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floareadeaur · 3 months

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Ferid's Abnormality in an Abnormal Universe - Character Analysis

I feel that what Rígr tells Ferid about his " abnormality " has to do with the fact that Ferid seems psychologically unaffected by vampirism.

Ferid still wants revenge on Rígr in chapter 91 and he knows exactly why. His emotion is alive, human, not degraded at all in the last thousand years.

Compared to other vampires, like Crowley, for example, who, although he remembers that Ferid ruined his life by killing his friends, no longer remembers the faces or names of his friends, and the emotion of the idea of revenge had become a shadow after 50 years as a vampire only.

Also, Mikaela says after 4 years as a vampire that he is already starting to become indifferent to people, apathetic.

Vampires' memories fade over the years, and their once vivid emotions become barely palpable shadows.

But at Ferid, things are different.

His behavior as an adult and a vampire mirrors his behavior as a 16-year-old.

Then his thoughts were these, but as soon as his older brother appears, his expression changes and that childish smile appears and further, a learned behavior, which his older brother likes.

Obedient behavior, meant for a second-born to the throne, whose ambitions must be non-existent.

At the opposite pole, as a vampire, Ferid approaches a mask that contrasts with that of the "porcelain child" from his childhood.

"I've always been perfectly normal. Especially for someone who was second in line for a royal throne.

I had such a strict upbringing. They were teaching me to be a saint." ( Ferid to Rígr in chapter 91 )

This new mask of his is a monstrous one.

Ferid, instead of humiliating himself and stepping aside from anyone to whom he might be an impediment, like in his childhood,

" Naaah. You're so much more talented than I am. I'll stay out of the way. You're more popular than I am. "

he frightens them, disgusts them all.

It is toxic revenge for how he was forced to be what others wanted him to be in order to be accepted.

But this is another mask, behind which Ferid continues to hide.

His emotions remain alive, hidden within him, the same for a thousand years.

And his ideal is the same as when he was 16.

Basically, Ferid has the same goal since adolescence. That of stopping the cycle of continuous reincarnation for a destroyed god, of actually confronting this god in whose palm he is a pawn since his creation as a soul.

His ideal is not to die, to drink blood as a vampire.

Not.

Ferid wants to change the origin of the putrid world that created him. It is his highest ideal.

The vampire life seems like a continuation of his search.

A search for what?

Ferid at 16 asks his elder brother's retainers to go on a conquest to the Far East to find the sage who wrote the treatise on reincarnation and the creation of the world.

Who is this sage? Maybe Sika Madu?

I think it is very likely.

So it can truly be said that Ferid leaves at the age of 16 to find God.

His idea of a good God who created him out of love was lost. As the author mentions this about him, that Ferid says it with genuine sadness in "The story of the Vampire Michaela".

And Ferid, however, wants to find that broken creator of his.

In this discussion with Sika in chapter 76, what I say can be confirmed.

Ferid knows who the "god" of his world is, and his question here is not just about vampires, but why Sika would have created humans out of darkness, into a destroyed world where they would be condemned to endless reincarnation without a real purpose.

And how Ferid says that he will decide what to do once he learns this reason shows his need to understand the meaning and purpose of his universe.

Why is the world like this, why was his life like this?

Why was he born second in line to the throne, meant to be a shadow of his brother and continually repressed in his family?

Why did not his family accept him as himself and force him into an obedient "saint" role?

Why does not that good god exist?

Why does his own soul have to reincarnate endlessly to a horrible fate?

Why is he so lonely and could never find a place to fit in?

There are many justified questions for which Ferid wants an answer, a meaning, an order.

And I think he is like this, precisely, because Ferid's soul has always felt much too much.

Otherwise, never could a soul that does not feel touch such a pit of despair.

And his mind is always too aware. Not forgetting anything, the memories remaining perfectly vivid in his mind.

It is as if Ferid is reliving the past in every moment of the present.

That is why he took refuge in reading as a child and hid with his books.

His parents considered him incorrigible, broken.

"How scary. But, ever since I was born, I have never been silent. As Papa and Mama have said. Ever since I came out of the womb, I had an incorrigible mouth. Even so, they were still my parents. What was it again. What were we talking about~ Anyways──" ( Wrat 19, volume 1, chapter 1)

His older brother was content with Ferid being his shadow, he was glad that Ferid saw no meaning in living, so he had all the power in the kingdom.

No one could listen to Ferid, no one wanted to see, understand him.

Probably in Ferid's search for god, for Sika, he met Rígr.

And the latter convinced him that he had the solution to Ferid's purpose. That Ferid is the "chosen one" to change the putrid origin of the world, its broken laws.

Rígr nurtured his ideal, only to use Ferid as an experiment, ultimately abandoning him.

But Ferid did not lose his ideal either after that or as a vampire.

The new condition, yes, accentuated his feeling of imprisonment, isolation, loneliness, his violence.

But his goal remained exactly the same.

Because Ferid, in fact, did not need anyone for finding purpose. Neither his parents nor Rígr Stafford.

Rather, the actual lack of emotional support from these people let him see the harsh reality of his universe.

And hence the desire to change the meaninglessness, the origin of the rotten world, which created him.

I think that his name, " unparalleled ", is chosen by the author with a clear intention.

Ferid is unique in his universe, able to keep his purpose regardless of becoming a vampire, regardless of not finding love in the people around him, regardless of whether the roles he is forced into are always inappropriate for who he really is.

I believe he is meant to change the universe he lives in.

To stop the senseless cycle, birth from darkness, to be more than a pawn in the palm of his broken god.

His whole search is that of a child who wants to accept and love himself, of a soul that wants freedom, meaning, order.

And in the end, Ferid is much more human than one might think. His high ideal, that of changing the laws of his rotten world, its meaninglessness, shows the great depth of his soul.

That is why he is a fascinating character, truly "one of a kind".

Delving into understanding how he never actually lost his motivation and realizing how his motivation goes so far to understanding his own creation as a soul, is heartening.

To me, he is the most fascinating and deep character.

I thank the author for creating Ferid, truly the "one of a kind".

And thanks to you, whoever is reading this.

I could talk about this character forever.

So anyone interested in understanding him like me, do not forget, feedback is appreciated and my inbox is always open.

I wish a good day to anyone who finds this post!

#ferid bathory #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #owari no seraph chapter 134 #sote #ferid bathory chapter 134 #ferid bathory character analysis #seraph of the end chapter 134 #owari no seraph character analysis

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lycanr0t · 2 years

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having to see someone honest to god tag something "scenecore" making my soul leave me rn

the very real urge to block people who tack on "core" to the end of everything. so tempting lol

the trend of adding "core" at the end of random shit makes things makes things harder to search for first of all, second usually whatever thing they're adding "core" to already HAS a name, and its stupid and useless to add core for no fucking reason.

And I'm too tired to make my next point make much sense but it's also a genuinely dangerous game ya'll are playing here. Most "aesthetics" come from specific counter cultures. Counter cultures that aren't inherently entirely about the fashion itself, but the MEANING behind it. Goth and emo kids dressing in dark makeup and purposely looking creepy WAS for fun but also it's a specific form of rebellion. It's making yourself unpalatable to people who just want you to conform. Punk, emo, goth, scene, lolita, decora, menhera, they're fashion based yes, but at their core they were created as a means to rebel. To specifically go against the norm because they already were being outcasted. It's finding community and love for yourself even when others don't.

adding -core to a random word has no community behind it, and no purpose. It's redundant. why would i look up "frogcore" if that just means images of frogs? i would just look up frogs.

it's a shallow way to make something more trendy sounding. It creates a false sense of community without there actually being anything close to that.

I get it, cottagecore got mega popular so everyone decided to just tack on -core to everything else because you wanted to feel like you were participating in a cool trendy aesthetic thing. cringe culture is at an all time high and people are very pressured to make their interests 'cool' for others instead of just enjoying it for themselves. I genuinely do get why people do it.

its just. we've turned every image into a fashion trend. -cores become like fast fashion, where what's popular can shift in an instant and the moment it does! omg quick! frogs arent cool anymore you have to buy things with images of clowns now! make your whole life clowns! dont ask yourself if you actually like clowns, everyone else loves clowncore so it MUST be good!

or quick! put -core at the end of every other word when you tag something. just in case. no real reason. theres no community or gain from doing it lol. also dont forget not to tag it as the actual words because we dont care about people who try to blacklist things hashtag seacore oceancore watercore aquacore underwatercore fishcore wetcore lakecore puddlecore :)

this is just a long scattered rant lmfao but genuinely i hate -core shit fuck off with that and for the love of god realize you're doing nothing meaningful by adding -core onto random words. it not fucking "frogcore" its just a picture of a frog. im going to kill you

#rot posts #this came out way more aggressive than i expected lmfao #whatever git gud -core users every day i get closer to blocking all of you

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chloebeale · 3 years

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NOW OR NEVER — (THE BECHLOE KISS)

PAIRING: Bechloe. RATING: T. A/N: It’s 3:30 am and my eyes are blurring, but how could I resist?

BECHLOE KISS / headcanon post

***

Beca doesn’t want her.

It has been years now. Years of longing looks and lingering stares, of dainty fingers brushing against gently trembling hands in the cool evening air. Years of Chloe wanting Beca, of desperate pining and of so painfully, so achingly just wanting her. There is something of a sad finality in accepting, as she watches Beca with glossy, tear-stung eyes, crowded by people and ready to start her new life—the life Chloe knows she truly, truly does deserve—the idea of Beca leaving, of taking these next steps away from the Bellas, away from Chloe.

No matter how soul-destroying that realization may be, though, Chloe is filled with a bittersweet feeling all in all. Chloe is so happy for Beca, she is so ridiculously happy, so overwhelmingly proud of her. But letting go of those years, of those real and raw feelings, it is just...it’s really freaking hard.

And Chloe knows that it is unfair of her to retreat to Chicago right now. As she moves through the crowds of people with a specific purpose, in search of the one person she knows will be able to take her mind off of everything even if only for a brief moment, she knows that it is so, so unfair, because he wants her, and she doesn’t want him. She just wants… Well, she just wants the distraction.

She realizes, as she rounds the corner to the familiar sight of a smiling Chicago, that he will be all too happy to provide that for her. And that is unfair, too.

Despite her sadness, despite that sense of loss plummeting into her stomach, despite everything, Chloe’s own smile is a genuine one as she picks up the pace of her footsteps, hand outstretching to rest on the back of Chicago’s neck in an effort to pull him closer.

He doesn’t question her, he leans in just as easily as she does, and for half a second, Chloe gets to just… she just gets to forget.

***

Adrenaline. It is adrenaline that is keeping Beca going right now.

It was adrenaline up on that stage, as she belted out that song to a packed out stadium of people, and it is adrenaline coursing through her body now, as she excuses herself from the Bellas’ squeals of excited celebration, knowing exactly where she wants to go.

Beca had seen it, she had seen that look of quiet sadness glistening in the most familiar eyes as their gazes had met through the crowd. And Beca knows what all of this entails, she knows that signing with DJ Khaled is going to mean a lot of huge, terrifying changes, but there is one thing she refuses to leave behind, one person she simply will not do this without.

She just needs to tell her. She needs to find her, and she needs to tell her.

Of course, as Beca rounds the corner to a quieter section, she doesn’t necessarily bank on exactly what she finds there.

To say that her heart doesn’t drop would be a lie. Beca has seen Chloe kissing people before, she has seen her with other people, and she has seen the very distinct way Chicago has stared every time Chloe has entered a room throughout this entire trip.

This time, however, that natural pang in her chest seems to subside quickly, it seems to be overtaken by a new rush of adrenaline, and as she stares blankly at the scene before her, notes the sight of Theo approaching in her peripheral vision, Beca decides to do something about it.

Theo doesn’t get the chance to speak. He opens his mouth to do so (that dude is always talking), but Beca doesn’t let him proceed. Instead, she rides that same wave of adrenaline, and presses her hand to his abdomen to effectively push him away.

“I’ve gotta go show this guy how it’s done,” she murmurs, and whether it is to Theo or simply to herself, a brief pep talk of some kind, Beca doesn’t know.

All she knows is that her feet carry her forward with a confidence she barely even recognizes, until she can reach out and grasp Chloe by the arm.

And suddenly, she realizes, it truly is now or never.

***

It catches Chloe off guard at first, the feeling of a hand tugging at her wrist. Fortunately, despite the level of passion she is attempting to display, she is absolutely not feeling this current kiss, she doesn’t care for the man whose lips are pressed firmly to her own. It proves easy for her to pull away, startled eyes widening slightly at the sight of Beca Mitchell, confident and beautiful, pulling her in.

It is like something from a dream—a dream Chloe has had many, many times before—the way Beca lifts her hands to Chloe’s cheeks. Chloe doesn’t even get to question her, doesn’t get to ask her what she is doing, before she feels soft lips pushing against her own, feels her lids fluttering shut and her body giving in to the sensation of Beca Mitchell kissing her, of something she has wanted for so, so long now.

Instinctively, Chloe’s hands rise to the back of Beca’s head, long fingers grasping at her neatly styled hair. And she cannot believe this is actually happening, cannot believe she is actually, finally kissing Beca Mitchell. No—Beca is kissing her.

Although she registers the sound of another voice (Theo’s, perhaps?), Chloe doesn’t take it in. She can’t really think of anything, nothing other than this very moment, this long overdue act of desperate passion, of years of pent up, desperate longing. As much as she doesn’t want to ruin it, doesn’t want to stop it, she needs a second to really take it in.

“What are you…” Chloe begins in a soft, disbelieving voice as she pulls just slightly back. Her hands refuse to move, they refuse to loosen their grip on the back of Beca’s hair, almost like she is afraid of her coming to her senses and making a hasty retreat. She expects the sight of Beca’s gaze, less scared than she would’ve ever imagined, to be something of a reality check, but it isn’t. There is no terrified moment of realization, no fear nor apprehension. It is simply them, the two of them staring at one another in the most natural, most comfortable way. Chloe’s voice softens, corners of her lips arching upward just slightly, and she whispers in a quiet, genuine tone meant only for Beca, “Bec, Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to do that?”

Although Beca licks her lips, almost like she is about to say something, it seems that she opts to hold back, to use her actions as her voice right now instead. A soft hand reaches around to tuck a loose auburn curl behind Chloe’s ear, and the gentle grin on Beca’s lips, the one Chloe’s gaze darts directly to, speaks volumes. She has every answer she needs as Beca leans back in, and Chloe does nothing to stop her.

A hand drops to her side, before her palm is settling beneath Beca’s thigh. Chloe lifts it to move her impossibly closer, and soon she is melting into this perfect, blissful moment with Beca Mitchell, a moment to far surpass any of her fantasies.

Maybe, she finally realizes, just maybe, Beca does want her, after all.

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe kiss #mine #mine:writing #now or never

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shinonometrash · 3 years

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💕🍄The 12 Days of Ayumu 🍄💕

JULY 17TH!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY AYUMU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AYUMU 😭💕😭💕😭💕 Doing all this translating has done nothing except make me miss him even more 😭 But!!! Today is the big day!! And so we have the thing I’ve been saving for last!!!! The absolutely cutest Ayumu story I think I’ve ever read !!!! ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I wanted to cry when I read it it was so sweet I love him so much sdfgnkjkjnfg

I was a lot more creative with translating this story to make it sound more fun and natural, since I’m finally getting comfortable enough to start doing that, I really hope you guys enjoy it !!

it’s pretty long, so I’m putting it under a readmore

Ayumu Shinonome: Happy Birthday ♡

technically this story is about Ayumu celebrating our birthday, rather than about celebrating his, but...

In the S ward is one of the most popular downtown areas in Tokyo.

2PM —

Middle schooler: Hey, look at that guy over there

Middle schooler 2: Oh my gosh, yeah!

Middle schooler: He’s a host, don’t you think?

Middle schooler 2: He’s definitely a host!

(…No, you’re wrong.)

(I’m just wearing a formal suit.)

Middle schooler: Eek…this is the first time I’ve seen a host in real life!

Middle schooler 2: I guess that’s the norm around here, we are in Tokyo after all!

Thanks to the middle school students who seem to be in the middle of a field trip, I now see the passersby struggling to contain their laughter.

(This couldn’t get any worse. Ugh, this sucks.)

(Really. I was already reluctant enough to do this as is…)

Speaking of which—

MC: Ayumuuuu~!

At last, the reason for all of this torture has arrived.

MC: Sorry! Did I keep you waitin-…

MC: !!!

(Uh…is she okay?)

MC: Ayumu, you…you look…so hot…

MC: Ahh, you look amazing!!

Ayumu: Dummy!! Keep your voice down!

(If she says something like that too loudly…)

Middle schooler: Oh no, look! He’s got a customer…

Middle schooler 2: She must be a huge regular…

Ayumu: …gah, come on, let’s go.

MC: Huh? Already?

MC: I haven’t changed into my pumps yet…

Ayumu: It’s fine, come on! Hurry up!

MC: Ahh, hold up! I came all this way so at least let me put my arm around yours…

MC: Gahh, slow down! You’re walking way too fast!

MC: Ayuumuuuuuu!

This all started about two weeks ago.

MC: Ayumu! Look! This is what I was talking about!

Ayumu: Eh…? Scary…

Fresh out of the bath, my girlfriend suddenly plops down on the ground.

Ayumu: …What

Ayumu: Don’t tell me you broke my limited edition Tyrannosaurus mug…

MC: No, no, that’s not it!

MC: It has to do with this year’s KappaMC Birthday Celebration!

Ayumu: Gross

Ayumu: You’re creating your own birthday celebration…?

MC: It’s a great idea, isn’t it!

MC: I see this kind of thing a lot on social media!

Ayumu: Even so, you’re not supposed to post that about yourself

Ayumu: That sort of tag is made by enthusiastic fans…

MC: Well then, I’ll ask you to do it, Ayumu! Since you should be my biggest fan!

MC: Pleaaase do it with me~?

MC: Take me on a date in a formal suit please!

Nonsense, I thought. At the time.

However, at a later date…

Toru: Ahh~ This seems to be real popular these days! Suit men

Ayumu: …what?

Toru: If you search anywhere on social media sites, you’ll get tons of hits~

Toru: Guys uploading selfies in suits

…I don’t get it.

What’s so fun about showing off a suit?

(Although, she did say something the other day about wanting to go on a date with me in a formal suit..)

Ayumu: Frivolous. Completely.

Toru: Noo, you just need to choose the right place to go!

Toru: Shall the Great Toru offer you some guidance~?

Ayumu: No thanks. There’s no way that’s ever happening…

Toru: Hm, well I don’t know what kind of person your partner is, but—

Toru: Sometimes it’s important to spice things up a bit so that you don’t fall into a rut!

Ayumu: …

Toru: Again, I really have noo idea who your partner is buuuut

Toru: I think women who like that sort of thing would be really happy~

Ayumu: …

(…bah. He’s probably right.)

(She does seem like she’d like that sort of thing…)

That’s why I decided to title it “The Extraordinary Production”

I end up regretting this as soon as we start stage one—meeting up downtown.

(Ah, well, at least I won’t feel as out of place at the next stage.)

Yes, and the next stage is—

MC: Look! Look! Ayumu! The view outside is sooooooo pretty!!

Ayumu: Ah, I see.

(Naturally. We are on the 38th floor.)

By the way, the seats here are filled almost full.

Of them, about half are reservations.

MC: Whoaaa, did you see?? This afternoon tea set!!

MC: The tea stand! It has five tiers! Five!!

Ayumu: Ah, I see.

MC: Hey, at least act more surprised!

MC: Fives tiers? This is the first time, for me at least, that I’ve ever seen anything like this!

(…yeah, I suppose it would be)

I say this because—

Toru: How’s this place look?

Toru: “Enjoy some luxury afternoon tea on the top floor of a high rise tower”

Toru: Whoa, the tea stand, it’s got five tiers!

Ayumu: Ah, I see.

Toru: Ugh, what kind of response was that!

Toru: Are you even listening?? The tea stand has five tears!!

Toru: Isn’t that alone pretty much a win right there?

Ayumu: I don’t get it.

Toru: In a date, it’s either a win or a loss…

Soma: But doesn’t it seem likely that it would make his date happy?

Ayumu: !

Soma: Women who are particular about food will also care about how many tiers of sweets there are, will they not?

Soma: Glutto-no, women who eat everything with enthusiasm,

Soma: I think they would be very pleased with a five tiered tea stand.

Ayumu: Haa…

MC: What should I do?? My heart is beating so fast, I’m so excited…

MC: I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all five tiers…

Ayumu: If it’s you, you’ll be fine.

Ayumu: …since you’re a glutton.

MC: Huh? What did you just say right now…?

Ayumu: Nothing, don’t worry about it.

Seeing the waiter passing by, I raise my hand to get their attention.

Waiter: Did you decide what you would like to order?

Ayumu: The afternoon tea set for two people, please.

Ayumu: The original black tea blend.

Waiter: Understood, thank you.

As soon as the waiter walks away, I purposely sigh dramatically.

Ayumu: So noisy

MC: Wha-…I didn’t even sa-

Ayumu: Your stare

Ayumu: It feels like you’re trying to stare into my soul or something since a while ago.

MC: …hey, b-but that….

MC: I mean! I can’t help it…

MC: You just look way too amazing today, it’s like my eyes are being sucked in…

Ayumu: …

(…what is she even saying, this girl)

Ayumu: This isn’t the first time you’ve seen me like this though, is it? In a suit?

MC: That’s true, but…today is special…

MC: You wore the suit for me, didn’t you?

MC: That automatically makes you look, like, 30% hotter!

MC: I’m just so happy, I can’t stop looking at you

Ayumu: ….I see.

There was a strange pause before I replied.

Probably because I was remembering the advice that Toru gave me.

Toru: You definitely need to be sure to always compliment your date’s outfit~

Ayumu: …wha?

Toru: Well, if you’re wearing a formal suit

Toru: Then your date should also be in formal wear, right?

Ayumu: that…well…

Toru: And so, you need to be sure to give your date lots of compliments!

Toru: Cause girls always put several times more effort into things like their makeup and hairstyle!

Ayumu: No, no, she doesn’t have me beat there

Ayumu: If we’re talking hairstyle, it’s definitely me…

Toru: Bah, well, saying things like “that looks great on you” or “you look pretty” is always a safe bet

Toru: And then…

Ayumu: You don’t—

MC: “I don’t”?

—“you don’t look too bad yourself, either”

That’s it. All I have to do is use what she said as an opportunity to compliment her back.

(So, come on. Say it.)

(Just light and natural.)

(Sound genuine about it…)

Ayumu: You don’t—

MC: Ah!!

Suddenly, my girlfriend jumps out of her chair as if remembering something.

MC: Sorry, is it okay if I go to the restroom for real quick?

MC: It’s…my shoes, I’m still wearing my sneakers

Ayumu: …

MC: No, I know already, you don’t have to tell me

MC: “You should’ve just worn your pumps from the beginning”

MC: That’s what you were about to say, right?

MC: But these shoes don’t quite fit right…

MC: “It’ll be fine if just change into them right before I meet up with Ayumu”…is what I had told myself

Ayumu: …

MC: I’ll just change into them real quick!!

Ayumu: …

(…This sucks.)

I just let a perfect chance that I’ll probably never see again slip by.

(No, it’s fine though.)

(It’s not like I absolutely HAVE to give her a compliment.)

That was just Toru’s opinion.

She didn’t specifically ask me to do it, or anything.

And so, from there, while I’m with my girl…

MC: Ahh, that was so delicious!

MC: The cake and the scones and the tea, they were all the best! Ayumu: …

MC: Oh, and the clotted cream too!

MC: It was the first time I’ve ever had it but it went surprisingly well with the scones~

MC: I wonder if they sell it at that other shop…

(…this is it.)

Her head is probably full of the afternoon tea we just had.

I want to make her happy…more than anything.

(But it’s impossible to compliment her when things are like this.)

I’ll just start by making a statement about what she’s wearing, but it’ll have a compliment at the end.

“I noticed your dress has lace on top of the turquoise fabric. It’s not bad.

“Those pumps must not be comfortable to wear. But they go nicely with the dress.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you wear this much makeup. It looks nice.”

(I’m psyching myself up too much, aren’t I?)

I guess it just goes to show how much I’ve been looking forward to this day, though.

MC: So where are we going next?

Ayumu: Anywhere is fine, as long as it only takes about an hour.

MC: Hm? What does that mean?

Ayumu: This.

I pull two tickets out of the breast pocket of my suit.

MC: Whaa…the opera??

Ayumu: It’s in about an hour from now. So we can’t go unless we go at that time.

(The idea wasn’t mine, though.)

Yes, this idea…

Toru: Hmm, what other places would be good to wear a formal suit to…

Toru: What about a luxury brand store?

Ayumu: Huh?

Toru: If you wear a businesswear vs a formal suit to a shop, the staff will treat you differently, right?

Toru: Because they’ll be acting even more polite to you

Toru: There’s no doubt that your date will feel like a celebrity!

Toru: Right, Goto?

Goto: Don’t touch me, I’m not responding to that.

Toru: And after you can take her to a fancy restaurant inside a hotel or a bar with a gorgeous night view!

Toru: Sure it might be a little cliche sounding, but it’ll certainly be something out of the ordinary that you won’t forget!

Toru: Hey, Gotooo!

Goto: Look, even if you touch me, I’m still not going to respo-

???: Aww, aren’t you guys sweet

Toru: …huh?

Tsugaru: Don’t you know this is the perfect time to go watch the opera?

Ayumu: ..……good afternoon. How long have you been there?

Tsugaru: Now that hardly matters, does it?

Tsugaru: More importantly, if you’re going to put all that effort into a date, you should go to the opera.

Tsugaru: It’s like a date specifically meant for formal wear, is it not~?

Tsugaru: Hmmm, but…

Tsugaru: It’s possible the person you’re planning to take on a date doesn’t understand the opera, though.

Ayumu: …I should first confirm whether that’s true or not, though

Ayumu: Hey, have you ever watched the opera?

MC: Uhhhh, that’s…

MC: Well, I’ve seen Phantom of the Opera…

Ayumu: That’s not the same thing

Ayumu: That’s just a musical.

MC: …well of course I know that much!

MC: So, this is a first

MC: It’ll be my “first time”!

Ayumu: Wait…do you hear that—

MC: I want my first time to be with you, Ayumu!

MC: So please, take my opera virginity—!

???: Ahhh!!

A sudden scream drowns out her playful chattering.

Woman: A purse snatcher…!!

Woman: Somebody, please! My bag!

(Seriously? A purse snatcher?)

Before I get a chance to confirm, she jumps into action.

She starts chasing the purse snatcher.

(Dummy! What is she doing??)

Purse snatcher: Damn it…!

The criminal escapes to the back alley at the end of the road. Of course, my girl isn’t the type to give up so easily.

MC: Stop right there!

While she chases after the purse snatcher, I enter the next alley.

If the criminal turns the corner here, I’m pretty sure I can cut him off.

Sure enough—

(…he came.)

MC: Ayumu!

Purse snatcher: Shit…!

I’m in front of the criminal, blocking his path, while she’s at his back. He turns around and rushes at her.

Purse snatcher: Move it!

MC: Just who do you think you are!!

Her next move is quite something. As the criminal charges at her, she swiftly grabs his right hand, twisting it behind his back and shoving him to the ground, planting her body weight on his back.

Purse snatcher: Ouch! Ow ow ow!

From there, we hand over the criminal to the authorities and all live happily ever after—

Or not.

MC: The interrogation took longer than I expected…

Ayumu: Yeah, it did

MC: But if we leave now we should be able to just barely make it in time…

???: Oh my gosh, look at her

I hear a whisper from a woman passing by.

Woman: Yikes, look at her, did she get into a fight?

Woman 2: Maybe she fell? There’s a hole in her stockings

The innocent exchange seems to have reached her ears.

MC: Oh…

There’s no denying that she looks beat up right now.

Her dress is dirty and the knees of her stockings have holes in them.

(Of course.)

(She had to straddle the criminal on the ground to secure him.)

However, her stockings aren’t the only thing that tore.

MC: I-I’m sorry, I’lll go change them right away…

Ayumu: The lace

MC: Huh?

Ayumu: The lace part on your dress, too

MC: !

Ayumu: Did it get caught on something? Like a nail?

Ayumu: When you were chasing after the purse snatcher

MC: …ah, yeah…

Seems I probably guessed right.

MC: I’m so sorry, I’ll go change into a new outfit…

MC: Ah…but, the time…

Ayumu: …

MC: Please just wait a second…I’ll figure it out someway or another…

MC: To change…I’ll just, I’ll go buy some new clothes…

Ayumu: It’s fine, the way it is now

Strangely, the words seem to just flow out of my mouth on their own accord

Ayumu: You don’t look bad

MC: Uhh…?

Ayumu: It doesn’t look bad, does it? How you look right now

It’s still the outfit she put so much effort into, just a bit worn out now.

Either way, it’s still very ‘KappaMC’-like.

(Really, it’s not bad.)

I run my hands through her messy hair to smooth it out.

She looks up at me, confused.

MC: Um…Ayumu…?

Ayumu: Let’s go

MC: Wait, I can’t go to the opera looking like this…

Ayumu: We’re not. Going to the opera, that is.

MC: What! No! Don’t say that!

MC: You already bought the tickets and everything…

Ayumu: Don’t worry about it, really, it’s okay.

Just a slight change in schedule.

Truthfully, I had planned on bringing her ‘here’ after the opera, anyway.

(Ah, but this timing actually isn’t bad at all, it works out well.)

Ayumu: Aren’t you coming?

MC: But…I look like a mess…

Ayumu: You look fine, don’t worry about it

Ayumu: I rented out the place

MC: Rented out??

MC: Here??

Startled, she looks around at the surroundings.

(Ah, well, it makes sense. Reacting that way.)

If I was in her position, I’d probably react the same way,

Ayumu: Your hand.

MC: Sorry?

Ayumu: Your left hand. Give it to me.

MC: Oh, um, alright…

I grabbed her nervously outstretched hand and led her to middle of the stairs.

(Finally.)

Now we just need to stand here for five more seconds.

Honestly, this is the most nerve wracking part of the whole day.

(But, well, it’s her birthday.)

(And it’s special.)

Ayumu: 3…2…1…

At the exact moment I point, balloons float up into the sky.

MC: Balloons??!

She watches as the balloons float upwards, eyes wide in surprise.

I use her distraction as an opportunity to pick up the bouquet I had hidden.

Ayumu: Happy birthday

Her mouth falls open wide in shock.

Yeah. It really isn’t like me to do this sort of thing.

But, the one who thought of this surprise, make no mistake, was me. I came up with it.

(This is a once in a year occasion, after all.)

(And I thought she would like it, if I did this.)

Ayumu: So? What do you think?

MC: … Ayumu: MC?

No reply.

(Uhh, what’s the status here?)

(Maybe I messed up…)

MC: A-a…yu…

(Ah-yoo…?)

MC: A-yu-muuuuu…!!

(Whoa wait just a-)

Ayumu: Oof

Sniffling, she throws her arms around me.

MC: I-I…j-just…nnnf, I’m…I’m so, nnnnff, so happy…I, nnnf, love it…s..so much..!!

MC: T-th…! This…surprise, nnnf, it…it’s…!!!

Ayumu: …

MC: P-plea…zz…please sta…stay with, nnnf, with me…fore…forever, nnnf…!!

Ayumu: …dummy.

Ayumu: I can’t understand what you’re saying.

That’s a lie.

Truthfully, I understand perfectly what she’s saying.

(“Stay with me.”)

I’ll stay with you, for the rest of our lives.

In return, don’t ever let go of me.

I did something today that I never would’ve even dreamed of doing before, all because you’ve changed me.

Ayumu: Happy birthday

MC: T-thank you…

Ayumu: So, what shall we do from here?

First, I have a room for us to stay at.

But after we check in, we can spend our time however we’d like until dinner time.

(Ah, no, but before that we need to change.)

(As you’d imagine, going to the restaurant looking like this would be…)

MC: …iss…

Ayumu: Hm?

MC: Kiss…I want to kiss you…

MC: From here on…with you, forever…

Ayumu: …

Ayumu: …dummy

I was asking about later today, but…

Is she asking for a kiss with a runny nose and a tear soaked face?

There’s a lot of things I want to say to that, but—

(Ah, well, it’s her birthday…)

Her lips taste salty, as expected.

But…I don’t hate it. Maybe I’ve gone crazy too.

MC: Thank you…

As we pulled away from the kiss she sniffled loudly.

MC: I, um, I feel like I’m dreaming…

MC: My head feels all fuzzy…

Ah, I see.

MC: I’m gonna…just you wait…!

MC: Next time it’s your birthday, I’m gonna think of an amazing surprise…!

Ayumu: No need to.

I have nothing but a bad feeling about that.

Ayumu: Seriously, don’t. Hard pass.

MC: …hmph, meanie!

MC: If this is how you feel, now I’m DEFINITELY going to plan something!!!

MC: Like making dinosaur balloons, or dinosaur 3D pancakes, or…

MC: Maybe I’ll rent out a whole museum…

MC: Mmph, mmm…

It’s really not necessary. Coming up with some sort of surprise.

(If you’re here with me.)

As long as you stay here next to me—

If we can kiss like this, then that’s enough for me.

-The End-

Isn’t that CG gorgeous??? And wasn’t that story soooo frickin adorable??? sbkhgkjadbf I have so many feelings about this 😭💕😭💕

And thank you so so so so sooo much to @world-a-to-z!! Like I’d mentioned at the start, I was never part of the Peach fanclub because I only started reading Ayumu’s stories almost exactly a year ago now. And so, I didn’t have access to this story. So what did this absolutely wonderful person do?? Transcribe this entire story in Japanese!!!! And then was kind enough to send it to me, along with the screenshots of the backgrounds (which were pretty necessary for all the scene changes, I think) and the CG, so that I could translate it. So please give her a HUGE HUGE thank you for making basically almost the entirety of this birthday celebration possible!!! 💕💕💕

Thank you guys so much for celebrating with me! I hope everyone had a lot of fun!!! I can’t wait to actually sleep again now...I spent sooo much time doing all these translations whoops ><

In case you missed a day, or want to reread anything, you’ll find links to all the posted content here!

#the 12 days of ayumu #ayumu's birthday celebration #happy birthday shinonome #ayumu shinonome #hlitf shinonome #hlitf ayumu #hlitf #her love in the force #my trash translations #love 365 #shinonome ayumu #voltage romance games #voltage otome #otome #東雲歩

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bthump · 3 years

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I know this is very nitpicky, but what do you think is the level of awareness Griffith has during the stairwell scene? For a very calculated and rational guy like him, it's hard to imagine that he hasn't even tried to decipher where these strong reckless reactions come from. I mean... even king of denial Guts has reflected a bit on it. Enough to ask Griffith about it. I know yoy mentioned in a recent answer to an ask, that you don't headcanon Griffith as pining, so would you say that you (cont)

Would you say that you imagine that he compartimentalizes his thougts and represses to the point that he doesn't aknowledge at least to a certain extent, that his feeling for Guts are more passionate, than what he feels for other comerades. The fact that he fully realises the depth of those feelings once Guts leaves is clear. But Idk the stairwell scene makes me think that he is at least aware, that he has a bit of a crush, but choses to not give it much importance. Curious about your thoughts

hmmm. okay first off I just want to say that I can see multiple possibilities, from full on repression and denial, to recognizing his attraction but not acting on it, to knowing he cares for Guts and wants him as a True Friend(TM) but often downplaying that because he believes Guts sees him mainly as a superior officer. But yeah I do prefer the denial and compartmentalization explanation and I want to go into why, because I think it’s fun to talk about lol.

So the big reason I read Griffith as refusing to acknowledge his feelings to himself is because that’s how he deals with all his other inconvenient feelings, like his guilt and fear and the fact that he cares about the Hawks. Like eg when he tells Gennon that he doesn’t feel a single emotion about him whatsoever, or when he tells Casca that he doesn’t feel guilty over the deaths of the Hawks, I don’t think he’s just lying to them, I think he’s convincing himself too, to the point where he really believes it.

It’s sort of hard to explain how I see this working in Griffith’s head bc it feels v intuitive to me but I know that’s not the case for everyone. So yk it’s not that I think he like, eg makes himself forget that he nearly had a breakdown in a river, but I think he doesn’t ask himself why he nearly had a breakdown beyond maybe a shallow ‘sex with gennon was unpleasant and made me uncomfortable for a couple hours but i’m completely fine now’ and doesn’t think about it afterwards if he can help it.

And when he tells Charlotte he doesn’t have any friends and tells Guts he belongs to him during the second duel, I think he’s telling himself lies/rationalizations he genuinely believes there too. In fact, I think his denial of his own feelings is straight up meant to be his tragic flaw, which is why he’s only able to finally acknowledge them in the torture chamber, after it’s caused his downfall.

In the torture chamber we see him remember the face-off with Zodd and acknowledge that it was an irrational thing to do and wonder why Guts is so important to him, and I think part of the reason the monologue works so well is because it’s the first time we see that kind of self-reflection sans lofty rationalization from him, because before he ended up trapped in his own brain for a year with nothing to distract himself in between bouts of torture he didn’t really ask himself these kinds of questions. If he had, things probably would’ve gone better for everyone.

And like, I don’t think this makes Griffith less intelligent, or negates his rationality in other areas of life. I don’t see a contradiction in someone being able to analyze a battlefield or read other people well but avoiding genuine soul searching whenever possible and lying to himself a lot. I think it’s actually pretty realistic - I don’t think very many people fully understand themselves or their feelings, even really self-reflective people, and it’s very easy to rationalize away inconvenient cognitive dissonance. and I include myself in that lol.

Griffith’s life is kind of a contradiction that would really fuck him up to untangle (he sends people to their deaths to achieve a dream for the sake of assuaging his guilt for sending people to their deaths to achieve a dream), so he doesn’t try to untangle it, he avoids the question and hides behind a philosophical ideal. And his feelings for Guts add to that cognitive dissonance because if he values Guts over the dream, that kind of proves his entire defensive life philosophy is bullshit and his whole life plan is built on a precarious house of cards, so it makes sense to me that he’d avoid examining those feelings closely too.

And you can look at Guts too, who does navelgaze a lot and tries to analyze his own feelings and motivations - when he’s faced with a contradiction (I want to become independent of Griffith and do my own thing solely to gain Griffith’s approval) he actually notices it and briefly questions himself... and then he still puts it out of his mind and continues pursuing his contradictory goal anyway, and manages to stay in denial for 3 days even after learning that Griffith ended up in a torture chamber because he left.

Along those same lines, Guts eg realizes that he kills things because it makes him feel better but he doesn’t make the connection between his irrational urge to fight powerful enemies and his childhood trauma the way the readers can, the King didn’t acknowledge his incesty feelings til Griffith shoved them in his face, Count Slug kept denying having human feelings til Puck went on a tirade against him and he couldn’t sacrifice his daughter, Casca lies to herself about her feelings for Griffith for a long time before finally acknowledging she’s in love and then doubles down on her Griffith feelings when her newer feelings for Guts threaten them until she has a breakdown and admits some things to herself (I mean I find that last one disappointing lol, but it’s also a really straightforward example of someone living in denial of romantic feelings and therefore a good comparison point to show that Miura does this on purpose), etc. So I think this interpretation of Griffith is also consistent with how Miura just like, tends to write people.

Like imo Griffith has moments where he comes close to self awareness and could’ve started potentially reflecting on his feelings and coming to better, more accurate conclusions, and those moments definitely include the Zodd conversation (as well as the river scene with Casca, and “do you think I’m cruel?”) but none of those scenes lead to useful self-reflection because they all go wrong. Casca tries but fails to reassure him bc she’s out of her depth, Guts reminds him of his dream, the King interrupts their conversation and Charlotte reorients Griffith towards his goal so he can move on from that moment of irrationality and refrain from thinking about it further for a while. Even after the duel Griffith tries to avoid self-reflection by fucking Charlotte imo (”take all the sad and frightening things and cast them into the fire” ie hey girl wanna repress some shit w/ me?), and imo his previous ability to do that makes it all the more impactful when it doesn’t work this time and he breaks down.

BUT YEAH all that said I don’t think this is the only reasonable reading of Griffith’s awareness of his feelings lol, it’s just the one I like best and consider the most satisfying and interesting and fun to think about. And honestly that’s partly because I love dramatic irony and have a real thing for characters who lie to themselves, so I’m biased in favour of it too. Nothing about Griffith being good at denial contradicts the idea that he could still be aware of an attraction to Guts (in that case he’d probably just write it off as irrelevant and deny the associated internalized-homophobia-related self-loathing lol until it all pours out while he’s projecting at the King), and he could eg be aware that he irrationally cares about Guts above and beyond anyone else and just doesn’t even try to reconcile that with his dream, ie compartmentalization in another way.

But I think the idea that he only fully admits it to himself in the torture chamber is just very narratively satisfying.

#Anonymous #ask #griffguts #ty for the question and giving me an opportunity to go on about this #a #b #character: griffith #theme: coping mechanisms #theme: repression #ship: griffguts #headcanons #character thoughts #arc: ga

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beyondstupidityblog · 3 years

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On March 13th 2021, two friends and I did what never could have imagined possible, I watched Freddy Got Fingered for the ninth time, and it will by no means be the last. I’m explaining this to you, dear reader, so you and I have an important understanding between us. You will be reading the ramblings of one whose brain has curdled like milk left out in the hot afternoon sun. Now that introductions are out of the way, let us begin.

Freddy Got Fingered is a 2001 Comedy starring and directed by Tom Green as the Non-Titular Gordon Brody; an aspiring animator who goes to California to realize his dream, only to be constantly crushed under the weight of his father’s expectations. Sounds tame at first, but what lies beneath the veneer of mediocrity is truly impressive. Completely bombed, audiences hated it, and critics loathed it. Roger Ebert got angry, saying “it isn’t even below the bottom of the barrel” and “Green should be flipping burgers somewhere.”. “Tasteless”, “appalling”, “offensive”, “gross”, and “poo poo,” are just some of the things people have had to say about this film. Animal genitalia can be seen on screen for much longer than anyone could have expected, Tom Green swinging a baby akin to a morning-star with its umbilical cord, said umbilical cord being stolen and taped onto his stomach, gratuitous caning of a nymphomaniac paraplegic, and the dissection of a deer carcass. It is an abrasive experience that leaves a terrible taste in the mouths of those who mention it. Nonetheless, I love this movie.

You ever see a contemporary art exhibit that has a piece that just looks like garbage somebody left out but in actuality is a tongue-and-cheek allusion to the pitiful state of modern art? That garbage is Freddy Got Fingered, and that exhibit is Hollywood. At face value it just seems like a poorly done film by a comedian trying to use his name to get a few butts in the seats before his irrelevancy arrives, but when scrutinized as a commentary of comedy films do the pieces start to fall into place. Tropes like the Protagonist being an unremarkable honkey, gross-out designed to get some cheap quick chuckles, side-characters who occupy the space solely for comedic relief, a shoe-horned romantic side-plot, and an equally as shoehorned in happy ending are all present in a mocking fashion. So many of these Hollywood schlockfests that this movie is paying homage to abuse tropes in some vain attempt to trick the audience into thinking they’re having a good time, when in reality it just reminds viewers of films that they’ve already watched before and could be enjoying instead. All of the awkward and uncomfortable scenes of gross-out and romance are purposeful, because nothing is quite as awkward and uncomfortable than a film disengaging the audience with its own mediocrity. “This is what it’s like to endure this trash!” Drunkenly screams Freddy Got Fingered atop the tallest piece of furniture in the room, while also exposing its genitals to keep you from getting too comfortable around it. Unlike the films it is parodying, its obsession with making a fool out of audiences rips them away from the comfort of the cinema, making them genuinely ask if it is worth wasting their time watching a film called Freddy Got Fingered. Even the title is an intentional slight, as it seems to be completely untethered to the actual plotline and is instead a reference to a seemingly inconsequential scene. But then again, that is the point of it all. Tom Green is an artist, and on his canvas is a portrait of Hollywood with all of the ugly little imperfections that cause a movie like this to be created. But this is just the meta-narrative of Freddy Got Fingered, something that you could find all over the internet. Why do I resonate with it so much, and what about it makes it so exceptional that led to this unhealthy fascination?

Every instance that I’ve rewatched Freddy Got Fingered has always brought about a new side to it, and in the process leaves me craving for more. Gord is an interesting take on the average leading man. He is on the surface bland and inoffensive, made so in order to allow the majority of the audience to immediately identify with him, said group being 20-something skater guys with unrealistic expectations of themselves. Made especially ironic when after the introduction of Gord as an adept skateboarding rebel escaping from authority, he starts to show that in reality he is an unlikeable, bratty, entitled, and all around unpleasant person. Barely a scene passes before we see him masturbate a horse while exclaiming he is a farmer to his father who is not present, seemingly a crude gag but is in reality an insight into his low self worth caused by his imposter syndrome stemming from distant paternal relationship. I would like to remind you, dear reader, that I am still writing of Freddy Got Fingered, in case you were beginning to think I have lost my mind (The answer is yes by the way). All throughout the film Gordon Brody puts on masks for different situations, never allowing himself to be who he is. When infiltrating the Animation studio where he wishes to pitch his cartoons, he pretends to be a mailman to get past reception and then impersonates a police officer when the former stops being effective. Donning the visage of a British Bobby, he dashes into the restaurant where the man he is searching for, Mr. Wallace, is eating. Showing him his cartoons, Wallace is impressed with the potential they have, but says that they are incoherent and lack real substance. Upon rejection, Gord puts a pistol in his mouth before Wallace stops him and advises what he should do to improve. Gord was genuinely ready to blow his brains out the back of his skull if he wasn’t able to get his show greenlit, and it hit me in that moment that he isn’t just some random jackass, but a victim of detrimentally low self-esteem.

The origins of his complex are made apparent when he goes back home to Oregon and are reintroduced to his Family. We see that his father Jim, played by Rip Torn, is disappointed in his return and begins to sneer at him for his failure. This father and son dynamic always has tension in every scene from this point onwards. Gord, who just wants to be accepted for who he is and not judged by what the world expects him to be, is always at the receiving end of Jim’s wrath, who values his idea of a successful life over the happiness of his sons. From here it becomes little wonder why Gord is the way he is, all his life he was told that who he was is not good enough, he has to be what his father wants if he is to be considered worthy of not only love, but being treated with a modicum of dignity. Whenever Gord acts eccentric or divulges his interests to his father, they are met with either resentment supplemented by verbal assault, or physical violence. After a late-night skateboard outing to escape from his father’s wrath goes awry, he visits his convalescing friend in the hospital, whereupon he meets one of the more interesting characters in relation to Gord, the love interest Betty.

A horny wheelchair bound temptress may not seem like it upon first glance, but Betty is actually the most interesting character out of the entire cast. She feels genuine, introduced as a bored receptionist flipping a coffee creamer idly. Gord immediately strikes up a conversation, whereupon he and the audience find out she has an interest in physics, and apparently an interest in him as well. Betty is strangely well written for what most considered at the time to be a crass sexual joke, so much so that she would actually be a better protagonist than him. She is everything Gord is not, she’s smart, funny, ambitious, and kind to a fault. Even her side plot to create a rocket powered wheelchair makes for a much more unique plot than the one given. Even Gord reciprocates this sentiment in their meeting, lying that he is a stockbroker in an attempt to impress her. In fact, sectioning her off as just the dull protagonist's love interest is a jab at how women in these movies are only there to serve in the development for the male protagonist, just nothing more than their muse. Nonetheless, without this relationship the movie would lose a lot of its soul. Romantic chemistry in comedy films is always hit or miss, but Gord and Betty do seem to have it surprisingly. They’re both silly and impulsive, creatively driven to a fault, but just different enough to eek out the best and worst in them. Gord thinks that what he wants to do with his life is wasteful, but Betty doesn’t. Now I don’t mean that she directly affirms that he is worthwhile like most poorly written love interests would, stroking their lover’s(and by extension the director’s) ego, rather she confronts him with her optimism. He asks if she would feel stupid and like a loser if her experiment failed. Taken aback at first, she questions why she would, relaying that her failures are just as important as her successes. Gord’s self-worth is directly tied to his ability to succeed, whereas Betty doesn’t need this affirmation. Their dialogue further cements how detrimental his father’s overbearingness was to his outlook, and how he is slowly beginning to realize how destructive that mindset is.

At their dinner date, Jim sees Gord and Betty across the restaurant, then reveals that Gord was lying to both him and her about his office job while poking fun at her disability, leading to a father-son scuffle that throws the entire floor into utter chaos. Cops show up, Gord and Jim are detained, and Betty bails Gord out. Most mediocre comedies at this point would have the love interest be upset that her significant other lied to her, leading to him having to make things right to repair their relationship before the happy ending. Breaking the mold, Betty does not get angry with Gord even a smidgen, choosing to be understanding of his situation now that she caught a glimpse into his home-life. She just plain likes Gord, willing to put up with him more than she really should, but still chooses to look past his lies and self-destructive nature for who he truly is, someone who just wants to be accepted by the world around him. Someone just like her.

Right after that enaction of social terrorism performed by the Brody father and son duo, they decide it would be best to go to family therapy and assail the audience with what I fondly refer to it as, “The Scene.” “The Scene” is Freddy Got Fingered’s statement to the world, it is what instills a man with the impetus to rewatch a glorified stoner daydream for the ninth time and leave him wanting more! Gord accuses his father, in a final act of defiance, of molesting his younger brother Freddy. During the ensuing confusion Gord picks up a bust of Sigmund Freud and throws it into the glass window pane, allowing him to escape into the evening sun. The authorities take Freddy away and send him to The Home for Molested Children, and the family slowly unravels from then on. Besides the heavy handed metaphor of Freud’s theories being used as a way for Gord to escape his predicament while simultaneously discrediting them, “The Scene” also recontextualizes Freddy, innocuous of a character as he is, as Gord’s foil. He is in the movie very little but when he is it is to serve one of two purposes: To be compared to Gord, or to be treated as an object. During breakfast much earlier in the film after a fight between Gord and Jim, Freddy tries to explain to his brother that he should grow up. Gord, surprisingly, talks down to him and halts the conversation.

Gord: “He's driving me insane.”

Freddy: “No. No, you're driving him insane. You're older than me and you still live at home. I have a job, you know. I pay my own way.”

Gord: “You work in a bank. Should I be dazzled?”

Freddy: “Well, at least I don't live at home!”

Gord: “No, you live in a tiny shithole and you come here to eat for free.”

With these lines it is plain to see that despite Freddy’s idea of success directly lining up with his father’s, he is even more pitiful than Gord. What little we know of him is to show that his acquiescence to his father’s expectations has left him bereft of not only genuine personal success, but of dignity itself. When child protective services come to take him away, he is half naked, mouth agape, watching open heart surgery on television, a palpable indication of emptiness. He isn’t treated as an adult either, as his protests to the police fall on deaf ears as both them and the psychologist infantilize him. Why would Tom Green name this movie after a character like Freddy, whose lack of presence and characterization make him little more than an afterthought when looking back on the story? Or did I just answer my own question? Freddy is not a character because he is not allowed to be one, he is just too passive and accepting of his circumstances for him to stand out. All he can be is a doll that Jim uses to dress up as the perfect son, and this passiveness leads to Gord, the “failure,” to both pity and resent what he let himself become. That’s why Gord accuses their father of molesting him, after all he does narratively violate Freddy’s autonomy by consistently making decisions for him. Evidently enough, as soon as Gord dons a suit for a quick bit Jim is elated because he believes that his son finally gave in to his demands for him to get a job, because he is acting more like his obedient brother. In this sense Freddy is the most tragic member of the Brody clan, a literal manchild whose growth was stunted by overbearing guardians. When I think of him, a bonsai tree comes to mind. Sure, it looks healthy, but when you realize that it could have grown into a much bigger plant if it were not for its small pot, that realization of wasted potential comes with a tinge of melancholy.

I want to end this essay with a moral that I took away from Freddy Got Fingered, as strange enough as that sounds, and what it has to say about art as a whole. Put simply, this is a story about revenge. Despite and because of his Father’s harsh ways, Gord managed to take from the trauma he sustained throughout his life and sublimated it into his animation. Creation not only lets him heal, but also acts as retaliation against Jim once he becomes successful. So long as you have the drive to prove everyone’s doubts and admonishments wrong by persevering out of wicked spite, you will have the last laugh. Freddy Got Fingered is a story about revenge through artistic expression, and I think that is quite beautiful.

#freddy got fingered #tom green #movies #essay paper #comedy

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novantinuum · 5 years

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Shattering Atlas (a corrupted!Steven one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (TW: depression and body horror)

Words: 4.2K~

Summary: A boy can only carry an entire galaxy upon his back for so long before the weight of it all finally becomes too much.

Folks, here it is! I’m finally finished. AO3 link to be posted in the reblogs.

Disclaimer: This is absolutely far darker and more drastic than I believe canon would EVER tread if this theory had the faintest chance of being anywhere close to the truth, but sometimes you just feel like being super angsty for angst's sake, y'feel? It was an interesting writing experiment nonetheless. Not gonna lie, this is kinda a vent piece. Please do heed those tags. This delves into some difficult territory both mentally and otherwise, as it's written entirely from Steven's POV.

_____

Steven knows he’s messed-up.

It’s not something he tries to advertise to all the sweet, innocent people who somehow after all this time still choose to stand by his side, but he can’t lie to himself. Spending a significant chunk of your childhood actively doubting your own personhood shatters you in ways no amount of unconditional love can ever hope to mend. And sure, he’s not his mom. He knows that. Been there, had the mental breakdown, seen it, done it. The proof’s in his gem half. He knows. But as much as everyone in his life coddles him, gently tries to reassure him while he tirelessly works day and night to realign the foundation of an entire ancient civilization...

“You’re almost an adult now, isn’t that exciting?”

“Don’t worry about the future, the futures I see for you are as limitless as they are bright.”

“Take a break if you need to, ‘kay? You totally deserve one, little man.”

“Y’know, Schtu-ball, the wonderful thing about adulthood is that you can choose to fly wherever the wind takes you!”

...it’s clear none of that matters anyways. Because it’s not true, not for him. Because beyond his identity as a Crystal Gem, beyond that bottomless desire for belonging he’s been chasing all his life, ever since the fateful moment early in his childhood in which he finally realized— small, pudgy hands clutching at the oversized hand-me-down shirt right over the pink hand-me-down gem in his belly— that he isn’t like anyone else and never will be, the truth is that he genuinely doesn’t know what he wants. Who he is.

Everyone else does.

Connie has plans. Hopes, dreams. A future. She’s already thinking about college, and aims on double majoring in political science and environmental science. (A combination only she’s daring enough to pursue, but if anyone’s got the drive to succeed in that it’s her.) Dad’s still manager for Sadie Killer and the Suspects, and they’re going strong. Amethyst has been playing tour guide to all her fellow Prime sisters lately, galavanting with them all around planet Earth. Garnet is currently on the search for terrified cross-fusion Gems still in hiding across the galaxy. Pearl, Bismuth, and a number of the boardies have spearheaded a campaign to help slowly teach and integrate the humans of the Zoo into modern day society. Lapis and Peridot recently built another barn in the outskirts of Little Homeworld, and are enjoying each other’s company.

But him? When all is said and done, as the restructured Gem society stabilizes and soon no one will need him for anything anymore, when Gems and humans alike stop knocking on his metaphoric door with handfuls of their problems for him to drop everything and solve, he has nothing left. He’s no one. No future, no clue. He’s been drained empty.

He’s just drifting through life with the parking break on, continuously waiting— his nerves jittering at every quiet moment— for the next big crisis to crash into his universe and drop feed him even the tinniest shard of purpose.

After all, what is one to do when they’ve spent their entire life training to save the world, but the world has already been saved?

_____

He can’t recall exactly when his current predicament began anymore.

Time’s been hard to keep track of as of late— the days and weeks blending together in an incomprehensible fashion— and yet simultaneously, he might as well have lived a lifetime in the span of the blink of an eye. That being said, he’s pretty sure his most recent gem troubles didn’t truly kick into gear until after the incident with the, erm... cactus monstrosities.

He genuinely didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he didn’t. He only wanted to help... to heal. To try and repair but a shred of the damage Homeworld wrought on this innocent world. It worked when Earth was poisoned, so it should work in the Kindergartens too, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

His stomach churns as he catches a glimpse of a silly photo of Peridot and himself hanging on the wall by the stairs. A static monument to his shame. Lapis is (still, days later— or is it weeks?) taking care of her gemstone at this very moment, sure, but remembering what happened before that... holding Peridot’s cracked gem in his quivering hands, biting back cries of hopelessness as he ran to the nearest warp pad, escaping from the malformed, hurting creatures born of his own magic... it‘s the kind of horror that he’s sure will linger in his dreams for a long time yet.

It’s like he’s broken. Like his powers just aren’t coming as naturally to him anymore. It’s not quite like that time with the rejuvenator. There’s no sickly glow flickering in and out of existence. No external force acting upon it. No, it’s deeper than that. It’s not a gem sourced problem, it’s him. He’s just... wrong. He’ll try to use his healing ability and it’ll backfire, he’ll summon his bubbles and shields but they’re noticeably less durable, he’ll birth life from his very soul and it’ll grow bitter and corrupt, every bit a mirror of his present mental state. He’ll jump up high in the sky to burn out years of repressed stress in semi-peace and before he can actually do so gravity will grab ahold of him like he’s a petulant, disobedient child and drag him back to the shore. It makes him want to scream, to grind his fingers into the sand so hard his knuckles go white as he sobs out every last one of his stupid, meaningless frustrations, but instead his house is always swarming with people, and his bedroom has no real door, (and he’s too embarrassed to ask for one), and in sum he can never find enough time alone to freely be his genuine messed-up self. It’s fine, though. He doubts he’s capable of crying at this point anyways.

“Dude, you okay?” Amethyst asks with brows furrowed in concern, snapping him back to reality.

His GameStation controller rests precariously in his loose grasp, entirely forgotten in the previous moment. The game they’re playing is paused. He must have blanked out again, and completely ruined their co-op fight. He lets out a shaky breath as he tightens his fingers around the plastic grips, digging into them as if they’re his sole handle on reality.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says swiftly, plastering a smile on his face with the ease of someone who’s been growing adept at this endless charade for months and months. “Didn’t sleep too well last night. Muscle cramps from training, y’know?”

He watches her closely, catalogues every minute shift in her features. Her eyes narrow so slightly that anyone else might’ve missed it. But he doesn’t. He’s observant. He’s gotta be. It’s the only way he’s kept going for this long, the only way he can ensure no one else knows. They don’t need any more worry. Regardless, Amethyst’s lack of subtlety betrays her, because it’s clear she’s searching his expression and body language right back. His chest pounds. Hastily, he holds up the controller, feeling his face go pale under her scrutiny.

Geeze, how pathetic.

No matter how hard he tries to mask it, he‘s already falling apart.

“So... we gonna play another round, or?” Right as he says this, his stomach chooses to let out an inopportune gurgle. He bites at the insides of his cheeks, inwardly cursing at the bad timing.

It’s thankfully enough to divert Amethyst’s attention from... other matters, though.

“Yo. Ste-man. Your stomach’s straight up monologuing. Have you even eaten today?”

He dimly considers this as he tries not to focus on how empty and faint his body currently feels, mind turning to fuzz. “Uhh...”

She frowns, and promptly pulls herself to her feet. “Yeah, so I’m gonna take that as a no. I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Gonna get us some cheese!” she declares bombastically, putting on a mock announcer voice.

He watches her leave his room, prancing downstairs like she doesn’t have a care in the world. A faint huff of sheer relief passes through his nostrils. Absentmindedly, his thumbs jiggle the controller’s joystick, unable to strike the earlier image of Amethyst— concern engulfing her usually carefree self— from his mind. He really should be more careful about what he says. How he acts.

He honestly couldn’t live with himself if he slipped up and became yet another emotionally taxing problem for them to deal with. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl... all his family, his friends. They deserve peace. They deserve to be satisfied, they deserve their happily ever after. They certainly don’t deserve him, self-destructing all over the bright and shining future they’d won.

Or nearly shattering them.

Putting them in needless danger, danger that’s all his fault, because he’s broken.

His throat grows tight, airway constricted, images of black beady eyes, razor sharp fangs, and malformed limbs invading his thoughts, clawing away at insecurities long scabbed over until they ooze a bitter red. Peridot’s shrill yelp as she’s overtaken in an instant. That dreadful, immediately recognizable sound, a cracking Gem, seared onto his heart for the rest of time.

He... he can’t deny it anymore. His magic’s gone toxic. He’s toxic, bringing suffering and decay where once he brought healing. All his Gem powers are fading, maybe forever. And with them fading, he’ll soon be of no use to anyone, and when they realize why they faded they won’t want him around anyways, and y’know, it’s probably for the better they’ll have a concrete reason to finally push him away. He’s not stupid. He’s always known what an emotionally taxing strain he’s been on everyone, ever since the day Mom died for him to be born.

Steven grips the controller so hard that his fingers grow numb, mind stewing in the dark fantasies of what he’d like to do with himself when he’s left behind for good.

And then... his heart leaps in his throat as he dimly hears Amethyst begin to whisper to the others (they’re back? They’re back?? When did they return, why didn’t you notice them, how could you just miss—) downstairs.

“Y’guys,” he hears her say frantically, under her breath, “I think we really gotta talk with Steven. Something’s seriously wrong, and he won’t tell me what.”

“What, you mean to say he’s in danger? Garnet, do you see anything?”

“Hmm. I don’t foresee any external threats to Steven’s safety in the near future, but...”

“Amethyst, he’s clearly still upset about Peridot. And once she reforms in a few days, when she’s ready, he’ll be fine! Trust me.“

“No, trust me, I genuinely think this is more than just Peridot! It’s getting me super worried. He hasn’t been eating like he should, y’guys. I don’t think he’s showered in days. Sometimes it’s like he’s... I dunno, like, he isn’t even fully present. And y’know, thinking about it now? It’s been like this for a while. Since before all the cactus stuff.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not sure how we could—“

“We need to call Greg over,” Garnet interrupts Pearl, a new, thinly veiled panic rising in her voice. “Right now.”

His eyes stretch open wide.

Oh.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no... Not here, not now, not— please, not now!

His breath hastens, his body outright shaking now. He curls tight into himself, the game controller dropping from his slackened fingers onto the floor as he clutches his knees to his chest. Sweat beads in droplets on his forehead. He outright yanks at his hair.

Amethyst, she can’t just waltz downstairs and!—

I don’t want to—

Peridot, getting cracked, I- it’s all my fault and she didn’t—

I- all of this- I’m so useless, careless, l- I’m losing my mind, what’s even wrong- why are you panicking!- I don’t—

T-they can’t know, they can’t know, they CAN’T—

He can’t fully bite back his cries as his gem flares burning hot, a rush of pure, unadulterated agony spiking through his hard light veins in an indescribably eternal split-second, the very experience of hypocrisy. Every single muscle in his body seizes. His ears ring, filled with a cacophonous clamor of sound that slashes through his mind with the deadly force of a long blade. Crippling. Debilitating. All-consuming. Hell. This is hell. Because then his head is pounding, and his limbs are all weak and shaky, and for a moment he’s bathed in a faint wash of pink, the glow enveloping him like his own corona of sickness as he succumbs to the pain he’s sequestered inside, bitterly festering for all these years.

Hell eventually recedes, both its note and its physical touch, but the dark clouds looming over his mind do not. Slowly, he loosens his grip on his curls, trying desperately to bring balance to his breathing. His ears are still ringing. His head is still cotton. Questions abound. For instance: what on Earth was that?? Stars, is something else wrong with his gem now, too? Thoroughly disorientated, he yanks up the hem of his shirt.

“Steven?!” Pearl calls frantically from downstairs, right as his trembling fingers gently trace the exposed facets of his gem. “Are you okay up there?”

He squints, features compressing in his sheer confusion. Visually, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. No imperfections, no flickering light, nothing. So then what’s—

“Hey, Steven? Yo?? You, uh- maybe wanna come eat downstairs, or?”

A shudder runs clear through his form, starting from his gem and coursing outwards to the furthest extremities. He grits his teeth as he rides through the stabbing discomfort, clutching at his stomach. It’s like he’s about to vomit. Sure, so maybe he was really hungry before, and maybe that has a little to do with what he’s experiencing now, but... this... still doesn’t feel right. Spots swim in his vision as he glances down again.

And that’s when he sees it, slowly creeping across the skin of his bare forearm as clear as day.

It’s a patch of dull, pinkish hide. Not human skin, hide. He runs his index finger along its perimeter, all of reality screeching to a halt as his brain performs somersaults in a desperate last-ditch attempt to contextualize the information his eyes are sending him right now.

“What?” he whispers in disbelief, (even though he has a few terrifying theories), frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum.

“I’m checking on him,” Garnet says, just loud enough that he knows for certain she intends him to hear. Solid footsteps creep across the floorboards, advancing towards the foot of the stairs.

It’s frankly impressive how fast a single stimulus can turn panic to outright paranoia.

He almost trips over himself diving to retrieve his jacket off the floor, forcing his arms through the sleeves faster than any of the Gems could ever summon their weapons. Hide it. Hide it away. They can’t see you, they can’t know you’re corru- NO! Stop.

Bathroom. He needs to get to the bathroom.

His bare feet solidly connect with the floor, toes curling inwards as he shudders again. A pulsing ache settles into the bones of his skull. Then a prickle at his neck. Reflexively, he slaps his hand against the affected locale. There’s another spot steadily growing there.

Alone, NOW.

The whole world’s spinning as he turns on his heels and flies across the length of his bedroom— sprinting past the TV, shoving past Garnet, who’s already halfway up the open stairwell, and leaping clear over the couch from midway down the last set of steps. (Everyone’s shouting in blind panic as he enters their sight. Fear. Needless, unwanted worry. Calling his name, calling for peace, but his ears are still ringing and their voices are overlapping and he can’t distinguish any of it.) When he reaches the bathroom his hand grips the knob so hard that the metal almost crumples under his force, and he swings himself through the doorway, slams it shut, and turns the lock with pink-splotched fingers faster than any one of the Gems can move to stop him.

For a split moment, things are okay. He’s alone. Moreover, he’s safe.

(But are you really?)

His head is pounding again, the pulsing at his temples soon coalescing into a constant inescapable misery. Letting his eyes flutter shut, he lets his forehead lull against the door. Flexes his knuckles, imagines the splotches disappearing from sight as easily as eye bags under makeup. He tries to calm his breathing in the meditative way Garnet once showed him. In for four counts... and out. In... and out. Come on, just ride it out, Universe. You’re a Gem- a diamond, for cripe’s sake! Control it. Conceal. Move on.

“Steven?!” Amethyst calls from outside. “Please talk to us, what’s goin’ on?”

"Whatever it is, you don't have to be alone!" Pearl adds. He doesn't even have to see her face to know that she's crying.

A renewed burst of panic spikes through his veins at this realization.

“Stop worrying about me, I’m fine!” he bites back on impulse.

“No, you’re NOT!” Amethyst hollers, and then... after a thoughtful pause, her tone softening: “I- I know you’re not.”

He stares down at his hands, brows threading together, watching as the patch of hide continues to inch across his skin. The genuine concern interlaced in every syllable of her speech is enough to make his gut churn with guilt.

“Steven, I... stars, I know you probably overheard me talking to everyone jus’ a second ago, and I know I probably betrayed every scrap of trust we ever had ‘coz of that, and I wanna say I’m sorry, but I can’t just stand aside and watch you treat yourself like garbage. Please, the door’s jammed. Let us in. We just wanna help!”

His lip quivers, despite himself. “I don’t need any help!” he insists, stubbornly pushing past the crack in his voice. “I’m just—“

He’s interrupted by a rush of crippling agony radiating upwards from his gem once more, the ache at either side of his head intensifying into three points. Hands rush to the site on automatic. Fingers grasping, searching. Discovering.

There’s something growing at his temples, he realizes with a rush of horror. Something hard, faceted. Disturbingly cold to the touch.

There’s no way to bite back his screams as the growths fully protrude, none at all, even with his mouth clamped shut, and even though he can’t see them he can sense their weight as they wind upwards and back, up and out of his curls, and he’s shaking, oh stars is he shaking, chest heaving up and down so hard he’s not sure he’ll ever be free of these awful tremors ever again, and— A hoarse sob forces its way to the surface as a third growth crowns his forehead. Trembling fingers scrape down the length of the door as he collapses to his knees, nails sharpening into gnarled talons as they sink further and further into the wood, carving through it like butter. He clenches his jaw back together so hard that with any greater pressure he might shatter his own teeth.

Still quite woozy under the threat of hyperventilation, he slowly turns his head. Extricates those dreadful claws from the door. Dares himself to look. Forcing himself back up to his feet, he gazes deep into the depths of the mirror. And as the creature trapped on the other side stares back through sickeningly pink irises— blotches of color steadily creeping up their jawline and across their cheek, inching to meet the base of those glistening crystalline horns— all known reality shatters into smithereens.

Not me, not me, not me, is the mantra he chants to himself like a prayer, stubbornly clinging to any vestige of normalcy as if this is all but a vivid nightmare he can stir awake from.

(As if deep down, a tiny, beaten-down part of himself still wants to believe he deserves a future too.)

But the darkness reflected in that mirror is following his every jerky, erratic movement as all the despair and guilt and self-hatred festering within continues to consume him like a matchstick to fire.

Not real. It’s not real! I don’t need help. I don’t need the Gems, they don’t need to know, I’m fine, I’m FINE, this isn’t corru - NO, DON’T THINK ABOUT IT! YOU CAN’T—

They’re yelling outside. Arguing, probably. (And true to form, Pearl‘s cries are the shrillest.) But he can’t be certain of anything anymore while smothered under the fog’s thickening surface, with the rest of the world relegated to mere static and stimuli. Not a word, not a clue. No way to know if it’s an argument about him or with him.

And in his mind their distress stands as yet another sign. Just another slice of proof that they truly are at their happiest without him, that his continued existence only serves as a complication. He can’t deny it anymore. He can’t lie, can’t tiptoe around the inevitable truth; like this, he’s nothing but a liability. A ticking time bomb, set to shatter everything and everyone in his path. Shaking like a leaf, he unfurls his fists, watching as the dull pink hide overtakes the last clear patches of flesh upon his misshapen, monstrous fingers.

They’re better off without you.

The passing seconds cease to exist as he convulses again, this time centralized at the base of the spinal column. He doubles over, leans into the pain. Rides it through vertebrae by vertebrae, raking his claws deep into the wood floor as a fifth limb emerges from where the spine left off, steadily lengthening— fortifying itself with jagged crystalline spikes as it grows ever longer. Its weight is entirely foreign, yet it shifts upon his slightest command. Panic overruling all logic once more, he thrashes about, the tail swinging across the bathroom counter like a whip. His toothbrush, comb, and other various toiletries he hasn't made use of in days clatter to the floor, abandoned.

R u n.

The thought rampages through his shattered soul like an avalanche. Yanks him by the horns. Consumes his mind and body like a trance. He has to escape from here, from the house, the Gems, has to run quick, before it’s too late and you can’t do anything more but wordlessly scream.

He doesn’t stop to question this impulse. Doesn’t stop to peer at that poor tortured creature in the mirror again. For a moment his claws struggle to grasp the crumpled door knob, fumbling in failure’s wake.

When he finally forces the door open, the whole world holds its breath.

Pearl’s eyes blow wide upon the no-doubt horrifying sight. Her hands fly to her mouth. “Steven?!”

Even Amethyst reacts in an adverse manner, stepping back towards the support of the wall. “Holy...” she breathes, face paling.

And just knowing he’s out here now, every gnarled, nightmarish feature exposed in front of his family like a raw nerve, makes his blotchy, spot-covered skin crawl.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME, I’m FINE!” he hollers as he sprints to the warp pad, barbed tail whipping wildly behind him. Pearl yelps in alarm as she only barely dodges its mace-like swing. Unable to hold back his sobs anymore, he collapses to his knees on the hard crystal. Coils his tail around himself by sheer instinct. Hides his face away behind arms. Hot tears spill from his eyes, vision blurring and sharpening in rhythm to the unbearable ache pounding in his head. “I’m fine,” he whispers pathetically, voice catching.

He can practically feel the vibrations through the floor as someone approaches. It’s Garnet. He doesn’t know how he knows, but it can only be her. His breath hastens against his better wishes. Can’t stop, won’t stop, can’t stop... The vision of the temple door begins to pirouette in dizzy circles around him as he arches his back, and with a sharp gasp feels something tear its way through his shirt and jacket right above his spine, all jagged and spiked and— NO! He grinds his jaw together, shrinking further into himself. Not real. It’s not real, not real, not—

“Steven,” she says in a measured tone as he heaves for air. (No, with hesitation. Fear. She’s hesitating because she’s afraid of you, she’s afraid because you’re a monster NO.) “I know you’re hurting, but I need you to take a deep breath with me, and try to calm down. Please, let us help you...”

A heart wrenchingly familiar hand reaches out to him, adorned by a ruby gem and a golden wedding band. His fingers clamp around thick, greasy curls, brushing against the horns protruding from his temples. A keening cry slips out from his mouth against his better wishes. They want to help. They only want to help...

He peeks at her through the crook of his arm, his most likely reddened, blotchy eyes meeting hers. She’s taken off her visor. She’s crying too.

For a glimmer of a second, he considers reaching out. Taking her offered hand with his own clawed one. But then...

Haven’t you been a burden enough already?

His face screws up, and his hands clench into fists.

“NO,” he shouts, slamming them down upon the warp pad. It activates, (blessedly still accessible at this early stage of corruption NO don’t think about it!!), glowing a bright cyan as he envisions where he wants to go: no particular destination in his mind but away, away, away.

After all, he already knows he’s a monster.

So... he might as well become one too.

_____

Notes:

Some days you just gotta have an entire mental breakdown and go full wyrm, y'hear?

HCs I tapped into for this fic:

After being healed, formerly cracked Gems take longer to reform than Gems who were only poofed. Peridot will be okay eventually, she just hasn’t reformed quite yet.

Steven is still able to warp because he hasn’t quite passed the threshold of corruption that prevents a Gem from accessing the warp stream. I imagine it's very much a matter of mental connection, and having the right presence of mind to tap into it. Probably a few minutes after this, if Steven were to continue going downhill and his mind fully fell into the fog of corruption, he’d no longer be able to warp. He got super lucky here.

This potential future blindsided Garnet because previously- like how Steven’s newfound maturity threw her off as discussed in Pool Hopping- she hadn’t factored in the idea of Steven being in such a low mental state. Amethyst was the first to really see past his attempts to mask it because she personally had dealt with depression like this before and knew what it looked like.

Maybe one day after SUF airs I'll write more on this topic, but as for now this will remain a one-shot. I 100% imagine Steven would ultimately be okay in this timeline, though. They'd be able to help him, stop the corruption. Steven goes to heckin' therapy. He'll live on, he'll begin to recover and cope. But that's a whole 'nother story.

Thank you for reading!

#su #su future #steven universe #corrupted steven theory #su fanfic #garnet #amethyst #pearl #su fanfiction #corrupted steven #corrupt!steven #body horror #my writing stuff #the mighty 500

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erictmason · 3 years

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The Road To “Godzilla VS. Kong”, Day Four

(Sorry for the delay on this one, Life proved just a bit too busy the other day to finish it; my “Godzilla: King of the Monsters” review is gonna be pushed back as a result too. But! No worries, on we go. ^_^)

KONG: SKULL ISLAND (2017

Director: Jordan Vogt-Roberts

Writers: Dan Gilroy, Max Borenstein, Derek Connolly, John Gatins

Starring: Samuel L. Jackson, Tom Hiddleston, Brie Larson, John Goodman, John C. Reilly

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Technically speaking, Gareth Edwards’ “Godzila” from 2014 was the first entry in what is now generally referred to as “The Monsterverse”, an attempt by Warner Bros. Studios and Legendary Pictures to do a Marvel Studios-style series of various interconnected movies (and which, like most such attempts to cash in on that particular trend, hasn’t really panned out; “Godzilla VS. Kong” seems likely to be its grand finale as far as movies are concerned, the only two “names” it had going for it are Godzilla and Kong themselves, and even at its most successful it was never exactly a Powerhouse Franchise). But the thing is, when that movie was made, the idea of a “Monsterverse” did not yet exist; it was only well after the fact that Legendary and Warner Bros. got the idea to turn a new “Kong” project into the building block of a Shared Universe of their own that they could connect with the 2014 “Godzilla”, with a clear eye on getting to remake one of the most singularly iconic (and profitable) Giant Monster Movies of all time. As you might guess from that description, however, said “Kong” project also had not originally been intended for such a purpose; it would not be until 2016 that it would be retooled from its original purpose (a prequel to the original “King Kong” titled simply “Skull Island”) into its present form, which goes out of its way to reference Monarch, the monster-tracking Science organization seen over in 2014’s “Godzilla” and which includes a very obviously Marvel-inspired post-credits stinger explicitly tying Kong and Godzilla’s existences together.

The resulting film is fun enough, all things told, but that graft is also really, distractingly obvious.

Honestly, I wish I knew why I’m not, generally, fonder of “Skull Island” than I am. It’s not as if, taken as a whole, it does anything especially bad; indeed it does a great deal that is actively good. Consider, for example, the rather unique choice to make it a Period Piece; that’s decently rare for a Monster Movie as it is (indeed one of the only other examples that springs to mind for me is Peter Jackson’s 2005 remake of “King Kong”, which chose to retain the original’s 1933 setting), and it’s rarer still that the era it chooses to inhabit is an immediately-post-Vietnam 1970’s. Aesthetically speaking, the movie takes a decent amount of fairly-obvious influence from that most classic of Vietnam-era films, “Apocalypse Now” (a fact that director Jordan Vogt-Roberts was always fairly open about), and it results in some of the movie’s strongest overall imagery (in particular a shot of Kong, cast in stark silhouette, standing against the burning sun on the horizon with a fleet of helicopters approaching him, one of a surprisingly small number of times the movie plays with visual scale to quite the same degree or with quite the same success as “Godzilla” 2014). It also means the movie is decked out in warm, lush colors that really do bring out all the personality of its Jungle setting in the most compelling way and, given how important the setting is to the film as a whole, that proves key; Skull Island maybe doesn’t become a character in its own right the way the best settings should (too much of our time is spent in fairly indistinct forests especially), but it does manage to feel exciting and unusual in the right ways more often than not. The “Apocalypse Now” influence also extends to our human cast, which is sizeable enough here (in terms of major characters we need to pay attention to played by notable actors, “Skull Island” dwarfs “Godzilla” 2014 by a significant margin) that the framework it provides-a mismatched group defined by various interpersonal/intergenerational tensions trying to make their way through an inhospitable wilderness, ostensibly in search of a lost comrade-is decently necessary. Though here we already run into one of those aspects of “Skull Island” that doesn’t quite land for me. Taken as a whole, it sure feels like the human characters here should be decently interesting; certainly, our leads are all much better defined and more engagingly performed than Ford Brody, to draw the most immediately obvious point of comparison. Brie Larson (as journalistic Anti-War photographer Mason Weaver), Tom Hiddleston (as former British Army officer turned Gun For Hire James Conrad), and John C. Reilly (as Hank Marlow, a World War II soldier stranded on Skull Island years ago) definitely turn in decently strong performances; I wouldn’t call it Career Best work for any of them (Hiddleston especially feels like he’s on auto-pilot half the time, while Larson has to struggle mightily against how little the script actually gives her to work with when you stop and look at it) but they at least prove decently enjoyable to watch (Reilly especially does a solid job of making his character funny without quite pushing him over the edge into Total Cartoon Territory). I likewise feel like Samuel L. Jackson’s Preston Packard has the potential to be a genuinely-great character; his lingering resentment at the way the Vietnam War played out and the way that feeds into his determination to find and defeat Kong is, again, a clever and compelling use of the 70’s period setting, it gives us a good, believable motivation with a clear and strong Arc to it, and Jackson does a really solid job of playing his Anger as genuine and poignant rather than simply petulant or crazed. But there’s just too much chaff amongst the wheat, too much time and energy devoted to characters and ideas that don’t have any real pay-off. This feels especially true of John Goodman’s Bill Randa, the Monarch scientist who arranges the whole expedition; the Monarch stuff in general mostly feels out of place, but Randa in particular gets all of these little notes and beats that seem meant to go somewhere and then just kind of don’t. Which is kind of what happens with most of the characters in the movie, is the thing; we spend a lot of screen-time dwelling on certain aspects of their backstories or personalities, and then those things effectively stop mattering at all after a certain point, even Packard’s motivations. A Weak Human Element was one of the problems in “Godzilla” 2014 as well, though, and you’ll recall I quite liked that movie. There, though, the human stuff was honestly only ever important for how it fed into the monster stuff; it was the connective tissue meant to get us from sequence to sequence and not much more. Here, though, it forms the heart and soul of the story, and that means its deficiencies feel a lot more harmful to the whole.

Still, those deficiencies really aren’t that severe, and moreover, like I was saying before, there’s a lot about “Skull Island” to actively enjoy. The Monsters themselves do remain the central draw, after all, and for the most part the movie does a solid job with that aspect of things. It does not, perhaps, recreate “Godzilla” 2014’s attempt to make believable animals out of them (even as it does design most of them with even more obvious, overt Real World Animal elements), but there is a certain playful energy that informs them at a conceptual level that I appreciate. Buffalos with horns that look like giant logs with huge strands of moss and grass hanging off their edges, spiders whose legs are adapted to look like tree trunks, stick bugs so big that their camouflage makes them look like fallen trees…the designs feel physically plausible (especially thanks to some strong effects work that makes them feel well inserted into the real environments), but there’s a slightly-humorous tilt to a lot of them that I appreciate, especially since it never outright winks at the audience in a way that would undercut the stakes of the story. Kong too is very well done; rather than the heavily realistic approach taken by the Peter Jackson version from 2005, this Kong is instead very much ape-like but also very clearly his own creature (in particular he stands fully erect most of the time), with a strong sense of Personality to him as well; some of the best parts of the movie are those times where we simply peek in on Kong simply living his life, even when that life is one that is, by nature, violent and dangerous. Less successful, sadly, are his nemeses, the Skullcrawlers; very much like “Godzilla” 2014, Kong is here envisioned as a Natural Protection against a potentially-dangerous species that threatens humanity (or in this case the Iwi Tribe who live on Skull Island, but we’ll talk more about them later), and while they’re hardly bad designs (the way their snake-like lower bodies give them a lot of neat tricks to play against their enemies in battle are genuinely fun in the right sort of Scary Way), they’re also pretty bland and forgettable, even compared to the MUTOS. That said, they serve their purpose well enough, and their big Action Scene showdowns with Kong are genuinely solid. Indeed, the movie’s big climactic brawl between Kong and the biggest of the Skullcrawlers has a lot of good pulpy energy to it (particularly with how Kong winds up using various tools picked up from all around the battlefield to give himself an edge), likewise there’s a certain Wild Fun to the sequence where our hapless humans have to try and survive a trek through the Crawlers’ home-turf.

Where things get a bit tricky again is when the movie attempts to put its own spin on “Godzilla”’s conception of its monsters as part of their own kind of unique ancient eco-system. The sense of Grandeur that gave a lot of that aspect such weight there is mostly absent here, especially; there are instances where some of that feeling comes through (Kong’s interactions with some of the non-Crawler species, for example, do a good job giving us an endearing sense of how Kong fits into this world), but far more often it treats the monsters as Big Set-Piece Attractions. Which is fine as far as it goes, it just also means a lot of them aren’t as memorable or impactful as I might like. Meanwhile, the way the Iwis have built their home to accommodate, interact with, and protect themselves from the island’s bestiary feels like a well-designed concept that manages to suggest a lot of History without having to spell it out for us in a way that I appreciated (I would also be inclined to apply this to the very neat multi-layered stone-art used to portray Kong and the Crawlers except that the sequence where we see them is the most overt “let’s stop and do some world-building” exposition dump in the whole movie). But the Iwis in general are one of the more difficult elements of the movie to process, too; it seems really clear there was a deliberate effort here to avoid the most grossly racist stuff that has been present in prior attempts to portray the Natives of Skull Island, and as far as it goes I do think those efforts bear some fruit; we are, at the very least, very far away from the Scary Ooga-Booga tone of, say, “King Kong VS. Godzilla”, and that feels like it counts for something. I just also feel like there’s some dehumanizing touches to their portrayal (in particular they never speak; I don’t mean to imply that Not Speaking equals Inhuman, but the fact that we are not made privy to how exactly they do communicate means we’re very much kept at arm’s length from them in a way that seems at least somewhat meant to alienate us from them), especially given their role in the story as a whole is relatively minor.

At the end of the day, though, all the movie’s elements, good and bad, don’t really feel like they add up together coherently enough to make an impact. And I think if I had to try and guess why, even as I find it wholly enjoyable with a lot to genuinely recommend it by, I don’t find myself especially enamored by “Skull Island”. It has a lot of different ideas of how to approach its story-70’s pastiche, worldbuilding exercise, Monster Mash-but doesn’t seem to quite succeed at realizing any of them fully, indeed often allowing them to get in each other’s ways. It isn’t, again, a bad movie as a result of that; there really isn’t any stretch of it where I found myself bored or particularly unentertained. But I did paradoxically find myself frequently wanting more, even as by rights the movie delivers on basically what I was looking for from it.

#king kong #kong: skull island #godzilla vs. kong #movies #theroadtogvk #review #ericthemason #my writing

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limologic · 4 years

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Vincent van Gogh suicide note

At 37, Van Gogh shot himself and died in his brother’s arms, but before his death, he struggled with philosophical concepts of identity, purpose, and searching for a moral compass. His art became his outlet to find peace, although his profoundly unique and controversial artwork was only truly appreciated after his death... In his lifetime he only sold one painting. He traveled learning new techniques but remained fixated on painting an atmosphere of brooding darkness.

Apart from painting, Van Gogh expressed his thoughts and ideas in letters to his brother encompassing the philosophical concepts tackled by even the most elite philosophers such as the nature of existence and understanding how to live. His revelations and perceptions shed light on how he wanted to lead his life and work towards finding peace.

At 25, his letter to his brother explains eloquently something we all struggle with— working for a lifelong goal rather than becoming successful overnight.

This letter was written in April 1878:

I’ve been thinking about what we discussed, and I couldn’t help thinking of the words ‘we are today what we were yesterday’. This isn’t to say that one must stand still and ought not try to develop oneself, on the contrary, there are compelling reasons to do and think so.

But in order to remain faithful to those words one may not retreat and, once one has started to see things with a clear and trusting eye, one ought not to abandon or deviate from that.

They who said ‘we are today what we were yesterday’, those were honnêtes hommes, which is apparent from the constitution they drew up, which will remain for all time and of which it has rightly been said that it was written with a ray from on high and a finger of fire. It is good to be an ‘honnête homme’ and truly to endeavour to become one both almost and altogether, and one does well if one believes that being an ‘homme intérieur et spirituel’ is part of it.

If one only knew for certain that one belonged among them, one would always go one’s way, calmly and collectedly, never doubting that things would turn out well. There was once a man who went into a church one day and asked, can it be that my zeal has deceived me, that I have turned down the wrong path and have gone about things the wrong way, oh, if only I could rid myself of this uncertainty and have the firm conviction that I will eventually overcome and succeed. And then a voice answered him, “And if you knew that for certain, what would you do? Act now as though you knew it for certain and thou shalt not be ashamed.” Then the man went on his way, not faithless but believing, and returned to his work, no longer doubting or wavering.

As far as being an homme intérieur et spirituel is concerned, couldn’t one develop that in oneself through knowledge of history in general and of certain people of all eras in particular, from biblical times to the Revolution and from The odyssey to the books of Dickens and Michelet? And couldn’t one learn something from the work of the likes of Rembrandt or from Weeds by Breton, or The four times of the day by Millet, or Saying grace by Degroux, or Brion, or The conscript by Degroux (or else by Conscience), or his Apothecary, or The large oaks by Dupré, or even the mills and sand flats by Michel?

It’s by persevering in those ideas and things that one at last becomes thoroughly leavened with a good leaven, that of sorrowful yet always rejoicing, and which will become apparent when the time of fruitfulness is come in our lives, the fruitfulness of good works.

The ray from on high doesn’t always shine on us, and is sometimes behind the clouds, and without that light a person cannot live and is worth nothing and can do nothing good, and anyone who maintains that one can live without faith in that higher light and doesn’t worry about attaining it will end up being disappointed.

We’ve talked quite a lot about what we feel to be our duty and how we should arrive at something good, and we rightly came to the conclusion that first of all our goal must be to find a certain position and a profession to which we can devote ourselves entirely.

And I think that we also agreed on this point, namely that one must pay special attention to the end, and that a victory achieved after lifelong work and effort is better than one achieved more quickly.

He who lives uprightly and experiences true difficulty and disappointment and is nonetheless undefeated by it is worth more than someone who prospers and knows nothing but relative good fortune. For who are they, those in whom one most clearly notices something higher? — it is those to whom the words ‘workers, your life is sad, workers, you suffer in life, workers, you are blessed’ are applicable, it is those who show the signs of ‘bearing a whole life of strife and work without giving way’. It is good to try and become thus.

So we go on our way ‘undefessi favente Deo’.

As far as I’m concerned, I must become a good minister, who has something to say that is good and can be useful in the world, and perhaps it’s good after all that I have a relatively long time of preparation and become secure in a firm conviction before I’m called upon to speak about it to others. It is wise, before one begins that work, to gather together a wealth of things that could benefit others.

Do let us go on quietly, examining all things and holding fast to that which is good, and trying always to learn more that is useful, and gaining more experience.

Woe-spiritedness is quite a good thing to have, if only one writes it as two words, woe is in all people, everyone has reason enough for it, but one must also have spirit, the more the better, and it is good to be someone who never despairs.

If we but try to live uprightly, then we shall be all right, even though we shall inevitably experience true sorrow and genuine disappointments, and also probably make real mistakes and do wrong things, but it’s certainly true that it is better to be fervent in spirit, even if one accordingly makes more mistakes, than narrow-minded and overly cautious. It is good to love as much as one can, for therein lies true strength, and he who loves much does much and is capable of much, and that which is done with love is well done. If one is moved by some book or other, for instance, just to mention something, ‘The swallow, the lark, the nightingale’, The longing for autumn, ‘From here I see a lady’, ‘Never this unique little village’ by Michelet, it’s because it’s written from the heart in simplicity and with poverty of spirit.

If one were to say but few words, though ones with meaning, one would do better than to say many that were only empty sounds, and just as easy to utter as they were of little use.

Love is the best and most noble thing in the human heart, especially when it has been tried and tested in life like gold in the fire, happy is he and strong in himself who has loved much and, even if he has wavered and doubted, has kept that divine fire and has returned to that which was in the beginning and shall never die. If only one continues to love faithfully that which is verily worthy of love, and does not squander his love on truly trivial and insignificant and faint-hearted things, then one will gradually become more enlightened and stronger. The sooner one seeks to become competent in a certain position and in a certain profession, and adopts a fairly independent way of thinking and acting, and the more one observes fixed rules, the stronger one’s character becomes, and yet that doesn’t mean that one has to become narrow-minded.

It is wise to do that, for life is but short and time passes quickly. If one is competent in one thing and understands one thing well, one gains at the same time insight into and knowledge of many other things into the bargain.

It’s sometimes good to go about much in the world and to be among people, and at times one is actually obliged and called upon to do so, or it can be one way of ‘throwing oneself into one’s work unreservedly and with all one’s might’, but he who actually goes quietly about his work, alone, preferring to have but very few friends, goes the most safely among people and in the world. One should never trust it when one is without difficulties or some worry or obstacle, and one shouldn’t make things too easy for oneself. Even in the most cultured circles and the best surroundings and circumstances, one should retain something of the original nature of a Robinson Crusoe or a savage, for otherwise one hath not root in himself, and never let the fire in his soul go out but keep it going, there will always be a time when it will come in useful. And whosoever continues to hold fast to poverty for himself, and embraces it, possesses a great treasure and will always hear the voice of his conscience speaking clearly. Whosoever hears and follows the voice in his innermost being, which is God’s best gift, ultimately finds therein a friend and is never alone.

Happy is he who has faith in God, for he shall overcome all of life’s difficulties in the end, though it be not without pain and sorrow. One cannot do better than to hold fast to the thought of God and endeavour to learn more of Him, amidst everything, in all circumstances, in all places and at all times; one can do this with the Bible as with all other things. It is good to go on believing that everything is miraculous, more so than one can comprehend, for that is the truth, it is good to remain sensitive and lowly and meek in heart, even though one sometimes has to hide that feeling, because that is often necessary, it is good to be very knowledgeable about the things that are hidden from the wise and prudent of the world but that are revealed as though by nature to the poor and simple, to women and babes. For what can one learn that is better than that which God has put by nature into every human soul, that which in the depths of every soul lives and loves, hopes and believes, unless one should wilfully destroy it? There, in that, is the need for nothing less than the boundless and miraculous, and a man does well if he is satisfied with nothing less and doesn’t feel at home until he has acquired it.

That is the avowal that all great men have expressed in their works, all who have thought a little more deeply and have sought and worked a little harder and have loved more than others, who have launched out into the deep of the sea of life. Launching out into the deep is what we too must do if we want to catch anything, and if it sometimes happens that we have to work the whole night and catch nothing, then it is good not to give up after all but to let down the nets again at dawn.

So let us simply go on quietly, each his own way, always following the light ‘sursum corda’, and as such who know that we are what others are and that others are what we are, and that it is good to have love one to another namely of the best kind, that believeth all things and hopeth all things, endureth all things and never faileth.

And not troubling ourselves too much if we have shortcomings, for he who has none has a shortcoming nonetheless, namely that he has none, and he who thinks he is perfectly wise would do well to start over from the beginning and become a fool.

We are today what we were yesterday, namely ‘honnêtes hommes’, but ones who must be tried with the fire of life to be innerly strengthened and confirmed in that which they are by nature through the grace of God.

May it be so with us, old boy, and I wish you well on your way, and God be with you in all things, and make you succeed at that, that is what is wished you with a hearty handshake at your departure.

Your most loving brother,

Vincent

The Essential Letter is an anthology containing 265 letters written by Van Gogh, which contains about a third of all the surviving letters he wrote.

Image Sources:

biography.com, uploads2.wikiart.org, blogs.elpais.com, feelgrafix.com

#vangogh #van gough #letter #vincentvangogh #suicide #note #suicide note #died #death #philosophical #moral

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fullofbeautifulmistakes03 · 4 years

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Okay let me put some points out there. As you guys know English is not my first language so sorry any mistake.

I'm going to start by talking about how Jodie Comer was TT last night because she's supposed to be dating a Trump supporter.

I'm not afraid of losing "followers" so I'm going to say what I really think: Jodie Comer is first of all, a human being, an excellent and talented actress, with many capacities and nuances that I had not seen in this generation for a long time, not only for her amazing performance of Villanelle but for everything she has done throughout her career, so unless you have seen each and every one of her projects and have not a shred of taste for good talent, interpretation and delivery, don't come here to judge this woman's talent based on her personal decisions.

JodieComerOverParty honestly, what the fuck is that? That weak, senseless and hateful "cancel culture" under which nothing but haters and repressed people who do nothing but put their hatred and issues in the lives of others, has to get out of your heads. Can you think that you have to be really screwed up inside to sit down and do that creepy quest for someone's intimate life just to satisfy your own hatred, resentment and problems? And worst of all, this generation is being so powerful but so weak at the same time, so easy to influence; they literally see any TT and they just decide to join, for what? to look cool? Bc is it what you supposed to do if you have more than 3K followers? Or is it because you really want to speak and give an opinion that is not influenced by what people say but by what you really think? Because honestly I see nothing like that. Some Twitter, Ig and Tumblr stans are not only sheep that follow a shepherd without any purpose, but they defend something without any other purpose than to hate and keep their followers.

Do I have to give my opinion about Jodie dating a Trump supporter? No. Am I giving it? Yes. Because it's my fucking problem but I also understand that it's not my fucking problem what kind of dick is she sucking. Who she's dating doesn't give me any right to get into her private life, her family, and look for shit just because you reflect your fucking hatred on her.

Like, do you feel hurt because you think she has been a hypocrite for saying that she is an ally of the LGBTQ + community, supported BLM and read the letter to Virginia? But also dating a trump supporter?

Well, you have every right, you feel cheated and betrayed, I understand it, being a trump supporter represents everything that goes against our community and minorities and you are also assuming that by dating him and knowing his ideals and beliefs she accepts and adopts them which is not necessarily true but i understand. So, yes, I understand that you do not see congruence between her actions and the people with whom she has around her, especially her supposed boyfriend, I understand that she has a social responsibility when interpreting a character so dear to different communities, I understand that the fact that Jodie having a boyfriend who is Trump supporter can mean different and valid things for many of us, I understand that you feel somehow hurt, I can understand all that and I'm nobody to tell you that you should not feel it or that you're wrong or you're okay.

But what is definitely not right and I cannot understand is believing that you have the right to decide what is right and what is wrong in someone else's life. What is not right is that you feel you have the right to believe yourself with so much moral superiority as to point out to a person that point 1. You don't know and that point 2. You don't know. What is not right is that you support hate and suicide messages towards a person who point 3. You don't know. And that even if you knew and everything will prove true, you also have no right.

You have the right to give your opinion and your opinion has the right to be respected but your opinion does not have to be the opinion of your followers or your friends or your family, so the next time you decide to do a thread and a crap search think about what would happen if someone decides to do the same to you. I mean, they didn't find anything about Jodie so they went to get shit from the people around her. SICK.

Do I support the fact that she is dating a Trump supporter? No. It does that matter? Let's be honest, no, it doesn't matter, because at the end of the day I don't have to reflect or set my own expectations in someone else's life, especially in the life of someone I don't know. Do I support trump? No man, I hate the guy. But that doesn't give me the right to send hate and suicide messages to Jodie just because her boyfriend is trash. I love Jodie, but I do not idealize her, I know that she is a human being, I know and I hope that she knows of her privileges, I am aware of that, I know that she is an extraordinary actress, I know that I want to see her in many many more projects, I know that she deserves all the awards in the world, but I know that at the end of the day, Jodie is not only a talented actress but there are many things that neither you nor I know and that is why you cannot idealize your fav, that's all I know about Jodie.

You can't impose your expectations and create a weight of that size in them because simply at the end of the day when they make the first mistake, you, the one who loved her from the beginning for idealizing her and believing that she was perfect, are the first person to cancel her. So, if you are going to support someone because of their talent, do it, if you are going to follow their career, do it, if you are going to create an account in honor of that person, do it, but do it knowing that you are not following some perfect God or person, do it with the knowledge that your dreams are not their dreams, that your ideals are not that person's, that your expectations are not and do not have to be that person's but above all do it because despite the fact that at some point your fav disappoint you or make a mistake, you will be there to continue supporting them regardless of the man or woman they decided to be with. That is what a true fan does. Supporting the person's talent and work, a fan has the right to judge a misinterpretation, to say you don't like it, to say anything about any movie or tv show, but being that fan doesn't give you the right to invade someone's life in such a way that, that person feels shit to the point of committing suicide as it happened earlier this year or as it happened with Taylor Swift some years ago that she had to hide for more than a year for all the shit that those who called themselves fans threw her.

I would also like to say that Sandra Oh, she is an excellent actress, her talent is simply incredible and she deserves all the awards in the world, all the recognition in the world, and throughout Killing Eve, I have only been able to see how some insist on putting Sandra and Jodie against each other, despite seeing that they have a genuine and beautiful working relationship, I have been able to see how the "fans" of Jodie judge Sandra and those of Sandra Judge and blame Jodie for many things, my big question is, Why? The injustice that the television industry commits against minorities today is not Jodie's fault, in this case. It is not Jodie's fault that the writers of Killing Eve are white, it is not Jodie's fault that according to you Jodie has more screen time than Sandra, it is not Jodie's fault that some of you have so much hatred in your soul that they reflect it not only damaging a beautiful production but also to your fav.

Sandra is a powerful woman, not afraid to speak, she literally co-produced the series to precisely have a voice, Sandra is a woman in every sense of the word, which means she is strong, free, powerful and she can speak for herself, one thing I'm sure of is that Sandra Oh, she deserves everything good in this world except those toxic "fans" who believe that a woman like Sandra needs to be defended or to speak for her.

Sandra Oh, she knows what she deserves and how well she has said it, she is at the stage of her career where she can decide which project to take or not, basically she can do whatever the hell she wants. Sandra Oh, she does not need a handful of children to believe that they have the right to decide or say "this is what Sandra wants, this is what Sandra needs" Sandra Oh, she does not need you to defend her from anything because she has a voice that knows how to use and does not necessarily have to be as you all expect. So the next time you feel like you have the right to say "this is what Sandra wants or needs" take a second to review your frustrations, to review your expectations and stop putting them on the shoulders of your idols.

Finally, know that Villanelle is not real, she is a character played by this extraordinary actress named Jodie Comer. Know that Jodie Comer is not Villanelle and know that Jodie Comer has every right to be straight and play queer characters, she has the right not to be what you in her fantasy world expect her to be. I say this because I have seen how the anger of some is not even that she is dating a Trump Supporter but that she is dating a man and not a woman. Like, put your shit together.

I love Jodie, I support her career, her talent I hope to see her in many other productions.

I support Jodie, I support her because I judge her by her talent and not by her clothes, makeup, hair or boyfriend.

I support Jodie because I doubt that her commitment to her work, so far, is fake. I support her not because is my idol, because I do not idealize her, I support her because I admire her talent and I enjoy her work. I have nothing to say about her private life, each one makes her own karma, it is Jodie's problem if she goes out with a Trump or Bolsonaro supporter, Jodie's problem is the footprint she leaves on the road, it's Jodie's problem if she date a man or a woman, it's Jodie's problem if she lives in Boston or London, it's Jodie's problem her fucking ass. It is her problem, not my problem. Jodie owes me nothing, absolutely nothing. And I'm not so influential as to let this change my opinion about an actress who so far has given me nothing but her talent, I am not so influential as to take advantage of this situation and throw the repressed hatred at someone for some personal issues.

To those who take advantage of the situation to say what they really think of Jodie, go ahead, do it, have the ovaries to hold what you say but then go. To the weak stan who immediately changed their photo or their bio, look in the mirror, you are a fake, have the ovaries to hold what you said and go as well please.

The day I see that Jodie Comer is really a fake, that day I take her out of my life myself, but not based on the twisted mind of some sick person who decided that it is time to hate or cancel the amazing Jodie Comer.

#killing eve #villanelle #villaneve #sandra oh #jodie comer #stan twitter

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kevv · 4 years

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a goodbye letter- abandoning current social media

i'm not the best at writing out my thoughts. forgive me if this feels scrambled and scraped together. my best friend, Fox, once said in abridged words; "it takes two to play out an abandonment fantasy, one to have it, and the other to follow suit".

i've known several handfuls of people who fear abandonment, or more specifically, being the one abandoned; scared that one day everyone in their life will take leave. and sometimes, like a self-fulfilling prophecy, they do. they leave in mass exodus, set into motion by one person who wants to set-forth their own abandonment fantasy– abandoning everyone else.

for me, my own fear of abandonment is not anyone abandoning me, i'm unbothered by people entering my life and leaving of their own accord; i'm scared i'll be the one to abandon everyone in my life. because i have. several times. i still do, even. i'll meet people in my lifetime that i loved harder than the universe itself, a deep love so terrifying i feel that it'll demolish cities and townships, friends and lovers and found-family. my skin will buzz and blaze alight with such an intense fear, a fear that i will ruin them and everything they are so i must run. it's unfounded, but it drives me away, and i fight tooth and nail to get to that escape route for those who won't let me leave quietly, until it ends in disaster. it's my own abandonment fantasy. i recall once, an ex-lover wanted me to stay. tried to lock the door and toss away the key, and said it hurt that i wanted an out. so i caused problems until i could break out through the window. not being allowed an option to leave made me feel like a feral, caged animal; because in the end, that's all i am. i hadn't done it on purpose. the need to escape everything had been there months prior. the events leading up to it had been fuzzy at best, sickly at worst, and i had been spoonfed misinformation. not on purpose, not in malicious intent, but still it struck genuine fear in my heart. like a feral animal, i want the option to roam. to come and go as i please. i can't be kept, i just want the trust that i'll find my way back eventually. if i feel contained, i scratch and bite until i'm released. but if you hold out your hand and wait patiently, i'll come to you. but don't ask me to stay. please don't ask me to stay. there's a lot that lead up to this current migration. the inability to be allowed to stand on my own two-feet and exist as just purely Kevin, not adjacent to someone, was a big one. still to this day i am asked about a youtuber i am no longer affiliated with by my own choice. i don't like attention, it's something i've said to her, said to many, and why i chose to never appear in her videos. which seems contradictory for an artist who posts on social media and previously did all of her older channel art. but maybe now i'm realizing that truthfully, i wanted recognition for me, not for others or for who i made myself sick in order to create content for. it's inescapable. i harbor no hard feelings anymore, i understand i was in the peak of my codependency and was willing to ruin myself for the benefit of another. to run myself broke and dry because at 19 years old i was still a child who didn't know how to handle the extent of his emotions. i want to apologize to penny. neither of us are really blameless, but we were inexperienced and young– still young. it's easy to not know what we're doing, to unintentionally take advantage of someone who was willing to burn themselves to give you warmth, or to latch onto an unfounded rumor and bare my teeth. i hope you're doing well, and i'm sorry. i'd like to give you a proper apology one day, when i'm more ready. that day is not today. sometimes i feel like there are four people living inside my brain, all with dissenting opinions and voices that i can't tell who i am anymore. i feel like i'm constantly contradicting myself because i don't know what my own thoughts are. i don't know who i am anymore. i don't know who i am anymore because i'm several different people all trying to be "kevin", all with different beliefs that go against a previous one. i prematurely deleted my twitter account for this reason, i couldn't stand a second more of being in a toxicity cycle i had previously taken part in, because sometimes that's all social media is. it's very... Online. i want to be one, unified person. whose thoughts and feelings are unadulterated by others surrounding him. additionally, there's the elephant in the room. some have already guessed it, suspected it, saw something like it coming from miles away. but for others who have known me for the past decade, it might be a surprise. someone once told me that words have power, and while at the time i disagreed, i'm starting to understand what she meant now. i've been afraid to speak it into existence, because it means it's real, and coming to terms with this unavoidable truth is a terrifying experience, one i need to face and stop running away from.

i'm detransitioning. giving life to this phrase doesn't make me feel any better. words have power, and that power is to make me crumble and break. since as early as 4 years old, i felt as if i was born a boy who was just being raised as a girl. at 12 was when i learned about and started identifying as transgender. at 18 i legally changed my name. for a decade, i lived as a transgender man. i've mentioned this before, but i'm intersex. i have an androgen insensitivity syndrome. what this means is that androgens, male sex hormones, have no effect on me. they instantly are reconverted back into estrogen by my body. this has been a reoccurring nightmare of mine since i was 14, and having it become my reality is.. heartbreaking, to say the least, crushing a lifetime of dreams and wishes. i've tried testosterone, self-medicated in my teen years, and "officially" more recently. it has no effect on me. a friend of mine says i shouldn't give up hope until i properly see an endocrinologist about HRT, but the reality is– i know my body, and i know my condition. i don't grow body hair, and my body cannot masculinize. these are unavoidable truths. i don't need to spend hundreds of dollars to be told what i already know. HRT will not affect me; i will never be able to transition. any attempt will become a scientific study in which i'm a guinea pig. i don't want that. i will never pass for male. my voice is high, my body is undoubtably female, my face is feminine, and i'm 4'11". it's disheartening and i've shed many tears over it. for what feels like my whole life, i've longed for SRS/GRS, top surgery, a deeper voice, and a couple inches of height. i ache for body hair, masculine fat redistribution, and male pattern baldness. all the good and the bad associated with testosterone is what i so desperately yearn for with such a soul-crushing depravity. i am genuinely heartbroken. maybe it's my punishment for all the bad things i've believed in or done. it's what i'd deserve, i guess. this punishment. it is for those reasons that i feel like i can no longer find comfort in identifying as ftm, to struggle seeing myself as a man. it's crazy, i've referred to myself as male since early childhood, and now that i'm coming to terms with my intersex condition am i feeling wrong in every conceivably way of identity. truthfully, i don't even identify as anything anymore. i'm not nonbinary, cis, or i guess trans. i feel as if i just exist. i just am. you can still call me kevin. it's my name, my legal name– which i love to point out. i'm not changing it. it's the first time i made a decision purely for myself, and went through with it. i love my name. i don't think i will love anything about myself quite like my name. i chose it when i was 12, it was my first choice. i never wanted another name. i still don't. but i like nicknames, particularly kitty and K-K. you can call me those too. these have always been options available. i reiterate– i really like being called nicknames. (: you can still use male pronouns for me. i never minded being "misgendered" because, well, i never passed, and i made peace with that years and years ago. while being called she/her or otherwise will probably always leave a stale taste in my mouth, i've learned to accept the reality of what i am a long time ago. biologically female. you can still use male identifiers for me, like husband or boyfriend or whatever other male terms there are...... actually you'll have to pry those out of my cold dead hands. i will not accept being called a "girlfriend" i will literally go feral and foam at the mouth and bite your ankles until you take it back. there's comfort in these things that i'm not ready to let go of, and frankly, i don't think i'll ever feel ready to. moving forward, i don't really know what i'm going to do. right now i'm taking a break from the internet, so i can soul-search and truly find myself, in all senses of the word and every iteration that it can be built upon. i'll make a new twitter account when i'm ready to, probably. there's a lot more i want to say, to add onto this in addendum, and pour so much of myself into this until it spills out the sides and trickles down into tiny cracks. but truthfully, i don't know how to say it. i don't know its relevancy to this eulogy of an account, and quite honestly, there are still some things i can't find myself able to say. to speak into existence. to give power to those words. admitting aloud to a 6-year long love that burnt like candles catching a home on fire was intense enough (hi Charlotte it's you, it's you and it's always been you and everyone knows this). so maybe i'd rather keep some things to myself, perhaps. preferably. so i guess that's it. i've bared my heart and soul and skin and bones to whoever will read this piece of myself. it's the end to katidoj, one that's been a longtime coming. i've never been very good at staying in one place for very long. please take care, i love you. and i'll miss you. a piece of my heart left with you, here buried deep in this account. (pressing the submit button has never been so hard in my life.)

#goodbye. i hope to be a better version of myself the next time we meet.

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aspoonofsugar · 4 years

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Hi! I'm happy to find you reblogging something about Death Stranding. I love this game especially the story. It conveys the importance of the connection between people. I'm curious about who you like most in this game and your thoughts about the story.

Hello anon!

Thank you very much for this ask! I have recently watched the game’s cutscenes and I love the story and the characters!

In this answer I won’t be able to touch on every aspect of the story, but I will talk of some things I liked and of my two favourite characters:

I am fond of Fragile and love her with all my heart, while I like how complex Amelie is as a character and the perfect equilibrium they managed to obtain with her characterization and story. Basically I love the first with my heart and I like the second with my head.

Both women are representative of different aspects of society and to be more precise Fragile represents society’s positive traits, while Amelie society’s ambivalence.

This ambivalence of society is well represented by the cuff links. As their name implies they both connect (links) and control (cuffs) people.

This same ambivalence is conveyed through the entirety of Amelie/Bridget’s story and character.

Amelie’s name, as it is explained in the game itself, has multiple meanings:

On one hand it means “a soul that is a lie” because Amelie is nothing more than a part of Bridget and not her own person. To be more precise she is Bridget’s Ka:

This works for the wordplay Amelie-Ka aka America:

“Have I ever told you my real name? It’s Amerigo, after Amerigo Vespucci, the man who discovered the continent”

“I thought it was Columbus?”

“Except Amerigo was full of it. He lied. America is a lie”.

So America (aka society) is a lie just like Amelie is. However, things are not so simple:

This is highlighted also by Amelie’s final speech to Sam. In this speech she keeps contradicting herself to the point that it is not even clear what her true objective and motivations were.

On one hand she claims that as an EE she has realized extinction is impossible to avoid and that she has done her best to try and make it faster, so that she won’t be stuck alone on the Beach.

On the other hand she claims that all her experiments as Bridget were an attempt to find a way out using the knowledge of the universe to stop the Death Stranding.

Basically, Amelie came up and implemented a plan which worked both to save humanity and to destroy it and she herself is probably not sure of what she was hoping for.

This is made clear also by her act of saving Sam:

When she is the one narrating the story the whole scene is portrayed as sweet and as Amelie being able to feel sympathy and warmth for another life hence her resurrecting Sam and developing a bond with him.

However, later on, when we see what actually happened in Cliff’s past, we are shown this:

It was Bridget who killed Sam and Amelie’s resurrecting him ends up acquiring a more utilitaristic spin since Bridget was interested in Sam because of her experiments. That said, Bridget decided to bring Sam up even if he can’t be useful anymore in the BB experiments suggests a genuine attachment on her part. In the end, it is through this redemptive action and through her bond with Sam that the Last Stranding is postponed since Amelie chooses to believe in him.

In short, Bridget/Amelie is an extremely ambiguous character, just like society is and this is why what Sam tells Die-Hardman in the end is so important:

As Sam implies, Die-Hardman unwillingly represents the old ways which need to be overcome if there must be hope for the future. He is a character as ambiguous as Amelie is since he too appears thorn and to be more specific he is thorn between his loyalty for Cliff and his loyalty for Bridget. In this he is similar to Sam and in his last speech to him, Die-Hardman tries to reconcile these two loyalties, but this reconciliation is only partly possible for both him and Sam. In the end, Die-Hardman did not actively kill Cliff, but he did so thanks to his passivity and at the end of the game he is shown encouraging the narrative depicting Amelie and Bridget as heroes and concealing everything negative she did. In other words, he is still telling and spreading lies.

In short, the ambiguity of society is conveyed through characters like Amelie and Die-Hardman who have sacrificed babies (aka the symbols of the future) to a plan which could have potentially both saved and destroyed the world. Despite this, society is still the only chance humanity has to survive.

And society still has beautiful things and these things are embodied by Fragile who is clearly a very important character thematically:

Fragile is a person whose time has been taken away from her and this is why her body has aged prematurely. However, she has never given up and has kept trying to do the best she can with the little time she has left. This is literally what all humanity must currently do as it was stated by Amelie as well:

The only thing humanity can do is to try to evolve and to survive. After all life itself is:

Life is fragile, but not that fragile. It fights to survive and Fragile embodies exactly this. This is why she is a porter just like Sam and she is specialized in taking care of frail cargo. She protects fragility and makes sure it survives. This is something symbolized also by her powers which let her teleport through the beaches of people she knows and understands. In other words, her ability is a physical embodiment of the ability of becoming connected with another person.

Of course, because of society being a double edged sword she too has been used to create damage and in particular Higgs used her to destroy a city. However, even if she was betrayed in such a way she did not give up and managed to save another town in exchange of a high personal sacrifice.

So Fragile is the life which struggles under adversities and her arc in the game is symbolic of this. After all, she starts the game in a similar place as Sam:

She too does not care about America and she is simply motivated by the loyalty towards her father and her feelings of revenge against Higgs just like Sam is motivated by her bond with Amelie. However, by the end of the game she has changed:

She has decided to implement her father vision and as Sam says she is “going on with the world”. She is evolving and has found a new place within society through her newly found connections.

However, this is specifically why her path diverges from Sam who, like her, finds a new purpose through his father’s words. That said, this purpose is different from Fragile’s:

Thematically speaking Fragile is the good about society and it is not by chance that she is the one that, since their first encounter, offers Sam the possibility to be part of a group aka to be part of something bigger. And she repeats her offer to Sam at the end of the game.

However, by that point Sam has two problems. The first is what he himself states:

He is still grieving and is scared of creating bonds or to better say to enjoy his bonds since by that point he has clearly created strong bonds with the other members of Bridges. As a matter of fact his whole speech about how he still has no bonds is clearly false considering that in the end it was his bonds with the others which saved him from a lonely existence on the Beach. However, it is true that he has gone through a highly traumatizing experience.

What is more, this experience has casted a shadow on the way Sam sees society. This is made even clearer by the fact that society still plans to use and dispose of BB. This is something Sam can’t accept and his wish to try and save Lou is what motivates him to leave the others.

The fact that the last scene between Sam and Fragile is so sad is probably because she represents his chance to go back to be a part of society, but by that point Sam has already chosen to escape society hence him pushing her away.

Basically, while Fragile has found new bridges to put society back together and will keep working to obtain this result, Sam has found a different kind of bridge:

It is a bridge to the future aka a child and as Cliff stated:

Louise has become Sam’s bridge to the future. She has become a link he must accept and take care of because Lou is completely dependant on him, so he does not have the luxury of leaving her behind. In conclusion, Sam himself has become the Cliff which needs to be connected to the future and given courage by a little bridge. This is why babies are bridges. It is not because they are connected to death, but it is because they are connected to hope and the future.

So, Death Stranding is a story which explores the beauty of living even in desperate situations and the beauty of different kinds of bonds both in the present (among peers) and in the future (parent-child relationships).

I loved basically all characters. Cliff’s story is heartbreaking, but his last moments with Sam are beautiful and I loved Deadman, Mama and Heartman. Their stories were all interesting and were used to explore different aspects of the worldbuilding and of the themes and foreshadowed different plot-points (like Amelie being Bridget’s Ka in Mama’s story and Cliff using the Beach to search for his lost son like Heartman using it to look for his family).

Thank you for the ask, I am sure I did not do justice to the complexity of the story, but I hope my thoughts were interesting! Feel free to ask something more specific and have a great day!

#death stranding #death stranding meta #amelie strand #samantha america strand #bridget strand #fragile #sam strand porter bridges #clifford unger #die-hardman #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

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minalous · 4 years

Text

pink roses (m)

Pink roses: chapter one

pairing: hoseok x reader x jimin

description/warnings: dom!hoseok, dom!jimin, sub!reader, mature sexual content, demon!jimin, demon!hoseok, but they are very gentle and adorable, they just want love, they are nice doms/ Two rich guys that live in your building are interested in you. It is common sense that flowers are pretty, but can they be deadly?

This will be a mini series, just because I felt like adding it to my many wips.

genre: smut / fluff

words: 1.6k

Blackened soul and purified heart. Two mysteries locked inside the body of two of the most mystical creatures to walk this earth. Two beautiful men watching over you, day and night. Not only you but the whole city. They are given a task to accomplish but life is too boring in this old forgotten place. Except for you, the very young and intriguing you who is trying to accomplish something in this life as well.

A young woman who always believed that science and medicine should accompany each other in the name of scientific breakthrough. Hours and hours spent behind closed doors, your apartment a temple dedicated to the name of human evolution. You have seen, felt and experienced loss far too many times in your life to merely stop trying and give up. Whenever you faced an obstacle in your research, you would decide to find an escape, one solution to have you create any other possibilities of removing the obstacle. Such dedication you have for your job.

So many sleepless nights that almost led you to paranoia. You had the belief, for many years, that two men were visiting your dreams, trying desperately to make you theirs. The light of the morning would wake you up when they were about to be inside you, to fulfil the lust that had you numb, wet, desperate.

But today is dedicated to you and your success on finding a virus, one beautiful virus which devours any other type of virus inside the body. Only if you could find a host for your parasite. Too bad you cannot test or confirm your theories anyhow. The secret of life is hard to find, the best of your abilities cannot compete to any of the challenges you are to face and the feeling you are going through is too much to bear, sober at least. You are scared to be lonely at nights, there is no way to get away from your thoughts.

One drink after another, your expensive apartment keeps getting bigger and bigger, the air around you is thicker than normal and you need to run away. You grab your coat and keys, ready to get out to have a walk. The elevator is almost there, ready to take you away from this building and get you out to the forsaken dark world.

Tonight feels weird, this familiar eerie tingling sensation swivels in the air, lurking into the darkest corners of the path you take. This voice, this alluring noise is the one keeping you company your whole life, as if a childhood friend to remind you of your purpose in any chance given. The voice led you to your success, to the life you are leading right now. Had it even left you alone, you would have thought it abandoned you. You love this voice; it is a deep, raspy voice. If you were to hear it, you would recognise it.

The door of the elevator opens and it helps you come back to the real world, your thoughts are a chaos but you need to wait until you are alone again to reflect on them. The empty elevator closes its doors to lead you downstairs to the lobby, anticipation has you biting your nails. What are you so anxious about? The elevator stops four floors before the lobby, the entrance of a familiar but equally unknown face has you take a sharp breath. Why are you so anxious again?

“Up or down?” the man asks

Fuck. This voice sounds so warm, a lingering feeling of safety clouds your mind.

“Down” you answer back

You avoid meeting his eyes when you can feel his eyes all over you. The eerie feeling creeps out to haunt your senses, the voice beside you starts whispering again. Is he here to harm you? Why does it feel you have met before?

“I am not here to harm you”

Did you say that out aloud? Fuck.

“No, you did not. And it is not right for a beautiful young lady like you to curse.”

Oh no.. You start going crazy. You think that people are talking to you and can read your mind. You need to leave. But this is an elevator. Fuck.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me? How rude of you.” the man says and stops the elevator

If you pretend he is not here, maybe he will stop talking or cease to exist.

“Oh baby. You really came to be an ignorant. I did not fight for your well being to have you ignore your begetter.”

The man behind you wraps his arms around your lower waist, hands tightening the grip on you ever softly as if you will break if he makes a wrong movement. The sensation alone burns your worries away, body and soul are given willingly to him. His body is pressed against you, his hard length finds relief while grinding on your behind.

“You need to know your place, kitten. You need to remember who you are”

The hot breath on your neck does not help the sinful heat growing on your lower parts. What if he is a pervert and the neglect you have been feeling will make you a victim of your carnal desires?

“Let me tell the truth. You have known me your whole life, kitten. You are meant to love me. I am right for you”

His voice is the equivalent of sex, the warmth of his touch is ghosting over your breasts, over your womanhood and it makes you crave for more. The man behind you does not go any further, he is reluctant. You do not understand why he hesitates but it is working, your eyes get teary from the absence of his touch.

“Please?”

Voice broken, the same feeling you are going through. Each of your dreams ended the same way this meeting is about to end. Is he going to leave you alone?

“No, kitten. You have to meet someone else as well” he says and stands beside you with his hand still wrapped around your waist. You haven’t noticed he has pushed the button again, the elevator rings and you are finally free. You try to leave his side but you should have known better; there is a man standing right across the elevator, leaning against the wall. You know him very well, he is the man he always accompanied him.

He is sin impersonated and were he to team up with your captor, you would be doomed.

“Don’t worry, kitten. He is not going to hurt you either” he whispers

“Jimin, I thought I knew you better. We need to share her.”

Jimin? That is the name of the man beside you. And who is the man in front of you?

“This is Hoseok, baby. He is my brother” Jimin says

“I ordered you not to hear her thoughts but yeah, go ahead and be a brat” Hoseok’s voice sounds so much softer and gentle than his brother’s. Maybe he could be the one to explain what is happening and what is the mean of this situation.

Hoseok’s eyes search for validation as he walks towards you, there is this familiarity again, his eyes have the same warmth you could feel in all of the nights you spent together in your dreams. He is different from Jimin; Jimin is a little aggressive, rough, possessive. Hoseok is gentle, passionate, fiery.

You can hear Jimin growling with his grip on your waist to tighten. Is he still listening to your thoughts?

“I will listen to her thoughts until I am sure she can trust us” Jimin says

“Her thoughts are private and you should respect that. Please, Jimin. Be nice to our guest.” Hoseok bows in front of you, his hand gently touching yours before leaving a kiss on it.

“It is lovely to meet you. We had to wait until the time was right and now we are able to see you at last. You have no idea how long we have waited for you” he sounds so excited and you genuinely give him a warm smile of reassurance.

“I hope you will enlighten me about everything” you add “because I really don’t understand what is happening or what the purpose of all this is.” your hand gestures has both of the men chuckle.

Hoseok offers his hand to lead you to the place you are about to head to and you gladly accept, leaving Jimin behind. You find yourself standing in front of a door and the thoughts tear you apart. Should you stay and find out about everything or leave and forget everything about it?

“If you decide to walk through this door, you have to let your true self in. Let this side of you in. Switch your emotions off. Switch your humanity off, let her breathe, let your dark side in, kitten” Jimin’s voice drips of desire, desperation, need. Hoseok oozes of the same desire. Maybe you need to do it, let the voice take control, let the other side of you in, allow it to take control.

And you do. You breathe in..

The dark nature hiding inside you wants to swim to the surface, the new you needs to breathe, desperately trying to make you agree to give it a try, to see how good it tastes to be bad. You do not hesitate; you need to know if this change will bring you closer to your real self. It never felt more right to let go, not when you have Hoseok and Jimin by your side to guide.

“Welcome back home, my Queen” you hear both of them say.

The first thing you see when you walk through the door is the pink roses, the familiar old scent filling up your nostrils. Is this how it feels to come back home?

#hoseok smut #jimin smut #hoseok demon #jimin demon #magicshopnet #ksmutclub #jimin fanfic #hoseok fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction

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goodfemalecharacters · 5 years

Text

15x03 Coda: Consolation Prize

Three sad vignettes for three sad dudes. Destiel, Samwitch of a sort, 1.5k

It’s over.

It’s over, it’s over, it’s over, it’s over, it’s over.

Dean repeats the words in his head, because if he doesn’t, he’s going to lose it. Lose what? He’s not sure. His remaining thread of sanity, maybe. Or his ability to stop himself from hurling every item in the Bunker’s kitchen on the floor.

If it were really over, if they’d really beaten Chuck’s last challenge, if they’d really escaped the rat race they’ve been stuck in since day one, then he’d feel something, wouldn’t he? Relief. Peace. Instead, he’s every bit as empty as Famine—as Chuck?—had said he was all those years ago.

Winning would feel like cooking Mom a full meal, no nostalgic Winchester Surprise anywhere in sight, and teaching her to make a pie. Like playing catch with Dad like they did before the fire, talking about nothing important. Like watching a smile spread across Sammy’s face, not one of those pinched, drawn things that have been twisting his features for a decade. Like teaching Jack how to drive, properly this time.

Like telling Cas—well. It doesn’t matter now, does it?

Because Mom and Dad are dead, and Sam just killed the first person in years that he’s actually made a genuine connection with, and a demon wearing Jack’s corpse waltzed it into Hell and never came back, and Cas is gone.

This isn’t what winning is supposed to be like. So what does victory even mean, really?

He’s no philosopher. He’s a guy with a car, a couple guns, a kid brother, and a plucky attitude. Nevermind all the things he doesn’t have. He’s gonna take this victory and he’s gonna enjoy it, damnit. Somehow.

One quick trip to the store and a Google search set him up for the evening. As he’s making his way back to the kitchen, he stops by Sam’s room to listen. It’s quiet, and there’s no light streaming from the crack under the door. Maybe he’s asleep, but Dean knows better than to hope that that’s the case.

Once he’s back in the kitchen, Dean sets about making cookie dough with far more intensity than any reasonable person should. Take that, Chuck. Name one manly man in the whole fucking canon that celebrates his free will with making cookies. If there’s any proof that he’s no longer being yanked around like a dog on a chain, like a puppet on a string, like any number of stupid metaphors that don’t even begin to cover how he feels right now, it’s there.

Right?

By the time he takes the last batch out of the oven, it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning. The stillness of the bunker, which usually comforts him, feels heavy and oppressive. He burns his fingers on the edge of the last pan as he withdraws it from the oven.

Typical.

On his way back to his room, he sets a tray of the warm cookies outside of Sam’s. Like it’s some sort of consolation prize for making their only friend leave.

///

“Samwise, I know you’re the king of deluding yourself, but the math here isn’t hard.”

Sam can feel the breath on the back of his neck, but it’s not warm, not like breath should be, and his own warm breath catches in his throat. He closes his eyes, tenses his shoulders. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

“You’re dead,” he tells the voice, because if he tells himself that it’s just a voice, there won’t actually be someone there when he turns around. “You’re in the Empty.”

“Yeah, sure,” the voice—he’s not naming it, he’s not—says, “keep telling yourself that. You know I’ll be wherever Chuck wants me to be in this little drama of yours, right? You know this, Sam, or you’d turn around and face me.”

Sam knows better than to turn around. After years and years and years of this, he knows not to fall for the goading. But he does, and Lucifer smiles. Sam takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t stop the way his heart is throwing itself at his ribcage like it’s trying to escape.

“I’ll make sure to say hi to Little Red for you. She’s in my territory now, you know.”

This is his poor, screwed-up, exhausted brain spitting old footage, cobbling it together like a trailer for a horror movie.

“She sacrificed herself,” Sam finds himself saying. “She sacrificed herself for the world. If that doesn’t deserve Heaven—”

Lucifer smiles, then, and the words die on Sam’s lips. “It’s cute that you still think any of this is about deserving.”

And then Sam jerks awake, his heart still pounding. He’s managed to twist the sheets around his legs like a mummy, so he takes a second to untangle himself. It’s a long enough process that his breathing has slowed to a normal rate by the time he’s done.

He has to swallow back bile, but he manages to stop himself from vomiting on to his floor. Sam lets his head drop forward to hang between his knees, which causes the angry wound in his shoulder to yell out. His head spins, but he can’t tell if it’s pain or leftover vertigo from the dream.

He hasn’t had one like that since Dean killed—truly, permanently killed—Lucifer.

He’d called Rowena that night, hands still shaking as he searched for her name on his phone. She’d asked for Lucifer’s heart (“Never know when something like that will come in handy, Samuel), and he’d had to decline, seeing as Nick had been using it. Funny, that. It probably would have been better for everyone that way.

He’d been able to hear her relief over the phone, buried as it was in the familiar lilt of her voice. She’d promised a night of toasting his death until they were both well and truly drunk. (“So, two drinks?” he’d teased, and she’d grumbled something about draining wine casks before his great-grandparents had met).

Right. They’d never get that now.

He stretches out on his bed again, on top of the sheets this time, wincing as the motion pulls on the bullethole. He doesn’t get back to sleep before his alarm goes off three hours later.

///

This particular twenty-four hour diner apparently isn’t open twenty-four hours a day—they close at three and reopen at six. The waitress, when Cas points this out to her, shoots him a glare and then proceeds to take over thirty minutes to get him the coffee he’d ordered.

He can’t taste it, of course, but it would be rude to sit here and order nothing. Besides, the slight tingle on his tongue from the caffeine is something, at least. A tiny distraction from the gaping hole in his chest.

During the brief time he’d been human, working at the Gas ’n Sip, he’d passed the long nights when there’d be hours between the customers with daydreams. Fantasies where Dean would pull up outside, walk in with his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. He’d say that they’d managed to lock both Heaven and Hell, returning angels and demons to their places for good. He’d say that it was over, that Cas could come home.

He’d say he needed to finish his shift, and Dean would roll his eyes, but he’d gather the seriousness from Cas’s voice and stay by the register for the rest of the evening. He’d buy dozens of packs of gum as he chewed his way through them, and he’d flip through so much of a magazine that Cas would insist that he buy it, too. He’d keep up a quiet stream of chatter until, at last, Cas clocked out.

Dean would kiss him in the parking lot.

Stupid. Because now, at the end of it all, there’s no going home. There’s no quiet conversation at the dinner table or long nights marathoning movies or painting his room in the bunker a pretty robin egg blue.

Certainly no kissing in the parking lot.

Now, it’s the end of it all and he doesn’t have everything. No purpose in Heaven. No life on Earth. No place to call home.

He’ll head to Jody’s tomorrow morning, once he’s pulled himself together. He can show Claire cat memes in person, watch her roll her eyes. Help Patience with her math homework, listen to Alex’s nursing stories, lend a hand in the kitchen when Jody’s busy at work. He doesn’t think she has the heart to turn him away, even though he’s not the usual sort of wayward soul that finds itself at her doorstep.

It’s not much of a plan, but it’s something. It’s enough to keep him preoccupied while he waits for the sun to rise, anyway. The waitress returns three times to fill his coffee cup while the sun slowly creeps back to the horizon, and when he leaves her a forty dollar tip, her eyebrows vanish into her hairline.

By the time he hits the road, there’s a weak sort of sunlight spilling over the highway. And even though he feels like someone hollowed out his stomach, he has to smile.

He’s part of the reason the sun is still shining, after all. No matter what else he’s lost, nobody can take that from him.

(ao3)

#destielfanficnet #destiel #spn fic #spn spoilers #spn s15 #my fic

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bangtan · 5 years

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How BTS Gathered Over Half A Million Fans Online & In Real Life For Digital Record Project ARMYPEDIA

BTS is one of the biggest artists on the planet undoubtedly in part thanks to the unwavering support of their dedicated fanbase ARMY. As noticed by followers of the South Korean boyband for years, even when the guys can't meet with their fans in person, there's always a stream of communication between the two whether with social media or unexpected music drops. But that relationship reached a special milestone this year with the launch of ARMYPEDIA. Envisioned as a campaign to allow BTS and fans to look back on their time together ahead of new music in 2019, ARMYPEDIA was launched as a one-of-a-kind, digital memory project to archive 2,080 days together as band and fandom. Starting on February 22 and concluding on March 24, the ARMYPEDIA campaign and its accompanying website were created not only as a way for the group and its fanbase to celebrate where it is now—the biggest boyband in the world and one of the top-selling artists globally—but also where it started. A combination of the words ARMY (the official name of BTS' fandom) and Wikipedia (a word now synonymous with digital archiving), ARMYPEDIA is the organized database for followers, regardless of when they became a member of the ARMY, to populate with memories they have relating to the band, their music, their messages and beyond. By the conclusion of the month-long campaign, a reported 540,000 fans had participated in the project that included finding and scanning QR codes around the Internet and real-life world locations to access specific days to leave personal memories in the archive—see November 12, 2017 as an example, where member Suga held a livestream broadcast and many user left their memories from tuning into the stream as well as other thoughts about that day. ARMYPEDIA also boasted real-life, off-site meetups between fans (including 10,000 people coming together in Seoul) and newly recorded content from the boys themselves (including a special talk show starring members Suga, RM, Jin, J-Hope, Jimin, V and Jung Kook). Big Hit Entertainment shared exclusive insight and reflections with Forbes from the project. "From the very, very beginning, we wanted to create a campaign that's only possible at this moment for BTS as well as all the ARMYs in the world," the agency explains, giving insight as to why the project concluded less than a month ahead of the April 12 release of BTS' forthcoming Map of the Soul: Persona album. One of the main points of BTS' international appeal—and a key part to the purpose of ARMYPEDIA, according to Big Hit—is the group's dedication to deeper themes in their music since Day 1. From discussing bullying and harsh school life in their debut album 2 Cool 4 Skool to tackling topics like mental health, politics and the struggles of the young generation in their music today, BTS have a constant, through-line of poignant messages. A project like ARMYPEDIA looks to highlight that for those who may have only been recruited to the ARMY in the band's past two or three years of breakthrough success. But ARMY's heartfelt reactions and connections to BTS' message acted as another core factor in launching ARMYPEDIA. When BTS appeared and spoke at the United Nations General Assembly last September, leader RM emphasized the idea of "speak yourself,"considered by many as the next step of self-actualization following the "love yourself" themes of BTS' past three albums. When fans began taking that message to heart and speaking up more on Twitter TWTR +0% about their identities, experiences and connection to the fandom, the idea for ARMYPEDIA and a space for supporters to document their memories became more clear than ever. "We couldn't have come this far without our ARMY's great love and support," BTS tell Forbes in an exclusive statement after the campaign had concluded. "Through ARMYPEDIA, we were able to get to know all of you a little better—and we want to get to know our ARMY even more." Big Hit cites genuine support from the members, also pointing to a livestream session where Jin and Suga gave a shoutout the project. Business-wise, ARMYPEDIA was also a savvy move to market the Big Hit brand. The most active participants in the archive were rewarded in points usable on the Big Hit Entertainment online store, leading to the opportunity to have more BTS products, ideally including additional support for the band's forthcoming album, or chances to support another Big Hit artist. Upon signing up for ARMYPEDIA, users were not required but could also opt to sign up for a newsletter, a key way for brands to stay top of mind with their audience. And just like ARMY, big companies were happy to take part in ARMYPEDIA and bring more participants into the fold. Big Hit teamed up with the likes of Hyundai (BTS act as the brand model for the South Korean car company's Palisade), Korea Yakult (the yogurt drink that launched a special BTS collaboration drink last year), Hot Topic Spotify, LINE Friends and more to help deliver both digital and real-life QR codes to fans. The results proved beneficial to both parties with Big Hit citing the companies helped enlarge the reach of their campaign—including inserting QR codes on public-square billboards, hidden in between clothing racks and inside popular streaming playlists—while the brands were able to expand their engagement with ARMY—a.k.a the highly engaged fanbase whose online activity has kept BTS at No. 1 on Billboard's Social 50 chart for nearly two years, as of press time. Big Hit describes these talks as bringing "genuine excitement" from all involved. So, where does the ARMYPEDIA concept go next? Big Hit isn't sure if it will launch a second part for BTS or if it will create similar services for the other artists on their label like the newly debuted boyband Tomorrow X Together. Instead, what they see this acting as is a legitimate, fan-sourced resource that dives into what it means to be a member of BTS' ARMY. "Every day, ARMYs are having lots of fun and making a lot of memories being ARMY," the company reflects. "We think it's meaningful that we are putting this into an archive for anyone that could be searching on BTS and for any sort of history of ARMY and BTS." With BTS embarking on the next chapter of their careers with the majorly anticipated new album, a key component of that next chapter will undoubtedly be ARMY. ARMYPEDIA now sits as a completed, heartfelt scrapbook of what BTS and hundreds of thousands of ARMY have shared together, as well as a promise to create and share even more in the future.

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#bangtan #bts #jungkook #rm #v #suga #jin #jimin #jhope #t:article #190404

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