#the belief that women are always victims is stupid as fuck for a lot of reasons but the one that irks me the most is
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“females are inherently victims and they can never escape this fact ever. males are inherently predators and no matter what they’re dangerous. this is the natural way of things. hey why are you walking away”
#the belief that women are always victims is stupid as fuck for a lot of reasons but the one that irks me the most is#a lot of women will use that as a way to get away with actions that are just as bad as what men do#or even worse#women who rape their male partners get away with it because they’re a woman#women who abuse their kids in any way get away with it because people are biased to believe a woman over her kids#(like my mom who lied to CPS about her abusing me and my siblings)#thinking that women are forever victims and that men are forever dangerous also just sucks. what a bleak outlook#thinking that some people are genetically hardwired to abuse people is such a disturbing mentality to have#there’s no biological feature about men OR women (or people outside of those!) that makes them better or worse than the other#and believing there is…… it’s a very concerning thing to believe in#it takes away agency from everyone#there is no biological component that makes people commit sex crimes or abuse their kids or be bigoted#anyone can be that way#and saying it’s innate and how the world just IS is giving bad people a free pass to do bad things#z.txt#vent post
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What happened w the rationalist community, if you’re ok talking about it?
LONG REPLY TIME.
In my Wild Youth (tm) I was hardcore in the rationalist/skeptic/humanist community. You know, the New Atheist types (the vast majority of the community didn’t call themselves New Atheists, that was mostly American Dawkins fans, but we were those kinds of people, just less arrogant-PR about it). For people who don’t know, the core philosophy of this subculture basically comes down to:
- humans are mostly good people, or try to be good people, and we should act in ways that are good for humanity, the environment, etc.
- people with better or more accurate information about the world are capable of making better decisions
- it is therefore vitally important that we view the world as accurately as possible. Truth is inherently important and valuable. We should do everything we can to make sure that our beliefs about the world are as accurate as possible.
- your mind will lie to you. Cognitive biases have their social and evolutionary uses, but they result in bigotry and bad information. We should do everything we can to identify and compensate for these, and think as rationally as a human is capable of.
- while it’s not perfect, science is the most effective tool we have for determining what is most likely to be true. Rationalism is therefore massively pro-science and pro-science education. (This isn’t a blind trust; most hardcore rationalists are scientists and fully aware of the limitations of the messy reality of how science is funded and published and the biases that introduces. These are taken into account. The other hardcore rationalists tend to be magicians/illusionists.)
All of this is perfectly fine and a hill I’m still perfectly willing to die on.
When you get a bunch of people together who are sincerely seeking truth and want the world to be a better place, there are some fairly obvious groups that they’re going to tangle with. Before my time, when we were just called skeptics, the main targets had been psychics and life-after-death spirit-communing con artists (this is where our magicians came from, the philosophical descendants of Houdini, one of the earliest voices in the movement, and later James Randi). But the big proponents of harm in my time were the healing crystals/essential oils/faith healing people, and the ‘Creation should be taught instead of evolution’ creationists. We spent a lot of time trying to stop people from selling oils that they said could cure cancer, and fighting against science education being replaced with religious belief inserted in science classes. (I spent a lot of my teenage years debating creationists on the internet. I can summarise this experience as a frustrating waste of time on both sides of the debate. Neither side was going to accomplish anything in these discussions.)
This is all perfectly fine. I won’t pretend I’m completely happy with everyone’s actions; it’s the internet, so of course there were subgroups doing things like mass trolling conservative religion forums and stuff, which had no purpose except to piss off people we happened not to like, but you get that. The problem with this is that it’s easy. People can believe what they want, but if you’re coming into a rational debate, every pro-Creation, anti-evolution argument is complete and utter bullshit, mostly demonstrating nothing beyond the fact that the creationist debater a) doesn’t understand the most fundamental things about biology or b) does understand and is willingly misleading the audience. Every pro healing crystal, pro astrology or pro telepathy argument is fatuous nonsense. Twelve-year-olds could walk into these discussions and completely shred every argument put forth by big-name “creation scientists” in minutes -- I know, I watched it happen regularly. I was on our conservative creationist Christian-owned community TV station for awhile doing a little ‘creation vs evolution!’ debate against the wealthy station owner’s son to fill air time, and I’d see him do a couple of hours of research for anti-evolution arguments every time we filmed, and it always pissed him off that I’d shred anything he said immediately, having done no research whatsoever, because even to me, a child, the giant drive-a-bus-through-this holes in his arguments were obvious. (Also, they were old hash; I’d read all the books by his idols before and checked the reasoning myself long before.)
Fresh voices in the community came from two main sources -- people who’d been pro-people and pro-reason/science for years finding others like them, and ex-creationists and magic healer victims who’d eventually found the holes in what they’d been taught. This second group, for obvious reasons, tended to be the most passionately pro-reason and pro-science people, and discussing different experiences in a place where people could feel safe being critical and actively celebrate doubt was great. But, inevitably, we got lazy.
A lot of the ‘laziness’ was perfectly reasonable and practical. Time and attention is always limited, and when you’ve dealt with six claims of “the eye is too complex to have evolved!” and explained the flaws in the irreducible complexity argument four times that fortnight, when someone walks in with “blood groups couldn’t possibly have evolved, therefore the earth must be 6,000 years old”, you just don’t fucking bother, and you shouldn’t fucking bother, there’s no value in that discussion.
That’s not the kind of laziness I’m talking about. I’m talking about the part where we got so used to ‘that sounds so fucking stupid’ leading directly being able to tear an argument to pieces,that it became normal to assume that anything that sounds stupid on the surface MUST be obviously wrong. Where ‘this is weird, let’s examine it and check for flaws’ became ‘that person disagrees with my preconceived notions, let’s double down and explain why they’re wrong, because I’m already assuming that they’re wrong’. At some point, “we want to be as rational and accurate as we can be, we call ourselves rationalist and work towards that” became “we’re rationalists, so we’re more accurate and rational than average and probably right”.
You might recognise that as in fact being *the exact opposite of the proported philosophy*. There were always some overenthusiastic idiots in any group, but watching it slowly become normal for rationalising to replace active rationalism and for the names of cognitive biases to be thrown around as gotcha buzzwords rather than things people were seriously considering in their own arguments was... concerning. (There were a lot of very smart people in the community, which unfortunately made it far more vulnerable to this particular kind of thing. Smarter people are better at fooling themselves; a person good at reason is also good at rationalising, and you can’t tell the difference between these things when you’re the one doing them.)
In practical terms, this doesn’t matter that much when you’re playing in the easy leagues of explaining to someone that the overpriced eucalyptus oil they bought from an MLM won’t protect them against chicken pox. The person who’s gotten lazy is shit at being a rationalist, but your reasoning skills don’t actually need to be all that impressive for this. You know what they do need to be impressive for? For when somebody says, “women are taken less seriously than men in science and biased against in hiring, payment and promotion”, and this hypothetical you, a male scientist who’s never noticed this and already knows that his profession is full of smart and reasonable people who wouldn’t do something stupid like that, thinks “that is fucking stupid” and automatically, without thinking about it, puts their energy into shouting down and dismissing alternate evidence. Or when somebody points out islamophobia in the community, or passive racism, or... you get the picture. Social issues can (and should) be examined and interrogated using rational philosophies, but it’s so much harder to do that than laugh at creationists who are sending you abusive messages about going to hell. And given the particular hot-button issues in the community, most of the people there were interested in biology, chemistry or physics and simply had no idea how to *do* social sciences, treating the parts that were familiar from their own specialities as valid and the rest as irrational nonsense. And now, you have prominent rationalists panicking about Sharia law, sneering at the made-up problems of feminism, and generally making fools of themselves... because they got lazy.
Because, like how it’s hard to be a liberal (American definition) but easy to be a conservative in a gay hat, it’s hard to be a rationalist, but easy to be an arsehole with a big vocabulary. And that’s why I can’t gush about how great Richard Dawkins’ early science books are without somebody bringing up his bullshit twitter opinions.
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Cape Disappointment | Part One
Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Black!OC [Chantel Williams]
Summary: Miguel doesn’t rescue a damsel in distress because Chantel Williams is not a damsel in distress.
Warnings: None yet.
Chantel Williams was a lot of things. Quirky, witty, sarcastic. Condescending, impulsive, sometimes even chaotic. She could be all those things and more, but she refused to be anyone’s victim.
“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m not a damsel in distress…” She chanted over and over in a low tone.
On the side of a low traffic road, snow raining down on her head, Chantel willed the words to be true. Unfortunately, she remembered very little of what her Papa taught her about cars, eyeing the confusing parts under the hood with frustration.
Papa was a school teacher but he worked as a shade tree mechanic on the weekends to be able to afford dance classes for little Chantel. Teaching was his passion through and through. He would talk her ear off in the car on the way to recitals or while she did homework on the bench in his workshop. Being a bratty kid, she learned to tune him out when the topic didn’t interest her and not for the first time she regretted not soaking up more of Papa’s wisdom before he passed.
If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the road with no solution in mind. Empty handed and no closer to fixing the car, she shuffled through the snow. It wasn’t much warmer inside the car despite the thick North Face coat she wore with a matching hat and pair of gloves. She was sure she resembled a wet dog as she shook the snow off, not wanting the ice to melt into water droplets that would surely sting.
Just a week earlier, she’d splurged on the fanciest new smart phone after losing the older model at a dinner party. Even with all its promised features, it was useless. No signal and no nearby WiFi networks to connect to meant she couldn’t call her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend for help even if she wanted to. She couldn’t even call a tow truck!
Pride.
Another one of Chantel’s many traits. She liked to think of it as a positive thing. It kept her from being desperate, saved her from being dependent on others for her happiness. No one else seemed to agree her pride was a good thing.
Among the naysayers was her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend, Adam. Pride was what had led her to take off from the Yurt they shared on their week-long winter break getaway to race back to her industrial loft in the heart of Seattle despite the weather advisory. She would never admit it to anyone else, but she realized her pride didn’t always serve her well.
If not for her bruised ego, it would have been funny that her car had chosen to break down a few miles north of Cape Disappointment State Park. It was where she had been staying with Adam. The yurt was too far away to walk back to in the snow but still close enough that it only made sense to stay there for the night once the car issues were resolved. She wasn’t looking forward to ending the night with him.
Remembering Papa’s belief in God showing up when most needed, Chantel sent up a quick prayer. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long for someone else to come down the otherwise deserted road. Winters in Washington were fairly mild so she wouldn’t lose her extremities to hypothermia or anything crazy like that, but she’d certainly suffer by way of the shivers.
Any sane person was cuddled up next to the fireplace in their cabin with a bowl of chili, or participating in heat-inducing sexual activities in their yurt to keep warm, not on the road driving. It was only natural for her thoughts to snowball into all the types of un-same people she could run into.
Indigenous women from Washington and Canada went missing far too often on roads just like the one she had so conveniently broken down on. Chantel had a bad habit of researching everything there was to know about topics when they peaked her interest and she knew too much about human trafficking in the area to not feel a considerable amount of fear.
“That would be my luck.” She muttered meanly to herself, resolving that whatever happened would be her own fault.
It wasn’t like a whole lot of people would come looking for her anyway. She had a large group of friends in Seattle, but she kind of had a reputation for taking off without saying much. She hadn’t even told anyone about the weekend excursion to Cape Disappointment! The family she had left she wasn’t close to, and by the time Adam realized she hadn’t made it back home it would be too late.
Yellow headlights bathed the narrow road, the light blinding her the closer it got. Her hazard lights blinked red, signaling that she was broken down, but Chantel second guessed whether she wanted the help.
“I’m going to be a sex trafficking victim all in the name of independence. Way to go, idiot.”
Her fingers fumbled around in the gigantic backpack she’d been using as a purse for the weekend, hastily pulling at the zippers until she found what she was looking for. A purple taser she purchased on Amazon for a whopping ten dollars. She doubted it would stop anyone in their tracks, but it was better than nothing.
It turned out the man who knocked on her window wasn’t an axe wielding serial murdering rapist, or at least he didn’t appear to be. She tucked the small device into her side as the ridiculously handsome middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard smiled at her through the foggy glass.
He looked harmless enough, sporting a pair of smart designer glasses and what Chantel knew to be a really expensive cashmere turtleneck sweater underneath an equally expensive Canada Goose coat. She wasn’t shy about looking him up and down as she assessed the risk. What if the male model was a decoy?
His neatly manicured eyebrows twisted down in confusion and she thought it was one of the cutest things she had ever seen.
She rolled down the window with a nervous smile.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
She hated how breathy the words came out but he was truly stunning.
Tall, fit, well-dressed.
“Are you alright? It looks like you’re having some trouble.”
A gentleman.
“What would make you think that?” Chantel spoke before she thought it through, but the stranger didn’t seem to take offense if the amused smirk on his face could be trusted. “I’m kidding. Yeah, no. I’m not alright. The car was making weird noises so I pulled over and now it won’t turn back on. I looked under the hood but I have no idea what’s wrong.”
He nodded attentively while she spoke, watching her lips with interest. She noticed him staring and licked them.
“I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be.” His bronze skin reddened with the admission and she wondered if he was blushing or if the cold was getting to him. “I don’t know anything about cars but I can give you a ride wherever you want.”
She’d like a ride alright. In his cushiony truck that may as well have been a royal carriage considering the circumstances. Or on his handsome bearded face that she couldn’t stop staring at.
Chantel wondered if he could tell what she was thinking.
Movement caught her eye and she noticed an identical black SUV pulling off the road to park behind the one Prince Charming departed from. Her hand squeezed around the taser instinctively.
Was the sexy stranger bait to catch naive, unsuspecting girls?
“...but I’m sure we’d both rather leave it to the professionals.” He gestured back towards the dark truck and paused, noticing they weren’t alone. Her breath caught in her chest when four bulking men slammed their doors shut and started walking in their direction.
“I apologize. That’s my security team. I left without telling them.”
Hmm. A kindred spirit.
Who was he to have a security team? Was he telling the truth? Or just stalling?
She wanted to believe him. To trust that it was in human nature to help one another without some ulterior, sinister motive.
Did she even have a choice? How long would she have to wait on the next passerby? There was no guarantee they would be any better than the (so far) kind stranger and his friends.
Chantel Williams was a lot of things, but she was not naïve. With surprising coordination, she swung the door open, knocking the man back several steps. Her boots crunched as she landed in the snow.
“Back up or I’m going to tase you!” She warned, putting space between herself and the stranger while keeping an eye on the approaching men.
The corners of his mouth turned up as he fought back a smile.
Chantel scoffed. He wasn’t taking her seriously.
“I’m not fucking around!” She insisted, charging up the small device. The buzz felt more powerful than she remembered. The man seemed to think so too, changing his approach. He spoke in a soft tone. “Can we slow down?”
“Don’t patronize me. Just back up like I said. No, this way!” She ordered until he stood across from her with his back to his men.
Behind him, they speed up their approach but they could only move so fast in the snow. Following her gaze, the strange man looked over his shoulder and gestured for the men to stall at the front of his truck several feet away. One of them shouted at her to put the taser away from his position. He sported two braids and a cut in his brow. Chantel shouted back at him to ‘shut the fuck up’
Mr. GQ gave another signal and like he was the conductor of an orchestra, all noise ceased. Well, all external noise at least. Chantel swore she could hear the sound of her heart ringing in her ears.
“Hey!” He demanded her full attention. His hands were up in a defensive position. “What are you looking for here?”
It was a great question but she had no answer for him.
Trouble maker. Fire starter. Full-time agitator.
Chantel was that way even as a child, responding to normal adolescent teasing with violence. Sharp bites in the classroom or royal rumble style fights on the playground were her specialty in grade school. She made anyone stupid enough to provoke her regret it whether big or small, male or female. That wasn’t to say she was organized or calculating in her plans. She acted and dealt with things as they came.
She had no idea what the endgame was when she pulled the taser, but she had to stick with it. The crowd of onlookers made her feel more justified in her rash decision.
“I don’t think you really want to hurt me.”
“Now, what would make you think that?” Chantel asked incredulously. He didn’t know her from Eve.
She was even more steadfast in pointing the taser in his direction but he didn’t seem phased.
“When you want to hurt somebody, you don’t wait around or warn them. You just do it.”
“Are you suggesting I should’ve tased you?”
He shrugged as if they were discussing the weather.
“That certainly would have been more effective.”
Was he serious?
“I mean I still can. If you keep talking I just might.”
He had the gall to laugh in her face.
Hysterically.
And it wasn’t fleeting or sarcastic. It was genuine laughter from deep down in his gut. She hated how beautiful he was, even in the middle of showing blatant disrespect for her ability to harm him.
“Seriously?” She griped, fighting against the way her face muscles twitched.
Giggle box.
When somebody at church mispronounced a word during the announcements or when her aunt murdered a hit song, she giggled uncontrollably. Papa chastised her for it, but it couldn’t be helped. When the urge struck and she got that itch in her throat, she had to laugh.
So naturally, like two birds of a maniac feather they shared a laugh in four (and counting) inches of snow.
***
GENERAL TAGLIST
@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus
MIGUEL TAGLIST
@thesandbeneathmytoes @taylortheeshowpony
#mayans mc#miguel galindo#miguel galindo x black!reader#miguel galindo x black!oc#miguel galindo x reader
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Yeah, so I read your HP headcanons/analysis and I found it really well put. I was wondering about your thoughts on Dumbledore and who he really was as a person. (It’s okay if you don’t really want to reply :> )
We’re just getting all up into The Carnivorous Muffin headcanon land, aren’t we?
Well, this one’s probably obvious to anyone who reads my work.
I fall on the manipulative Dumbledore side of things and then some. Dumbledore is not only a bastard man but is a raging misogynist and extremely classist (which is funny because I don’t see too many people calling him out for those last two when to me canon all but shouts it at you).
Basically, what it comes down to, is even taken in very good faith I simply cannot read Dumbledore’s actions as benign in pretty much every single goddamn decision he makes ever.
God, where do I even start here? I guess we can go chronologically.
Well, there was Dumbledore’s Wizard Nazi youth with an oddly Dorian Gray flare to it with Gellert. I think it’s fairly obvious why Dumbledore’s not exactly... good there so I’m going to skip past it. Suffice to say, it took his sister’s death (and maybe murdering his own invalid sister) for Dumbledore to stop planning world domination. Even then it wasn’t so much that world domination was wrong, but because his sister died and he was an asshole.
I’m going to go ahead and include CoG and Fantastic Beasts because I can (CoG, while a terrible movie, actually does entertain me in many ways). Anyways, before the films came out I always considered the younger Dumbledore far more stoic and brooding. He doesn’t get his eccentric persona until after the defeat of Grindelwald and was before then angsty mcangsts and an academic at heart.
Well, per CoG, apparently he was a budding spy master long before defeating Gellert/Voldemort popped up. We see him manipulating Newt, sending him to Paris as his own agent, WHEN NEWT DOESN’T WANT TO GO AND HAS ACKNOWLEDGED THAT DUMBLEDORE USED HIM INTHE LAST FILM. Dumbledore writes off having used Newt for his own agenda with a charming smile but none the less it paints a pretty grim picture that Albus has always been... Albus. There has always been a greater good out there somewhere and the man is always using someone as a pawn.
Cut to canon and his treatment of Tom Riddle. Frankly, Dumbledore’s treatment of the young Tom Riddle, and even Tom Riddle just before he came Voldemort, is insane. The thought experiment I like to run is “replace Tom in those scenes with Harry Potter”.
Harry was a poor orphan, whose guardians would more than match what Mrs. Cole said about Tom Riddle, who had spurts of accidental magic now and then and enjoyed when his bully cousin was discomfitted. Now, imagine Dumbledore giving Harry his letter, and then pretending to light all of Harry’s possessions on fire to “teach him a lesson”. What the fuck?
Now, am I saying Tom Riddle wasn’t creepy here and that killing a rabbit was terrible. No. But I am saying Dumbledore had a horrible reaction to it and is proud of it years later. (Also, the fact that he uses this memory to convince Harry of how evil Tom is, is hilarious to me. Dumbledore, you were the shit that lit people’s wardrobes on fire. If I was Tom, I’d be upset too).
Dumbledore is always like this with Tom Riddle. He thinks the worst of Tom even in points where Tom hasn’t done anything. I’m not talking about later when, yes, Tom did live up to Dumbledore’s fears but when Dumbledore treats him like garbage and actively sabotaged Tom’s career.
Anyways, cut to later when the Marauders are in school. One of the big things is that Dumbledore puts up a guerilla resistance gang OF SCHOOL CHILDREN. While most members are older, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter are all only just out of Hogwarts. “Well,” you say, “It’s their choice and they did graduate. Surely Dumbledore wasn’t actually recruiting school children.” I point you towards canon, where Dumbledore convinces three actual school children that the fate of the nation rests on their shoulders and to go fight the good fight. So yes, Dumbledore canonically uses child soldiers and has no regret for doing so.
The other is letting James and Sirius off the hook for the Lupin incident. While Dumbledore talks the talk this showed that he was not willing to walk the walk. True, while getting them into major trouble would have involved outing Lupin (who was innocent in all of this) at the same time they were nearly responsible for the murder of another student. It’s very convenient that Dumbledore lets off the rich son of a lord, two individuals who later end up in the resistance movement (Potter likely funding part of it), and tells the impoverished half blood to sit down and shut up.
And in canon, yes, I believe that Dumbledore absolutely knew what Harry’s home condition was like. While the blood wards are an excuse they aren’t a particularly good one as for most of Harry’s childhood the Death Eaters were all accounted for. Harry was in no extreme danger from them. To not have had an inkling of Harry’s home life (when Harry even hints at it when wanting to stay over the summer, Harry runs away from home in third year, Fred and George see the bars on the window, and he even visits Harry’s home in sixth year) would be such laughable incompetence and stupidity it’s right out.
With that, I absolutely do believe what Snape showed us in the memory, the Dumbledore behind the scenes as it were. That Dumbledore knew fairly early that Harry Potter was a horcrux and began grooming Harry for suicide. Specifically, that’s what sixth year really is. All those memories of Tom Riddle, the pretext to get some memory from Slughorn, it’s an excuse for a smear campaign designed to convince Harry that Tom Riddle is inherently evil and must die at all costs, even Harry’s own life.
Dumbledore didn’t need that Slughorn memory. Sure, it was useful to know Tom intended to make seven but think about it. How did Dumbledore know there’d be anything remotely useful in there? He doesn’t know that Tom actually drops a number on Slughorn. Even then, he doesn’t know whether Tom actually goes and does it. All of it felt like, “Harry, I have a super secret important mission that only YOU can do. Can you handle it, Harry? Because without this the country is surely doomed” And in that I mean it was an effort to win back Harry’s favor after the previous year meltdown, keep him busy, and start in on the excuse to show Harry some pretty damn innocuous memories of Tom Riddle and go, “See, HE IS EVIL!”
Due to this, I frankly think that the train scene was a hallucination on Harry’s part. Wishful thinking for some gentle explanation of how Dumbledore had not cruelly used him for years and intended his death.
Well, that and it never made much sense that Dumbledore could predict Harry’s a) becoming the master of death b) miraculous second resurrection.
In the first case, Harry becomes master of death because of wand lore bullshit and happenstance where Harry happens to save Draco’s life. Dumbledore had no idea such a thing would happen. Dumbledore’s plan was for there to be no master of death, as the wand would default to having no owner when Snape defeated Dumbledore on Dumbledore’s orders. That Draco got the wand is a sort of Deus ex Machina. Sorry guys, Dumbledore intended Harry to die.
More, even then, while Dumbledore was very into the occult of these things we leave canon without any idea if these things are even responsible for his resurrection. They’re just relatively nifty objects with a legend behind them. There was nothing concrete to suggest that, should Harry happen to get all of them, he would be able to rise from the dead.
Otherwise onto the misogyny and classism parts.
In terms of misogyny this is from every time Dumbledore talks about Lily Evans or Merope Gaunt. In the case of Lily, she’s this weird Madonna figure whose love for Harry was so powerful it saved his life. That she also happened to make these blood wards Dumbledore cannot reproduce and extended her protection to Harry wherever he went is irrelevant. It’s her love that counts. That feminine, maternal, love purer than all others.
Basically, Dumbledore seems to be of the belief that women are flowers. The best of women are these demure, selfless, brave women who sacrifice themselves for their children. Yikes, Dumbledore.
Merope’s the really bad one though. Merope’s tale is how she drugged and raped a defenseless muggle for months and then he escaped. Dumbledore spins it into this Victorian tale of woe where Tom Riddle Sr. THE KIDNAPPED RAPE VICTIM is the asshole here who abandoned Merope to the merciless cold world. How dare he.
It’s very clear that Dumbledore doesn’t see Merope, or women in general, as people. Instead these weird Victorian ideals who can be tragic victims of circumstance.
As for the classism.
While Dumbledore’s very against the pureblood culture we see in the Malfoys a lot of his treatment of Tom Riddle feels very... classist. The big one, which is a little tangential but I say it counts, is Dumbledore’s theory that children of rape are incapable of love. Granted, he’s saying this while convincing Harry to kill himself for the good of the cause and there is a real world parallel in that alcohol/drugs while pregnant is a very bad idea that can lead to extreme mental and physical health disorders. That said, we’re talking love potions at conception, and it always read more as “rape babies” vs. specific drugs. And that is... just yikes on so many levels.
Now, do I agree with manipulative Dumbledore we see in many fics? No, because Dumbledore’s not that stupid.
He doesn’t need to borrow money from Harry’s vault, he doesn’t need to pay off Hermione and Ron to be Harry’s friends, he doesn’t need to choose Harry’s friends for him, he doesn’t need to manipulate Harry’s memories directly. He doesn’t need to do any of this because he got what he wanted just fine in canon.
Dumbledore is one of the smartest characters in canon, far smarter than Harry, and he doesn’t have to stoop to such outrageous schemes to get what he wants. Poorly concealed smear campaigns convincing Harry to commit suicide are more than enough.
#ask#anon#headcanons#albus dumbledore#manipulative dumbledore#dumbledore is pretty damn evil guys#as in there is pretty much not a single action you can point to where i'll say it was reasonable and not in some way underhanded#except maybe his choice in wardrobe#the man has some elton john style
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The Monster Maker
I could have sworn J. Carroll Naish was on MST3K at some point but the only thing I can find from his filmography that has appeared on this blog is Dracula vs Frankenstein, in which he played Dr. D'Ray. Not that it matters. The Monster Maker's producer, Sigmund Neufeld, also brought us MST3K feature The Mad Monster, and writer Sam Newfield penned both that film and I Accuse my Parents (not to mention the world's only all-midget cowboy musical, Terror of Tiny Town), but mostly I'm watching this movie because... well, you know, it sucks.
I know what you're thinking, and as far as I can tell, no, Sigmund Neufeld and Sam Newfield are not the same guy who's just bad at pseudonyms.
Anthony Lawrence is one of the world's greatest pianists, but with a concert tour finished he's looking forward to relaxing and spending some time with his daughter Patricia and her fiance Bob. Sadly, this is not to be, as Patricia has come to the attention of Dr. Igor Markov, who believes her to be the reincarnation of his dead wife Leonora. He spends weeks harassing poor Pat, until her father storms over to Markov's office to tell him where he can shove his attentions. Little does Lawrence know he's walking into a trap. Markov has been experimenting on animals in his basement, and if Lawrence doesn't hand over Patricia, the next syringe is for him!
I have mixed feelings about this movie. It surprisingly subverts several tropes of the mad scientist movie, including some it deliberately sets up only to pull the rug out from under them, resulting in a surprisingly happy ending. On the other hand, it does this in ways that aren't always very satisfying, and its treatment of the disabled is frightful.
For an illustrative example, let's take Dr. Markov's caged gorilla. The movie never tells us why he has a caged gorilla. He says it's vital to his work but we never see him do anything much with it... I assume it's there because the caged gorilla was a standard part of the mad scientist lab equipment in the 1940s and 50s. The only time we see him interact with it is when he sets it loose in the middle of the night to murder his traitorous assistant, Maxine, who had threatened to go to the police. We cut to the gorilla back in its cage the next morning, and we assume Maxine is dead – only to have her walk in and tell us that her protective dog drove the gorilla back to the lab.
This is kind of a fun moment, not only because it's a surprise but because everything in it was set up, not just the gorilla but the animosity between it and the dog. It also enables the eventual happy ending – after Markov is killed, Patricia worries that nobody else will be able to help her father. However, Maxine is familiar with Markov's work, and assures her that Lawrence will be just fine with a few weeks of treatment. That's all quite nice for a mad scientist movie of this vintage! It's also interesting in that it tells us these tropes were around to be subverted – that audiences in 1944 had already seen enough stupid mad scientist movies to know that the gorilla is supposed to kill the traitorous assistant and that the ending is supposed to be a tragedy.
The problem is that this leaves the gorilla with no reason to be in the movie at all besides to fake us out. It ultimately has no effect on the plot whatsoever other than to establish Markov as a bastard, which by now we already knew. You cannot put Chekov's Gorilla in a cage in act one, wave it around in act two before putting it back with a 'psych!', and then not have it break somebody's neck in act three. It still has to do something, or you're just being a tease.
The fact that Maxine is able to cure Lawrence speaks to the fact that The Monster Maker is surprisingly respectful of its women. Maxine is quite intelligent and knows her love for Markov is self-destructive, but feels she has devoted too much of her life to him to leave him now. Patricia is a less substantial character, but her father treats her with great respect – when Markov demands Patricia in exchange for a cure, Lawrence continues to refuse even after the mad doctor has robbed him of his friends, his passion, and his career. Pat's fiance Bob has fewer principles, as he repeatedly lies to her in the belief that he is protecting her from the truth, but this too is presented as the wrong thing to do and I hope we're meant to believe Bob learns from it. The screenwriters' general attitude seems to be that women should be allowed to make up their own minds about things.
Markov, as the villain, is also the movie's misogynist, and this is in no way subtle. He wants to marry Patricia because she resembles Leonora – and that's it. Her personality, her background, and her wishes mean nothing to him. All he cares about is her face. What she represents to him is an attempt to undo the wrong he did to Leonora herself. We eventually learn that Leonora left him for another man, and in revenge he injected her with his monster juice. He had hoped that her new love would leave her because she was no longer beautiful, but in fact Leonora committed suicide because she couldn't stand to look at herself in the mirror.
This tends to make one wonder what would have happened if Leonora had tried to crawl back to Markov. At the time this happened, he didn't yet have a cure for his creations. Would he have gone on to find one sooner in order to help her? Or would he, too, have rejected her now that she was ugly? I kind of suspect the latter. He's only sorry about any of this because she died. He wanted her back less than he wanted her to live in misery, knowing that without her looks she would have no value.
Interestingly, this also applies somewhat to Lawrence. As his condition progresses, he locks himself in his room and puts records on so that nobody will realize he is now unable to play the piano... but he also keeps the lights off and refuses to admit anybody, too ashamed to show his face. Ugliness apparently makes both sexes unfit company for the rest of us.
Markov himself speaks with a German accent despite having a Russian name. He manages to be slightly less creepy than the Great Vorelli or Dr. Carlo Lombardi, but only because he never resorts to rape via hypnosis. Upon realizing he has found a cure for a terrible disease, his first reaction is to triumphantly declare that he can charge whatever he wants for it... eighty years later, that's still depressingly relevant.
So all this is okay and at times fairly progressive for the 1940s, but now we have to get into The Monster Maker's attitude towards the disabled. I've been a little cagey about exactly what it is Dr. Markov is doing to his victims, and you've probably been picturing some sort of mutagen that makes them go all lumpy and melty like that guy in Robocop. Unfortunately, no. Remember acromegaly, the hormonal disorder that Richard Kiel and Rondo Hatton suffered from? Yeah. Markov has a bottle of it in his cupboard.
I don't know how you bottle acromegaly, but at least they did better than the people who made Tarantula and fucking spelled it right.
Acromegaly is not a cheerful diagnosis. Lawrence's doctor tells him it's not fatal, but that isn't always true – a lot of sufferers, including Hatton, die from the complications. It disfigures the head, hands, and feet, and would definitely be a devastating disease for a pianist... all of which makes it that much worse that this stupid movie keeps using the word 'monster'. Lawrence even describes himself as such, comparing his situation to that of Frankenstein's Monster and declaring that he will similarly kill Markov for what he has done to him. In the end he does exactly that, and the movie never addresses it on any level besides 'boy, good thing the bad guy is dead!'
This is probably because, clearly, the real monster Markov has made is himself... but that's subtext. In the text, his monsters are his overgrown pigs and Anthony Lawrence. I just blasted Tarantula for spelling the name of the condition incorrectly, but that movie at least did not even imply that its human acromegaliacs were 'monsters'. They were in every way victims, even when their sufferings were as a result of experimenting on themselves. Lawrence is also a victim, but the movie plays up the 'monster' idea in more than just the title: Lawrence's condition also makes him restless and prone to violence, as he repeatedly attacks Markov and at one point must be tied to a bed to prevent him doing so. Markov suggests that this is a side effect of the hormonal problems, but Lawrence's own belief that he's becoming a 'monster' also appears to have something to do with it.
In the end, this movie is way too much like The Brute Man, in telling us that the ugly and disabled can never be an accepted part of society. Hal Moffat was forced into the shadows, while Anthony Lawrence takes to them voluntarily, but for the same reason: ugliness is made for gawking at, not for normal relationships such as that between partners, or parents and children. Fuck that.
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People break up for reasons besides just infidelity or abuse. Yet, most of the time in the RPC, the only exes that a character ever has seem to be either abusers or cheaters. There’s rarely any middle ground between “absolute true love forever soulmate” and “absolute ex from hell that it’s absurd they ever got with in the first place given how two-dimensionally awful they are”
And, frankly, I think that’s an immature perspective. The reality is that a great many failed relationships are far less dramatic, and there can be many other reasons why a couple doesn’t work out, and many of those are NOT the fault of either party (though perhaps that’s why they don’t appeal to many people, since it means their character wasn’t the victim and the other person wasn’t the villain; I notice a lot of people have a real thing for that)
Here are some non-abusive, non-cheating reasons for a breakup:
- Differing political views. Maybe their differing politics didn’t matter to them when they first got together, but a few years down the road, it became a bigger issue, especially if something very politically divisive started going on in the country. Or perhaps they didn’t differ politically at first, but one or both of them changed their views later on. This can also apply to religion or any other strong belief (veganism, feminism, even following a certain band if they make a lifestyle out of it) People can certainly believe very different things and still be in love, but our political, religious, etc beliefs do permeate our everyday life very strongly---what media we consume (or refuse to consume), what religious centers we attend or holidays we observe, what crowds we hang out with---and it can make a lot of relationship hurdles come up that many people aren’t prepared to deal with.
- They got together without intending for it to be something lifelong, but then one person wanted it to be, and the other person still didn’t, so they broke it off then. The person who caught feelings isn’t in the wrong, they couldn’t help that, nor is the person who DIDN’T in the wrong either. They probably both made the healthiest choice in that scenario by splitting.
- Wanting to live different places, wanting different lifestyles, etc. John and Burt work well as a couple, but now that they’re getting serious, they have a discussion about what they each really want, and John wants to raise a family in the city, while Burt wants to travel the wilderness in a camper with just the two of them and maybe a dog. They might try to compromise, but these ideals are so far from each other that they decide it’s for the best to split up now before things get any more serious and one of them has to sacrifice his dreams.
- Somebody moves for whatever reason (for a job, to take care of ailing family, etc) and the other person can’t or won’t come, and they grow apart. Sometimes long distance relationships work, sometimes they don’t. It has nothing to do with how “truly in love” the pair are or how good/faithful/devoted/etc someone is. Sometimes it just doesn’t work.
- One or both of them changed. Maybe Susan and Jim were great together for awhile when they were BOTH stoner college kids, but now Susan has gotten serious, has a steady job, etc., while Jim is still a stoner college kid without the college.
- One person is mentally ill and the other person cannot support them as well as they thought they could. Again, this does not make anyone bad or evil. It doesn’t mean that the other person didn’t love them enough, it’s just one of those shitty things that’s not anyone’s fault. Similarly, one person goes through some huge emotional upheaval and the other person can’t handle it. Which, okay, bailing on someone in their time of need IS shitty, but in a different way than the “abusive and/or cheater” cliche. Also, an emotional upheaval can dramatically change someone’s personality, often for the worse, and it can be more than the other person ever thought they were signing up for.
- Incompatible sexuality. I don’t just mean that somebody came out of the closet (though that can be an option as well) but as in what each person wants in the bedroom is very different. Compromise is a part of any relationship, of course, including in bed (or wherever you’re doing it) but as with John and Burt, if you’re just so different that one person won’t be enjoying themselves no matter what you do, it’s sometimes healthier to call it quits.
- One person realizes they’re polyamorous, the other isn’t. Again, no bad guys here. The polyamorous person is not a slut who threw away true love to chase strange tail, the monogamous person is not a close-minded stick in the mud who should have forced themselves to do something they’re not comfortable with. They’re two people with different needs who may have been otherwise compatible, but must go their separate ways on this.
- Cultural differences. What wasn’t a big deal while dating might become a very big deal when it comes to becoming a part of someone’s family.
- One of them had emotional/trust issues and always split when things were at their best, so they could never be disappointed.
- One of them had emotional/trust issues and always split before they got too close to someone
- One of them had emotional/trust issues and always split. . .you get the idea. Basically, think of any muse you’ve ever written as or with, and why they would split without the other person being to blame, and that can be why this muse’s ex did.
- Beginning to feel like a mother rather than a girlfriend. I left the others gender-neutral, but from what I’ve found, this seems to happen mainly to women in m/f relationships. The guy seems great in all other regards, dating goes well, etc., but once they’re living together, it seems like he depends on her to clean up after him, do his laundry for him, manage all the bills and taxes and other paperwork, etc. There can be a multitude of reasons for this, but if he won’t change, the lady isn’t in the wrong to leave. And, okay, this one is definitely someone’s fault (his) but it’s still different than being an abuser or a cheater.
- Addiction. It can happen to the best people, and it destroys them. A person is not bad to put their own well-being first if their addicted partner won’t---or can’t---change.
- One person was just a real slob. Look, I had a roommate once who was great in almost every other way, but our condo was a fucking biohazard because of her. And she had good reasons---she struggled with mental illness, as do I---but I now know that’s a big fat dealbreaker for me, and I’m sure it is for a lot of people.
- They went through something dramatic together, like an abortion, and just couldn’t soldier through together after. Not all relationships are as strong as the people involved think, and they aren’t bad, shallow, or stupid for it.
So, if you need or want for your character to have exes in the past, these are all some good reasons for a “no-fault” breakup! Or some fault, in some cases, but still non-cliche.
#writeblr#writing#writing tip#writing tips#oc tips#character tips#backstory#character backstory#backstory tips
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You’re Brave (Part 1/2) - Levi x Reader
Synopsis: You’ve been losing sleep because you’ve been hearing noises in your bedroom at night and you think you’re being haunted. Levi makes plans to help put your mind at rest and later helps to investigate the source of the noises in your bedroom.
Warnings: No warnings for this part, just fluff.
Levi was not an affable man, but his presence never ceased to attract the attention of others. Perhaps it was the way his hair flopped over his face and almost covered his eyes that created a ubiquitous air of mystery, giving people the impression that he had some interesting stories from his past to tell. Or maybe it was the stoic expression he wore on his face – always making him look like he had a sense of responsibility and importance – that people would try to imitate when they wanted others to listen to what they had to say. Either way, he was a reputable figure in the Survey Corps, so much so that word of his reputation had made its way through the walls and people (especially women) would swoon when they saw him out in public. Levi was not fond of his popularity, however, and so he would wear his green cloak with its hood up to conceal his face whenever he left the barracks.
He was leaning against the stone wall of a bakery as I scurried towards him, squeezing through the rushing bodies that populated the market in the middle of Trost. After a few polite ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘excuse me’s, I safely made it to the bakery without pushing into anyone or stepping on their feet. I imitated Levi’s nonchalant stance with one leg bent and my foot and back pressed against the wall as he greeted me.
“Nice, I think you only almost wiped out one small child this time.” Under the thick layer of apathy in his tone there was a hint of humour that threatened to paint a modest smile on his face.
“I was trying to be careful,” I chuckled lightly and stared ahead at the horde of people, “I hate crowds.”
“Tell me about it. That’s why I’m stood over here away from everyone. Unbothered. Moisturised. Happy. In my lane. Foc-” My head instinctively turned to face Levi, my brows furrowed and a look of utter confusion plastered onto my face.
“Levi, what the fuck are you saying?” I interrupted, trying to keep my voice hushed so the people around us wouldn’t be made aware of Levi’s presence.
“I couldn’t tell you; it’s just something I heard Jean and Connie saying. Speaking of – any trouble yet?” Levi turned to me but all I could see was his mouth because his hood covered most of his face. I hummed a quiet ‘no’ and shook my head in response to his question, worried that if I spoke I would jinx the peace and problems would kick off.
He was referring to two of his squad members: Eren and the aforementioned Jean. They were prone to arguing with each other, sometimes even fighting, which is why Levi and I were here babysitting them today. It’s embarrassing for them, really, but the last time they were out in public, the pair ended up bickering with each other, so one thing led to another and their quarrel turned into a brawl. Now they aren’t allowed to leave the barracks together without supervision because Commander Erwin doesn’t want the Survey Corps to gain a bad reputation.
Today, Levi and I were on babysitting duty while our children (as we liked to call our squads when they misbehaved) were in town browsing the market. Both of us were captains in the Survey Corps and although only one of us was needed for this job, we were both sent because we had a good-cop/bad-cop relationship that the scouts respected. I was always the captain who could resolve issues by talking some sense into my squad and Levi solved problems by kicking some sense into his. Sometimes my tactics weren’t the most effective, though, so I needed Levi around for those times when only the threat of a brutal punishment would work.
To be honest, it was impossible to keep an eye on Eren and Jean in the busy crowds, but then again, it would be impossible for them to start a fight in such a congested space. Levi and I were just pleased to be out of the barracks today, no training or paperwork to tire us out. Unfortunately for me, however, I was already tired due to a lack of sleep last night, so my outing was semi-ruined before I even left the barracks. A yawn escaped my mouth as I tilted my head back, feeling the cool stone against my hair, and I closed my eyes as I let the sun warm my skin.
“Levi?” I started, dragging out the last syllable of his name.
“Hmm?” He imitated my tone.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked, still facing the sky with my eyes closed as if it were a trivial attempt at small talk and not a question I had been pondering since the early hours of the morning.
“Tch. Don’t be ridiculous.” My eyes shot open and my neck jolted so I was facing Levi after he gave his response. He had mirrored my previous position, basking in the sunlight like a reptile with his eyes closed.
“Don’t be ridiculous as in, ‘of course I believe in ghosts’ or don’t be ridiculous as in, ‘it’s all just a load of horse shit’?” I pestered. Levi’s hood didn’t cover his face when he tilted his head up, so I traced the contours of his profile with my eyes while I knew he wouldn’t catch me staring. He had an angular jaw and chin with stern eyebrows and a sharp nose: all were features that reinforced his steely reputation. In contrast to the rest of his appearance, his lips looked soft, and although they never faltered from a rigid line on his face, I often wondered what he looked like when he smiled.
“The latter.” He confirmed as he raised an eyebrow and opened his eyes, looking at me from the side without moving his head. “Why do you ask?” I averted my gaze and a warmth overwhelmed my cheeks as I felt like I had just been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
“I. . . uh,” I smiled to myself as I stammered and gripped the back of my neck with my hand, “It probably sounds stupid, but I’m sure that my bedroom is haunted.” I gave a light-hearted chuckle, aware that Levi probably thought my declaration was nonsensical.
“That’s absurd. Why do you think that?” Levi questioned and I had to bite back a smile at the realisation that if most people had made such a statement then he would have stopped his response at ‘that’s absurd’. But I’m not most people, so he cared enough to ask me to elaborate, and that brought a pleasant wave of contentment to my fatigued brain. Or perhaps I was simply overthinking the situation, but that’s not a thought that I wanted to have.
“Last night I got woken up by noises coming from my wardrobe. It sounded like it was shaking, as if something were trying to push it over. I couldn’t get back to sleep after that.” I confessed and I saw Levi’s expression soften, his eyebrow no longer raised but instead almost furrowed in concern. He was a sensible man with firm beliefs, so I knew that he wouldn’t think there was validity to my accusation, but I am an irrational person who hears a noise in the dark and immediately attributes it to the supernatural and so I hadn’t taken the time to think about another explanation.
I hoped that after hearing my admission he could persuade me with logic that I was wrong, but instead he shrugged his shoulders and mumbled ‘spooky’ before tilting his head back up to the sky and closing his eyes again.
Levi was known to be honest, even when his words sometimes seemed harsh, because he thought it was in the best interest of the other person to hear the truth. So I tried to think of a reason why he wouldn’t tell me that my ghost theory was stupid, or why he wouldn’t just scoff and roll his eyes, because I knew he didn’t really think it was spooky and I’m sure he had already thought of a logical justification in his head. There was no time to be thinking of such explanations, though, because my eyes had already wandered back to the face of the man stood next to me.
Levi’s raven hair exacerbated the paleness of his skin and his cool undertones almost gave him a death-like pallor. But even though he seemingly lacked life in his skin, he made up for it in his steel blue eyes. They were vibrant and full of spirit as if all the ocean and sky and everything that lived in them had been encapsulated in his gaze. Well, that’s what I saw when I looked at him, anyway. Other people didn’t think his façade was so pleasant. He would often scowl – not at anyone in particular – as if he were perpetually irritated with the world. If anybody got on the wrong side of him, he would glare at them (and that is all if they were lucky) and in that moment his eyes are cold, steel daggers pressed firmly against warm skin, and his victim would obey his every command like they are a hostage to his unmerciful blades.
Fortunately, I never experienced that side of him first-hand; we got on well, better than we did with any of the other captains and commanders in the Survey Corps. Because of this, I got to see a side to Levi that nobody else was blessed enough to witness, and by that I mean nothing spectacular, just softened expressions and less harsh words from time to time. Admittedly, I was quite fond of Levi, perhaps too much, and definitely a lot more than he was of me. But I never told him of my feelings towards him, instead opting for the easier option of gawking at him at times like these when nobody would catch me.
Thankfully, our outing in Trost was conflict-free and we returned to the barracks with our dignity intact. The rest of my day was spent forcing myself not to nap – despite almost failing a few times – because I wanted to ensure I got a good night’s sleep. So that night, after I entered my bedroom and got ready for bed, I was desperate for my slumber and decided to address the potential ghost problem. I stood in front of my wardrobe, which was against the wall directly opposite my bed, and I sighed as I put my hands on my hips.
“Hi, uh. . . ghosts. Spirits? Dead people? No, sorry, I don’t want to brag that I’m alive and you’re, well. . . not. Although I suppose there’s nothing to brag about, really, is there? I mean, being alive sucks. Well, I guess you’d know that being uh, post-deceased and all that. Is the afterlife any better? No, you don’t have to answer that. I guess I’ll find out for myself one day.” My feet paced around my room as I rambled on. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I’m really tired because I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I was wondering, with regards to the whole wardrobe thing, if you could just, kind of, tone the noise down a bit? Like, just stop it, perhaps? It’s just that I’ve got some pretty intense training tomorrow so I need to be well-rested, I’m sure you’re reasonable people – ghosts – and you’ll understand? Thank you for hearing me out. Goodnight.”
After giving my speech to the wardrobe and I was certain that it would be effective in deterring potential supernatural activity, I climbed into bed and closed my eyes. My final thoughts before I wandered away into my dreams were images of Levi and the way the sunlight caressed his skin in Trost today. He looked peaceful and at ease when he closed his eyes, just as I was in my bed, and I realised how lucky I was for him to be the last thing to grace my thoughts as I drifted into my sleep.
Much to my frustration, my slumber was abruptly disturbed after a few short hours when the noises from my wardrobe returned, this time a little more aggressive than last night. As I hid under my blanket, my eyes just peeking over the top, I thought that perhaps my request had offended any ghosts in the room and this was their response, so I whispered a shaky ‘I’m sorry’ and hoped it would stop. It didn’t, though, and the wardrobe continued to shake as I laid in my bed, frozen with fear. I watched the wall, which was barely illuminated by dim strings of moonlight breaking through the gaps in my curtains, hoping to see some kind of apparition to at least confirm my suspicions. It wasn’t until I watched a painting fall from the wall and heard its chilling bang on the floor that I regained control of my body and shot out of bed, heading straight towards the mess hall to grab a glass of water with the intent to calm myself down a bit.
I burst through the doors, shaken and breathless, half-expecting a phantom to jump out and shout ‘boo!’ to scare me. Instead, there was a different ghostly figure in the room. Levi was sat alone in the mess hall, his pale skin shining through the dull candlelight, drinking a cup of tea. At this time?
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His voice was firm but despite his rigid exterior, I could tell that he thought his comment was funny and he was proud of it. Under any other circumstance I would have laughed, but I was too startled to do anything other than stare at him with wide eyes.
“Th-the wardrobe noises. . . it happened again. B-but this time it was worse an-and a painting fell off my wall.” I stuttered and Levi narrowed his eyes as he listened to my crisis, before getting up to pour me a glass of water.
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for what happened.” He gently placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me the water. After I took a sip he looked me in the eye and said, “I saw an advert – out in Trost earlier – for a ghost tour of an old, abandoned building. I’m going to take you tomorrow night; it might help.” I was taken aback by his offer, surprised that he would pay attention to such things, let alone consider going along.
“I don’t understand how that will help, Levi. If anything it will just make me more scared.” I protested, worried that a ghost tour would confirm my theory that ghosts are real and I would never be able to sleep again. But then I realised something spectacular: if I get scared in the haunted house tomorrow night, I will have an excuse to get close to Levi. I thought about the sensation of linking my arm with his and hiding my face in his shoulder, how warm his body would feel pressed against mine, the contours of his muscles-
“Did you hear me?” Levi questioned, snapping me out of my thoughts. My response was a puzzled frown and a confused ‘hmm?’, indicating that he should repeat himself because I was miles away. “I said the whole thing will be so farcical that it will prove to you that ghosts don’t exist. And if my plan doesn’t work, then we can ask the tour guide about methods of exterminating ghosts, or whatever you’re supposed to do to deal with them.” He waved his hand in the air as if he were shooing the ghosts away.
“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea actually.” I nodded my head, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, at the thought of clutching onto Levi’s toned, muscular body in fear. And if the ghost tour is not scary at all, well, I might just have to feign my terror and hold onto him anyway.
“For tonight, though, I think we should swap rooms,” Levi suggested and I raised my eyebrows in surprise, “because you need to get some sleep and I’m not scared of your wardrobe ghost. Also, if I hear any noises I’m brave enough to investigate, no offense.” None taken, honestly, you’re right and I’m a pussy.
“Um, okay. Are you sure?” I was astonished that he had offered me his room considering the fact that it was his private dwelling and he wasn’t the most open person when it came to sharing personal information.
“Yes, I insist. Don’t worry, my bedroom isn’t haunted – the only sound that will disturb you is Erwin’s snoring from next door. I usually drown that noise out by listening to the sound of me screaming into my pillow. Good luck.” Levi’s tone was playful as he patted my shoulder and escorted me out of the mess hall and towards his bedroom.
As I ate my breakfast in the mess hall the next morning, I was feeling refreshed and contented by Levi’s kind gesture last night. The scent of his bedsheets lingered in the air as if the fragrance were painted on my skin: fresh cotton and lemongrass – if Levi were a candle he would be aptly named ‘Cleaning Cupboard’. I rested my elbow on the table and pressed my head against my hand as I absent-mindedly stirred my coffee, daydreaming about the way my body accidentally brushed against Levi’s as he held his bedroom door open for me last night. Perhaps if I freak out more often he will offer his bedroom to me again and again. Oh, Levi Heichou, I heard the ghost again and I’m so terrified. You want me to sleep in your bedroom again? Okay, if you insist, but you don’t have to leave. You should stay, I’d feel terrible for kicking you out of your bed again. Okay, maybe I’m getting a little too ahead of myself.
I stopped stirring my coffee when I awoke from my fantasy and realised that the clinking of the spoon against porcelain had seemingly started to irritate the people in my vicinity. The mess hall was livening up as people were waking up and getting ready for the day ahead, and I noticed a sleepy Eren and Mikasa approaching the table next to mine before sitting opposite each other. Next to enter was Levi and instead of grabbing some breakfast or even a cup of tea, he headed towards me with what appeared to be the faintest smirk pulling at his lips. I had never seen such an expression on his face before and so I convinced myself that my lack of sleep must have caused me to hallucinate. But after blinking a few times and seeing his face up close, I realised that my eyes did not deceive me.
“Good morning, did you get back to sleep alright?” He asked as he perched on the edge of my table.
“I did, thank you. I’m still quite tired though.” I took a sip of my coffee and met his gaze over the top of my mug before he turned to Eren and Mikasa, the smirk still playing on his lips.
“What about you two? Did you sleep alright?” Levi questioned and I thought it was odd for him to be showing such concern for his squad members. Usually, he never had much to say to them unless they were in trouble.
“Uh. . . I’m a bit tired actually,” Eren hesitated as Mikasa yawned, “why do you ask, sir?” His gaze then locked onto Eren’s apprehensive eyes like Levi had him in an ocular chokehold and it was only a matter of time before the weaker man yielded. It wasn’t long before Eren looked to the ground and yawned into his hand.
“We have training today and you look exhausted, I just want to make sure you’re in good shape.” Levi shrugged and turned back to me. “You smell nice, by the way.” He praised before he walked away, his voice perhaps a little too sultry to be making such admissions in a public space.
Eren turned to me and I to him as we exchanged bewildered expressions concerning Levi’s peculiar behaviour. I could have offered him an explanation on my behalf, but confessing that I had spent the night in the captain’s bed would only raise more questions than answers. Instead, I finished my coffee and continued with my morning as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
I didn’t see much of Levi throughout the rest of the day, only when we crossed paths as I was heading out of the training grounds for my lunch break and once again in the afternoon when I passed his office on my way to mine and he suggested that I take a nap to prepare for the night ahead. It had occurred to me that I would need to make up for the sleep that I lost last night if I wanted to stay awake on the ghost tour tonight. So while I was supposed to be filling out paperwork in my office that afternoon, I decided to take a power nap instead. I can fill these forms out tomorrow, I thought as I rested my head on my desk and closed my eyes.
When I awoke I realised that my power nap was more of a deep sleep as I looked out of my office window and saw the setting sun half-submerged below the horizon. I wasn’t sure when I was supposed to be heading out with Levi, but the night was quickly approaching so I rushed to the bathroom to have a shower.
After my shower I put on some casual (but warm) clothes and I felt fresh, but I desperately wanted Levi to tell me I smell nice again; this morning I almost felt as if I had lured him in with pheromones. The thought of sneaking into his room and rolling around in his bed had crossed my mind before I laughed it off, knowing how crazy and ridiculous that sounded. Alas, I settled for my fresh-out-of-the-shower smell, realising that although it may not be Levi’s cotton and lemon grass scent, it was certainly better than the resulting odour from half a day of training in the sun.
Darkness had completely consumed the day by the time I was ready, like a blanket had been thrown over the sky and the stars were minute airholes that had been poked through it. An agitating wariness was growing inside me as the light in my bedroom started to fade and I was anxious of potential supernatural activity that may occur. Luckily, Levi knocked on my door before I witnessed anything frightening.
“You ready?” He asked, his voice soft and cool as he stood in my doorway with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his jacket over his shoulder. His steel blue eyes pranced around my face so I returned the action, and for a moment we were embraced in a waltz of nonverbal communication as I danced over all the words I wished I could have said to him. The dance ended when I realised that I hadn’t answered Levi’s question, so I nodded my head and gave a shy ‘let’s go’ as I averted my eyes to the ground and warmth spread over my cheeks.
Link to Part Two
#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan x you#levi ackerman#levi ackerman x reader#captain levi x reader#captain levi#attack on titan#attack on titan fic#levi ackerman fluff#levi ackerman fic#captain levi fanfiction#aot#aot fic#aot x you#aot x reader#snk x you#snk x reader#snk fic#shingeki no kyoujin levi#shingeki no kyojin x you#shingeki no kyojin x reader
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Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 52-57
This is the first half of the Santana arc. I had planned to cover the whole arc in one post, but it’s kind of long and a lot of crazy visuals are involved, and I noticed Tumblr’s experimental post editor only lets you do ten images in a post. I have the Beta turned off for now, but they could implement the thing at any time, so maybe I should get used to working around that limit.
So I blew my first image on this cool shot of Joseph Joestar cruising around the deserts of Mexico on a sweet motorcycle. I also wanted to include the following pages where he stops at a town and accidentally drinks water out of a horse trough, but if I did that, I’d just be reposting the entire comic. So please appreciate my restraint.
Wait, how do you accidentally drink out of a horse trough? Joseph marches up to thing all large and in charge, but it’s not until he sees the horse next to him that he realizes what he’s done wrong. The joke is that he looks all majestic until he does something extra goofy, but I never stopped to consider how ridiculous that really is. How do you see such a thing and think it’s for people? Like, he just assumed they leave out a big open trough of water for weary travelers to drink out of. That’s stupid, Joseph. Those Mexicans were right to laugh at you, and you were kind of jerk using Hamon to threaten them into bringing you provisions.
Joseph’s in Mexico because Straizo told him that there was a spooky “Pillar Man” there, which Speedwagon had discovered before Straizo killed him. So Joseph wants to investigate, but what he doesn’t know is that Speedwagon survived. Straizo was so afraid of the Pillar Man that he got in a hurry to leave and dumped his victims in a river, but Speedwagon wasn’t dead yet, and then he was fished out of the water by Nazis.
What are Nazis doing in Mexico, you ask? Well, we’ll get to that, but what’s important right now is that they have an “information base” set up not far from where Speedwagon discovered he Pillar Man’s temple, and the commanding officer, Lt. Stroheim, is extremely interested in the Pillar Man. When Speedwagon comes to, he’s horrified to learn that the Nazis have removed the Pillar Man from the temple, and are planning to conduct experiments on it.
In preparation for these experiments, Stroheim wants a volunteer from his collection of prisoners. He demands that the prisoners choose one of their own to die for this experiment, and one brave lad heroically offers himself. Stroheim is impressed by this, and orders everyone else to be killed, except this one brave kid. So yeah, Stroheim is one sick fuck. That gets played down as the story progresses, but it’s never not true.
So, the Speedwagon Foundation discovered the Pillar Man, and while he looks like a stone sculpture carved into the column, he’s actually alive, in some sort of suspended animation. When Straizo killed all those guys, he found that the blood of his victims was being absorbed into the Pillar, feeding the Pillar Man inside. Now Stroheim has learned all of this, either through reading Speedwagon’s notes or by interrogating Speedwagon with truth serum, or perhaps through other experiments. So he used all of those prisoners to provide blood to the Pillar Man and wake him up. Speedwagon begs him to reconsider, but Stroheim is convinced that he’s taken adequate precautions. The pillar is being kept in a huge vessel with thick steel walls. I want to say 50cm.
Speedwagon is afraid because he knows how dangerous Dio was when he used the Stone Mask 50 years ago, and it looks like the Pillar Man is an even more ancient and terrible monster than what Dio aspired to become. It’s strongly implied that the Pillar Man invented the Stone Masks in the first place, so he’s got to be bad news. But Stroheim is convinced that the Pillar Man is just an immortal primitive. He may have strange powers, but he’ll be completely befuddled by the modern world. One of Stroheim’s catchphrases is “German Science is the greatest in the world!” The writings in the temple said that the Pillar Man wanted to become the ultimate life form, but Stroheim believes that humans have already claimed that spot, with his own countrymen representing the peak of humanity.
And you know, he might have a point. Dio was a big problem in the 19th Century, but Joseph did pretty well against Straizo using guns and grenades and mirrors. Once the Pillar Man received enough blood, he transforms into a flesh-and-blood being and pops out, only to seem completely confused by his surroundings. Stroheim writes him off as a dullard and decides to give the Pillar Man a name: Santana.
Stroheim’s next experiment is to send a vampire into the chamber. He explains to Speedwagon that they used a Stone Mask from the temple to convert one of the prisoners, and then starved him of blood so that he would attack Santana on sight. To everyone’s surprise, the vampire seems to win without a struggle. He just glomps onto Santana and bites him. I should point out that this is the only time in JoJo where we see a vampire use his fangs to drink blood. Everyone else always used their fingers.
There’s a bomb in the head of the vampire prisoner, so Stroheim considers detonating it to save Santana, but then...
Holy shiiiiiiiiit! Yeah, vampires in JJBA can absorb blood by sticking their fingers into your body, but Santana can top even that. All he has to do is touch a victim, and his body will absorb the victim’s flesh. So when this hapless vampire grabbed hold of Santana, he was actually sinking more of his body into danger. When he finally pulls free, huge chunks of him are simply... gone. The only reason he’s not dead already is because of his vampire physiology. But then Santana just grabs hold of him and pushes him into himself, completing the process.
Now that I think about it, what about that bomb that was inside the vampire’s body? Did Santana absorb that too?
Meanwhile, this German agent named Donovan is following Joseph as he makes his way through the desert. When Joseph starts to think he’s being watched, Donovan tries to ambush him, but Joseph lures him near a cactus and uses Hamon to make it explode in Donovan’s face. Then he interrogates Donovan and learns that Speedwagon is alive and being held captive in Stroheim’s base.
I don’t want to spend a lot of time on Donovan because I find his entire presence in this story confusing, but I do think he was one of the reasons Hirohiko Araki created the Stands in Part 3. Joseph vs. Donovan has a lot of the hallmarks of a typical Stand User battle. The good guy thinks something’s suspicious, then the bad guy reveals himself, and proves more dangerous than he seemed. He appears to win, only for the good guy to turn the tables with an unexpected application of his own power.
The trouble is that Donovan’s abilities don’t make much sense. He can walk without leaving footprints, and he seemed to be invisible at one point, so maybe he’s just really good at concealing himself? Also he has a weird knife that can unravel and function as a whip, but where the hell did he get that thing? And how was Donovan following Joseph? Joseph’s on a motorcycle, and Donovan appears to be traveling on foot.
Stand powers just make things easier. If Donovan had a Stand, it could just be a Stand that allows him to do all of these things without any further explanation.
So Joseph finds the base and attempts to sneak in by disguising himself as a Mexican woman bringing in supplies. The guards apparently have some sort of arrangement with the nearest town, but they harass all the women who bring them stuff. When they see through Joseph’s disguise, he uses Hamon to drop coconuts on their heads and kicks them in the face. Then he steals one of their uniforms, genuinely frustrated that his first disguise didn’t work. Well, I think you looked great, Joseph.
Inside, everyone’s panicking because Santana managed to disappear somehow. They only took their eyes off him for a moment, and then he was gone. So Stroheim plans to cut off the oxygen to the vessel and wait for Santana to show himself. In the meantime, he checks the security footage, which shows Santana jumping into a ventilation grate, and contorting his entire body to squeeze inside. Speedwagon deduces that he must have crushed every bone in his body to make that work. Dio had similar powers of bodily manipulation, but nothing like this.
And then Santana emerges from the vents and burrows into the body of one of the German soldiers. The poor bastard has a giant hole in his face where his eyes used to be, and he’s somehow still awake, even as Santana forces his body to expand in size. Stroheim orders his men to shoot, which kills the soldier but not Santana. Stroheim still clings to the belief that Santana is dumb enough to be controlled, despite his power, but then Santana starts talking, and points his finger at them. Stroheim initially thinks Santana is just imitating the act of holding a gun, but no. Santana can take all the bullets they fired into him and shoot them back out through his fingertip. Shit!
At this moment, a German soldier tries to move Speedwagon to safety, but Speedwagon refuses help, so the soldier just grabs some of Stroheim’s hair instead.
Turns out, it’s Joseph! He does some Hamon trick to make the hair all stiff and it deflects the bullets. Well, only the ones aimed toward Speedwagon and Stroheim. Everyone else in this room appears to be dead. Well, serves ‘em right for being Nazis.
#jojo's bizarre adventure#battle tendency#joseph joestar#santana#robert e o speedwagon#rudol von stroheim#donovan
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Violent Delights
Title: Violent Delights
Genre: Horror, suspense, & Psychological thriller
Pairings: Gang!BTS x reader ; Jimin x reader
Sypnosis: "These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume. What do you say, Y/n? Reckon we'll have a violent end." He maniacally grinned as he pressed the metallic point of the gun against your bleeding temple, the raw brass stinging against your open wound. "I don't know. We might."
Release Date: October 31st, 2019 6:30 pm (GMT-4)
Word Count: 9112
Warnings: The following story is not suitable for all audiences. It contains a lot of graphic violence, gore, varying levels of abuse, toxic relationship, dubious consent, implications of dangerous behavior, and a lot of other mature things. Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and is not meant to reflect my personal beliefs or ideas, or the character of BTS. Thank you & enjoy.
Y/n stared at the round clock mounted on the wall, listening to the rhythmic ticking while willing the time to pass by faster. Kang Haneul, her therapist, was busy writing down his thoughts on their session today. “Is there anything else you would like to talk about before we wrap up?” His tone nonchalant, but from the tiny twitch of his ears she could tell he was listening intently. “No.” Y/n drew her attention back to the clock, anxiously waiting for the minute hand to land on the twelve. Dr. Kang looked up from his paper and focus on the anxious woman in front of him. Today’s session had been good. He was steadily making progress with the woman that his other colleagues had warned would be a tough case to crack, especially for someone with little experience. Kang did always love a challenge and he was determined to help Y/l/n Y/n no matter what.
58..59…Finally. Y/n stood up from the tweed couch and began to gather her stuff. “Thank you doctor. Have a good evening.” Her purse was perched on her arm and her leg trembled slightly, she couldn’t wait to get home. “Have a good evening, Y/n. Remember to pick up your prescription from Joy at the front.” She nodded and excused herself, the soles of her rubber shoes squeaking slightly against the white tile floor. Y/n was always scheduled for the last appointment, three times a week, it made things easier and she didn’t have to worry about traffic. Joy had already finished packing up and seemed tired, but she still greeted Y/n with a smile. “Here you go.” Joy said placing the prescription bottle on the counter. It was small and white, anyone could easily confuse it for pain medication unless they read the label. “Thanks Joy. Have a nice night.” Y/n grabbed the bottle and dropped it into her bag, before walking away. “Wait. Y/n don’t you want me to order you a ride?” Joy asked as she peered outside through the large window, noting how dark it had gotten in just a couple of hours. Y/n looked back, a practiced smile on her face. “It’s no problem. It isn’t that long of a walk.”
It definitely was a long walk. Nearly thirty minutes to her apartment, but Y/n enjoyed strolling through the city. It wasn’t the weekend so there wasn’t an abundance of people crowding the streets trying to seek entertainment in one way or another. She didn’t live in the best neighborhood, but she had lived there long enough to know her way and what streets to avoid if she didn’t want trouble. Problem is trouble usually came looking for her. It was as she was crossing in front of the older part of town, the one riddled with shabby looking buildings were mainly seniors resided that she heard it. A loud scream of pain followed by laughter. Don’t. Just keep walking. But it came again; this time she heard a loud metal clang and a groan. Y/n stood frozen on the spot, an alleyway to her right. It was practically shrouded in darkness if not for a small lamp that hung off the side of a building, several feet away. Y/n just keep walking. As much as she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Doctor Kang had told her that it was important to lend a hand if someone was in trouble, no matter what her mind told her. “Try to place yourself in their shoes. Wouldn’t you want somebody to help you if they were in trouble?” Y/n cast one more look into the alleyway before taking a deep breath and stepping towards it.
There was conveniently a large dumpster that she crouched behind. Y/n wasn’t about to walk head first into a situation without knowing what she was getting herself into. There was another holler of laughter, it dawned on her that there might be more than one perp. As stealthily as she could, Y/n sneaked a glance towards where the sound was coming from. The lamp was only illuminating a small section of the alleyway, but even with the faint light Y/n could see everything. There was a man and women laying on the ground, the man’s body was severely damaged. Several bruises lined his torso, his skull was cracked open, teeth scattered on the ground, and his hand was pressed against his abdomen which had been ripped open as he desperately tried to keep his intestines inside. The woman beside him had her clothes ripped to shreds and a large bruising on her side, evidence of broken ribs. Her head was also bleeding, and her eyes moved deliriously. Y/n’s entire attention was on the victims, until she witnessed a crowbar flighting into the man’s face driving his nose up into his skull. Y/n was in shock and her eyes slowly traveled to the left.
There were several men, seven or eight maybe, who were standing above them. Laughing, smiling, or cracking jokes. Their clothes had been stained with blood and each of them had a weapon on hand, except for one who possessed a camera. All of them cheered as the man’s now dead body fell to the side. The woman beside him letting out a shrill of terror. Y/n observed everything with amazement and a sick fascination. This is wrong. What they’re doing is wrong. That was the phrase that kept repeating like a mantra inside her head. Doctor Kang would want her to call the police and get the men arrested, but even though her hand hovered over her phone in her back pocket, she never reached for it. Y/n didn’t like what the men were doing, nor did she get some twisted enjoyment off it. She simply didn’t care. There was a man and a woman on the brink of death right before her eyes and she couldn’t bring herself to care, even though she desperately wanted – needed to. Doctor Kang had said she was getting better, that she should begin to sympathize with people. Y/n hoped that she could, but now confronted with this situation all she could bring herself to care about was her survival. I have to get out of here.
One of the men crouched in front of the woman, his face a few inches from hers. Y/n couldn’t tell what it is that he had told her, but she had an idea. Until, he stood up and backed away from her. If Y/n focused on him she could notice his face, the man had light hair paired with high cheekbones and pouty lips. His skin was tan and his eyes sharp, quite like that of a cat. He parted his lips to speak, a singular word exiting them. “Run.” The woman struggled to get on her feet, but she quickly took off running towards Y/n’s direction. Don’t be stupid. He’ll just – But the man stayed still, as did his friends simply watching the woman run away. Would they actually? By now the woman was only a few meters away from exiting the alleyway, it was when she neared the dumpster that the man broke out into a sprint after her. She had just managed to pass the dumpster when he tackled her to the ground.
“No, please. Please don’t.” The woman thrashed around trying to fight him off, but it was evident he easily overpowered her. Y/n had forced herself into a corner and rolled into a ball, trying to look as inauspicious as possible. It would’ve been fine if the woman hadn’t turned towards her direction, making eye contact with Y/n. Y/n desperately shook her head, pleading her not to say anything. “Please help me!” She extended her arm out towards Y/n, causing the man to turn and look at her. A sadistic smile made its way onto his lips as he let out a dry chuckle. The perp focused his attention back on the woman, reaching into his pocket to pull out a knife and using it to jaggedly slice her throat. The woman flailed on the ground as the blood poured endlessly from her wound. Then she too was dead.
The man stood up and casually wiped off his jeans. Though he wasn’t staring at her, Y/n knew that he was watching her. “Jimin, let’s go. The fun’s over.” A member of the group spoke up, but the man, Jimin, only laughed. “It’s not quite over yet boys.” He said as his eyes trailed up Y/n’s figure. In the blink of an eye, Jimin had pounced on her, dragging her up off the ground. “What do we have here?” Jimin’s face had blood splattered all over it, but when he smiled his teeth were pearly white. Y/n couldn’t speak too afraid of what he would do to her. “What the fuck is going on?” The other men had finally reached them, all making a slight circle around the two of them. “I found a rat by the trash.” Jimin spoke, his voice deep almost like he was growling. “That isn’t a rat, it’s a lady.” Spoke a rather tall boy with long hair, crossing his arms over his rather large chest. All of them looked different and even had different statures, so Y/n doubted they were related. Jimin’s hands had traveled from your arms to your neck, his grip tight. “What’s your name sweetheart?” One of them asked, he stood apart from the rest. He was tall, tan, and had sandy blonde hair. A kind smile adorned his features, though it seemed rehearsed.
“Y-y/n.” It might have been rather reckless of her to give that away, but she was certain of her death. Sandy seemed pleased with her answer, but Jimin still let one of his hands drop towards her bottom, hovering over it until he located her phone. He quickly threw it to Sandy, who handed off to the guy who was holding the camera. “What’s your password?” Y/n quickly replied, eyes downcast as she tried to avoid Jimin’s intense stare. After a couple of minutes, the camera guy turned towards Sandy and nodded. Y/n couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. As if someone was watching over her, the man she long thought dead gasped drawing everyone’s attention. The men began to walk over to him and Jimin dragged her with them, his hand tightly wrapped in her hair. It seems he wasn’t dead just yet, which was some cruel miracle. “Yoongi.” Sandy muttered quietly, a grey-haired man stepped forward with a gun tightly clutched in his hand. He fired three blows into the man’s head; its contents flying all over the wall and floor.
Unbeknownst to Y/n, Jimin had been observing her actions and was shocked at her apathetic reaction to having seen someone’s brains being blown out. “What’s wrong with you?” He asked her, forcing Y/n to look at him. She couldn’t answer him, didn’t want to really. Y/n just wanted them to get over with it. “Namjoon-Hyung, I’m bored let’s go.” Whined the man with long hair. He must be the youngest. “He’s right. The cops will be here any second.” Spoke a broad-shouldered man, “Let’s just take the entertainment home.” Y/n wasn’t given time to dwell on their words, for Jimin flashed her a quick smile before aiming his fist towards her. Knocking her unconscious, the second they hit their target. “Haven’t I warned you not to help others?!”
Y/n came to when she felt searing pain on the side of her face. Her eyes peered open to view a concrete wall above her. When she tried to stand up, she was pulled back down by a strong force. “You’re not allowed to move.” She whipped her head to see, one of the men sitting next to her. His hair was wet, and his clothes smelled clean, but it was the dark swirls in his eyes that warned Y/n to proceed with caution. She didn’t speak, fearing saying the wrong thing. The man stared at her, taking in every detail of her face before speaking. “I’m Taehyung.” Taehyung looked around her age, his body lean and if she had seen him on the street Y/n might have considered him attractive. At the very least, she wouldn’t have considered him to be someone capable of cold-blooded murder. Taehyung observed her, watching the way she subconsciously made herself as little as possible. Keeping her gaze downward to avoid eye contact.
Y/n tried to flex her jaw but winced at the pain she felt. That’s right he punched me. Though her face hurt, she was much more curious as to why she wasn’t six feet underground. Not that Y/n was about to question them, she had learned from experience how keeping one’s mouth shut saved their lives. “Ah, good. You’re awake. Tae go help Jin in the kitchen.” Sandy or should she say, Namjoon had just entered walked down the stairs. His hair wet as well, and Y/n deduced they all must be cleaning up. I must’ve not been out that long. Namjoon walked towards where she was on the couch, stopping right in front of where she was sitting purposely towering over her. Y/n looked up at him, preferring to focus on his face in general. Namjoon gave her that rehearsed smile before speaking, “Why are you taking anti-depressants?” Y/n froze, casting a look around trying to find her purse. At her lack of response Namjoon took hold of her chin and pressed against the forming bruise on the side of her jaw, causing Y/n to moan in pain. “I asked you a question.”
“I-I have anxiety.” Y/n said, trying her best to remain calm. She wasn’t lying, sometimes her anxiety did swell up. “No that isn’t it.” Y/n was threading on thin ice, but it didn’t matter what choice she made – the ice would break and drag her down to the cool icy waters. Tears began to well in her eyes, as she couldn’t think of how to escape this situation. Namjoon smiled, “Are you afraid, Y/n?” She didn’t see a point in lying. “Yes.” Lying wouldn’t do her any good. It certainly wouldn’t get her out of this situation. Y/n didn’t know if she was playing her cards right, but she hoped everything she had endured as a child could prove useful somehow. Namjoon seemed pleased with her answer, letting go of her chin. Namjoon stepped back, “You’re probably hungry. There’s food in the kitchen, tell Jin I let you eat.” Y/n nodded and moved to stand when he suddenly grabbed her wrist, “Dr. Kang is your therapist, right?” It wasn’t a question. Even if she knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, Y/n nodded either way.
“Oh, yes. Your food is in the microwave.” Jin mumbled as he focused on cutting the raw meat with the sharp butcher’s knife. The meat was lean and dark in color, it didn’t resemble anything you had ever seen before but Jin went about cutting it with such expertise. The man was probably accustomed to cooking it. Y/n walked towards the corner were the microwave was, only for Taehyung to beat her to it. He opened the plastic door and took out it’s contents: rice, greens, and small bits of meat. “Here. Go eat upstairs, third room to the left.” The only utensil she was given was a plastic fork, but that was somewhat understandable. Not that she could cause much harm with a real fork. “Fighting back only leads to more trouble.” Y/n took her plate and exited the kitchen, proceeding to climb up the large stairs. Their home, if it could be called that, was a warehouse that had been remodeled to be a home.
Balancing everything on one hand, she entered the room assuming no one would be there. She was mistaken. Park Jimin still hadn’t removed the tack and gore from his clothing, simply resting on his bed waiting for Y/n to arrive. When she entered, he quickly stood up and shoved her inside the room; the plate nearly slipping from her hand. “Careful break a plate and I might have to break your neck.” Jimin enjoyed nothing more than seeing her frozen with terror. “I was waiting for you to wake up. Try the food, tell me what you think.” At those words, all her appetite seemingly vanished. Still Y/n moved towards a desk in the bedroom, trying to put the plate down. It’s likely poisoned. Even if it was from the piercing gaze of Jimin’s eyes she had no choice but to take a bite. If I don’t, he’ll probably stab me with the plastic fork. As if he needed a weapon to kill her.
Tentatively she raised the piece of meat to her lips parting them open and placing it on her tongue. A few bites later, she was still savoring the meat until she finally swallowed. The taste was familiar, it created a sense of longing in her as she tried to figure out what it was. It tasted somewhat like beef, but not fully developed. Almost like veal. Almost like…Y/n began to gag as her eyes widened in horror at what she had just eaten. Jimin began to laugh, “Oh come on. It’s not that bad.” She strongly disagreed, Y/n felt like clawing her throat out. There were certain lines even she wouldn’t dare to cross and yet, unknowingly, she had crossed one of them. Even her mother had never done something like this to her. Jimin walked towards her, his arm coiling tightly around her waist as he pulled her against him. “What you don’t like it?” Jimin teased Y/n, trying to elicit more of her fear. As he gathered more information on her. It wasn’t that she was unafraid, very clearly, she was, her disregard was towards others.
As Y/n tried to regain control over herself, and her queasy stomach, Jimin softly caressed her bruised jaw. Every time she winced, he would stop for a bit, but would continue nonetheless. Y/n didn’t know why she was still alive but being in a den filled with cannibals didn’t paint a hopeful picture. “Are you all…” She let the question trail off, hanging in the air. Jimin’s face became serious instantly, “Of course not. We’re not monsters. It’s just something we partake in time to time. Lessens the body count.” That made things worse somehow. Jimin twisted her around and pushed her onto the bed, giving her little time to readjust herself. There was a small window in the room, through which moonlight shone. Only the bed was illuminated so whilst Y/n was in the light, Jimin remained in the dark. “I’m going to shower, then we’ll go out.” She didn’t really have a response, so she just stayed quiet, he seemed fine with that. Jimin opened his bedroom door and walked out, it closed slowly behind him until he suddenly turned back. “Don’t leave the room. If you do, you’ll be dessert.”
Kang Haneul was resting on his couch looking over Y/n’s file the blue hue from the muted television being the only source of light in the living room. It did little to help his degrading vision, but he needed to go to bed. Having a lamp on would only keep him awake for much longer than he needed. Kang looked over his notes transcribed on sticky notes posted all over the manila folder. Sure, he technically wasn’t allowed to take a patient’s file out of his office, but Kang had viewed other older professional’s do it before. His eyes skimmed the news clippings dating back several years as his head began to slightly droop. Kang kept trying to resist the urge, but eventually he did fall victim to his body’s intentions and fell into a deep sleep. Quite convenient for, that is when Kim Namjoon managed to arrive to the apartment. His hands tinkering with the old locks until they gave way. Namjoon quietly stepped inside, sure to avoid the sections of the wood floor that he knew would creak. “Ah doctor Kang, you really should know better.” This wasn’t the first time Namjoon had witnessed the man passed out in his living room couch when he should’ve been in bed.
Still Namjoon hadn’t stopped by for a reunion or some quick small talk. As luck would have it, the purpose of his visit was sprawled on the doctor’s coffee table and lap. Namjoon quickly took pictures of everything he found, being amazed at just how much information there was. “I see your still up to your same old tricks, huh doctor?” Kang was still deep asleep and Namjoon took advantage to engrain the man’s face into his memory, it was the last time he would see him after all. “I’ll see you in hell, Kang.”
Jimin had whisked her away to a bar in a shady part of town. Y/n had been forced to go under threat of death, mutilation, and other things she didn’t want to dwell on. The bar was nearly desolate except for the staff and several drunk men scattered along booths. Jimin had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he walked them over to an empty booth in a corner. Insisting that Y/n sit beside him. Y/n cast a look around trying to make eye contact with anyone in the bar hoping they might help her, she soon realized the irony in that sentiment. Jimin pressed himself against her, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Choose one.” Y/n turned to meet his eyes, “What?” Jimin redirected her vision to the inhabitants of the bar. “Choose someone for me to kill or I’ll kill you, simple as that.” Y/n didn’t know what to do. She knew what she should do: refuse Jimin or tell him to hurt her, that would be the right thing to do. But I don’t want to die. Y/n’s survival instinct was drilled deep into her mind at such a young age, that she didn’t know any other way. So, she slowly lifted her hand and pointed at an older man, passed out on the table with drool coming out of his mouth.
Jimin shook his head, “No. It has to be someone of equal value.” Y/n shook her head, her lip trembling. I don’t want to die. “I want someone that looks like you. A nice pretty girl that’s going to scream her guts out before I rip her to shreds.” Subconsciously, Y/n’s gaze landed on a young waitress serving the men. Her dark hair was tied into a messy bun and pulled away from her face, the harsh lines present on them might have fooled people into believing she was older. But it was her body that gave her away. Perhaps Y/n had lingered on her too long and that’s why Jimin had noticed. She hadn’t meant to single her out, Jimin had just been paying too close attention. “You do what you have to do to survive. No matter the consequence.” Jimin beckoned the waitress over, as she approached Jimin shot Y/n a cheeky smile. One that didn’t reach his eyes and was clearly meant as a warning.
“Hello, I’m Lana. Anything to start you guys off today?” Y/n didn’t bother looking at her, keeping her eyes on the table. “Sorry, but is your manager around? We’ve ran into some car trouble it won’t start.” The lie rolled so easily off his tongue. Jimin oozed charming out of his pores, couple that with his looks and it was a deadly combination. Quite literally. “Uh, my managers not in. But I don’t mind helping you out.” Bad decision. Hadn’t a bad decision brought her to being stuck with a serial killer and being an accomplice to murder. A sudden chill traveled through her spine, doctor kang’s words echoing through her head. “Society has no place for those who break the law or aid other’s in doing so. They’re monsters after.” Hadn’t Kang told her that she wasn’t one though? That she could be saved? Maybe if I help her get away… That idea was shot down immediately by a sudden flash back to her childhood. “Helping others only gets you hurt.” Y/n felt Jimin’s eyes on her. “Babe let’s go.” As if doing so automatically Y/n slid out of the booth, Jimin following suit.
“It’s here near the back. Didn’t want to risk it getting broken into.” Jimin commented as the three of them walked towards the back of the building. The waitress, Lana, simply nodded along to everything he said. Not finding it weird that the car was so far away, or that Y/n hadn’t spoken a word. “It’s a dangerous neighborhood. Have to be careful around strangers.” Lana responded, as she squinted her eyes to look ahead. “Which one is your car?” Lana asked, turning towards the two of you. Jimin didn’t even bother responding simply smiling before quickly grabbing a hold of her head, snapping her neck with a quick motion. Y/n watched Lana’s body fall to the ground, wanting desperately to feel something and only being more conflicted when she didn’t. “I was right.” Jimin spoke, turning to face her. “You don’t care.” Y/n gulped, her eyes being unable to look anywhere but Lana’s body. Not caring had made her an outcast amongst her friends and society. It had made them treat her like an outsider. But not caring had helped her survive.
Jimin stepped forward which caused Y/n to take a step back. The two continued this, until Y/n took off running. Trying to outrun him was impossible consider how tall and fast he was, but she did try. Y/n managed to travel quite a distance until Jimin grabbed her and stabbed her in the left lowermost part of her abdomen. He laughed with glee at the silent moan of pain she released. “Why are you trying to ruin my fun?!” A sob tore through her throat as tears began to stream down her face. Jimin held her tightly against him, no space between them. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Y/n repeated over and over again, until Jimin rolled his eyes and showed her the bloody knife. “Be quiet. Let’s go.” He took of his jacket and tied it tightly around her waist, apparently making a makeshift tourniquet. “If we don’t hurry home, you’ll bleed to death. Don’t want that now do we?”
When the two of them had returned to the warehouse Y/n’s skin color had faded to a pale white, her lips displaying the same color. Jimin had aided her along the way, mainly because dusk was settling and he didn’t want to be caught on the streets, but if it weren’t for him Y/n would’ve surely collapsed. As soon as the door opened, Y/n saw that all the men were gathered in the living room their aura’s deeply confrontational. It quickly dispersed when they laid eyes on her, “Sheesh Jimin. Couldn’t hold yourself back?” Laughed Yoongi, earning an intense glare from Jimin. Hoseok stood up and made his way towards them, only for Jimin to nearly snarl at him. “I’ve got her.” Hoseok backed up, his hands raised as if to show he meant no ill will. “Take her to the kitchen, I’ll be there soon.” Jin spoke. Even in her weakened state Y/n still processed his words, her eyes widening. Jimin smirked, “Don’t worry. You’re not on the menu. Not tonight at least.” He laughed quietly at his own joke, whilst all Y/n could do was take deep breaths and try to calm her breathing.
Jimin pushed open the kitchen door and hoisted Y/n up into his arms, before laying her on the metallic table in the center of the room. She was certain of her death now. As Jin had said he emerged a few minutes later with a first aid kit in hand. Jin was allowed to raise her shirt and analyze the wound, before disinfecting it and stitching it up. Once he was done, he cast a glare at Jimin. “She needs a blood transfusion.” Jimin merely rolled his eyes in response, “Can’t we just feed her some cress?” Y/n was barely conscious, but she still put all her energy in listening to the conversation. She would be damned if she passed out and was left as easy prey. “I could call one of our guys, though he might not have her blood type. What’s your blood type sweetie?” Y/n incoherently mumbled back her blood type. “If not, we’ll just find somebody off the street. Can’t be too hard.” Jimin shrugged, he thanked Jin and gathered Y/n into his arms once again.
As Jimin climbed up the stairs, a question kept surfacing in the back of Y/n’s mind. In her delirious state, she accidentally let it slip. “Why haven’t you killed me, yet?” Jimin didn’t look at her, simply kept on climbing the stairs until he reached the top. “Why don’t you care if others die around you?” Both questions had complicated answers, but neither of them wanted to elaborate on them.
When Y/n woke up the next morning, she had desired that everything which had occurred the previous night had been a nightmare. Perhaps she had gone to bed watching a crime drama, her mind conjuring up the evil images all on its own. Y/n knew it wasn’t true though, whenever she had nightmares it was always the same ones. Not to mention that she had accidentally rolled over onto her side and the wound began to throb painfully. Y/n pulled the sheets off her body and forced herself out of bed. Her attire wasn’t pleasant: a large hoodie and even larger sweats. But Jimin had explained in explicit detail what he would do to her, if she slept with dirty clothes on his clean bed. Not like he wasn’t wearing bloody clothes on them last night. Y/n opened the bedroom door, looking around to make sure no one was there. Go. Escape. Now. As carefully as she could, so as not to rip her stitches open, Y/n traveled down the stairs only to see the men sitting on the couch enjoying their day. Jungkook was the first to notice her and gave her a large smile, she automatically reciprocated one. The last thing she needed was to make any of them upset.
All of them, especially Jimin, terrified her. They all looked so normal. The picture of what a model citizen might look like, but Y/n had seen what they were capable of. Y/n didn’t know what to do so she remained in her place waiting for something to happen. Then it occurred, a knocking on the metal door. It was a soft rasp of sorts, not intimidating in any sense. Y/n began to feel a small twinge of hope. Could it be? Instead of two uniformed men standing outside the door, there were two women. One older and the other very young, both modestly dressed. “Can I help you ladies?” Hoseok spoke, a bright cheery smile on his face. Even from her position, Y/n could tell it had dazzled the women. “So sorry to interrupt you sir, but we were wondering if you would allow us to speak with you about the lord’s word?” Hoseok cast a glance towards the men on the seats. They all had abandoned their activities and were focused on the interaction. “I’m so sorry ladies, I am terribly busy. Unless…you wouldn’t mind coming in, would you? I have family over.” Both women exchanged a look before agreeing, “It’s no problem. The more the merrier I say.” Spoke the older one. Hoseok laughed along with her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
It dawned on Y/n that Jimin was absent from the room. She looked around but found no trace of him whatsoever. Hoseok must’ve spotted her still standing as he motioned her over, “Y/n come sit.” It wasn’t a suggestion, even though his voice had been nothing but cheery. Y/n walked and sat between Namjoon and Jin, both men leaning back to rest their arms on the head. Another warning. “I’m sorry about her. She’s quite shy.” Hoseok told the two women, trying to pass off the obvious tension as a nuisance. “Oh I know, I have a daughter at home. It takes her an hour after she wakes up to speak to anyone.” The older woman laughed again, from the way Hoseok’s smile faltered Y/n could tell it was beginning to irk him.
“What are your names?” Namjoon asked, looking between them. Eyes wide with curiosity. “Uhm m-my name is M-mary and she’s C-crista.” The youngest, Mary, stuttered. “Don’t mind her. She stutters when she’s nervous.” Crista laughed, once again. “There’s no need to be nervous Crista.” Yoongi offered, he too was smiling. Y/n visibly tensed and tried to put as much distance between herself and the men as possible. “So, tell us about yourself.” Taehyung leaned forward eyes filled with a sadistic gleam. “Yes, what does our lord and savior say about redemption?” Jungkook followed up, a large bunny smile on his face.
Despite what one may believe, what even Y/n believed, the conversation between all of them went on for quite some time. Y/n barely uttered a word, only nodding occasionally so as not to draw suspicion. Discussing philosophical matters such as morality, sins, and death. The men were playing the long game and Y/n didn’t want to be there when it reached its conclusion. “Sorry,” Mary said speaking directly at her, “Can you please show me to the bathroom?” Seokjin nudged Y/n slightly as she stood up. All eyes trained on her as she guided Mary to the bathroom upstairs. Y/n thought this might be the one opportunity to warn Mary of what might happen, but how would they escape without drawing attention. I have to do it before Jimin gets back. As they climbed up the stairs Mary got close to her, “How did you get that bruise on your jaw?” Y/n had almost forgotten about that.
“Uhm…” Y/n didn’t know what say. What was the right choice? Should she tell her the truth or play it off? If she escapes, you might not be able to. Still, even if Y/n died that was still the right thing to do. To sacrifice herself for others, right? Don’t be stupid. Y/n strongly desired to one day be able to ignore the voice in her head and act out on her own. Maybe that day will be today. “Here.” They had reached the top floor and Y/n pointed towards the bathroom. Mary cast her a look, but simply went inside the bathroom locking the door. Y/n let out a heavy sigh she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Smart move.” Y/n swore she had jumped at least a foot off the ground. She turned around to see Jungkook leaning on the stair’s railing. He stepped towards her, getting close enough that their chests brushed. “There’s no point in me wasting my breath to tell you the consequences should you choose to do something you shouldn’t.” Jungkook’s hand traveled to Y/n’s waist and his fingers pressed into the stitched wound. It took all her will power not to cry out in pain, but Jungkook still got off on the expression of her face. “Jimin-Hyung went through a lot for you, so don’t fuck him over.” Y/n hadn’t realized she had started crying until Jungkook wiped away at her tears, it was then that she heard the toilet flush and the faucet running.
Jungkook went back downstairs before Mary opened the door, making it seem like nothing had happened. When Mary opened the door, she was greeted by Y/n standing right in front of it. “Do you by any chance have a phone?” Mary seemed confused but nodded either way. Reaching into her front pocket to take out a rather small track phone. Y/n grasped her hand immediately looking around, “Don’t say anything.”
There was a loud rumbustious laughter coming from down stairs when they returned and Y/n found that one stood out among the rest. When she and Mary came back downstairs, she saw Jimin’s golden blonde hair bouncing as he laughed. They all seemed to be sharing an inside joke of some kind, Crista was wiping away the tears that had formed from cackling too hard. “Oh, you boys are something else.” Y/n traveled towards the back of the couch, not wanting to pass in front of any of them, while Mary returned to her spot. A deep frown nestled between her brows that she quickly removed before it was too noticeable. “Oh babe, you’re back.” A beautiful smile was plastered onto Jimin’s face as he turned around to see face Y/n, his hand reaching up to take hers. “Oh, are the two of you a couple?” Crista asked, shock on her face. Y/n didn’t blame her, Jimin looked like a model right now and well Y/n looked like she had been kidnapped and tortured by a bunch of lowkey cannibalistic psychopaths.
When Jimin’s hand wrapped tightly around hers, Y/n smiled back. “Y/n suffers from a lot of anxiety. Didn’t come from a good home, you know? So, she doesn’t do well around strangers.” Jin tone was casual, as if he was commenting on the weather and hadn’t just revealed that he knew about Y/n’s past. Y/n swore she felt her heart drop in that moment. There was nothing she could feel, but shock in that moment. How do they… Even though their attention wasn’t specifically on her, Y/n could tell all of them were gauging for her reaction. “Sometimes even when you want to cry, it’s better to stay quiet.” So, Y/n simply nodded and apologized to the women before her. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.” Jimin didn’t seem satisfied with her response, for his nails dug deeply into her skin.
“Well, I’m sad to say but we must be leaving.” Crista began to stand up, waving Mary along. “Oh, what a shame. Can’t you stay any longer?” Hoseok pouted. Are they really going to let them leave? Maybe the men could control themselves. Like wild animals, once they had satiated their needs, they could be quite polite. “I’m afraid not. It’s gotten quite late, it’s dangerous to walk the streets alone at night.” The mood in the room had shifted, but it seems Crista had not picked up on it. Yoongi shrugged, “Not as dangerous as entering a stranger’s home and annoying them with your obnoxious laughter to the point where they want kill you.” The silence that had consumed the room, made it so that Y/n could practically hear your own pulse racing. Crista attempted to laugh it off, but she was clearly nervous. Mary was frozen in shock at what she had just heard. Slowly the men stood up and approached the women, purposely taking their time right before they attacked.
Jimin had made his way behind Y/n, his arms possessively wrapping around her figure as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “I have a gift for you.” She didn’t like the sound of that, “What is it?” Jimin smiled, he began to press kisses along her neck. “If you behave, you’ll find out.” The kiss he pressed against Y/n’s cheek was soft and sweet. It confused her. “Watch and don’t make a sound.” Then Jimin walked away, joining his brothers is in the massacre of the two women who had made the mistake of coming into their home. Y/n stood and watched, not moving, barely breathing when the bones began to break, screams resonated, and bodies were torn open in the most brutal ways. Almost feels like home.
“Joy have you managed to get in contact with Y/n? This is the second appointment she has missed.” Kang yelled out from his office, looking over his calendar. The last time he had seen Y/l/n Y/n had been on Wednesday, it was now Monday and she failed to show up again. Joy appeared on the threshold of his door, “I’ve tried Doctor Kang. She doesn’t answer her phone.” The doctor placed his head on his hands, he was frustrated. Kang was so close to finally cracking Y/n open, but of course she had to slip from his fingers. A thought popped into his head just then, “I’ll stop by her apartment. I need to make sure she’s alright.” Haneul Kang grabbed his phone from the top of the desk and slipped off his white coat. “Are you sure that’s alright, doctor? Wouldn’t it be better to notify the police?” Joy was concerned about Y/n’s wellbeing, but more so about the therapist’s sudden keen interest in his patient. When Y/n hadn’t shown up Friday the men’s mood had soured terribly, now he looked a bit deranged.
“Y/n has a bad history with the police. She’s extremely distrustful of them.” Kang was lying through his teeth, but there was no one there that knew any better, so it was fine. “If I don’t find her there, then we can call the police. Have a good evening, Joy.” He quickly placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder to ease her worries before marching out of the office. Y/n was never one to miss appointments. He might forgive her for missing one, but two in a row was far too many. Kang had a strange feeling in his stomach, one he’d possessed since he woke up Thursday morning on the living room couch. Everything looked perfect, but he could sense something was off. “Dear lord, please don’t let her have done anything stupid. Don’t let her be dead.”
Y/n slid the key into her apartment’s lock, twisting it before opening the door. Jimin stepped in before her, taking in everything. Y/n looked around before walking inside and closing the door. It wasn’t big by any means. All she possessed was a small kitchenette, a fridge, her bed, some seats, a bookshelf, and the bathroom which behind a door to the left. Jimin looked at her book collection, laughing to himself at some of the choices until his eyes landed on a specific book. “Isn’t this a bit cliché? Never thought my girlfriend would enjoy something like this.” His girlfriend, Y/n had gotten quite used to the word. Jimin called her that whenever he was in a good mood. “It’s in that box. Under the bed.” Y/n said pointing to an old orange shoe box whose edge poked out from underneath the covers. Jimin walked over to the bed crouching as he pulled the dusty box out from its hiding place. “Come here.” She moved instantly going to sit on the bed, beside where the box was placed. Jimin leaned in and kissed her, lips moving hungrily against hers.
Y/n tried to kiss him back but recoiled when she felt the familiar metallic taste on her tongue. “Ah.” Her bruised lips had suffered much under Jimin’s constant need to harshly kiss and bite them. Jimin smirked, before pulling her bottom lip into his mouth sucking on it. “Juh-jimin.” They were on a schedule, Namjoon had warned her if they weren’t back within an hour, he would personally track them down. “The box.” Jimin finally stopped kissing, his attention going back to the contents inside the box. Jimin pulled the lid off, carefully taking his time to look over everything; a small smile grazing his features when he found what he wanted. “You really are something Y/n.” Jimin looked like he had just won the lottery, while Y/n felt as if she had just given up all her life savings. As long as he’s happy I’m safe. “Is that everything Namjoon needs?” She asked, trying to avoid looking at the box as much as possible. Jimin closed it shut, “And so much more.” The smile didn’t reach his eyes and Y/n asked herself if it ever would. “I’m starting to think fate brought us together, babe.”
Y/n didn’t get a chance to respond, interrupted by the harsh rasping of knuckles on her door. Both Jimin and she stared at the door in shock. “Y/n? Y/n open the door. I must talk to you.” It’s doctor Kang. She felt the sudden change in Jimin’s attitude, his eyes became hooded and he stalked towards the door, his hand reaching into the back of his pants under his hoodie; where the gun was. Y/n raced towards him immediately stopping him. “What if he’s with cops?” She whispered harshly saying the first thing her mind could conjure up. Jimin stood still arm still reaching for the gun, he turned towards her slowly. “Stop me and I’ll put a bullet in your head.” Jimin’s dark eyes pierced into hers and dared her to disobey him, his eyes were practically begging her too. “Don’t.” Y/n stepped back, her body hitting the wall as Jimin moved forward to entrap her. She was shaking, her eyes darting everywhere trying to avoid making eye contact. Y/n’s gaze landed on the box on the bed and the weathered copy of Romeo and Juliet laying on the floor.
Jimin followed her line of sight, chuckling darkly when he saw what she was staring at. Jimin’s mouth wrapped around her neck, leaving open mouth kisses and hickies in its wake. “Look at me.” He mumbled against her skin. Jimin looked at her neck and upper chest area, it was scattered with his marks as well as bruises of all sorts. Jimin hadn’t taken long to mark her as his all over her body; he also never missed an opportunity to do it. When Y/n’s eyes met his, Jimin couldn’t help but preen with twisted glee. “So why is it in your bookshelf?” Jimin pressed, even if it might be a sensitive topic. “It was my mother’s.” Y/n had spoken so softly one might have struggled to hear her, unless they were as close as Jimin was. Jimin gently pecked her forehead, his face unreadable as he uttered a familiar phrase.
"These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume.” Y/n remained silent, not knowing how to respond in a way that wouldn’t upset him. It was then that she saw the gun in his hand. The gun glinting in the light as it neared her. “What do you say, Y/n? Reckon we'll have a violent end." He uttered as he pressed the muzzle against her temple. Y/n simply shrugged, “I don’t know. We might.” Jimin pulled the safety back, before taking away from her temple and instead pointing it at her heart. “Don’t worry. We’re not near the ending yet.” He spoke, his eye dropping into a wink.
Kang Haneul pulled up to the shady looking warehouse, he tried to see if there was any police officers around. He doubted it. This was such a bad neighborhood most law enforcement turned a blind eye for the sake of not having to do unnecessary paper work. Kang had been pounding on Y/n’s apartment door when he received a text from Kim Namjoon – a man he hoped to never see again. Kang strolled towards the large metal doors, trying the lock before knocking. It was unlocked by some miracle. Kang slowly pushed the door open, peering inside to make sure no one was around. It seems the doctor wasn’t the best at sneaking in for he didn’t notice Taehyung standing behind the door, gun ready to shoot. The second Kang stepped foot inside Taehyung tackled him to the ground and hit him across the head with the back of the gun. Knocking him unconscious immediately. “Far too easy.”
“Don’t waste any time Tae. Jimin will get here soon.” Namjoon spoke as he emerged from upstairs. Taehyung nodded and proceeded to lift Kang up into his arms, taking him into the kitchen were the others were waiting. “Namjoon. Jimin might not like this.” Jin had been standing by the stairs watching everything. He couldn’t help the bad feeling growing in his stomach, “He’s grown quite attached to her after all.” Namjoon rolled his eyes scoffing, “Jimin is bored and playing the long game. Do you really think he won’t kill her? At least this way her death will serve a purpose.” Jin simply walked away, deciding it best not to pick a fight with Namjoon when he was clearly riled up.
“Everything will go according to plan. Nothing will stop me.”
Jimin had identified that something was wrong rather quickly. There were more patrols on the street than usual, the streets were empty, and no one had answered the phone. Y/n kept her head down staring at her lap while Jimin drove. They had taken longer than expected, but he had shot a quick text to Namjoon so that he wouldn’t bitch when they arrived. It wasn’t that Jimin couldn’t control himself around her – rather he didn’t want to. His hypothesis was proven correct when he saw the black convertible parked in front of the warehouse. “Y/n?” She raised her head to look at him, as Jimin simply focused on the car. His grip on the steering wheel getting tighter by the second. “When we go inside, I want you to behave.” Y/n’s brows furrowed, but she nodded either way noticing how white his fingertips had gotten. “I will.” Both of them stepped out of the vehicle heading for the front door, Jimin was wearing a smile on his face as he interlocked their hands. Not bothering to knock, Jimin fisted the key out of his pocket and opened the door. Acting as if he hadn’t noticed that it was unlocked. He turned toward Y/n flashing her a brief smile. “Ready?” Jimin doubted she was, but he was so amped for what would happen. He felt like a kid on Christmas only instead of tearing wrapping paper, Jimin was about to tore skulls open.
When Y/n came to she was laying on the concrete floor of the warehouse. She could feel blood coming from her head and couldn’t move her arm. Looking around she saw several bodies sprawled around the floor, she recognized every one of them. “J-j…” Y/n tried to speak, but it was difficult. “Get up! Come on!” Y/n used her left arm to push herself off the ground, her head pounding when she did. When she tried to use her right arm, a searing pain had her biting her lip in order not to scream. This is it. With all the will power she could muster, she forced herself onto her feet stumbling slightly every time she took a step. Y/n couldn’t tell if it was the room that was tilting or she was, but she grasped onto every solid object she could to stabilize herself. “Y/n.” She whipped her head to see doctor Kang on the floor several gun shot wounds littered his chest as he bled to death. “Y/n thank god you’re alright.”
Y/n stepped towards him. “You can drop the act doctor Kang. I know why you were treating me.” The man’s eyes widened at her words. “Y/n please understand. I never meant to do you any harm. J-just like I never meant to do Namjoon or the others any harm.” Y/n shook her head, scoffing. “I don’t believe you.” She clutched her arm as her dead brother’s voice echoed in her head once again. “People will always lie to protect themselves. You should do the same.” Kang looked at her with tears in his eyes, “I truly did wish to help you Y/n. You aren’t past saving like they are. Woojin knew that.” Her heart skipped a beat at her brother’s name. Tears began to well in her eyes at his mention, “Stop lying.” Y/n refused to listen to his words, he had lied to her and tried to use her. Just like everyone else. Footsteps could be heard echoing through the warehouse, coming closer. Kang sobbed, “Please save yourself.” In his hand he held out an object, willing her to take it. “Please Y/n.”
Jimin appeared his clothes drenched in blood and a grin showing his pearly whites on display. Resembling the night they had first met Y/n was crouched behind the couch when he entered the living room. “There you are.” He said, as if he had been looking for her the entire time. Jimin sauntered towards her, hoisting her up into his arms and kissing her ardently. “Babe you missed quite a show.” Y/n observed at how much blood was present on his clothes and the decaying bodies laying around. He really killed them all…I don’t believe it. “Jimin what’s – ” He shushed her, “Don’t ruin the mood.” Y/n stayed quiet after that which seemed to please him greatly as he once again smiled. After a few seconds, she moved forward to kiss him letting her lips touch his for several seconds before beginning to move them. Though she expected Jimin to try and take control, he didn’t, simply letting her kiss him. It was a goodbye of sorts. When their kiss ended Jimin chuckled, an inquisitive look in his eyes. When she kissed him again, he looked calm. After the third, he smiled this time it reached his eyes.
“Why do you have to go ahead and ruin my fun?” Jimin spoke, his head tilting to the side as he stared deeply at her. Y/n couldn’t answer him. Didn’t want to. Jimin began to laugh, it was a sad laugh but Jimin quickly turned it into a maniacal laugh. “Oh Y/n…Y/n. Did you finally begin to care?” She nodded, tears streaming down her face. Jimin pressed his forehead against her’s, their noses brushing. "These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume. What do you say, Y/n? Reckon we'll have a violent end." He maniacally grinned as he pressed the metallic point of the gun against Y/n’s bleeding temple, the raw brass stinging against the open wound. "I don't know. We might." She muttered back. The gun was lifted from the side of her head before Jimin pressed it against her heart. “You won’t want me if you’re not broken.” Jimin muttered. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, “I never wanted you in the first place.” Jimin pulled the safety off the gun, at the same time that Y/n reached behind her back for what she had grabbed from Kang. The knife plunged into Jimin’s heart the same time, the gun went off.
#yandere bts#bts x reader#yandere bts x reader#yandere park jimin x reader#yandere park jimin#bts au#gang bts#bts gang au#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#min yoongi#jeon hoseok#park jimin#kim taehyung#jeon jungkook#Jung HoSeok#bts jimin#jimin x oc#park jimin fanfic#bts fic#halloween fic#halloween fanfic#dark#twisted#bangtanarmynet#violent delights#girlmeetsliv3
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Reasons why my ass will never fit in anywhere:
I HATE EXTREMES
I like both liberal and conservative beliefs, but I also hate both liberal and conservative beliefs. Anyone who is on one extreme or the other, I most likely will not get along with.
I consider myself Christian. But ya know what, I dislike a lot of Christians. Oh boy do I love my god! But sometimes Christian's can be such a-holes.
Oh, and I may believe in god, but I love learning about other beliefs. Especially witchcraft. Magic gets them nips hard 😆
Oh yeah and I have a very non Christian sense of humor.
Humor is very important to me. It's the only way I can cope with this fucked up life.
I'm a gun loving vegan who is pro life and, yes go ahead and send me hateful messages about how stupid I am, I am kind of anti feminist as well. Do I believe in equality? yes. I am all for equality. Do I believe feminists now days believe in equality? Sorry but not really. Will I hate you if you call yourself a feminist? Nah, that would be stupid. But if you hate me for not calling myself a feminist, we won't get along. And if you're a guy who makes fun of women, we also won't get along.
I am pro gun because I believe we should be able to defend ourselves. But I don't believe that we should use them for hunting. I understand hunting for survival. But if you hunt for sport and find it fun, you either don't know any better because you grew up in a home where that was normalized (I've been there) or you're a fucking psychopath.
If you laugh at or get offended by people having compassion for children or animals, we can't be friends.
Am I a crazy person who believes in conspiracy theories? Sometimes. One thing I know for sure is I'm not a flat earther. But I do think it's crazy if you don't believe in the possibility of aliens. I MEAN COME ON THERE'S SO MANY PLANETS OUT THERE AND YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT EARTH IS THE ONLY ONE WITH LIFE ON IT??
Doubt it.
I'm all for body positivity. If you can love yourself for who you are, that is absolutely great and I love that. But don't go around talking shit and bashing people who want to wear makeup, get plastic surgery or promote getting healthy. People can do whatever makes them happy as long as they aren't physically harming someone. The idea that someone getting surgery or talking about health will hurt some insecure person's feelings so we shouldn't do it is just ridiculous. Someone who is insecure will most likely be hurt by a lot of things. It's no reason to attack someone. So basically positivity isn't just for those who are anti makeup or anti surgery. Guys, let's stop bashing people for wearing makeup or getting a nose job. Its getting really annoying and its turning into bullying. Instead of bashing, let's lift each other up and be encouraging.
I am bisexual. Because equality haha but that's really not something that is accepted by Christians. So I don't really go to church. I don't really feel welcome.
I love deep conversations. I'm okay with small talk. But I'm not really interested in a friendship where that's all there is to it. Sure I'll pick up the phone and ask how your day is going and ask what you've been up to. But I also love when someone goes "so I've been thinking a lot lately about past lives and shit" or talk about your likes/dislikes. Let's talk about fears or places you'd like to travel. Would you rather questions and jokes that make zero sense but they make you laugh so hard it hurts. What dreams have you had this week and do you think they mean anything? Just deep shit mixed in with some casual "I just found something new at the store and i love it" whether that's a new vegan product, paintbrushes, a crystal.. idc I just love hearing about beliefs and things that make you happy.
Also if you like going shooting and want a buddy to tag along, I'll totally go. I'll also go shopping. Just because I like guns and getting my hands dirty doesn't mean I don't want to go to the mall and find cute shit.
On the negative side, sometimes I get angry at those that lack compassion and empathy. Narcissists really get my blood boiling. But I also really hate when people who are just looking to get angry over every little thing call themselves empaths. You aren't an empath, you just like complaining about everything and talking crap about others to feel better about yourself. A lot of these "empaths" have very narcissistic traits.
Oh yeah, I grew up with covert narcissistic siblings. So you could say I'm very fucked up emotionally and probably have some toxic traits because of my childhood. But you know what, it's also made me very understanding and less judgmental of some people. It's made me realize that you can't always trust anyone and that sometimes the people that you think are bad, are really just the victim.
Also, I may sound very narcissistic right now writing all this shit about myself, but you know what? I actually never really talk about myself that much. I never open up and I never tell people who I really am because I'm always scared that people will think I only care about myself. But thats not the case. I really hope that someday I can find someone who can know all of this about me be like "hey me too" and actually understand what its like. I love my husband so much. He's always been supportive of me and the least judgmental out of everyone in my life. But sometimes it gets so lonely because it feels like no one fully understands. Almost everyone hates me for not taking sides. Someone will hate me for being shy because i don't ever text or call or start a conversation. It's not because I don't like you, its because I don't want to bother you. And no matter how much you tell me that I'm not bothering you, I will always still feel like I'm bothering you. One of my toxic traits lol And others will hate me for opening up and telling them my beliefs because I'm either dumb for caring about animals or I'm dumb for being pro life or I'm a sinner because I don't fit and this perfect little box that Christians want me to fit into blah blah blah.
So far it feels like I'm screwed either way.
If anyone sees this and goes "dude me too" tell me about it. I want to find my tribe. Even if my vibe is a little all over the place lol I hope to find those like me. People who love balance, deep conversations, and don't mind going a while without talking but pick right back where we left off because grudges suck and real friends don't have to talk 24/7 to be real friends 😁
Hopefully I don't sound too much like a bitch. Lol
#balance#positivity#anti politics#kind of religious#spirituality#spiritual#deep conversations#pro life#crystals#fitness#health#vegan#pro gun#lightworker#greenwitch#empathy#empath#cultural appreciation#anti feminist women#anti feminst#fairies#past lives#past life#conspiracies#conspiracy theories#looking for my tribe#looking for a friend#non extremist#anti extremist#anti extremists
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VtMB Unofficial Patch Histories
Disclaimer: Extremely long. Sorry if you encounter this on mobile.
Brujah Male
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
True Brujah: Many blame the stereotype of the rebellious Brujah on Triole, the hot-blooded Methuselah whose progeny compose the bulwark of modern Clan Brujah. You share no blood with Triole. As such, you are predisposed to learned idealism instead of belligerent iconoclasm.
Infomercial Huckster: I made millions from my tiny one-bedroom apartment, placing tiny classified ads, buying and selling, and with 1-900 lines. And so can you!
Special Forces: Yeah, you were Special Forces. Black ops and all that. Which branch? You could say... but you’d have to kill everyone within earshot. No, seriously.
Dive Bar Bouncer: Nobody could pass you when you stood in in a doorway and you had a lot of fun throwing people out. Now it will be even easier to hurt people.
Dropped as a Baby: If you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough. As a kid you took a lot of abuse for that funny slope in your skull... until you started fighting back.
Glass Eye: It was true what they said. You shot your eye out. It was hard growing up with a creepy glass eye, but as an adult you learned to put it to work for you. There’s something about your unnerving stare that makes people do what you say.
Quickling: The Embrace made you feel lighter than air, a sensation that has yet to leave you.
Anti-Paladin: A bully in life, a tyrant in death. You were born into undeath with savage combat prowess and an inclination to use it. And when you do, it’s a terrible sight to behold.
All-Star Athlete: You were an excellent athlete who excelled at all physical activities. However, you’re not naturally the sharpest tool in the shed. Compound that with the fact that you spent most of your time and energy exercising, you don’t really know much about anything else.
Academic: You were the Academic type, as was your Brujah sire, living up to the old Brujah image of the poet-warrior.
Brujah Female
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
True Brujah: Many blame the stereotype of the rebellious Brujah on Triole, the hot-blooded Methuselah whose progeny compose the bulwark of modern Clan Brujah. You share no blood with Triole. As such, you are predisposed to learned idealism instead of belligerent iconoclasm.
Voyeur Website Model: Maybe you weren’t the prettiest girl in school, but you could still make dirty old men sit up and beg. And pay for it. Hey, it beats Taco Bell.
Fixer: You had the streets wired. There was nothing you couldn’t find. Drugs, guns, prostitutes of every shape, age and color. One time you got Giraffe Ribeyes on a 24 hours’ notice. And apparently you’ve had more than a couple vampire clients. Who knew? You left an impression and now here you are.
Purveyor of Vice: Smoking, drinking, drugs, you did it all while you were still alive. Now in death only blood is left to turn you on.
Dropped as a Baby: If you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough. As a kid you took a lot of abuse for that funny slope in your skull... until you started fighting back.
Glass Eye: It was true what they said. You shot your eye out. It was hard growing up with a creepy glass eye, but as an adult you learned to put it to work for you. There’s something about your unnerving stare that makes people do what you say.
Quickly: The Embrace made you feel lighter than air, a sensation that has yet to leave you.
Anti-Paladin: A bully in life, a tyrant in death. You were born into undeath with savage combat prowess and an inclination to use it. And when you do, it’s a terrible sight to behold.
All-Star Athlete: You were an excellent athlete who excelled at all physical activities. However, you’re not naturally the sharpest tool in the shed. Compound that with the fact that you spent most of your time and energy exercising, you don’t really know much about anything else.
Academic: You were the Academic type, as was your Brujah sire, living up to the old Brujah image of the poet-warrior.
Gangrel Male
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Environmental Activist: You were a member of Greenpeace in life, always fighting to protect the environment, riding with the whales and climbing nuclear reactors. Knowing about cause and effect was important then.
Pagan: Your beliefs center on the Gnostic pantheon, and your kinship with nature is strong. After you were Embraced, you were naturally more in tune with the Beast within and that affinity is now apparent.
Mortician: The irony isn’t lost on you now. All those nights in the echoing silence with the husks of former humanity. You always thought it was your fate you were staring into. Then one night it happened. Finally. One of them-- a hell of a fine specimen, you were thinking-- woke up.
Ex-Cop: You were a great cop-- until a meth-head’s knife glanced your spine and left you relegated to deskwork for the rest of your career.
Perv: You love women. Good God Almighty, do you love women. You love their bits ‘n you love their places. Mmmmmm yeah. They never really reciprocated your interest, but, well, fuck ‘em. In underneath your suppressed appetites have reemerged.
Chupacabra: Rumor has it you are descended from the legendary Chupacabra-- the blood-frenzied devil that has haunted the Mexican country for generations. The veracity of this dubious distinction is impossible to discern, but your feral instincts are strong.
Insectoid: Maybe it’s the vague compulsion to spin a web, or when you catch yourself trying to use your imaginary feelers, but something in your Gangrel blood is exceptional.
Anda Gangrel: Descendant of nomadic vampire-warriors, you were bred for extreme trials of endurance.
Close to the Beast: After you were Embraced, you were naturally more in tune with the Beast within and that affinity is now physically apparent.
Pot Head: Scientists say that smoking pot can make you more stupid. That may explain your terrible memory as you often forget names and other details. However, you have a very relaxed attitude toward life, or unlife.
Gangrel Female
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Environmental Activist
Pagan Priestess: You believe your Embrace into Clan Gangrel was destiny. You were priestess to a pagan sect in life, and nature is the center of your mind, body and soul. After you were Embraced, you were naturally more in tune with the Beast within.
Mortician: The irony isn’t lost on you now. All those nights in the echoing silence with the husks of former humanity. You always thought it was your fate you were staring into. Then one night it happened. Finally. One of them-- a hell of a fine specimen, you were thinking-- woke up.
Ex-Cop: You were a great cop-- until a meth-head’s knife glanced your spine and left you relegated to deskwork for the rest of your career.
Hard-Ass Chica: You were born into a neighborhood just outside of downtown LA. It might as well have been the Third World. And you were just one girl kicking and biting her way to survival. In the middle of famine and marauding victimizers, gang life was life.
Beastmistress: Mortal creatures sense vampires as an abomination, outsiders to the natural order. Your presence, however, seems to pacify the animal spirit like a sickly sweet intoxicant.
Insectoid: Maybe it’s the vague compulsion to spin a web, or when you catch yourself trying to use your imaginary feelers, but something in your Gangrel blood is exceptional.
Anda Gangrel: Descendant of nomadic vampire-warriors, you were bred for extreme trials of endurance.
Close to the Beast: After you were Embraced, you were naturally more in tune with the Beast within and that affinity is now physically apparent.
Pot Head: Scientists say that smoking pot can make you more stupid. That may explain your terrible memory as you often forget names and other details. However, you have a very relaxed attitude toward life, or unlife.
Malkavian Male
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Cut-Rate Party Clown: It was just supposed to be until you put things back together after Evelyn left you. Here it is, 3 years 3,246 scotches later. Somehow you’ve kept this gig going without one repeat customer. Truly, America is the greatest nation on earth.
Nutty Weatherman: Your inane banter and masterful use of the awkward segue was the toast of Bumblefuck, Illinois. So you took to the big leagues and, wouldn’t ya know it? First skank you pick up at an airport goes and kills you.
Long and Little Foot: ‘Don’t help me!’ Your dual deformities make life difficult, but you’re one of those hard-luck, triumph-in-the-face-of-adversity stories that people gobble up.
Burnout: Science has yet to prove the link between marijuana and decreased mental capacity. You say you’ve always been a little slow, but that’s just because you’re so mellow.
Ninja: You think you’re a ninja. Kee-ai!
Doomseer: The paralyzing fear of eternal death has an iron grip on you. Doom is just around he corner for you, for everyone, you just know it. And you lack faith in your vampire abilities. What’s the use anyway?
Completely Batshit: The curse of Clan Malkavian burns white-hot in your veins. You are a brimming cauldron of lunacy.
Subtly Insane: Your insanity does not hinder your ability to interact with others too greatly. At first glance, most wouldn’t even second guess your mental stability.
Occult Nut: Who would have thought that any of it could be real? You loved dark fantasies and considered yourself Occult-savvy. Now that you’re among the Kindred, you find that you actually know some of this stuff and are really excited about learning more about your new state of life.
Deaf: You were born practically deaf. Not only did you overcome your disability, you enjoy helping others cope and get ahead in life.
Malkavian Female
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Ex-Gymnast-Stripper: Your entire childhood was spent either in school or at practice. Daddy was too busy to tell you there’s no such thing as a professional gymnast. And mommy... well, mommy was busy looking for a new daddy.
Women’s Prison Guard: You were a black-hearted, violence-loving badass when you were alive, and you’re still an evil maniac in unlife. You had always hoped it would be more like skinemax. If only.
Long and Little Foot: ‘Don’t help me!’ Your dual deformities make life difficult, but you’re one of those hard-luck, triumph-in-the-face-of-adversity stories that people gobble up.
Burnout: Science has yet to prove the link between marijuana and decreased mental capacity. You say you’ve always been a little slow, but that’s just because you’re so mellow.
Ninja: You think you’re a ninja. Kee-ai!
Doomseer: The paralyzing fear of eternal death has an iron grip on you. Doom is just around he corner for you, for everyone, you just know it. And you lack faith in your vampire abilities. What’s the use anyway?
Completely Batshit: The curse of Clan Malkavian burns white-hot in your veins. You are a brimming cauldron of lunacy.
Subtly Insane: Your insanity does not hinder your ability to interact with others too greatly. At first glance, most wouldn’t even second guess your mental stability.
Occult Nut: Who would have thought that any of it could be real? You loved dark fantasies and considered yourself Occult-savvy. Now that you’re among the Kindred, you find that you actually know some of this stuff and are really excited about learning more about your new state of life.
Deaf: You were born practically deaf. Not only did you overcome your disability, you enjoy helping others cope and get ahead in life.
Nosferatu Male
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Video Game Publisher: You relish a sad pleasure in ruining promising game developing studios with impossible deadlines.
Eco-Terrorist Hacker: You were an expert computer hacker dedicated to preserving the environment, sticking it to the man, one denial-of-service at a time. Your side was attracted to your dedication and respect for nature.
Pedagogue: I always said he’d come to no good in the end, your honor. If they’d let me have my way, I could’ve flayed him into shape.
Lowborn: Trash, rabble, scum-- whatever you call it, you’re the supernatural equivalent. You come from a long line of gutter-dwelling, bottom-feeding, undead riffraff. As such, you are predisposed to the dregs of humanity.
Cadaverous Flesh: Each manifestation of vampirism is unique. Yours, it turns out, carries an unfortunate deficiency. Your body wants to rot. It’s nothing that can’t be overcome, but it’s a constant drain on you.
Boogeyman: Humanity is a fascinating spectacle indeed. Everyone has wanted to be a fly on the wall at one time or another, but you were obsessed with the idea. As luck would have it, your Nosferatu progenitors all had a penchant for peeping as well.
Leatherface: Your rebirth as a hideous beast was a dream come true. The power is intoxicating. And now you’re going to make them pay-- all of them.
Shepherd of Vermin: Like a creature of urban legend you commune with pestilent scavengers and share their filthy domain.
Presentable: The Nosferatu blood from your sire was rather weak and the blood curse did not take too strong a hold on you. You’re only deformed where the moon doesn’t shine.
Peeping Tom: It’s not your fault you were born lacking in the appearance department. Since nobody likes you, your unfulfilled and repressed sexual desires have turned you into quite the little pervert.
Nosferatu Female
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Gossip Columnist: Item! You’re dead! Who would have ever thought that any of it could be real? You loved dark fantasies and consider yourself Occult-savvy.
Pedagogue: I always said he’d come to no good in the end, your honor. If they’d let me have my way, I could’ve flayed him into shape.
Baglady: Your life was a big mess which left you stranded on the streets with nothing but cheap booze. And now you look even worse!
Blunt Fangs: Things were never easy for you. You fought for every scrap that was eventually stolen from you. You treasure everything you have, and savor every hard lesson learned, even while you suspect God hates you. This luck carries over to undeath. You have blunt fangs.
Lowborn: Trash, rabble, scum-- whatever you call it, you’re the supernatural equivalent. You come from a long line of gutter-dwelling, bottom-feeding, undead riffraff. As such, you are predisposed to the dregs of humanity.
Cadaverous Flesh: Each manifestation of vampirism is unique. Yours, it turns out, carries an unfortunate deficiency. Your body wants to rot. It’s nothing that can’t be overcome, but it’s a constant drain on you.
Cleopatra: There are fates worse than death. You know this. in life, you were an object of desire. Men wanted you, women wanted to be like you. You have been transformed into a cruel mockery of your former self. As someone acutely aware of how easy life is for the beautiful people, you have unique insight into the psychology of human and vampire alike.
Shepherd of Vermin: Like a creature of urban legend you commune with pestilent scavengers and share their filthy domain.
Presentable: The Nosferatu blood from your sire was rather weak and the blood curse did not take too strong a hold on you. You’re only deformed where the moon doesn’t shine.
Black-Hearted: You were a black-hearted, violence loving, badass when you were alive, and you’re still an evil maniac in unlife.
Toreador Male
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Teamster: You believe in collective bargaining to get justice for working families. And if that fails, there’s collective wrench beatings.
Degenerate Gambler: You knew you shoulda laid the chalk. You were down. Down big. But you had to press it on a parlay with the over and caught bad beat on the hook. On the friggin’ hook. So much for Vegas. You figured you’d slum it around LA till you could build a roll to gt back in. And that’s when you met her...
Rehab Counselor: You always had an open ear for other people’s problems, even if you had to listen to some scumbags sitting in prison.
Velvet Rope Doorman: You hand-craft the scene with nothing more than a clipboard, a cheap headset, and a dispassionate contempt for humanity.
Rapacious Bloodlust: The Embrace brought out a mean streak in you. You’re constantly fighting the urge to kill, even as your power to do so grows.
Beautiful Monster: You are ruled by your passions. And some of them ain’t pretty. People find you absolutely mesmerizing. But you were always too self-absorbed to bother with normal human repartee.
Uncanny Awareness: You swear to God you can see the future. Not years from now, or even next week, but moment-to-moment you always see what’s coming. You are so acutely aware of your surroundings that you’ve been known to dodge bullets without looking.
Faelike: You are a creature of delicate beauty and ephemeral grace. You seem more likely to have spring from the pages of Spenser or Keats than Sheller or Stoker.
Starving Artist: You were a starving artist. You lived with the clothes on your back and because of your poor background, you do not have any compunction against wearing ugly clothes.
Ex-SWAT: While in the police force, you’ve developed quite a skill with firearms. However, you quite the forces after receiving a crippling injury while in the line of duty.
Toreador Female
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Teamster: You believe in collective bargaining to get justice for working families. And if that fails, there’s collective wrench beatings.
Twenty-Something: It’s about the people, you know. Out here, on te streets, in the clubs... That’s where it’s going on. That’s where it’s coming together. Not in some boardroom. And the people don’t wear ties. The next generation of leaders isn’t coming from the suburbs. What? You want to go there? Why? It’s going off here... open bar? Well, okay....
Rehab Counselor: You always had an open ear for other people’s problems, even if you had to listen to some scumbags sitting in prison.
Slut: So you’re a little boy-crazy. And maybe you like to get guys’ attention. And maybe you like to fool around. That don’t mean people have the right to go talking about you and calling you names - they don’t know you!
Rapacious Bloodlust: The Embrace brought out a mean streak in you. You’re constantly fighting the urge to kill, even as your power to do so grows.
Decadent Enchantress: Beautiful, bored, and sociopathic. You amuse yourself by testing the limits of your suitors’ devotions, and you delight at the ruin they willfully suffer for your affections.
Uncanny Awareness: You swear to God you can see the future. Not years from now, or even next week, but moment-to-moment you always see what’s coming. You are so acutely aware of your surroundings that you’ve been known to dodge bullets without looking.
Faelike: You are a creature of delicate beauty and ephemeral grace. You seem more likely to have spring from the pages of Spenser or Keats than Sheller or Stoker.
Starving Artist: You were a starving artist. You lived with the clothes on your back and because of your poor background, you do not have any compunction against wearing ugly clothes.
Ex-SWAT: While in the police force, you’ve developed quite a skill with firearms. However, you quite the forces after receiving a crippling injury while in the line of duty.
Tremere Male
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Old Timer: You are the old fashioned type and don’t care about all this new technology.
Country Club Lothario: We’re living in the age of soccer moms. And don’t you know it. Yeah, hubby might be pulling down 7 figures, but you got an empty day-planner and a grin that drops panties like putts on a par 3.
Con Artist: Discipline and order: only one thing counts in this life and that is to get them to sign on the line that is dotted.
Highway Drifter: Between the small towns that dot the Midwest, there’s a lot of open space, a lot of long shadows, and a lot of room to disappear. You know, you’ve done it. And you may have helped some other people do it too.
Eerie Presence: Most vampires have no problem fitting in to mortal society. You don’t know what it is, but you just can’t pull it off. You’re doing everything they’re doing, but something about you seems to make humans uneasy. Sometimes, it seems like they can just sense you. You were a perfectly affable, intellectual human. So what gives?
Deceptive Strength: You used to be quite clumsy, but the Embrace gave you unnatural reserves of physical power.
Eldritch Prodigy: You have a natural gift for the dark arts of Thaumaturgy, and can use it to greater effect than most Tremere. Thaumaturgy is your all-consuming passion, to the exclusion of nearly every other pursuit.
Infernal: Your forebears paid an awful price in their quest for power. The deal still holds, and you’ll continue to pay for eternity.
Affinity for Magic: You always liked magical illusions, and even performed some tricks yourself as a kid. Now you are amazed that magic is actually real.
Generalissimo: Discipline and order, tactics and warfare: these are the reasons why you joined the army. Not only did you fit perfectly, you excelled in the military.
Tremere Female
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Old Timer: You are the old fashioned type and don’t care about all this new technology.
Medicine Saleswoman: Some uptight types might say Fluoxetine for kids is over the line. Obviously, they have no idea what kind of profit margin those things pack. And have they spent time around kids? Please - they should put that stuff in baby formula.
Agent: Your representation was highly sought. And you were well compensated. You played every bit as hard as the boys cuz it takes brass balls to get it done in this town, and goddamn if you didn’t have the biggest pair. You were a power player. A threat. And your competition couldn’t handle getting shown up by a girl, so they sold you out to an undead predator. Pfft. Typical. This town is full of hate.
Bar Singer Seductress: Drunken overatures from traveling businessmen, room keys from toupeed conventioneers, a handful of restraining orders. This is the legacy of your career in entertainment.
Eerie Presence: Most vampires have no problem fitting in to mortal society. You don’t know what it is, but you just can’t pull it off. You’re doing everything they’re doing, but something about you seems to make humans uneasy. Sometimes, it seems like they can just sense you. You were a perfectly affable, intellectual human. So what gives?
Deceptive Strength: You used to be quite clumsy, but the Embrace gave you unnatural reserves of physical power.
Eldritch Prodigy: You have a natural gift for the dark arts of Thaumaturgy, and can use it to greater effect than most Tremere. Thaumaturgy is your all-consuming passion, to the exclusion of nearly every other pursuit.
Infernal: Your forebears paid an awful price in their quest for power. The deal still holds, and you’ll continue to pay for eternity.
Affinity for Magic: You always liked magical illusions, and even performed some tricks yourself as a kid. Now you are amazed that magic is actually real.
Generalissimo: Discipline and order, tactics and warfare: these are the reasons why you joined the army. Not only did you fit perfectly, you excelled in the military.
Ventrue Male
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Juvenile Hall Disciplinarian: Already as a teen you loved to demonstrate your influence and power over others.
Union Boss: You’re a blue-collar success story, a self-made man of the people. The respect of your workers and the gratification of a job well done was all you ever wanted in return. So the kickbacks and extortion money were all icing.
Industry Lobbyist: You have a big ego. You represented industry and pressed their agenda in the halls of power. Which industry? Which one’s paying?
Corporate Schmo: There’s no room in your cubicle to hand your Business degree. You were reprimanded for having a wrinkled shirt. And you laughed when your buddy decided to major in Rhetoric. Now he’s a sitcom writer ad wears Birkenstocks to work. He always said “business casual is the dress of defeat”. Maybe you could go back and get your MBA....
War Profiteer: Er, Defense Contractor. Someone has to make sure the troops get hot means and video teleconferencing from home. And if, while you’re over there, you can help the natives get their economy running by landing some bloated, no-bid oil services the contracts from your buddies in government, great! It’s win-win! So one of your truck drivers gets beheaded on the internet; who doesn’t realize that risk when they sign up for the job?
Runaway: Your old man was a bastard. You can say that now. It took years just to be able to mention him. You’re making progress, but you still avoid confrontation, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be comfortable with being touched.
Diabolic: In addition to the Beast Within, you struggle against an even darker force. You feel the pull of salvation and damnation in your every action.
Cleaner: Not every Ventrue is afraid to get their hands dirty. Some problems need to be met head on, and occasionally matters are too delicate to sic the Gangrel on them. While your bloodline dosn’t come from the sunny side of the Ventrue family tree, they’ve always been entrusted to take care of such problems.
Megalomaniac: You have a big ego. Because of your confidence in yourself and your abilities, people either really hate you, or are drawn to you.
Well Educated: You were very privileged and gained excellent education all-around.
Ventrue Female:
Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.
Juvenile Hall Disciplinarian: Already as a teen you loved to demonstrate your influence and power over others.
Industry Lobbyist: You have a big ego. You represented industry and pressed their agenda in the halls of power. Which industry? Which one’s paying?
Southern Debutante: You were very privileged and gained excellent education. Mother would be so proud if she knew you were accepted into the *best* vampire clan around!
Corporate Schmo: There’s no room in your cubicle to hand your Business degree. You were reprimanded for having a wrinkled shirt. And you laughed when your buddy decided to major in Rhetoric. Now he’s a sitcom writer ad wears Birkenstocks to work. He always said “business casual is the dress of defeat”. Maybe you could go back and get your MBA....
War Profiteer: Er, Defense Contractor. Someone has to make sure the troops get hot means and video teleconferencing from home. And if, while you’re over there, you can help the natives get their economy running by landing some bloated, no-bid oil services the contracts from your buddies in government, great! It’s win-win! So one of your truck drivers gets beheaded on the internet; who doesn’t realize that risk when they sign up for the job?
Runaway: Your old man was a bastard. You can say that now. It took years just to be able to mention him. You’re making progress, but you still avoid confrontation, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be comfortable with being touched.
Dominatrix: You’ve always been persuasive, but as a vampire, few can deny your will.
Diabolic: In addition to the Beast Within, you struggle against an even darker force. You feel the pull of salvation and damnation in your every action.
Megalomaniac: You have a big ego. Because of your confidence in yourself and your abilities, people either really hate you, or are drawn to you.
Well Educated: You were very privileged and gained excellent education all-around.
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(…)
Lately, I’ve seen a lot of debates break out on Twitter over biological sex — what defines it, how it can be measured, whether it exists at all. The men who dominate these debates are often experts in their fields, meaning they use terms like “bimodal distribution” and “nonstandard karyotypes” to make their otherwise mundane points. (…) They confuse — or, perhaps, intentionally conflate — imprecision with invalidity, social perception with social construction, and binarism with exclusivity. (…)
But here I go again, right? It’s so easy to get sucked into this debate, to get that hot indignation in your stomach that comes when a foolish claim is so proudly asserted. And I don’t even have skin in the game — binary or not, my sex will still land me squarely in the “paid more, raped less” category. So what’s the point beyond intellectual exercise? It seems more and more obvious to me that even entertaining the debate is a concession, an assent to women’s lives being made the subject of thought experiments and counterfactuals plucked from the air by some post-grad who, coincidentally, has never once worried about pregnancy from rape.
So that’s my quarter-through-the-year resolution: I’m not going to debate with you about the reality of biological sex, for the same reason I wouldn’t stand on the train platform debating the finer points of physics while the man on the tracks is ground into bits. Not because your position is unassailable. Because even bringing it up makes you an asshole.
That might sound a little dramatic, a flourish of rhetoric to cover up a weak rebuttal. But how long have you spent reading up to this point? Five minutes? Ten? If so, the world has fifty more mutilated girls than when you started. Were the men who carried out those mutilations confused about what makes a female body? Did they ponder chromosome parings and standard deviations when they chose who to cut? Or is that kind of nuance a luxury set aside just for educated, progressive, worldly men like you?
Isn’t it odd that sex was never so complicated before? There was nothing ethereal about biology when it came to allocating the right to vote, or own property, or walk down the street at night without fear. We knew perfectly well what made someone female when that female-ness guaranteed a life of subservience and pain. Only when women began to say no did their bodies become a concept.
So many feminists have made this point, over and over again. I see them say it. I know you read it. Did you listen? If not, why? And why do you always respond when I say it? It seems you do know who has a female body, when it comes to deciding which perspective gets ignored.
Sex is such a mystery to you when women want shelters for themselves, meetings for themselves, words for themselves. Pardon me for asking, but is it equally mysterious when you log off Twitter and move over to Pornhub? The true nature of a female body is so complex when you lecture. Does it become simple again when you masturbate? Who does the laundry in your house? Were you somehow able to navigate an inchoate soup of X’s and Y’s to saddle your girlfriend with the dishes? Give yourself some credit — I think you know perfectly well what a female body is. But in case you don’t, here’s a hint:
It’s the only type of body that gets you thrown on the funeral pyre when the husband dies. It’s the only type of body that gets your feet bound and your breasts ironed. It’s the only type made pregnant through rape and burned with acid, the only type expected to sit quietly and listen while we redefine it away, the only type men have spent millennia criticizing and critiquing and buying and selling until we suddenly decided we don’t even know what the fuck we meant this whole time.
You know what a female body is, dude? It’s the only type of body that makes men like you ask such stupid questions. So please, stop. This is an emergency. This is three and a half billion human beings tied to the tracks, and you’re riding on the train. Your insistence on nuance, your fetish for accuracy, your smug deconstruction of common sense — it doesn’t make you thoughtful. It doesn’t make you wise. It doesn’t make you progressive. It makes you an asshole. It makes you worse than a bystander. A bystander does nothing. He watches from afar. You step into the fray just to prod the victim for the imprecision of their screams. I’m not going to step in too, laying out my rebuttal over the sound of grinding bone. It’s just not worth it.
Here’s my resolution: As long as pimps, priests, and politicians know what a female body is, I do too. The moment they’re confused — the moment they hesitate, the moment they qualify, the moment they adopt the restraint and caution you demand from the targets of their abuse— then I’ll happily open myself up to ambiguity. Until then, I beg you. Reserve your philosopher’s curiosity, your scientific rigor, for the ten thousand other questions that don’t make a thought experiment out of an atrocity. What marks the division between knowledge and belief? How did life develop from non-life? Does P = NP? At what point does a man losing his hair become bald and not merely thinning? Go tweet at Rogaine and get their thoughts on that conundrum. Leave women alone.
#some people are female get over it#sex not gender#female erasure#gender identity#men who say they are women are still men#biological sex#👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻#resources
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Everything wrong with Buzzfeed in one simple post
@buzzfeed @buzzfeedtasty @buzzfeedlgbt @buzzfeedau @buzzfeedbooks @buzzfeednews
1. Plagiarism
Lets start off with what Buzzfeed as become known for over the years and that is the fact that they steal a good portion of their content from other people.
They’ve been accused of stealing video ideas from other youtubers:
Safiya Nygaard (Who worked for them in the past)
They’ve stolen ideas from her on multiple occasions.
Jaclyn Glenn
Stole video ideas from her on two separate occasions and when she called them out on it they said they had no idea who she was despite the fact that they followed her on twitter.
Penguinz0
and more
They have also been known to not credit the photos they use for their articles and quizzes on their website. They often credit the website they got it from (Tumblr, Twitter, Etc.) instead of the person themselves. When called out on it they began deleting the photos instead of crediting the original owners or apologizing for stealing in the first place. (X) (X)
Buzzfeed always denies the allegations despite the overwhelming amount of evidence against them.
2. Terrible Articles
If you ever go on to the Buzzfeed News website (Which I don’t recommend) you will be bombarded by their terrible articles.
You have their usual articles bashing white people and men:
37 Things White People Need To Stop Ruining In 2018 (First of all, America)
18 Funny Tweets About Men Being Trash That
26 Facts About Straight People That Are Completely And Totally True (This post is for you, heteros!)
They also have published some pretty controversial articles as well.
For example they published an article talking about how Harvey Weinstein’s victims weren’t diverse enough. They talked about how he only sexually assaulted white women because of racism and the belief that non white women are pretty enough to be sexually assaulted. Instead of apologizing for the article they just wrote an update about how Lupita Nyong’o has come forward as a victim instead of apologizing for turning something that was about women being assaulted into a race issue. (X) (X)
There was also another article I remember being on the buzzfeed website which was about how Movember or No shave Novembers, which is a month dedicated to men’s health, was somehow sexist. I can’t seem to find the article any where on their website, so its possible they deleted it.
3. Terrible quizzes
Just some example of terrible Buzzfeed quizzes:
How stereotypically white are you?
How gay are you?
Can you spot the fuck boy?
Which disney fuck boy have you date?
How sexist are you?
They also have their “How privileged are you?” quizzes. Which have kinda back fired on them since there are Cis Straight White Males who have scored low on these quizzes (Which makes them not privileged) and Non-white and gay people who have scored high.
4. The reason so many of their employees have quit
Just go onto youtube and type in “Why I left Buzzfeed” and you’ll countless video from ex employees. Most do talk about how much they enjoyed working for Buzzfeed, but their is also a common trend I noticed in most of these videos.
The company wants quantity over quality.
Making the workers push out dozens of articles, videos, and quizzes a day often causing the people working on them to feel burned out and that their work is meaningless.
They have no ownership over the content they make while with buzzfeed
Any web series or videos created while working with Buzzfeed belongs to Buzzfeed. If you no longer work for them you can not continue to create the same web series that you worked on before.
They weren’t allowed to do anything outside of Buzzfeed.
If an employee participated in a project or video outside of Buzzfeed they could/would be fired since it goes against their contract.
Why I left Buzzfeed videos: (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X)
5. Terrible videos
Lets play a quick game. Guess which one is not a real Buzzfeed video:
BFFs see each other naked for the first time
We painted with our period blood
Man sees his GF’s period blood for the first time
Women try man spreading for a week
Guys try on ladies underwear for the first time
Answer: They’re all real
Most of Buzzfeed’s videos consist of them jumping on the band wagon of whatever the latest trends are or making stupid/simple videos that they know will get them views. They aren’t trying for good quality content they just want whatever will give the most views/money. Despite how repetitive and idiotic most of their videos they do receive more than a million views on every video across their multiple channels.
Buzzfeed as become known for their more controversial videos as well. For example they have the serious “__ questions ____ people have for ____ people” where one group of people ask questions, usually stereotypical and down right stupid, to another group of people.
For example:
24 questions black people have for white people
36 questions women have for men
26 questions Asians have for white people
27 questions black people have for black people
33 questions white people have for white people
Most of these videos of an overwhelming amount of more dislikes to likes.
They also have a series of videos where they ask people to respond to their word white. They use terms like arrogance, controlling, not understanding, closed minded. Then they asked them to describe the word black. They used terms like empowered, beautiful, resiliency, and innovative. Really shows just how bias Buzzfeed is.
6. Hypocrisy
Buzzfeed is one of those companies that is so “woke” they can’t see their own hypocrisy. If they didn’t have double standards its likely they would have no standards at all.
7. No Journalist Integrity
In 2017 Buzzfeed News release an article that alleged they have proof that Donald Trump has ties to Russia. They claim they receive unverified synopsis about Trump’s ties to Russia.
The synopsis claimed that Trump:
Hired prostitutes while staying in Russia
Participated in Sex parties while there
Had prostitues to pee on a bed that Obama had once slept on while he watched
He paid everyone off so no one would expose him
Other News sources such as The NewYork Times and The Washington Post refused to publish the Trump-Russia dossier because it was all anonymous and there was no way to prove it was real. When asked about why buzzfeed released the dossier while other News outlets refused to the Editor-in-Cheif, Ben Smith, said they wanted the American people to decided whether it was true or not.
8. Racist hiring practices
Senior Buzzfeed write, Scaachi Koul, came under fire after she said she wouldn’t take article from white or male writers. When asked about their racist hiring practice the Editor-in-Cheif claimed they were just trying to get a diverse work force. It is possible that Koul broke Canadian law which states that you can’t discriminate against hiring people because they are a certain race or gender. (X) (X) (X)
In Conclusion
There are probably a lot more reason why Buzzfeed is a terrible company, so feel free to add onto the list. At the end of the day Buzzfeed will still make terrible content and will earn millions of dollars for doing so. In my opinion no one should support such a toxic company.
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just had a long argument with my roommate about how “violence doesn’t solve anything”, “violence is never the answer, if we kill we’re just as bad as them, look at gandhi”, and “everyone has the right to live/no one deserves to die, even murderers/rapists/fascists/etc”, “if a woman’s being abused she can just walk out the door while the abuser is sleeping”, and how “there’s always jobs available nearby for everyone if you work hard enough, that don’t require transportation and are sustainable for you and your family and you magically qualify for and don’t require any luck”. she’s absolutely a good person, and generally well-informed, but this is where white, middle class privilege shows.
1. self defense IS NOT EQUAL to assault. there is no moral comparison, and those who argue this are brainwashing their victims into allowing themselves to be victimized, to not fight back, to roll over and make things easier for them. if it’s kill or be killed, the aggressors should absolutely be the ones to die.
2. no, i do not value the lives of murderers/rapists/fascists/etc as equal to that of their victims. if it’s kill or be killed, they should absolutely be the ones to die. it’s not about the morality of the death penalty; in the USA, the ‘justice’ system is blatantly broken: prisons are for profit, black kids who smoke weed go to prison for 6 years while white rapists get 1 week of jail time, sexual predators and offenders become president. when the system not only fails to protect you, but is part of the oppression against you and your loved ones, fighting back is self-defense, and you should and must fight back with all the means at your disposal, including violence.
3. india rebelled violently against britain, there was violent armed conflict between indians and british, gandhi just became the figurehead of the movement, and there were other factors such as economics at play; it is total bullshit myth that india achieved independence solely through pacific protest. resisting and fighting against the depredation of a colonizing aggressor is self-defense.
4. sexism, classism, racism, fascism - there is a war going on. people, lots of people, especially the poor and POC, are dying every day, murdered deliberately and though the negligence of the government and the society that is supposed to serve and protect them. you cannot “vote them out” because a) in the USA, the popular vote DOES NOT MATTER, the electoral college chooses the president and most americans don’t vote enough at the lower levels of government to claim any measure of democratic power (not to mention the US has been an oligarchy since Reagan), b) the system is designed by the people in power so that they remain in power. the system literally CANNOT be fought from within. ex: a good number of dictators were originally democratically elected; then once in power they change the laws so the presidency becomes a lifetime office. corrupt governments - and all governments become corrupt over time because enough/too many humans are selfish, greedy, stupid creatures - are self-sustaining and will legalize evil and corruption. bribing officials and buying elections? legal in the USA. under the trump administration, getting rid of the EPA means legalizing known dangers to public health and safety such as toxic waste dumping. the water crisis in flint? perfectly legal for the government to do nothing for 5 years and let an entire city suffer without clean water and get lead poisoning (the citizens are suing the government for damages, but this will not undo their suffering or restore their health). this is why revolution is the only means of destroying corrupt government and restoring power to the people, and revolution is self-defense.
5. the rights we have today - women’s rights, equal rights, LGBT rights, children’s rights, human rights - our grandparents and parents absolutely fought and died for them, they did not wait around pacifically waiting for those in power to give them some, and too many of us today are still fighting for ourselves and others. suffragettes were imprisoned, assaulted, and had their lives ruined; martin luther king jr. was assassinated by the FBI only 50 years ago when my mother was a teenager (don’t let those black and white photos fool you into thinking it was further away than it really is), and countless others died protesting and fighting; the LGBT at stonewall rioted and physically fought the police for 5 days. so many of the LGBT+ community are still fighting today, and being harassed, physically and sexually assaulted, and murdered, and teenagers are especially vulnerable and often are kicked out of their homes and forced into homelessness. those in power never voluntarily relinquish, share, or give power, because it doesn’t benefit them; they have to be forced to do so, including through violent means, and this is self-defense.
6. no there aren’t magically convenient jobs for everyone everywhere, and it is nearly impossible to climb out of poverty. when you’re living paycheck to paycheck, losing a job for even a week can be enough to force you and your family into homelessness, and from there it’s nearly impossible to find work without a permanent address, a phone number, access to regular showers and food, and god forbid you need healthcare in america, etc. you’re disabled or it’s freezing winter outside? financial insecurity and homelessness is a death sentence. in france the gilets jaunes movement began to protest a tax on cars that would have crippled the working poor, because while it’s good in theory to reduce carbon emissions and save the environment, there is not the infrastructure necessary to replace those cars. in north america, you can’t go anywhere without a car; if you live outside the city or in certain neighborhoods there’s no public transportation or it’s unreliable, or what would be a 10min trip from my house to the grocery store would take >2h30 by bus because there’s a highway to go around, which is simply not doable: the more time i spend commuting, the less time i can spend working, sleeping, feeding myself, taking care of dependents, etc. in contrast, you could live without a car in most of Japan because they have amazing public transportation. fighting to maintain the means of self-subsistence is self-defense.
7. i asked her: have you ever had to worry about where you were going to sleep tonight, or whether you could eat? no, she hasn’t. how many homeless people do you know, when you’re talking about how you and your friends all managed to find work within bicycle distance of your house? none. when is the last time you or your loved ones were threatened and endangered, harassed, discriminated against, or killed by neo-nazis, mass shooters, the police, etc? never. (ironically, she agreed that World War II needed to be fought) . when confronted with bigots whose proudly self-professed goal is mass genocide of you and your people, fighting back and killing them to prevent them from killing you is self-defense.
8. nazis, school shooters, domestic abusers, ARE NOT MENTALLY ILL. the majority of them, and this is proven by many, many studies, don’t have mental illness, and ALL of them have VALUE PROBLEMS. as in, they don’t value the lives of POC and women, they hold as a core belief that they are less and deserve to be killed and treated poorly. “if a woman’s being abused she can just walk out the door while the abuser is sleeping”: even discounting the psychological effects of abuse (hopelessness, feeling of being trapped, dependence, fear of repercussions and punishment, etc) abused women usually don’t have any money or means of earning money; if they have children it’s even harder. women’s shelters will only let people stay for a limited amount of time, and an abuser can easily find out the address. i used to live by the only women’s shelter in the area, the gate was dented from all the men who would come and beat it, with their hands, baseball bats, ramming their cars into it, shouting and threatening; i’m sure that more than one woman was caught leaving and beaten even worse for the attempt, and they are often too afraid to ask the police for help, or the police refuse to help because they’re poor/uneducated/POC/don’t give a fuck/don’t believe them because the abuser is an upstanding pillar of the community/etc, or in the USA the abuser is often a cop. and if the police do show up, the abuser might not go to court or serve jail time, meaning he’ll be free to retaliate against the woman and children, and in many cases abusers retain parental rights over their children; even if a restraining order is issued, that doesn’t guarantee it will be enforced, and it will not prevent an abuser from harming the woman and children, only punish him for it after it’s too late. for the woman and her potential children, leaving means homelessness, starvation, immense psychological stress, and huge risk of retaliation up unto being murdered. so if, since she cannot resist or escape her abuser while he’s beating the shit out of her, she decides to take a kitchen knife and kill him while he’s passed out drunk, that’s self-defense.
yes, we can and must educate people, especially children, and yes this is the only way to bring lasting change on a societal level. but in the meantime, my roommate and her loved ones aren’t the ones suffering from chronic poverty, threatened and degraded by discrimination, being denied job opportunities and basic rights, or dying from completely preventable lack of food, shelter, and medical care, or being murdered because they and their lives are considered trash. no violence is not always the only solution, but sometimes it is, and sometimes it is the best solution.
obviously her understanding of the world is going to be heavily influenced by her experience of it. and the reality is, she’s blonde, thin and conventionally attractive, from an educated financially secure family, can afford to be vegetarian and buy high-quality food every day, and she can single-handedly pay her own university tuition (in canada) with her part-time job. but it’s easy for her to say that “violence is never the answer” when she has never, and likely will never, have to fight for her life, her rights, or those of people like her, will never have to defend her inherent worth to people who genuinely don’t care. and this is a good thing, because no one should have to do any of this, but it needs to be true for everyone. so repeat after me,
PACIFISM IS FOR THE PRIVILEGED.
THE LAW IS NOT JUSTICE.
CAPITALISM IS FAKE AND NON-SUSTAINABLE, IT IS A VIOLENT, SYSTEMATIC, MURDEROUS ATTACK AGAINST THE 99%. there is no reason other than the greed of the 1% for the way our society is currently structured or how resources are being distributed. jeff bezos is currently worth 165 billion USD. if you divided that equally among all 7 billion people on this planet right now, we would each have over 22 billion, can you wrap your heads around that? or let’s convert that into time, $1 for 1 second: if i earn 50k/year, i get to live for not even 14 hours; jeff over there will live for 5232 years. so yes, EAT THE RICH. it is horrifyingly evil to have that much money, knowing the only way to have that much is to make it at the expense of the vulnerable, off of slave labor and the exploitation of human suffering, and even worse to choose not to use it to improve the world around you and help your fellow man.
#rant#violence against women#capitalism#justice#human rights#gay rights#pacifism#white privilege#poverty#homelessness#self defense#revolution#jeff bezos#domestic violence
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I have survived a Dancing Mindfulness retreat! If you’re familiar with Dancing Mindfulness, you might look at that sentence and wonder what the big deal is or ask, “What on earth is so hard about surviving any form of expressive art at whose very core is non-judgment?” My response to that would be: absolutely NOTHING. And yet, at the very first Dancing Mindfulness class offered by its creator, who is also my best friend, I was quaking in my little yoga pants. I’d like to hope I would have been there even had I not been working as her Gal Friday at the time, but if I’m to be completely honest, I’m sure I would have found a way to pin my absence on my children if I could have. But since I was the mastermind’s assistant, there I was: participating but not embracing—feeling awkward in my own skin, as I always have; lacking inspiration in how to move from points A to B without looking like a total dork, judging nobody except myself, and harshly at that. The irony here is that DM was created to not only bring about mindful awareness, but also to heal the participants of issues like those I was afraid to face in myself and so many others. Give me choreography or give me death (unless you want to see my own personal rendition of Steve Martin’s character in The Jerk learning to dance when first hearing jazz!)
A little background on me: I’m a recovering alcoholic/addict, victim of molestation, rape and abuse, child of addicts, survivor of a parent lost to suicide. I’ve also had an abortion and am a screwball in general. In short: I’ve been in therapy for years due to having a lot of traumatic baggage in need of healing. Let’s face it: we all have stories and baggage, some of which was dumped on us by others, but it’s up to us to do the work necessary in order to heal. I’ve been #blessed in life to have several close friends, the cosmic joke being the bulk of them are therapists. I’ve found myself inspired by them countless times over the years, and have followed some of the suggestions given by them and those I’ve seen professionally, but I’d kept DM at arm’s length. I have rather short arms, giving me a T-Rex complex to boot, so you’d think it wouldn’t have taken me so long to finally give in to my friends in the DM community asking me to show up for more than a cameo appearance, but I took my sweet time. Despite the countless testimonials I’d seen and heard, despite seeing the growth of a community of the most incredible women (men as well, but my closest pals involved has been a sisterhood of sorts), despite the indescribable glow radiating from the participants. “This just isn’t my thing. You dance and I’ll update the website about how amazing you all feel.” My children eventually grew, making it possible for me to get away: nevertheless I resisted. This isn’t designed for Baryshnikov and the like, it was made for everyone to move however they wanted—but that was my very problem. What hit me this weekend was the realization that while I’m a creative person, I’ve had no consistent outlet for my creativity for decades. As a child I was frequently told I either wasn’t allowed to express myself or that, when I did, I was wrong/ridiculous/stupid/insert negative synonym here—and it took taking part in this retreat to realize that it wasn’t just my speaking that was affected by this load of crap I actually believed for the longest time. That hurt. A lot. Old beliefs I thought I had worked through were still right in the heart of me with exactly what was needed to release them right there in front of me FOR YEARS. Normally, this kind of proverbial bitch slap from reality would leave me questioning all the work I’d done over the years, eventually leading to a tailspin of depression and calling myself a failure. Lucky for me, I was in exactly the right place to process all of this. So many creative outlets twirling, painting, chanting, singing past me, well within my reach. I’d beat myself up over this like i usually do, but I’d rather heal.
Dancing Mindfulness IS MY THING. It’s for everyone and I finally understand that at soul level after having heard those very words too many times to count. I feel like Scrooge waking up on Christmas morning, elated to have his second chance. When your tribe is as amazing as mine, it’s hard to not be influenced by their positivity, and I acknowledge some growth on my part since they’ve come into my life; but I feel like whatever wall of resistance I still had remaining has been blown to pieces. I feel my heart exposed, and vulnerable at the thought of it, but loving the blank canvas of my life for once. I have a tribe, a safe place where I can be me and loved unconditionally for it, I can move from points A to B however I see fit to, and I’ll fucking thrive.
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Why Ross Geller Sucks
Now, I know I'm not alone when I say this, but Ross Geller was - by far - the worst Friend out of the entire series. Sure, he may have had his shining moments, but those were almost always overshadowed by his sheer awfulness. 1. Remember that time he refused to accept Pheobe's beliefs that science was wrong? Like, I get that he's a paleontologist and everything, but he literally fought tooth and nail, and basically called Phoebe stupid for not believing the thing that he believed in. 2. He was constantly making everything about himself. Remember the one where Mondler got married? Remember the infamous Ross quote, "I mean, you both said the right names, and no one was drunk, and no one was gay, and on your first try!" which then follows in him crying and the friends comforting him. 3. He played the victim during his and Emily's wedding. I mean, for real. He said the wrong name at his own damn wedding. Then proceeded to act like his wasn't his fault that he did it. Rachel didn't do anything. She just showed up. Sure, it was to attempt to win him back, but when she noticed how happy Emily made Ross, she thought better of it. So she held back and didn't ruin the wedding. It was all Ross. 4. He was incredibly homophobic and like ,,, sexist? Sure, it was the early nineties, and some things weren't as accepted back then as they are now, but let's make a list: * Was uncomfortable when Rachel hired a male nanny because he thought it was a woman's job and pushed her so hard to fire him. * Just assumed that Sandy was gay because ??? how could a male be a nanny if he wasn't gay ?? * Was super rude to Susan and Carol. Like, sure, I can understand being upset at your ex wife/husband, but he was like... blatantly homophobic and hated Susan for taking Carol away from him, when in reality, she obviously treated Carol a lot better than Ross ever did. She had a clear right to hate Ross's guts. (not to mention that he made Carol's coming out entirely about himself and couldn't even find it in himself to congradulate them). Sure, he walked Carol down the isle at her wedding, but remember how incredibly against it he was ???? * The episode where Ross freaks the fuck out over Ben playing with a Barbie and his entire storyline for that episode was him trying to figure out how to stop his son from playing with such a girly toy and isntead play with the manly G.I. Joe. Among others. 5. His jealousy was toxic. Need I remind you of the Mark/Rachel storyline? Ross was BEYOND jealous for no clear reason! Instead of being grateful to Mark for helping his girlfriend find a job she loves at her favorite store, he remained entirely suspicious of the man and wouldn't let Rachel out of his sight around him. And while it's revealed that Mark was into Rachel, he doesn't try and pursue her while she's with Ross. Ross literally set fire to Rachel's office trying to "prove his love" to her. 6. The pro/con list. After finding out the woman he had been pining after for a long-ass time, he proceeds to create a pro/con list about her. He describes her as "ditzy" and "just a waitress," as if those artibutes aren't good enough for him. How Ross had two women pining after him, I'll never know. 7. The whole time he was living with Joey and Chandler. Enough said. 8. He dated one of his students, which, is fine, considering he was a college professor, but he got unreasonably upset when she acted like a college student? She wanted to go and have fun during her spring break, and Ross was down her throat breathing heavily over her the entire time. He expected a 21 year old to be as mature as him, which really wasn't fair. 9. He refused to divorce Rachel. They got married in a drunk haze and they both obviously regretted it. Instead of granting Rachel's wish and getting the divorce, Ross decided it would be a good idea to lie about it and try and win her back ??? Like ??? That's probably the worst way to build back a healthy relationship with someone you used to date. She was basically begging and pleading Ross to get the divorce, but his pride was too inflated and he couldn't handle the embarrassment of it. 10. THEY. WERE. ON. A. BREAK. Yeah, you smashed asshole, but the words "We are breaking up" were never uttered by either one of them. By those terms, THEY WERE STILL TOGETHER WHEN ROSS CHEATED ON RACHEL. And not even 24 hours afterwards either! It was basically right away! And yet, Ross had the AUDACITY to be jealous of MARK who wasn't doing anything?! What a tool! He cheated on her. Plain as day. Cheated. Rachel had every right to be upset. 11. The letter. Rachel poured her heart out to Ross when they were at the beach house in that letter. While it was a hard request for him to read it all in one sitting when it was so late, he could have just said, "Oh, sorry, it was late and I fell asleep. I'll finish reading it today." When she asked if he read it. Instead the shitlord LIES to her and goes behind her back to finish reading her letter and later in the series mocks her for her words. She pours her heart and soul out to him, and he mocks her for it? 12. He ruined all of Phoebe's hopes that her mother was reincarnated into the cat that jumped into her guitar case. Instead of letting Phoebe grieve in her admittedly odd way, Ross completely crushes her ideas and belittles her for them, calling the idea of the cat being her mother stupid. It's a little detail, but it was heartbreaking imo. 13. Remember when he SCREAMED at Rachel for not being ready for his work event? Then was upset with HER when she came out in her pajamas? Like, can you blame her for not wanting to go anymore? 14. How he was upset at Joey for accidentally and unknowingly proposing to Rachel. Like, all Joey was doing was grabbing a tissue (i think) for Rachel. The ring box fell out of the jacket and Joey picked it up. It was just bad luck that he was startled, turned around to face Rachel, and that she said yes. (not to mention that - despite having a ring box - ross basically demanded that he was rachel get married? he never asked her, just told her what he thought was best ??) 15. Remember when Ross hooked up with Charlie almost immediately after she broke up with Joey - Joey sees this and then goes to Rachel, where they admit their feelings for each other and attempt to have a relationship. Ross had NO RIGHT to react the way he did to their relationship. He basically was on top of Charlie as soon as she broke up with Joey. And yet, has the audacity to be jealous of Joey and Rachel??? 16. He, in general, was just TOXIC, ANNOYING, MANUPULATIVE, TREATED WOMEN LIKE PROPERTY, AND WAS OVERALL THE WORST DAMN FRIENDS CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SHOW. tl;dr: ross geller is a shit
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