elain were both older than her. Elain and Nesta as Feyre’s old sisters should have, and had a responsibility, to ensure that Feyre didn’t have to do what she did. Their apathy and ungrateful attitude is disgusting. Disgusting and unforgivable. Sure, Feyre may have been able to do it but she never should have had to. The three of them should have figured out a plan of equal work to give and take and survive. Y’all saying that Feyre never had to do that I- ... do you not have a family? Do you not have loved ones? You don’t have to do something to help your family, but you do it anyway because you love them and you hate to see them suffer. It’s just that usually you aren’t being exploited and taken advantage of at 14, for years on end, because the sentiment is usually reciprocated.

Perhaps if they had taken better care of their younger sister she would not have been in the woods and killed the fae. Perhaps all three of them would have bore the brunt of their fathers injury together and made a family. Perhaps if she hadn’t killed the fae in the forest when she was starving due to her sisters laziness, Elain and Nesta would never have been forced into being fae.

They neglected Feyre. They aren’t as responsible for her as their father ofc but they actively neglected her and Nesta even slut shamed her for her consensual sexual relationship with Isaac. The one thing she had that her sisters couldn’t take and Nesta called her filthy and disgusting for it.

“At least I don’t have to resort to rutting in the hay with Isaac Hale like an animal.” 

Nesta remains unapologetic and to me she is not a feminist character. Sarah J Mass tried to use her as that trope to fulfill her idea of a “powerful woman” icon but she’s just a cruel and traumatized woman who people let off the hook. She gets away with it because she gaslights other characters while taking no responsibility for herself. She was abused and traumatized herself but that’s never an excuse for her in turn abusing someone else.

Now I don’t mean to say that Nesta or Elain are irredeemable. Frankly I think they both have potential to be good characters if they just apologized to Feyre in the next book, and really put those sentiments into actions. I do think Nesta is a bad person right now, I think she’s an abuser. And I think it’s hard for abusers to change their pattern of abuse. Elain is less of an outright abuser and more complicit in the abuse. I don’t know if either of them can change, but they definitely won’t if people keep letting them off the hook for their disgusting behavior. I am not impressed or charmed by either of them. Until they show a hint of gratitude and remorse to their sister because as y’all can tell she went through hell to make sure they were taken care of. Not to say that they didn’t do anything for Feyre. They both  had important roles to play in the war, and they do have their moments of kindness and bravery and showed they cared for Feyre but abusers can be kind and considerate and brave one minute and then switch up just as fast. It’s about showing a consistent pattern of respect and love. 

Just because Feyre took care of Elain and Nesta their whole damn life does not mean she has to be responsible for them as high lady. Also she is not responsible for knowing how to deal with their trauma. Her own abuse, and lack of real world experience- because Nesta and Elain never taught her to read, and Nesta continually degraded and made cruel remarks to Feyre about her lack of manners “ disgusting pig, take off your clothes didn’t anyone teach you ...” (manners she didn’t develop because she was in the forest)- means she is not perfect at confronting Nestas PTSD or depression. Feyre’s intention was always good, whereas you can’t tell me that Nestas was good and pure. She is not exempt from being respectful and kind because she is hurt and has mental illnesses. She is not exempt from apologizing because she “feels to much.”

This applies to all of the IC as well. They are all healing. They all experienced trauma that rivals what Feyre went through. It’s no wonder they built a family from that shared bond. They are healing together- not healed. Nesta is not entitled to Feyre’s care or her friends kindness. She is not entitled to be added into the group painting or their secret jokes or parties because she continues to push them all away. Then she insults them and disrespects them. The inner circle has already suffered so much they are not exactly going to be open to accepting Nesta knowing her history and her current actions and remarks, and the history of the IC. Do y’all not remember Mors family nailing a stake into her body for losing her virginity? Or Cassian, Az, and Rhys being forced to bond together to survive, being called bastards, and being ganged up on by all their peers? Rhys being sexually abused for 50 years and seeing his parents murdered? Az being stuck in a basement so long he became the shadows and his hands being burned so badly they were hard to look at? Or Amren being in the wrong body for centuries and still she and all of the IC remain a family because they try to understand each other and their experiences. Nesta was not only rude to them she was cruel and spiteful, especially to their high lady, and they don’t need an excuse, but especially as victims of abuse, they are not perfect, and they sure as hell are not obligated to embrace Nesta into their family. The IC and Feyre deserve better.

A lot of people have posed the argument that if Nesta was male everyone would love her but I disagree. If an older brother let his sister go hunting alone in the woods for years while sitting on his ass, slut shamed her and called her dirty and disgusting, blamed her for her family’s poverty and spoke to her like she was trash for years and years, verbally and emotionally belittled her, felt entitled to her possessions and her kindness while they were both struggling to heal from abuse, predisposes his sister to accepting abuse as a form of relationship, and then rather than apologize “steels [her] back” and says nothing-not even an apology or a thank you for saving their life tenfold- he would never even have gotten a redemption story, or a mate, let alone a 700 page book. He would be the most hated character in the series but because it’s Nesta and she’s a woman and y’all pose her as this feminist it’s okay that shes abusive all throughout the series.

[jeonjk0504]

why didn’t you say anything about the racism bts have faced these past days :(

Hey anon!

I actually haven‘t been online here because of the racism debate. I was on twitter and was supporting it there on two accounts nonstop! if you want to follow me, my @ is also jeonjk0504 :)

You are completely right though, i should have spoken up on my platform here sooner, to educate my followers on this really important matter!

If i make mistakes or should word things differently, please let me know, as you can tell i‘m not native.

The short version:

Credits to @ squishykosmos (twt)!

What happened?

3 days ago, the german radio host Matthias Mattuschik from the station Bayern3 spew racist remarks about BTS because of their MTV Unplugged cover of coldplay. He is a fanboy of coldplay and only wanted to introduce their song ‚Fix you‘ but somehow it was necessary to explain to his listeners why it was an utter insult that BTS had an MTV unplugged concert (he called it paradox, because it‘s a boyband) where they were allowed to cover his favorite song. Coldplay allowed the cover by the way and even commented on it positively.

Here are two links from his original rant, translated in english:

https://twitter.com/bts_updates_ger/status/1365211269133971458?s=21 (Part 1)

https://twitter.com/atinystrawbery/status/1365052883771785219?s=21 (Part 2)

As a german i know that to other people our language sounds quite agressive in general, but this is a whole different level. This isn‘t said in a jokingly way, it‘s pure hatred.

He called BTS a virus against which hopefully there will be a vaccine soon, that their cover of coldplay is blasphemy and that they are little pisser who should get a 20-year vacation in North Korea. Considering the rising violence against Asians all over the world because of Covid, his speech is extremely harmful and normalizes hate against Asians apart from the fact that it was racism in it’s purest form. Why the wish for a South Korean Group to have vacation in the North Korean dictatorship is inhumane and racist, i hopefully don‘t have to explain further. He even said, he can‘t be xenophobic, because he drives a korean brand car (which turned out to be japanese). The new ‚i can‘t be racist, i have a black friend‘.

This also hasn‘t been the first time, in 2018 he made an antisemetic comparison between smoker and jews for which he got a little attention, but no consequences.

Furthermore ARMY dug up a picture on his instagram from 2020 with the caption ‚ Is more evidence needed?!?,‘

A short note:

What makes this even more infuriating is that the radio station is regulated by public-law and german citizens are OBLIGATED to pay for it. We literally are forced to pay money to a radio station that broadcasts openly racist slurs! And no, it‘s not allowed. They have policies that explicitly say they are not allowed to discriminate, they have to support diversity and have to be politically and economically independant.

Do they give a fuck? Apparently not really.

Did Bayern3 answer the hashtags and the pressure?

They did, first came a short nonpology where they said that the show, which Matthias Matuschik is broadcasting, is known for his direct and honest opinions and that he could have worded it better. They are sorry if anyone felt insulted, which is excusing the feeling of the fans, but not the act in itself.

After Army answered with the hashtag ‚Racism is not an opinion‘ and various media coverage surfaced, they posted a second ‚apology‘, where they -again- said that they are distancing themselves from what was said and Matthias has always been an avid supporter of refugees so he is very far away from being a racist. (Supporting refugees doesn’t excuse you from saying racist things though.) Matthias stated that he is shocked from the reactions, that he is ‚sorry if people felt what he said was racist‘ and that his family is getting death threats. (which is in no way acceptable of course.) They would review what was said so it doesn‘t happen again.

Here you can read the statements in german and translated in english:

First statement: https://twitter.com/bts_updates_ger/status/1365087239756259330?s=21

Second statement: https://twitter.com/bts_updates_ger/status/1365305564050382849?s=21

This would have probably been the beginning of a conversation, if Matthias wouldn‘t have went to facebook after his second apology to like a supporting post that basically stated that the topic is way overhyped and in the 80s you were allowed to say your opinion without people getting butthurt (this is a short form.) He completely revised his remorse literally the same day after the updated apology and supported a statement that was gaslighting the people who critized him. You can read the facebook post here:

https://twitter.com/traveltomyrm/status/1365321397342461957?s=21

Since then: Nothing. My mom told me yesterday they‘re playing dynamite a lot, i told her to switch the channel.

News Coverage

Thankfully, we got a lot of support from I-ARMY and K-ARMY, otherwise we wouldn‘t have been able to trend the hashtags day and night and kept them in the top categories in germany and worldwide. We also got a lot of support from international media who called out the racism and put them into context in really amazing articles. (Also K-Media and J-Media but i only have screenshots, no links) Here are a few of them:

https://rollingstoneindia.com/xenophobic-german-presenters-comments-about-bts-are-just-the-tip-of-the-racist-iceberg/

https://www.forbes.com/sites/bryanrolli/2021/02/26/bts-were-once-again-the-subject-of-racist-on-air-remarks-and-received-a-pathetic-non-apology/

We even got celebrities like halsey, max, lauv, steve aoki, JJ Ryan, DJ Swivel, Liam McEwan, Zara Larsson, MTV UK, Columbia Records and some more bring attention to the issue and show their support for BTS in the face of racism.

This support was probably the reason why we even got a second ‚apology‘, because guess what? German media ain‘t having it. Since the beginning of our protest, i think i saw 2 articles in total which actually called it racism, various newspapers and online magazines were downplaying it by talking about ‚insults‘ and concentrating on Matthias calling BTS pisser instead of quoting the actual racist remarks he made. We got no TV news whatsoever. So naturally, german locals looking at this protest think that Fans are going on a rampage because their favorite boygroup got insulted.

It has been maddening. The radio station and host have been trying to sit this whole thing out for days, in hope we lose energy over the weekend and it‘s draining to not be heard or taken seriously. For me it‘s still a priviledged perspective, because i don‘t have to bear consequences when this thing is over, one way or another. But for Asians in our country, also some of my friends, this horror in times of covid will continue. The lack of serious German Media coverage has been frustrating and embarrasing to say the least, but also shown again, that the topic gets overshadowed by prejudices against KPop, the fanbase and Asians as part of satirical fun (which it isn‘t).

Why is that?

This is my personal take and not a deep analysis, just my personal observations: Germany might be progressive in a lot of aspects, but they still have deeply ingrained every day racism against asians and they have a huge problem realizing and admitting to that. We don‘t have a lot of asian representation and there is a huge alieniation from asians for a lot of german 50+ (also less, but those are the ones in power mostly). Racism against Asians is not seen enough and people don‘t empathize, partly because they‘re white privileged people who don‘t have to live with certain stigma, partly because they simply don‘t care to educate themselves about minorities in their own country. This ignorance is widespread, if it doesn‘t happen in front of your doorstep, it‘s probably nonexistant. It‘s also not only reserved for Asians, january 2021 we had a talkshow where 5 white german people talked happily about what minorities such as Romani people think as insulting or racist. They did get a lot of backleash because obviously they talk about matters, without letting minorities be part of the discussion, but real consequences? Nope.

I doubt that this protest will get Matthias Matuschik fired (which it should if you are openly racist on a public platform), because the pressure is too low and the radio station has shown with their first statement that they thought it‘s rather funny than problematic. But i don’t know what‘s going to happen. Apart from being an ARMY, i am an adult who condemns racism in any way or form. Why german media chooses to overlook the essence of the debate and makes it a hystercial fanbase issue is beyond me.

If you want to have a look yourself, you can follow German Fanbase accounts, such as @ BTS_UPDATES_GER for updates in german and english.

And at last, here is a thread on how german media reproduces Anti Asian Racism : https://twitter.com/storiesbythuy/status/1366073706817196046?s=21

German Armys are trying to come up with a plan to gain more attention for the topic at the moment, so we‘ll see how things turn out! Please support us if possible!

[mircallablue]

So, in the wake of BeauJesters seeming passing, I’m going to take a moment to be more than a little self-indulgent and explain why I love these characters and their unique dynamic so goddamn much, as well as why I’m so disheartened by the way the show seems to be taking them. Warning: essay ahead lol. This is just a rambly rant that I’m writing because it’s cathartic to vent a little bit of frustration, and I love these characters so much. (and I love the entire cast, every goddamn one, and every other character in the show too. This is about love, not hate). 

So, for a few brief and wonderful episodes in this campaign, I actually believed that I was being told a love story about falling in love with your best friend, and figuring out your sexuality, while also unlearning all of the untrue lessons that the world taught you about love while you were growing up, and in so doing, finding value in yourself. Which, for me personally, is just super relatable. Like, that ticks every damn box I have lol, which partly explains why I love BeauJester so much, and I know a lot of B/J shippers feel the same. I’ve shipped B/J from super early on, but I never in a million years really believed it would happen, for a lot of reasons. Mostly homophobia, biphobia and heteronormativity. But I enjoyed their dynamic nonetheless, even though I thought (and was often TOLD by other shippers) that it didn’t stand a chance in hell of happening. 

So you can imagine how VALIDATING it was when Marisha, both in character and out of game, confirmed that Beau had very significant romantic feelings for Jester. All of the crumbs we’d collected over the course of the campaign were finally coming together and all of the gaslighters who told us we were delusional suddenly had to acknowledge that there was something there. And once it had been acknowledged, it was OBVIOUS. Omg it was so obvious and I loved every second of it. It was so undeniable for the next few episodes, and in hindsight, that there was something building there between them, there was potential. There was definitely a connection between these two characters. And for a few weeks, it was great. 

Then Liam - out of character - mentions that Caleb is in love with Jester. And it is immediately, fandom wide, treated with more respect than Marisha and Beau. 

I know a lot of people get very very angry when this is brought up, but it is just the ugly, unfortunate reality that a lot of people in this fandom treat Jester like a manic pixie dream girl. Even the people who do not consciously believe her to be that (and I don’t think there are many that genuinely believe it), are perfectly fine /treating her/ like one, as long as it serves one of the straight men that they love so much, usually Caleb. And this is where the heteronormativity comes in. Because even though it was an out-of-game confession with no bearing on canon, Calebs feelings immediately took precedence over Beaus in terms of the fandom narrative. 

I personally have never liked the way Liam handles romance in game. He did pretty much the exact same thing in campaign 1 as well, where his sad boy pines after the happy girl from afar until he’s uncontrollably in love with her, and then with no warning he drops it like a bomb. He just happened to drop it out of game this time. The main reason I don’t like this style of romance is because of how (unintentionally) manipulative it is. You see it in bad romcoms all the time. The guy makes a public declaration of love that pressures the girl into reciprocating or looking like the bad guy. But the main reason I don’t like /this particular/ declaration is the timing. 

Liam - who has always said he likes things to come out in game - inexplicably decides out of game reveal something as major as Caleb being in love with Jester, right after Marisha IN GAME took steps towards Beau and Jester being together. And it completely changed the narrative. Suddenly it was “top table top table”, and that's if Beaus feelings ever got mentioned at all. It was not at all helped by the fact that a lot of cast members (sam) still pushed Fjorester HARD, even with Jester telling Nott to stop, which must have sucked for Marisha/Beau. But even as recently as episode 99, Beau was still flirting with Jester, and there were definite hints at Jester maybe having unacknowledged feelings for Beau.

Then the hiatus happened. When we return, Beau is throwing herself at Yasha, and there’s not even a song for Jester on her playlist.  And then Travis reveals (also out of game, like Liam) that Fjord has feelings for Jester (in a playlist heavily curated by known fjorester, Dani Carr). And even /that/ is treated with more weight by some fans than Beaus in canon confession. And Yasha is having all of these super convenient dreams where Zuala tells her its ok to move on, and Beau and Jester are barely speaking. And now Beau is calling Yasha her GIRLFRIEND? WHAT??? Did I miss 20 secret episodes that aired during hiatus or something???? Beau and Yasha have still, in 107 episodes, only had ONE meaningful conversation and yet their relationship is being treated as deep and inevitable. Sure, you can read into their other interactions if you want. But as a queer person, I am sick to death of my love needing to be represented as subtext.

And so it has become pretty clear that the cast has decided out of game to go in a different direction. And of course they are well within their right to do that. But I just can’t help feeling incredibly disheartened, and again, more than a little bit gas-lighted. It really does seem as if Beaus' feelings for Jester have just been scrubbed from canon - as if they never even happened. All, seemingly, to make way for a typical happy-girl-sad-guy relationship with either Fjord or Caleb, and a typical pair-the-spares barely-any-depth relationship between the two out lesbians because its easy.

For the entirety of campaign 2, BeauJester has been treated as one thing - inconvenient. Inconvenient by the fans, who prefer other ships and have treated BeauJesters terribly, and now it seems, inconvenient by the cast, who have seemingly discarded it and scrubbed it from canon. 

And one thing that really upsets me is the amount of genuine viciousness and vitriol coming from (some) BeauYasha shippers. I really wish BeauYasha was something I could get on board with, I do. And a lot of people who are sending me hate seem to assume I don’t want them to end up together. But I would be fine with that. But as it stands, they’ve literally only had one real conversation in 107 episodes, and they’re calling each other girlfriend? While literally having not spoken about anything like that? While one of those characters is supposed to have canon romantic feelings for another woman? Imagine that situation with any other characters and it would be comical.

I swear, the queer ladies in this fandom have been done dirty. All of us. Imagine if, in campaign one, Grog and Keyleth, in episode 107, started calling each other boyfriend/girlfriend in the middle of a battle. (I picked those two because they probably had the fewest moments together of any VM pairing). That’s pretty much what happened here, and we’re supposed to like it - be grateful, even - because it’s wlw rep? And I swear, the number of times I’ve been called lesbophobic in the last month is absurd - all because I’m not comfortable with a canon lesbians canon feelings being swept under the rug. All because I want wlw relationships to be allowed to have the same depth and growth as the straight ones. Yes, even if that relationship is B/Y. We should not settle for less. Imagine if they had done this with any other character's canon feelings for another. People would be angry.

And I know there are going to be a lot of people saying “It’s their game, they can do what they like”. 

True. I never said otherwise. But it is also a show. It is a product. They sell merch. It is something that they have taken the time and the steps to make sure that we care about. And this is what that looks like. 

I know what happened here isn’t technically queerbaiting, but damn if it doesn’t cut the same.

[meimi-haneoka]

While we see a comparison with SyaoSaku and Akiho/Kaito (They might need a ship name soon), there is also this interesting contrast. Even though SyaoSaku still needs to work on communication, they do have that great level of trust when they do interact. With Akiho/Kaito, we see them having casual conversation with little issue. But when things get serious or concerning, there is some level of dismissiveness and gaslighting from Kaito, much to Momo and all of our detriments.

Thank you very much for posing this question anon, as I think I haven’t said everything I wanted to say in my analysis post, and I will use this space to ramble a little bit more about “that side” of the parallelism in this last chapter...

(long rambling under the cut)

First thing first, they do already have a ship name! :D The japanese fandom has named them “YunaAki”. Why they chose “Yuna” over “Kaito” is not clear, it seems it sounded better. After all, we don’t know which is the given name and which is the last name. As it’s a fake name, it probably doesn’t matter.

Yes, I totally agree with you. I think, probably the whole meaning of the chapter was to show how different can be the outcome for two similar situations, if you keep your heart shut and don’t trust the person you’re supposed to care for.

As you said, Syaoran and Sakura still have some minor communication issues going on, but they’re working on them and they are solving the situation, this chapter was another proof of that. It’s incredible to think that most of the resistance actually comes from Sakura, but...

Syaoran has accepted and decided to be frank with Sakura, to the point of being even too blunt, sometimes. Sakura, instead, keeps sweeping her negative emotions under the carpet, but Syaoran is slowly pulling her out of that behavioral pattern.

What do we have on the other side, the YunaAki side?

We have, first of all, two battered souls who are trying to cope with their past, each in their own way.

One is doing her best to leave her past behind, with a positive attitude, and doesn’t let the occasional moments of discomfort to halt her progress. She might trip and fall because certain scars are simply too deep to heal in such a short time, but we see Akiho being stronger and stronger, everyday.

One...is basically just doing what Sakura does, sweeps everything under the carpet, the problem is that he doesn’t do that only with the negative emotions, he does that with everything. Even the emotions that are supposed to give him joy and happiness. He’s completely, impossibly shut in himself, and doesn’t let anyone in, not even the creature who is supposed to be his ally in his “quest”.

It’s very important to keep in consideration Akiho’s and Kaito’s pasts, when analyzing their behavior, because their pasts still have great influence on their mindsets. Akiho struggles to let go the “I’m good for nothing” mentality that her clan has engraved so deeply into her heart, while Kaito thinks he’s still that brooding, dull, aloof kid who used to walk down the hallways of the Association all alone, watched from a distance by all the other magicians.

In this chapter, those behavioral patterns came out completely in the sunlight.

But while Akiho took her own patterns and decided “I don’t want to be this way, I’ve already changed so much because of you and I want to help you in return”, activating a sort of “positive response”, Kaito saw her getting closer and insisted in barricading himself behind that thin wall that he’s built around his heart. 

It’s not by chance that I wanted to make the parallel with the SyaoSaku situation more obvious with the use of the “knocking on the door” metaphor, since that’s really what I felt when I’ve read the chapter.

We have a boy and a girl in love with someone and seeing that loved one in pain. Both kids try to be of help because they can’t stand to see them bearing all the burden alone. 

And that’s when trust comes into the picture.

I am saying trust, and not love, because I do think Kaito loves Akiho (and here I have to specify again that we don’t know what kind of love is, but at the very least he has affection for her).

While Sakura trusts Syaoran to the point of not losing faith in him even when he revealed to be the one who took the Sakura Cards, or even despite all the dreams with MCF Syaoran she’s having, Kaito doesn’t trust Akiho. He cannot trust her. He’s too afraid of what would entail to let Akiho closer than the safe distance they have right now.

There are many reasons for this.

One, the most obvious: he’s about to die. He is going to die and that, in his mind, is a certainty, because he needs to save her before it’s too late, and even if the time rewindings won’t kill him, probably the last taboo magic will.

There’s absolutely no point, in his head, to get closer to her.

Two, actually accepting her offer for help would mean that at some point he would have to explain why he’s so worn out, and all that’s behind it. With that, he would inflict on her a pain even greater than the one he’s living on his skin. He has carefully avoided to let her know *any* thing about the terrible spell that is at work on her, in order to give her a life as normal as possible, and he wouldn’t nullify that for anything in the world.

Three, he’s terribly afraid of human connections. To the point of turning himself blind to the beating and stirring of his heart. He’s still convinced that he doesn’t have a heart, just like when he was in the Association.

But Momo was clear: no matter how strong you are, or what kind of life you live, no one can ever stay the same, if they’re given the trigger to change. And Kaito has already had that, when he decided on that fateful day, “I’ll go”.

He just has to stop refusing to admit it.

It was painful to see him going in circles, in hope to avoid where Momo was getting at in chapter 51, and the saddest thing of it all is that it seems this is an automatic behavior, he seemed genuinely confused when Momo said “You missed something”. “Missed”, past tense.

Akiho is terribly scary to him, when she runs on her assertiveness and starts making questions. This was obviously not the first time and he knows that she’s damn observant when she wants. Everytime Kaito changed expression, everytime something was wrong with him, she always caught on.

Dammit, she loves him, what else is she supposed to do? She can’t turn a blind eye on him. 

But this is all too scary for him, because she demands a connection he’s afraid of. Letting someone inside of you means to see your comfortable, perfect, reassuring bubble getting turned upside down, because in a relationship of any kind, you are two, not one. Each with their own expectations, behaviors, personalities. While he has already changed his lifestyle to adapt to one that would be healthy for Akiho, he isn’t definitely ready (or so he thinks) to change his heart. And that’s why, when Akiho mentions that she has changed parts of her thanks to him, he is definitely triggered and literally runs away, interrupting her attempt to tell him “I’m here for you. Let me in. Tell me what’s wrong”.

He doesn’t want to hear that she changed thanks to him, because that would force him to realize that he’s changed too, thanks to her. And what’s more scary than aknowledging that you’re not the same person anymore, that you already have a seat ready in your heart with her name on it?

His feelings are most apparent in the “stupidest” things, like going all the way to cook character bento only for her (that's definitely, definitely, not a butler’s duty), or let nonchalantly slip “because it’s you” without even realizing what that implies (and making Akiho blush furiously) (talking only manga side here, the anime had one huge display of what he feels and we all know which scene it is).

You can well understand why Momo feels so frustrated with him, when the situation is in plain sight and yet he turns a blind eye on it.

So gaslighting and dismissive, we were saying. That’s his defensive reaction because he actually feels like the one attacked, in that moment.

And when he realizes that lies don’t work, he just panics, and instead of elaborating a better lie, he totally cuts her short and runs away. He could’ve said “Thanks Akiho-san, but I’m fine, really”. But no.

That explains quite well why he was shaking, after that. I know CLAMP have skillfully thrown that symptom among his conditions worsening, as soon as he left Akiho’s room, so everyone thinks he was shaking because he’s in terrible shape, and maybe it’s partly true, but I don’t think he would’ve been surprised, if the trembling was caused by his health. He knows he’s dying. He doesn’t wonder why he has heart attacks, he knows what causes them.

Instead, with this, he’s so confused that he even slightly laughs, like he can’t believe what he’s actually feeling.

This is gonna be a rough journey, for Kaito (and for us), because the more he goes on and the more his time narrows down, the more he seems on the brink of insanity. He needs someone interrupting this slippery slope by force, someone who understands where he is coming from, and understands his biggest problem of turning away his eyes from his heart.

Y’all know who I am talking about, right? :D

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a The Magnus Archives fanfic

Also on AO3.

Chapter 1: Martin

It’s been six weeks now that Martin’s been living in the Archives, and he’s beginning to feel like he’s going a bit mad.

In the first place, it’s really hard to separate work and personal life when they’re both conducted in the same space, and even though he tries to keep from doing work in the area he’s been sleeping in, it still creeps in. He’ll do anything for Jon, of course—not that he’ll admit that out loud—but it does get a bit wearing, being on the job, so to speak, all the time.

In the second place, there’s the paranoia. The worms are real and present. They’re outside the Institute, and apparently just about everyone has seen them by now, but they’re inside, too, or at least in the Archives. It’s been a while since Jon rolled his eyes or Sasha got that I am being tactful look on her face when Martin suspects he sees one, because they’ve all seen them and gone after them. The trouble is that knowing the worms are getting inside, that he’s not just jumping at shadows, makes his nerves worse, not better. He tries not to bring it up so much to the others unless he has proof, but he’s getting twitchier by the day and it’s getting harder and harder to sleep.

In the third place, he’s apparently getting forgetful.

 It’s something he’s really only noticed in the last week, but Tim and Sasha will bring something up, ask him about something they wanted him to look up or reference a previous conversation, and then act confused when he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. He’d think they’re gaslighting him if they were the type to do that, but as much as Tim likes to tease, he’s not malicious about it. And Sasha banters, but doesn’t tease, not like that. Which means he’s losing moments and chunks of time. He supposes he should just be thankful he hasn’t forgotten anything Jon’s asked of him yet, or at least that Jon hasn’t brought it up if he has.

It’s probably from lack of sleep, which tells Martin he should definitely be getting more of it, but it’s hard. Partly it’s the worrying about the worms and partly it’s the fact that he’s got this persistent feeling of being watched, but if he’s honest, a lot of it also has to do with the fact that he worries about Jon. The man doesn’t take care of himself, he looks positively exhausted some days, and he hasn’t snapped at Martin in almost two weeks, a new record. Martin wants to wrap Jon in a blanket and hold him until he gets some rest already, but that desire sends his mind down paths he’s trying to keep it from wandering, thank you very much. Still, Martin’s not sleeping much either and it’s probably affecting his memory. Still worrying, though.

He sighs heavily and turns over on the cot, like he’s trying to get comfortable. He already is comfortable, at least physically. It’s his mind that’s uneasy, that won’t rest.

Finally, he gives up. Maybe if he gets up and does a quick circuit of the Archives, just to assure himself there aren’t any worms, he’ll feel better. And if all else fails, he can busy himself with quietly removing staples from documents so they’ll be in better condition years down the line. He gets where Jon is coming from, wanting them all to be together, but come on, even Martin knows you’re not supposed to do that.

He climbs out of the cot, replaces his glasses, and pulls on his trousers; no one else is supposed to be there, but it’d be just his luck if Jon stayed late or passed out at his desk or something. Or worse, Tim’s still around, ready to make a cheeky comment about his choice of sleepwear. He slips the torch into one pocket and the corkscrew into the other, picks up the fire extinguisher he keeps with him at all times now, and heads out barefoot into the Archives.

It’s—there’s no other word for it—spooky at night, with no one else around. The emergency lights stay on all the time, sporadic lights that don’t so much illuminate as give texture to the darkness. You can see your way around, but if you want to do any serious work you’ll need to either turn on a regular light or use a torch. Martin’s at the point where he trusts anything about the Institute about as far as he can see it, including the electricity, hence why he always carries the torch with him. Also, he’s discovered that this emergency lighting isn’t all over the Institute, not that he plans on venturing out of the Archives tonight. This is just a quick tour to reassure himself that his sleep will be worm-free, so that maybe he can get some.

He’s a few steps away from one of the empty offices, its lights dark—no emergency lighting in there—when he hears a sound from a nearby aisle and freezes. Someone—or something—is in the Archives.

Oddly enough, the fact that it sounds too big to be a worm is not reassuring.

Martin’s not stupid, far from it. He’s read the statements, and he’s also got a secret, rarely-indulged fondness for Gothic horror that dates back to his discovery of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Christabel. He knows that going towards the sound and calling out a questioning hello is asking for trouble. He’ll end up with all the blood drained out of him, or fed to a giant monster, or with some creep wearing his face like a mask.

On the other hand, what can he actually do? He doesn’t have his cell phone anymore, didn’t grab his laptop before bolting out of his flat, and the only phone in the Archives is in Jon’s office. Martin doesn’t even know if it’s a real phone or if it’s just a fancy-looking intercom system. If he retreats back to the room he’s been staying in and hides under the blankets, it won’t stop whatever is in there from coming after him if it wants to, plus he’ll be trapped. At least out here he can, in theory, get away if it attacks.

Plus...he’s too damned curious, he supposes. Not knowing bothers him almost as much as the risks of finding out.

He takes a deep breath, slips his hand into his pocket to reassure himself the corkscrew is there just in case, and steps around the shelves.

“Hey!” he calls, and then yelps in surprise.

Standing a few yards away down the aisle is him.

The other person doesn’t just look a lot like him. It is him. Same height, same build, same coloring. Same messy mop of hair that needs a cut, never mind a comb. Same bags under the eyes. Hell, he’s even wearing the same damn sweater Martin is, the one he refuses to admit out loud why he likes to wear so often. And he’s looking at Martin with the same startled expression on his face that Martin must have on his own.

Then the other Martin sighs and closes his eyes, his shoulders slumping, and suddenly he looks...old. Tired for more reasons than just a simple lack of sleep. “Christ. You’re the one person I was trying to avoid. Couldn’t sleep, could you?”

“Wh-who are you? What are you?” Martin demands, aware that his voice is creeping towards a higher register. “I-I’ve got a knife!”

The other looks up again. “Really? You haven’t switched to the corkscrew yet?”

“Th—what?”

“Corkscrew,” the other repeats. “It works better on the worms than a knife would. They go straight in, more or less, and they don’t move quickly, so you can...pull them out with it easier. If you need to.”

Martin’s fingers tighten around the corkscrew’s handle, unsettled at hearing his logic spilling from another’s mouth, especially a mouth that matches his own. “How—how do you know about the corkscrew? Or the worms?”

The other’s lips twitch in a smile that doesn’t have a lot of amusement in it. “I’m you from the future.”

Martin blinks. “Shut up.”

“No, honest.”

“You expect me to believe in time travel.”

The other actually laughs. It sounds like the way Martin laughs when he’s not so much amused at what’s happening or what’s been said as at his own reaction to it. “Honestly? I didn’t completely believe in time travel until I woke up here in the Archives and heard Tim’s voice.”

There’s something a bit wistful in the other’s voice that, weirdly enough, makes Martin believe him a little bit. Not completely, but a little bit. On the other hand, the fact that the other claims to have known he was in the past because he heard Tim’s voice is...probably not good. Martin decides he’s not quite ready to know that yet. “So...you’re from the future. In the past. Why?”

“You want the short answer or the long one?”

“Short,” Martin says after a moment’s deliberation. “Until I decide if I trust you.”

The other nods, as if he expected that answer—which, well, if he really is Martin from the future, he probably did. “To stop the world from ending.”

Martin gives a short bark of incredulous laughter. “So—so are you saying you’re here to prevent nuclear warfare, o-or climate change, or are we talking biblical Armageddon with angels and demons and seven years of darkness?”

“The last one’s the closest, really,” the other says seriously. “No demons or angels, though. Not the traditional type, anyway. And I can’t really say how many years of darkness we’ve had. Time hasn’t meant all that much since it ended.”

“Wait, wait. You’re saying the world already ended. Will end. In my lifetime. And I’ll...survive it, somehow?”

The other’s gaze is...disconcerting, to say the least. It’s like he’s seeing through Martin, looking not at him but at a fixed point in his life. “Not your lifetime. That’s what we’re here to stop. Maybe it’s better to say I’m from a future, but not yours.” He smiles faintly. “I never met myself, so we’ve already changed that much, at least.”

We, Martin notes. Not I. That’s not terrifying at all. He decides that most questions can wait until he’s sure he actually believes the other, though. “What are you planning to do to stop it?”

The other hesitates. “That’s...there’s not really a short answer to that one, and it won’t make much sense without the long answer to the other.”

“F-fine. Fine. What can I do to help you prevent the world from ending?”

“Keep Jon safe.” The other speaks with an intensity and gravity that settles into Martin’s bones, pinning him to the ground with the weight of it. “Don’t let him get hurt.”

“He gets hurt?” Martin’s voice goes slightly shrill for a moment. His growing feelings for Jon are a tightly-kept secret, or at least he wants them to be—Tim’s probably figured it out, he seems to figure out everything else—but the mere idea of Jon being hurt sends him into a minor panic. A small, more rational part of him wonders if this is proof that the other isn’t him, that he isn’t panicking at the thought.

“Not if you can help it,” the other says. “I—I can’t go into too many details. Not right now. You’re—you’re probably safe, whatever you know, but I can’t be certain, and it’s a lot to risk at the moment. Just...trust me. Keep Jon safe. Don’t hover,” he adds hastily, as if he knows how likely it is that Martin’s going to do exactly that, “but just...keep a sharp eye out for worms. And spiders.”

“Spiders aren’t dangerous.” Martin narrows his eyes at the other as another tendril of doubt curls through him. “Not all of them. Not inherently.”

“No, not spiders themselves,” the other agrees. “But...well. Let’s just say Jon has his reasons for being afraid of them, and they’re...very valid. Spiders won’t hurt him, exactly, but they’re liable to be a sign that something that will hurt him very nearby.”

“The worms. Am I in danger?”

Again the other hesitates. “Not tonight. Not...Jane Prentiss knows where you live, so she toyed with you, set you off-balance as a warning to the others. It’s why you can’t go home. But she only knows because she followed you back from that basement. You’re not what she’s after. She won’t attack the Institute while you’re sleeping.”

Martin stares. “That’s...not as comforting as you might think.”

“No,” the other says, with an odd sort of smile and laugh, as if at a private joke Martin doesn’t get. “No, I guess not.”

Martin bites his lip, then asks the only question he feels like he can ask. “How can I trust you? How can I know you’re...really me from the future?”

The other tilts his head, as if considering that question from all angles. Martin knows it’s not a fair question. He can’t really expect the other to tell him something that happens in the future and then just...wait around until it happens. Especially since now it might not happen, if the other has already changed things. The thought gives him a slight headache.

Finally, the other says, “You should tell Jon the truth.”

Martin’s heart rate accelerates dramatically. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. “A-about what?”

“About your CV. That you lied to get the job. Tell him, first thing tomorrow.”

That’s not what Martin was afraid the other was going to suggest telling the truth about, but it doesn’t noticeably calm him, either. “He’ll kill me! Or worse, fire me!”

“He can’t.” The other speaks with the weirdest mix of authority and sadness Martin’s ever heard. “At least, he can’t fire you, any more than you can quit. And he won’t kill you. Anyway, better for it to come out now than...the way it eventually came out for me. Trust me.”

Martin swallows, hard. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that big a deal, really. Anyway, he’s been at the Institute for eleven years now, so it’s not like he doesn’t have some qualifications by now. Isn’t university just supposed to be a shortcut to experience? “A-all right. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. And if he doesn’t completely lose his mind, I’ll...be back to talk to you tomorrow night. I’m living here right now.”

“I know. It’s been...what, a month?”

“Six weeks and a bit.”

“So it’s the end of April,” the other mumbles, more to himself than anything. “Plenty of time then. I can hold off a bit longer.”

Martin’s nerves can’t take much more of this. “I’m—I’m going to go—lie down.”

The other’s gaze flicks back to his face. “Go ahead. I promise you’ll be safe.”

It shouldn’t be comforting, to hear that from a stranger wearing his face, his skin. But to Martin’s mild surprise, when he gets into the cot and pulls the blanket up over his shoulders, he falls asleep almost right away.

[average-jor]

say goodbye

i haven’t posted anything in a while. i’ve been going through a lot. i have substituted writing about it for painting but today i need to write. today i said goodbye to someone i considered my best friend for 6 years. she didn’t die, but she’s dead to me. and not *quite* in the way that phrase is usually meant. i mean it that way partly, but also i’m pretty sad. i am still grieving the loss of a friend. i wanted to end our friendship. i had been struggling for the past month with how to bring up certain things to her. i’ll give you some backstory:

6 years ago, S moved into the apartment across the hall from me. i didn’t like that she played her music so fucking loud and she didn’t like my boyfriend screaming at me. thus, a friendship was born. it was desperation for an “out” in my relationship with dan, who i’ve talked about in a previous post. it was loneliness. it was someone giving me attention that wasn’t dan. it was an escape, or so i thought, from the abuse. S had a huge problem with using drinking to cope with childhood trauma. i drank with her a lot, but she always went the extra mile. it was like that for much of our friendship. there wasn’t much else there. it wasn’t that deep. but somehow we were so close. somehow she was my best friend. 

fast forward a couple years, i met and moved in with my now husband. first thing she said when she met him, was that it wasn’t going to last. i was gonna leave in a month. she just *knew* it. cool, but WHY the FUCK would you say that OUT LOUD??!! it was a moment where i needed her support and encouragement to explore this new relationship away from the abusive one i was accustomed to, and she seemed so dismissive of my attempting to find some happiness and healthiness in my life. 

fast forward another couple years, my husband and i move closer to S. i’m actually happy i’ll have a friend to hang out with. even though she’s notoriously flaky. even though she notoriously lies about medical issues when she blows off our plans. even though she guilt trips and emotionally manipulates me. i didn’t see this clearly yet, but i was starting to. 

fast forward to a month ago. as i’ve been sharing for over a month, i’ve really been going through a lot of things emotionally. i am in therapy because i have repressed childhood trauma and actively suffer from PTSD/anxiety/depression. i got on medication, i started doing things like writing and painting and actually taking care of my self, and my mental health. i told S that i needed some space to process my shit. she said she understood. and then she bugged me to hang out every single day until i finally caved. i offered a day and she was excited. day of, i message her and she didn’t message me back for 2 full hours before finally telling me she’d been - and this is a direct quote - “pukey mcpukerson’’. 

GIRL. you are 33 yrs old. i’ve been your friend for 6 years. i know when you’re lying to me. i didn’t say anything. i didn’t call her out. how do i call her out on a lie about being sick? even if she IS lying, she’s not going to admit that, and then i look like a dickhole because i accused her. so i say nothing. i always say nothing. 

here’s a synopsis of how i feel she’s treated me poorly during our 6 year friendship and any ONE of these things are a reason alone to end a friendship but today she told me things that i never could have seen coming and things that just reaffirmed how i felt about this friendship and where it was going - nowhere good:

- i feel that she is incredibly dismissive of my feelings

- i feel that she gaslights me

- i feel as though she is selfish + narcissistic and quite literally cannot care about anyone else besides herself

- i feel like she guilt trips and emotionally manipulates me

- i feel like she bullies me

- i feel like she is jealous and possessive of me 

- i feel like she is a bad friend. period. 

today she told me that it was not her responsibility to validate my feelings, and i’m not even joking when i tell you she said that i should not be so consumed in my own problems that i can’t still be there for my friends. she told me that i need to stop playing a victim. she told me everyone has to be soOOooOOoO careful about what they say around me, and that i need to “let go of” my past. she genuinely asked “HOW MUCH THERAPY DO YOU EVEN NEED?” what kind of friend is not supportive of them getting help they need? how is that sentence not haunting her as the exact reason why i had such issues with her??

i asked her repeatedly to please put aside her anger a little so she could listen to me. she kept gaslighting me, telling me i’m wrong in my feelings. telling me it’s ridiculous. calling me names. calling me to scream at me just to hang up the second i try to say anything. 

after all of this, i still apologized for not coming forward and being honest with her sooner. i explained that i was proven right in why i felt so hesitant. i said that i was sorry she was miserable, and incapable of personal growth, or letting someone else experience that. i told her that i was a good friend to her for 6 years and i expected the same back. i told her i’m in therapy because i’m TRYING to be a better, more well-rounded adult. i asked what she was doing to try to accomplish that, told her i hope she finds happiness. she blocked me. 

i’m not saying i’m unhappy that the friendship is over, i think it needed to happen. i especially feel confident in my decision because i’ve been going to therapy and can actually recognize toxic shitty behavior. and because of my husband, who has been supportive of my decisions about my friendship with S, and gently shared his opinion about how he thought the friendship was negatively affecting me. he applauded me for still putting myself in harm’s way emotionally to be there for her but reminded me that i need to take care of myself, too. which is exactly what i’m doing. i’m taking care of myself. 

i may have one friend, one therapist, and one husband, but i am full of so much support right now and so much love from the people who actually DO care about me. 

i realize now, S was never gonna let me live my life. she needed me to be in the same boat as her. now that i’ve become a healthier person, dealt with some of my shit. changed some behaviors, she can’t handle it. and i cannot sit here and let her tell me that its my fault. because it’s not. i should have been more honest sooner with her, i’ll own that. for 6 years, though, i was a very good friend. i feel hurt. i feel betrayed. i feel sad. i feel anxious. i feel better, though, too. i know i’ll get through this. it’s just hard. 

please don’t let yourself be blinded like i was to the fact that friendships can also be abusive. 

[wonjaekook]

golden sweet, golden sick for the director’s cut? 💛💛💛

Hi hi ! Thank you for sending this in <3 GSGS is my second longest fic at the moment (I think) so I have Much to Say + spoilers again lol

So, for every fic I write, I start out by writing parts of scenes and some plot points in notes on my phone. Then, when it’s time to write that fic, I start typing it on a google doc. For this story in particular, I started out with something like 6-7 thousand words already written from my notes in my phone. I thought it wouldn’t take that much longer to really flesh out the story and connect all the parts, but I guess I was a bit wrong because it basically doubled in length.

From the beginning, I really wanted to establish a feeling of unease. Of course, the reader knows almost exactly what’s wrong, but Y/N doesn’t. I considered if I should leave the reader as in-the-dark on Jaemin’s actions as Y/N, which might make for a creepier feeling overall, but I decided that would be extremely hard to write (partly because I usually write in a sort of second-person omnipotence POV) and I also wanted to include a good dose of Jaemin’s insane thoughts and ramblings to really hit home how unhinged he is. This also prompted the decision of if I should write the ramblings interspersed through the story in first person or third person. I tried to put these particularly intrusive/disturbing thoughts in italics. Tumblr failed me on this side a bit because, when copying and pasting from google docs, the italics and other special markings can disappear, so I had to go through by hand and re-italicize everything. Because I had to do that (and because I usually post late at night right before I’m about to sleep - like how I’m writing this right now!), I think some of my intended italicized sections didn’t get that. Thanks Tumblr and past Sun.

Some things I wanted to highlight throughout the story were Jaemin’s descent into further madness, with his actions starting out as stalker-ish and transitioning into sloppy obsession as he accidentally starts showing Y/N his true colors, and Y/N’s purposeful obliviousness to the point where she can literally no longer deny all of the harm he’s done at the end. He had done such a good job of lying, tricking, and gaslighting her that she doesn’t want to believe he’s capable of the things he’s done. Another thing - I was definitely trying to show that he was using sex as a sort of distractor, to get her to forget about any suspicions she was having of him.

Throughout, I also tried to avoid any terms or questions about mental health. I absolutely do not intend for this story to come off as me demonizing people with mental health issues. The community has enough stigma as it is. Whatever was affecting the Jaemin in this story is entirely fictional and nothing about this story was intended to reflect real life.

Looking back, I wish I had fleshed out the beginning and connected different scenes better. Also, Jaemin and Y/N going to the ice cream shop - let’s just say he was getting something dairy-free (lol).

To end on a positive note, I could talk about my favorite part? Though I had a ton of it planned out and it was a lot of fun to write as much creepiness as I could into every part, the end is my favorite. It’s the culmination of everything that had been going on through the whole story and it was kind of exciting to just snap Y/N out of the sugary sweet, fake reality she had been living in. It was also fun to work with some of the metaphors in there and makes me kind of proud of my writing (haha).

I wrote another whole essay but ! these are/were my thoughts on this fic (it’s 4:30 now and I might have forgotten something though)! I may write a sort of epilogue in the future, who knows <3

[scpbad]

‘My bad experience with an SCP Wiki moderator.’

This was submitted by a user who wishes to remain anonymous. This is not by the author of this blog.

Hi, I hope it’s ok for me to send a huge wall of text like this, because it’s the shortest I could manage. I’m putting my username in the required submission settings, but I want to remain anonymous in this post. I alluded to what I’m about to describe here in an ask I sent to this blog… about a week ago, I think. The timeline for this experience is approximately November 2018 - June 2019.

In late October of 2018, some things happened between me and another SCP author that scared the shit out of me and made me worry that I would need to leave the SCP community, possibly even delete all traces of my existence off the internet. I don’t want to talk about them here, but my distress was obvious to a few people on Discord, and it was during this time that a wiki author and j-staff member named Uncle Nicolini reached out to me to see if I was ok, despite the fact that we didn’t know each other well. We started talking to each other pretty regularly. We were both very depressed people who’d been through some traumatic experiences, so we were able to relate over that.

After about three weeks, it turned out that he had developed a very strong crush on me. I will admit that I did flirt with him back on a few occasions. At the time I was an openly sexual person. Here’s where the issues started: I am aromantic and bisexual, but the aromantic part is what really matters here. Uncle Nicolini is not. Despite the fact that we had only been talking to each other seriously for a few weeks, he became very angry that I could not feel attracted to him romantically. It got to the point that he threatened to kill himself because I would not be his girlfriend, and tried to manipulate me into believing that my sexual orientation was wrong. I vaguely recall him expressing the idea that women owed him something because of his semi-recent negative experience with a former girlfriend. I was absolutely horrified. At the time, I was barely 19 and he was 24. I tried telling some other people that I still trusted about what was happening, but the response I would get usually wasn’t much better than something like “Oh no, that sucks.”

Eventually I confronted him by text messages (I had his number and I hoped it would make him take me more seriously). I told him straight up what I thought of his behavior, and the response I got was… not very good. The tone I got from his responses was that I was wrong for getting angry at a depressed person, along with an entirely unrelevant excuse as to why I was not allowed to express any form of “passive-aggressiveness” towards him. Eventually we came to an agreement and decided to stay friends, but the apology he gave me was very backhanded and ultimately it felt like I was the one who was being a mean bitch. I genuinely tried to move past it, but over the next few months I couldn’t help but think back to what had happened and I felt like the incident was always haunting all of our interactions. To Nico’s credit - for a few months after this happened, I feel that he did genuinely try to help me with my trauma and be a good friend, which is why I have been extremely hesitant to talk about this publicly. I would not be writing this had I not very recently come to a conclusion about some of his other behavior towards me, which I’ll be talking about later.

Eventually, another major conflict happened between us. In late December through all of January, I was involved in some major drama in the SCP community (related to what I vaguely referenced at the beginning of this post) that resulted in both me and the unnamed author being permanently banned from the SCP Wiki. Though I should have been satisfied, especially after a month of hardship that I feared would go nowhere, I felt as though my experiences had been invalidated by the SCP Wiki admin team, and I was stuck in a situation where although I wanted to still be a part of the SCP community, there were now several barriers to me doing so, not to mention the way that my reputation was permanently affected. For the next two months I was a very aggressive ball of negativity, and I didn’t notice how much I was bothering some people around me. A bunch of people made it clear (though politely, out of respect for my situation) that they wanted nothing more to do with me. Uncle Nicolini was the one who took it upon himself to show me why my negativity was so damaging, and before I continue, I want to be clear that I think he was right. However, and I understand that it may be problematic that I cite these during a situation where I was the one in the wrong - there were two things about this situation that were incredibly troubling to me. The first is that during the argument, I also brought up Nico’s past sexual harassment of me and how months later I was still very upset about it, even though I tried my best not to let it show. His initial response to me bringing it up was something like “I thought I already apologized for that.” He did eventually give me a real apology after some probing, not the half-assed line he had given me in November to shut me up, but it made it clear to me that he did not understand how he had affected me, or perhaps did not care.

Simultaneously - and I’m going to do my absolute best to explain my argument here - I also believe that this encounter was when I first noticed a pattern of gaslighting from Nico that would become more obvious over time, though I would not be able to put it into words until now. During our encounter, Nico also told me that he thought I was “emotionally manipulative, but not intentionally.” Something like that. It was not at all a light accusation. And yet, by the end, he was back to saying that he greatly wanted to continue to be my friend for a long time. I accept the possibility that he was wishing the best for me and genuinely wanted me to see that my behavior was bad so I could be a better person, and was using the argument as a test to see whether or not I could self-reflect. What I don’t find a coincidence is that I feel this exact situation happened multiple times over the course of our friendship, even in situations that were much lower stakes. I notice a pattern in which Nico would find something to make me feel bad about, turn it into a big deal, and then shortly after go back to saying that he greatly wanted to be my friend and hoped I would always be his friend. I have come to the conclusion that this was likely controlling behavior on the part of Nico. I’m unsure what his exact motivations behind it could have been, but I think my concern is legitimate.

Connected to this observation - I recall one time, when I was becoming involved with a similar but non-SCP writing site after I had given up on returning to the SCP fandom, an instance in which I believe that Nicolini intentionally tried to start drama between me and a friend. I became aware of the fact that he had been showing a server of other people our private DMs, or possibly just my private thoughts, without my permission to former friends who were hesitant to support the community I was becoming involved with due to the fact that it contained a mix of people from both the SCP Wiki and RPC authority. I am not entirely sure what his motivations behind this could have been, because even after everything that had happened I still openly supported the SCP community, but I fear that he was purposefully trying to make people distrustful of me behind my back. Why he would do this, I’m not entirely sure. When I expressed concern over what he was doing, because it made a friend of mine upset for a short time, my feelings were largely shrugged off.

I also noticed, over time (because I did keep trying to be his friend), a worrying pattern of aggression from Nico towards other people. I observed that he had a pattern of getting into fights during opportunities where he knew that he either could not get in trouble for it or that his anger was directed at someone who was generally unpopular with the crowd he hung out with. He seemed to partly acknowledge that he had anger issues, but would often blame it on an excuse like “my antidepressants make me aggressive” or “I’m stressed out because of the work I do for the SCP Wiki.” While these explanations are understandable to an extent, they ultimately do not fully excuse hateful behavior towards an individual, and I worry that they indicate that Uncle Nicolini still has issues with owning up to his own bad/abusive behavior when he needs to.

At one point I ended up speaking to a confidant in private about my some of my experiences with Uncle Nicolini, because I was wondering if I should block him like my gut was telling me to, even though I felt like I should suck up my concerns and try to maintain our friendship. He told me not to put pressure on myself and take some more time to think. Eventually, though, a certain event forced me to admit that I was deeply uncomfortable with Nico’s past and present behavior, this feeling would not go away, he had an increasing habit of dismissing my concerns, and for my own mental health it was better that I find a way to get away from him somehow. I understand that this method is not ideal, and it may be seen as leading him on, but over time I tried to talk to him less and less, and when he did reach out to me, I would say everything that I thought he wanted me to say, and I finally blocked him on every platform I could think of when I thought the coast was clear at the start of July. I don’t regret doing so.

Before anyone asks, yes, I did report him to SCP staff. I told them about the sexual harassment I had experienced from him because I figured it was all that was actionable. I didn’t push the issue that much, because sometimes it’s just…. exhausting laying so much of your private life bare after repeat scary experiences in a community that was supposed to be fun. Either they didn’t believe me or thought he was too valuable to lose, because about a month after I reported him he was promoted to moderator, and only one person vaguely referenced his behavior in the promotion thread.

I haven’t spoken to Nico in several months, and therefore I can’t tell anyone for certain if his behavior has improved. I don’t wish any form of harassment towards him as a result of this post. I don’t feel like I can do anything more public than this, due to the potential for backlash and the fact that I’m drained from a year of nonstop drama and other traumatic events. I strongly advise that young people, especially young GRSM people be wary when choosing to interact with this person. I strongly suggest that you do not engage with him sexually in any way. Last I saw, he still has a habit of being flirty with people in the community (and though I cannot confirm this for sure, I feel like I’ve noticed some slight creepiness towards trans people - especially trans women - from him.) As I always recommend when interacting with individuals from the SCP community - because I have seen much bigger, much worse, and much scarier drama than anything I’ve described here - please don’t ever be afraid to ask someone you trust for info about another person.

[chiseler]

VISAGE... VOICE... VITAPHONE

In Dimitri Kirsanoff's Menilmontant a destitute waif, betrayed and abandoned by the man who seduced her, sits on a park bench with her newborn infant. Beside her is an old man eating a sandwich. This wordless exchange is one of the greatest moments ever committed to film. Nadia Sibirskaia’s face reveals all of life’s cruel mysteries as she gazes upon a crust of bread.

The persistence of hope is the dark angel that underlies despair, and here it taunts her mercilessly. A whole series of fluctuations of expression and movement in reaction to anguish, physical pain involving hesitation, dignity, ravenous hunger, survival, self-contempt, modesty, boundless gratitude. All articulated with absolute clarity without hitting notes (without touching the keys). Chaplin could have played either the old man on the bench (his mustache is a sensory device!) or Nadia. And it would have been masterful and deeply affecting, but Nadia went beyond virtuosity and beyond naturalism.

She made it actual. And it was more than just a face. Sunlight travels across buildings at every second of the day; and the seasons change the incidence of light, too. Nothing stands still. Even déjà vu doesn’t attempt an exact rendition with the feel of a perfect replay.

***

Another face equates with pain—though a far more luxurious and decadent kind of pain, a visage summoning leftover ancient Roman excess or Florentine backstreets, the contortions of Art Nouveau with its flowers, prismatic walls and perennial themes of ripeness/rottenness, sadomasochism. While various directors have helped mold her naturally unsettling screen presence into nightmare visions, it’s Barbara Steele's vulnerability I tend to remember.

She is open and sensitive even as she materializes in the viewer’s mind as a kabuki demon one moment and a radioactive waxwork the next, a kind of alchemical transformation, an appeal to what Keats called negative capability—one’s ability to appreciate something without wholly understanding it; in fact, one’s ability to appreciate an object for its mystery.

��When did I ever deserve this dark mirror?” Barbara Steele asks me. “Clever you – I feel you’ve just twisted and wrung out an old bible to dry that’s been left somewhere outside lost in timeless years of…” She pauses. “…of rain.”

She made her Italian screen debut as a revenant.  And in so doing taught us all the eye is not a camera. It’s a projector.

Barbara Steele’s appearance in 1960’s Black Sunday is, even now, a shock of such febrile sexuality that it forces us to ask ourselves—why do we saddle her with diminishing monikers like “Scream Queen”? And, more fundamentally, why does her force of personality seem to trouble and vex every narrative she touches?

Of course, the answer is partly grounded in Steele’s unique physical equipment—and here I’ll risk repeating a clichéd word about those famous emerald eyes of hers: “Otherworldly.” As if sparked to life by silent-film magician Segundo de Chomón, the supreme master of hand-tinted illusionism. Peculiar even within the context of gothic tales on celluloid for the consumption of Mod audiences, flashing at us from well beyond their allotted time and place in history.

Barbara Steele is one of cinema’s true abominations—a light-repelling force that presents itself in an arrangement of shadows on the screen. No “luminary,”Steele is celluloid anti-matter; a slow burning black flame that devours every filament around it. Steele’s beauty is no accident of nature, even if she is, but in Black Sunday she gives a virtuoso performance by an artist in full command of her talent summoning and banishing it in equal measure in her dual role as mortal damsel in distress and undead predator released from her crypt. Filmmaking is the darkest and unholiest of arts (done right, that is), and for Mario Bava it becomes the invocation of beast and woman from the unconsecrated soil of nightmares. Steele remains the high priestess of the unlit and buried chambers of the imagination; the pure pleasure center of original sin and the murderous impulse buried just below the surface. She reminds us that existence itself is the highest form of betrayal and a continuing curse on us all.

Where Steele’s Italian films are concerned, we are watching silent movies of a sort. “The loss of voice for me has always been devastating…. It’s almost like some karmic debt…” Her sonic presence was eclipsed in a string of crudely, sadly dubbed horror vehicles, yes, including Black Sunday—no doubt aficionados of the great Mario Bava will object to my calling it a “vehicle.”  But whenever Steele appears, the storyline falls away. Anachronism rules. Not to mention the director’s exquisite sets, all keyed and subordinated to his ingénue’s stark loveliness (understood in black and white, molded by Italian cameramen into disquieting and sudden plasticity). Like a hot-blooded funerary sculpture made of alabaster, raven hair piled high, Steele’s already imposing height summons schizoid power, satanic sorcery—she’s Eros and Thanatos dynamically balanced. I’ve screened the film many times; and the famous opening sequence invariably leaves my otherwise jaded film students looking traumatized. (Just as a young Martin Scorsese was shattered by it once upon a time.) Barbara Steele’s defiant witch, spewing a final curse upon her mortal judges, pierces to the bone.

While Italian movies robbed Steele of her voice, they liberated her from what it had meant in Britain. Leading ladies in Brit films tended to be well brought-up young things, unless they were lusty and working-class like Diana Dors. Even at Hammer, where sexuality was unleashed regularly via bouts of vampirism, the erotically active roles usually went to continental lovelies (Polish immigrant Ingrid Pitt got her work permit based on Hammer’s claim that no native-born actress could exude such desire and desirability). Steele turns up all-too briefly in Basil Dearden’s Sapphire (1959) as an art school girl, the only kind of role that might allow for both intelligence and a certain liberated attitude. And Steele really was exactly that type. Her appearance is so arresting, you want the movie to simply abandon its plot and follow her into some fresh storyline: it wouldn’t really matter what.

In Italy, Steele suddenly became class-less and nation-less, devoid of associations beyond those conjured by the chiseled cheekbones and enormous eyes (convincingly replaced with poached eggs by Bava for a special effects shot). Her inescapable exoticism didn’t make sense in her native land, but that bone structure could suggest Latin, Slavic, or anything else. Omninational, omnisexual, but definitely carnivorous.

Generally remote with his actors, who were nothing more than compositional elements to him, Bava’s capricious move of selecting his female lead from a magazine photo-spread looks almost prescient in hindsight. Was it luck? Or, perhaps her now legendary eyes suggested a bizarre and beautiful leitmotif… to be destroyed, resurrected, and played endlessly on a register of emotions—extreme emotions, that is, tabooed delights.

Steele shares an anecdote about her director’s temperament and working methods on Black Sunday… “Everything was so meticulously planned that Bava rarely asked me for multiple takes. There was no sense of urgency or drama, which was rare for an Italian director…” I’m suddenly detecting deep ambivalence as she vacillates between little jabs at Bava (“He was a Jesuit priest on the set, somewhere far away”) and gratitude. “There was a tremendous feeling of respect, whereas in my earliest roles at Rank I always felt shoved around, practically negated by the pressure of production.

“Bava did go absolutely berserk once,” she goes on. “John Richardson, this gorgeous, sinewy creature, for some reason couldn’t carry me across the room. And I was like eleven pounds in those days. We had to do it over and over, twenty times or something, and whenever John stumbled or dropped me, the whole crew would be in hysterics. We were all howling with laughter, except for Bava – he went simply wild! Eventually, some poor grip had to get down on all fours, and I rode on his back in a chair with John pretending to carry me.”

If Black Sunday is a summation of spiritual and physical dread, it’s because Steele is everyone in this dream-bauble, everyone and everywhere, an all-consuming autumnal atmosphere. Which, of course, provides Mario Bava with something truly rare—a face and mien as unsettling as horror films always claim to be and almost never are. The devastation she leaves behind, her anarchic displacement, which has nothing to do with conventional notions of performance or “good acting,” is hard to describe. And here Bava earns his label of genius through compositional meaning—amid the groundswells of fog, lifeless trees and gloomy dungeons, Steele is an absence impossibly concretized in penumbras and voids. She is a force of nature never to be repeated.

Nightmare Castle (1965) starts off in Lady Chatterley mode as Steele cheats on her mad scientist husband (“At this rate you’ll wipe out every frog in the entire county,” is an opening line less pithy but more arresting than “Rosebud”) with the horny handyman. She’s soon murdered on an electrified bed, hubby preserving her heart for unexplained reasons while using her blood to rejuvenate his mistress. Then he marries her insipid blonde half sister (Steele again in a blonde wig) and tries to drive her mad. So we now have Gaslight merged with Poe and every revenge-from-the-grave story ever.

The identical twin half-sisters (?) bifurcate further: blonde Barbara goes schizoid, possessed it seems by her departed semi-sibling. Dark Barbara comes back as a very corporeal revenant, hair occluding one profile, like Phil Oakey of the Human League. Tossing the locks aside, she reveals… the horror!

Almost indescribable in terms of plot, character or dialogue, the film looks stunning, as chiaroscuro as Steele’s coal-black hair and snow-white skin. Apparently the product of monkey-typewriter improvisation, the story serves as a kind of post-modern dream-jumble of every Gothic narrative ever. You might get a story like this if you showed all of Steele’s horrors to a pissed-up grade-schooler and then asked them to describe the film they just saw. As a result, the movie really takes what Dario Argento likes to call the “non-Cartesian” qualities of Italian horror to the next dank, stone-buttressed level.

When I first met Barbara Steele about ten years ago, we somehow found ourselves sitting in front of a Brancusi sculpture here in New York City—I remember a filmmaker acquaintance joking afterwards: “Steele beats bronze!” Indeed, at 66 she was still stunningly beautiful, flirtatious, frighteningly aware of the power of her stare.

She was a painter in her youth, so it’s not surprising that, even as I visualize her in a voluptuous, cinematic world of castles and blighted landscapes, her own self-image is perennially absorbed by art—in the sense of André Malraux’s Museum Without Walls. She asks me to show her my paintings and when I dodge the subject out of shyness she offers:

A friend of mine just had a show of his art in a little cinema here – very small paintings, about 8 inches by 6 – and then they projected them onto one of their screens and they looked fantastic!  Size is everything!   Unless you were born in the Renaissance… then you were surrounded by silence and stone walls, shadows and glimmers of gold, and faces that are like spells they look so informed.

Steele speaks of her “old, suspicious Celtic soul,” her bitterness at having “flitted through movies par hazard,” and a newfound desire to make audio books (what colossal revenge!). It’s poetic really, this doppelganger, a ghost-like screen persona following her around. Whenever I think of the effect her movies have had on me, the following words by Charles Lamb leap to mind.

Gorgons and Hydras and Chimaeras – dire stories of Celaeno and the Harpies – may reproduce themselves in the brain of superstition – but they were there before. They are transcripts, types – the archetypes are in us, and eternal. How else should the recital of that which we know in a waking sense to be false come to effect us at all? Is it that we naturally conceive terror from such objects, considered in their capacity of being able to inflict upon us bodily injury? O, least of all! These terrors are of older standing. They date beyond body – or without the body, they would have been the same… That the kind of fear here treated is purely spiritual – that it is strong in proportion as it is objectless on earth, that it predominates in the period of our sinless infancy – are difficulties the solution of which may afford some probable insight into our ante-mundane condition, and a peep at least into the shadowland of pre-existence.

Even the wooliest metaphysics can be hard to separate from actual violence. Case in point: the night of September 22, 1796. Charles Lamb had his own brush with horror, when the future poet and author of children’s stories found himself removing a bloody knife from his sister’s hand. A spasm of matricidal rage that would land her in a mad house—and tending to prove, once again, the need for genres of terror and trepidation.  For a moment at least, Steele seems to agree, bowled over by the Lamb anecdote, literally screaming: “AND THAT NAME – LAMB – IT MAKES YOU THINK OF SUCH INNOCENT BRITISH LANDSCAPES!”  She’s a fairly solitary and introspective person on the one hand, capable of intense and unexpected eruptions of joy on the other, which may be why Italians have always embraced her—a shared gloomy zest for life, fatalism and pasta. There’s something intensely porous about her (as porous as film itself), which helps clarify her otherwise inscrutable tension with that shadow-self up on the screen, the one she so busily downgrades.

***

The thirties bustled with wise-cracking, fast-talking dames, probably not for any proto-feminist reason, but simply because the writers had a surplus of sassy talk to dispense onto the screen, and audiences liked looking at legs, so why not combine the two? Amid all the petite peroxide pretties, a few acerbic character actresses were allowed room, perhaps to make the cuties bloom all the more radiantly against them. Whatever the aesthetic logic, we can be grateful for it, since it gave us Ruth Donnelly and Winnie Lightner and Jean Dixon and a few other unforgettable shrews and wiseacres, adept as stage mothers, streetwise best pals of the leading lady, etc.

Aline MacMahon sort of fits into this category, but also destroys any category she sees with her laser vision. In Gold Diggers of 1933, she’s a Fanny Bryce type comedy showgirl, and in Heat Lightning (1934) she’s an ex-moll running a garage. In between, she played world-weary secretaries and put-upon mothers, taking any role and stealing the movie along with it. Rather than resist classification, she goes on the offensive, smashing down stereotypes and insisting on her own peculiar individuality.

Big and rangy in the body and hands, she had a strange, sculpted beauty, and was as luminous as Dietrich. Maybe more so: cameramen hit Marlene with brighter lights to make her shine out, whereas Aline was typically in the lead’s shadow. Her complexion is like the glass of milk in Suspicion in which Hitchcock planted a light bulb. That white. A sheet of paper passing before her face would appear as a dark eclipsing rectangle.

The law of photogenics insists that actresses hired to play the non-glamorous roles must be staggeringly lovely, but off-kilter and unconventional enough to fool the audience into thinking they’re seeing failed beauty. Aline’s unlikely photofit of attractive features resulted in a caricature of elegance and earthiness in precisely the wrong proportions, which makes her fascinating and alluring to watch.

The eyes are seriously big, saucers hooded by the heaviest lids since Karloff’s monster, resulting in long slits which strive to echo the even wider mouth, a perfectly straight line seemingly intent on decapitation. Like a horizon with lips. The chin cleft below catches the viewer by surprise. Were chin clefts on women more common then, or did studios screen in favor of them? The cheekbones have a graceful, yet powerful curve, so the face as a whole combines the qualities of an ice-cream baby and a crystal skull. All wrong, and alright with me.

Aline’s humor about her ill-assorted collection of perfect features was often played on in dialogue, so it’s pleasing when a role like the one in Heat Lightning admits that, for all her unlikeliness, she was indeed beautiful. More than a pretty face, too: her way with a snappy rejoinder distinguished her even in an era of exceptional wit and quicksilver delivery. And her essence, which radiated out whatever the role, was that of a philosophical, warm, smart, funny, sad woman: the essence of the age.

By Daniel Riccuito and David Cairns

[thisiskatsblog]

Keep blogging but maybe blog about artists who want to be known as queer? Orville Peck and Olly Alexander and Troye Sivan have decent tumblr followings. And LilNas x . We need to make larger tumblr platforms for so many hardworking lgbt artists completely divorced from the Larry ship. Larry is extremely harmful to actual queer based in reality musicians. When instead of following ( on social media) and streaming their music and helping them with their free (lol) publicity, we are stuck on h/l.🌈

Another/the same anon 10 min later:

“Do you know the band cub sport? They are a very indie very fabulous band from Australia. The lead singer and one of his bandmates got married. Tim Nelson and Sam Netterfield. Their love story is gorgeous. Imagine how larries and ziams and all the rest of you would affect the world for good by blogging about irl queer love. Queer men who genuinely are in love and WANT to share their love and lives with the world. Instead you peddle some form of an closeted implausible, toxic relationship ?”

——–

1. Harry and Louis do want to be known as queer

2. Louis and Harry are very hard working LGBTQ+ artists who deserve an audience that’s supportive, also to that aspect of them.

3. How exactly is shipping Larry harmful to anyone? I never understood that argument.

4. Louis and Harry are actual queer musicians and deserve to be known for being musicians as well as being queer icons, and queer audiences deserve representation.

5. I am not a free publicity generator who is required to rationally decide which queer artist deserves my attention most. I am a fan. I choose. I chose Louis and Harry. Only partly because I see my queer experience reflected in their story. Also because I like their music. I much respect the other artists you mentioned,  but I don’t have that bond with them, I don’t like their genre, their style or their lyrics. I love Louis’ unique voice, I love Harry’s unique quirkiness. Also, as LGBTQ+ fans we have become part of Louis’ and Harry’s story in a much bigger way than we ever could be in any of the other artists’ stories. If they are able to come out in the next few years it’s because queer fans stood up against homophobic practices in the industry, said we would support them no matter what. Harry has said many times how important that has been for him. Louis keeps saying he’s got his whole career to thank to these “incredible incredible people” - who he calls “passionate, intelligent, and loyal” in his liner notes - which don’t mention his (fake) girlfriend.  I think he has very good reasons to do so. And there’s no way I’m not going to make good on my promise. 

6. I don’t feel stuck. And the little rainbow isn’t going to distract me from the false front you are putting up. What you are saying is really just another version of “go away queer person and be a fan of someone who’s also queer, nothing queer to see here”.  You’re just pretending I should do it “for the community” - well I’m queer and part of the community and I’m here to stay because I get to chose which artists I like, and I happen to like Louis a lot, and I’m sure he feels the same way about me and my friends, this community, HIS community, being here. So stick that up your ass anon, how bout that for a queer experience. I hope it gets stuck there. 

7. A second ask, no joke! Again trying to tell me that for the good of the world I should be supporting an in real life gay couple, well guess what, I AM SUPPORTING AN IN REAL LIFE GAY COUPLE, that’s fucking closeted by their fucking homophobic label/management, so you know what. I hope it stays stuck up your ass. 

8. Are you REALLY, like really trying to convince me that Louis “ lways in my heart sincerely, here’s the album with my love’s face on it #welivetogetherdealwithit” and Harry “my first real crush was Louis Tomlinson, it’s mutual we’ve discussed it” do not want to share their love for eachother with the world? Like they didn’t wear matching fucking shirts to that birthday thing like they didn’t just write albums for each other’s birthdays singing always you and we made it, and still the one … okay. Okay. You be less intelligent I guess. 

9. Closeted, yes. And shitting on closeted people is… guess what…. HOMOPHOBIC. 

10. Implausible? Like the Sun changing the starting date of Louis and Eleanor being together with more than a year when he was publicly with someone else plausible? Or like disappearing baby bumps plausible? Or like announcing a pregnancy 8 weeks into it plausible? Sure Jan. 

11. Toxic is what you are. Toxic is what these gaslighting the fans tactics are. Toxic is what these bullying the queer fans away with anons - whether being shitty or pretending to be friendly - tactics are. These supposedly “you should do something that’s actually good for the LGBTQ+ community” anons are as toxic and even more dangerous than the other. Because this one exudes some judgment of people in the closet and that’s harmful. And people being cut off from support because they are closeted, that’s even more harmful. I have no good words for you anon. Just none. I am normally all about non violent communication but you make me feel pretty violent. Because there is no way you are going to tell me I don’t know what’s good for me or my own community.

I’ll tell you what’s NOT good for the LGBTQ+ community. What is toxic. And harmful as hell. A 16 year old and an 18 year old kid - they were KIDS - being cajoled into the closet with fear tactics. Being forced to hide. Being forced to even though it became clear this was not what they wanted anymore. Them being SURPRISED at finding out there were people who supported them no matter what (their eyes in that interview where they found out…. my god). Them trying to connect with those people, and their reputations destroyed for it, and those people getting badly hurt because of it. Do you really think that after me and my friends having talked at least three people down from suicide, I’d give up on this? Do you? Really?

You know what’s also not good? This industry being allowed to continue closeting practices. That’s not good for ANY queer artist in or out of the closet. If they can do it to one of us they can do it to all of us. So I think Troye Sivan, and Olly Alexander, and all of the others you mention would probably say: good on them, good on the LGBTQ+ fans of One Direction that they stood up for themselves and said “we’re here, we’re queer, and we are going to support our own no matter which bullshit you throw at us”. 

I don’t even know why you keep trying to convince me otherwise. It’s been 7 years this month. Louis is openly shading babygate by now, waving at fans’ flags, thumbing us up, telling us to “be proud”. Why on earth would I go now? This is a one way street, dear. The outcome has been clear to me from the start: the gays always, ALWAYS win, in the end. It will all come out in the wash. And I’ll be loving the press that day, I am pretty sure I will ;-) 

[heartschoicegames]

Heart’s Choice Author Interview: Melissa Scott, “A Player’s Heart”

Find love, fame, and intrigue on the stage of the city's all-woman Opera! Put on a show, survive drama on and off-stage...and win your lover's heart. A Player's Heart is a 222,000-word interactive lesbian romance novel by Melissa Scott. I sat down with Melissa to talk about her upcoming game, and the vicissitudes of romance writing. A Player's Heart releases this Thursday, February 13th for Heart's Choice. This is your first piece of interactive fiction, but not, I think, your first romance novel. Tell me a little about your other work. This is indeed my first piece of interactive fiction, but in my other life I'm mostly known as a writer of science fiction and fantasy. I have written two fantasy mystery series with strong romantic elements—the Points series (Point of Hopes, Point of Knives, Point of Dreams, Fairs' Point, and Point of Sighs), which I began with my late partner Lisa A. Barnett and continued after her death; and the Mathey and Lynes novels (Death By Silver and A Death at the Dionysus Club), which I wrote with another Choice of Games author, Amy Griswold.   The Points novels are set in the city of Astreiant, where astrology is a complex and important science, and center on the professional and personal relationship of pointsman (a kind of police officer) Nicolas Rathe and ex-mercenary turned guardsman Philip Eslingen. Each novel is a stand-alone mystery, but the development of the relationship is a major part of the ongoing story. The Mathey and Lynes novels are set in an Edwardian London in which metaphysics — magic — is a respectable profession akin to law or medicine. Metaphysician Edward Mathey has just purchased his first practice and rekindled his connection with a former schoolmate, Julian Lynes, a would-be consulting detective, when they are thrust into dealing with a series of mysterious deaths that risk outing their forbidden relationship. My most recent novel, Finders, is far-future space opera about a trio of salvage operators who stumble into a discovery that may destroy their civilization. Beyond those, I've written more than 30 science fiction and fantasy novels, most of them featuring queer themes and characters. I've won the Lambda Literary Award in SF/F four times (and been nominated four more times), and have won the Spectrum Award three times. I've written everything from near-future cyberpunk to far-future adventure to space opera in which the "science" is based on neo-Platonic magic, and the starships harness the music of the spheres to travel between solar systems. I've also written tie-in materials for Star Trek: Deep Space 9, Star Trek: Voyager, Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis, Star Wars Rebels - and one more that I'm not allowed to talk about yet! What did you find most challenging about the process? Writing a branching narrative, editing it, or handling the code? Technically? Handling the code, hands down.  That's not something I'd ever done before, and, while mercifully ChoiceScript is more language-like than mathematical, I still feel as though I'm "speaking" it at a kindergarten level. On a conceptual level, though, the most difficult — and most rewarding —part of the process was learning to leave enough space at the center of the story for players to create their own character and experiences. The whole point of novel-length fiction is to put readers into characters' heads, to show the world through that characters' experiences, but that's the exact opposite of what interactive fiction does. The writer doesn't dictate the interpretation; you can only suggest and steer, and let the players make their own story happen. It was a hard leap to make at first, but once I'd gotten there, it was really fun to tell a story that way. In some ways, it suits my natural style — I prefer to create character indirectly, and allow readers to draw their own inferences — but it's conceptually a very different kind of story-telling. This is the first lesbian romance we're releasing for Heart's Choice and we would have loved to have it ready for the initial launch, because having a romance game for everyone is really the whole idea. Are you primarily writing for a lesbian audience in your other work? I was sorry it wasn't ready for the initial launch, too. I wouldn't say that my work is written for a lesbian audience—I want as wide an audience as I can get—but it is all definitely written from a lesbian perspective. I mean, it really can't not be! It's a huge part of who I am. But I've been an out lesbian writer since the 1980s, and that perspective has meant different things and received very different reactions over those decades. It's a lot less fraught than it was when I started, that's for sure! And of course some of my stories are addressing issues that are most directly relevant to and subject to debate by a queer audience—the Mathey and Lynes novels, for example, are partly about creating and maintaining queer community—but I also hope they'll be accessible to a non-queer audience as well.  Tell me a little about the fictional world of A Player's Heart. A Player's Heart takes place in Tristendesande, the rich, sophisticated mercantile city at the mouth of the great river that runs the length of the country. Everyone and everything of importance eventually comes downriver to Tristendesande, or so its inhabitants will tell you; they have nothing but disdain for the people of the rival industrial city of Castago, at the river's headwaters. But Castago's power is in the ascendant, and Tristendesande is ruled by a foreign-born regent in the name of her toddler son. Even if its power is waning, however, Tristendesande is a beautiful city — imagine fin-de-siecle Paris or Vienna, carved stone facades and gilding and gaslight. It's a center of the arts, and at the center of that artistic world are the Theater, where all the roles are played by men, and the Opera, where all the roles are played by women. Devas play female roles, dragons play male roles, and the artifices are responsible for special effects, costumes, and all the other technical pieces. The Opera's shows are generally bright and frothy, full of song and dance and sparklingly witty dialogue, but often there's serious point hidden among the frolics. Of course there are also cabarets and other venues, led by the upstart Electricity Theater, where — scandalously! — men and women perform together, on the same stage and in the same skits.  Did you have a character you most enjoyed writing and spending time with? I think the most fun was creating four love interests. They're very different women — the best friend, the sparkling rival, the powerful society hostess, the scandalous lead of the rival Electricity Theater — and there had to be good reasons for someone to fall in love with each of them. However, it did create a certain amount of mental whiplash. Just when I'd gotten really comfortable with one of them, and knew exactly why she was wonderful, I'd have to switch to one of the others — and convince myself the she was the perfect lover! The other "character" that I loved was the Opera itself. I really enjoyed creating that social world. from the semi-retired Elders who manage the company and decide on the performances to the students who take walk-ons as they work toward joining the Opera proper.

What are you working on now? I can't yet talk about the project that's currently eating my life (I hope to be able to say more by the end of the month), but beyond that I've just completed a fantasy novel, Water Horse, about the queer king of a beleaguered kingdom fighting to twist free of the prophecies that threaten his people. Next up is Fallen, a sequel to Finders, about a weaver of webs for forbidden AI who has to chose between saving her lovers or seeing her people fall into the Long Dark.