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deuce-duce · 3 years

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Am I...?? (Inwardly GASPS)!! Which Part...??

Today is March 2nd 2021 and I got my puter back and went to look at what I had last written on December 16th 2020. When I opened the file, it had been changed… dates had been obscured and certain things had been reworded… So… I have decided to go back through all of my previous posts to ensure the integrity of what I am writing stays that way! During this process I will be putting together a collection of my favorite quotes and post fragments. Which I will dub Rock and Roll’s Greatest Hits, if you live near me go buy airhorns Ill tell you why, When the greatest hits album comes out. What your about to read is primarily from Dec. 16th with a few changes or should I say… restorations?? Probably a little of both to be honest. Everything is still as it happened, I just add better descriptive words and fine tune the analogies so that they are easier to digest… My English teacher always told me that was what I was good at! Along with many others… who have said the same… not only do I understand it… I’m able to explain it in a way that others understand as well. ENJOY

On the seventh of December I woke up not too sure if something had occurred that night or not… as I have mentioned before they use a numbing agent that basically masks the pain until it wears off approximately 12 hours later… When I a woke on this day I was having moments of clarity and for some reason just couldn’t keep them to myself. talking to one of the staff members of the homeless shelter I expressed my destiny that I actually had one, that was going to bring me to greatness… then out of nowhere I just blurted out there is going to be a power shift!!!! And at that very moment I couldn’t believe what it was that had just come out of my mouth. I didn’t even believe it at first because the guy at the desk was like IDK… about… that… but when I went back into my room, the look on my roommate’s face said it all!! It seems as though those who pull strings and orchestrate a lot of this… put all of their eggs into one basket. I don’t know exactly what the terms of thee bet were but I’m assuming it had/has something to do with me not being able to control my compulsivity associated with my dissociation. Unfortunately for them I made a deal with God. It was while I was on quarantine and even though I was in a basement all by myself people kept F$%^&*!> with me. This is when I prayed stating that I would not falter, for my body his temple his craft and his glory. that I need to take care of myself and my destiny, for it is in his hands and I won’t let my selfishness or imperfections stop him from fulfilling his plan. Over and over again I have cried and cried about how fundamental and powerful this is all going to be. EFFIN CRAZY!! And now that I know without anyone telling me and it literally being given to me somehow is what is freaking everybody out. How do I know or how the hell did I figure it out!! I really couldn’t tell you and the only thing that is possible is that our Creator endowed me with such responsibility. Crazy!! (this was before I considered the probability of God being a woman, A mother, A Lover)

Low and behold one of my favorite artists Mr. Kid, Maniac, Rager, Wizard, Pursuer of Happiness Cudi dropped a new album entitled Man on the MOON Three. Ill have to say it’s a wonderfully made album! The album delves deep into who Scott is… I know the Fans are going to love it.

Rewind a little bit sorry for my hiatus just needed to stay focused and well as your aware have been led here not by accident and had some things that I needed to take care of before I started writing again. Not to mention I have been dealing with a lot only to know that I am who I am for a reason Rockstar Knights off MOTM3 has a lot to say concerning who I am and what I have realized as a result to my struggle. The Song is a collab with Trippie Redd and really encapsulates so much, that its hard to describe in words.

I had a very interesting conversation with my mother the other day and came to a pretty profound thought. 1st I was telling her how I was being told that I am too….!!! Smart!! Like WTF!! REALLY!! Is that even a thing?? But I didn’t let it get to me too much as it probably is the reason I face so much adversity, No matter the community I enter into. This is how I have explained it to her and a couple other people in the community as well as the Rasta Man in the PNW. The best analogy I could present is if a plant with a fire burning so big and so hot on one side of the plant, a fire so big and hot that it probably would kill most other plants, but not this plant. This plant had sooooo much drive and will to live that instead of giving up it grew in the opposite direction of the blaze. While the roots could withstand the blazing inferno becoming one with the heat and pain Upon the journey away from the fire (society) the plant developed different characteristics colors and attributes that no other plant had. Essentially that journey completely changed that plants physiology Psychology and possible its genetic makeup altogether. Now that the plant has grown so far from the fire (Society) that its all alone. Now theres a different kind of fire where he once thought was safe. But as he grows back towards the fire to escape the new blaze (tyranny) he realizes he will never be able to be the same as the fire he grew so far away from. Now the only option the plant has with death being imminent is to grow as big and bright as quickly as possible before it is engulfed on all sides.

All this taken into account along with factoring in the two major belief structures in the world one Being Creation or Evolution (The Big BANG) this plant which has defied all odds still shines brightly displaying its colors and unique characteristics no matter how dark the room may be it still continues to bloom! Is this a Divine will and plan or are we experiencing the next step of Evolution??? My honest opinion is its both! For the mere ability to adapt and change and prevail in situations others couldn’t dream of or even have nightmares about is truly remarkable and in my eyes is an act of GOD! Just as any evolutionary step would be. The crazier part is… he has no handle!! Nothing to grab on to leaving no way for anyone to grab hold and control! AYE….

I thought this all might just be me being stubborn or simply an idiot until for some reason I opened up my meme App. Something I never open or even look at and the first thing that popped up was a picture and quote saying that many told Marilyn Monroe that she was only beautiful because of the clothes and dresses she wore. It then concluded Marilyn Monroe did a photoshoot in nothing but a burlap potato sack. The photos and the message she sent were completely opposite of that which was being said by spectators. Now!! As scrolled to the second meme I was expecting something funny!! That wasn’t the case what I saw next was the upcoming alignment of the two largest planets in the solar system Jupiter and Saturn. Not only does their alignment happen only every 20 years but the proximity of this occurrence to the earth as well as the proximity to each other hasn’t been the same for close to 800 years… What does it all mean… IDK but The Christmas Star is what their calling the alignment and if your familiar with the bible is the star that the kings, from other lands followed to bring gifts to baby JESUS! Who knows what this alignment could usher in.?

So profound thought comes to me on a daily basis now it’s so strange the way that it comes it will just be momentary thoughts that will pass through my conscience and as they go by I latch on to it delve a little deeper and experience an overwhelming amount of… IDK what to call it but it feels very powerful so much so that it brings me to tears… I don’t know exactly what the future holds but I think that is what makes this so great! I just keep my mind open Like apple IOS Systems letting everything come and go as it pleases when something goes by that strikes me, I latch on and don’t let go. Its weird how it all happens.

Steve Jobs once said that if he had never had an acid trip that he would have never of come up with the operating system for Apple and after explaining to you what I do as a spiritual and destiny seeking process I believe was his thought process as well. This in of itself is what I think they mean when they say to keep an open mind. Just so you know I didn’t come up with that little bit about the late Mr. Jobs by plan it just came to me when thinking about how to have, use and keep an open mind.

The reason I explained this to you was because this is how I Pray! After I pray I sit still with an open mind allowing multiple ideas thoughts and perspectives to pass through my brain… until like an IOS operating system, something speaks to me… when I latch on to it, focus on what it means and what it will mean… “I Get Those Goosebumps Everytime” (Goosebumps, Travis Scott, feat. Kendrick Lamar, Birds in the Trap Sing Mcknight, 2016). This is how you know! A little extra for ya, when I went to look up the info for my first Hip Hop citation it was 11:11 lol there they go again… its really a cool feeling!

Can someone tell me if that APA or MLA…?? Ya know what!! Eff IT!! None of my writing is orthodox, besides I kinda like the way I did it haha

Kid Cudi’s new video just dropped and I couldn’t be more amazed with all of the hidden messages that are in there. He is officially the man on the moon. Passion pain and demon slaying like a maniac on the pursuit of happiness. Love that DUDE!!

That’s all I got for 12-16-2020 Five More Days…

LOVE & PEACE

Songs

Heaven On Earth – Kid Cudi

Goosebumps – Travis Scott, feat. Kendrick Lamar

Dirty Heads – Sound Of Change

Just so you know the only thing I added this time other the cleaning up what I had already written was the praying part. Although I originally remember that being the purpose as to why I wrote what I did looking at it today March 2nd 2021 it wasn’t there… have a great day everyone. Ill post this on 3/3/2021

I've added parts to the story on my business cards and will leave then random places, what you do with them is up to you but I think It would be cool for those who want to stop me to have to work extra hard just like they make me!!

LOVE

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guardianofjunmyeon · 7 years

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Seven (Prologue)

Paring: All of EXO x OC

Genre: Romance; Angst; Fantasy Post-Apocalyptic AU; Smut; Drama

Description: For a girl who has difficulty distinguishing emotionally charged decisions from logic, being placed in the middle of a growing war is the last thing the world needs. She finds herself stuck in a world full of mutants, magic, and privilege. It's up to her to decide where she wants to stand. Will she save those who need her most, or will she let her own selfish desires turn her into the thing she once hated most. A human infected with the Seven.

Warnings: Literally...everything. R*pe. Self Harm. Eating Disorders. Slavery. Violence. Abuse. Not for the faint hearted.

A/N: There’s no EXO the chapter. Just a prologue really.

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Rest of the Story

I don’t remember much about the night I was forced to run away from home. Hell, I can barely recall what my last meal consisted of, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make right now. What matters right now is the fact that I don’t remember falling asleep that night. That night that I left my little and obscure village. I can't remember falling asleep, and I don’t remember telling my parents goodnight.

But I do clearly remember waking up.

It was hot.

My whole body felt way too hot. I remember sitting up sweaty in bed, trying to gather my senses. Eyes closed and squinted in agitation. No one likes being woken up sweaty and angry. I remember my hand grabbing and tossing soggy covers off my bed to help alleviate some of the body heat that was trapped underneath the thick material.

It didn’t help.

I can recall struggling to open my eyes fully, and when I was finally able to widen them, seeing and feeling wrapped in a warm light. A part of my mind told me that it was just the sun struggling to break through the curtains in my room; however, another (smarter) part of my brain was trying to tell me that something was wrong.

My brain was trying to tell me to panic.

To jump up. To leave, but all I could focus on was how weirdly numb and suffocated I felt.

The sun was too hot. The room was too hot. I was too hot. My limbs were tingling, and every breath that I took hurt more than what I knew was acceptable. Every inhalation was accompanied by a dry burning in my throat and quickly followed by a choking cough. Everything was wrong.

I could feel the water sliding from my eyes, down my cheeks, but I wasn’t crying. Not intentionally at least.

The next thing I remember is the thin brown door to my room flying open. My mom stood there surrounded, if not engulfed, by daunting dark clouds. She was coughing heavily; I started coughing again, and then her lips were moving. She was frantically moving her mouth, but I couldn’t hear her.

I couldn’t hear anything.

A dim ringing was the only sound in my ears, letting me know that the sense still existed, but for whatever reason was currently impaired and not of any use at the moment. I sat in shock at the loss of my hearing while my mom had already begun pulling me up into her arms and carried me out of my asphyxiating room. The world around me got brighter, hotter, and (as the tears in my eyes intensified) blurrier as she carried me through the living room, through the hallway, out of the house. It was getting even harder to breathe and I was still too stunned to process the messages my brain was desperately trying to send to me.

Get up.

Move.

Do something!

She sat me on the ground a good few meters from the house and then kissed my forehead. Her lips rested against my skin almost somberly, as if it was an apology.

Or maybe it was meant to be a goodbye.

When she looked back in to my eyes I could see traces of sadness, hesitance, and fear. Her hands rested against my cheeks and she rubbed the pads of her thumbs lightly against them. She stared at me, and I stared dumbly back at her.

Her mouth moved as she told me one last thing. Before I could form a thought she was running back in the direction we came, back into the house consumed by flames.

I never figured out what it was that she said to me.

I remember thinking that I was just dreaming. I remember thinking that the fire was probably a figment of my imagination and that I would wake up if I pinched the skin under my arm. I took a bit of skin between my thumb and index finger and squeezed harshly. I closed my eyes from the slight pain and hoped that the fire would disappear when I reopened my eyes.

It didn’t.

It was then that I snapped into reality. All of my senses rushed at me at once and I was overloaded with the different stimuli surrounding me.

I could smell the smoke, the burning wood, and upholstery. I turned my upper body around and I saw that the rest of the houses in the village were burning to the ground as well. The dim ringing vanishes; I could suddenly hear it all. The crackling. The terrifying sound of fire eating through the homes of my neighbors, friends, and family. And then I could place one other more terrifying noise.

Screaming.

Or maybe it was crying.

I could see people sitting outside their homes letting out strangled cries. Clutching their burnt and tattered clothes in their shaking hands. Limply staring at the bright consuming blaze.

Were they mourning their homes? Or those stuck inside? The shrieks and cries were overwhelming so I put my hands up to my ears and squeezed my eyes shut in a half-assed attempt to block it all out.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted it to all go away. It was too much and I couldn’t process it all.

I tried to mentally escape, I tried to think of something happy. Something nice. An explanation that could make the whole situation feel less horrifying. My dad would know what to say to calm me down.

My eyes opened in panic at the last thought. My parents were still in the house. My mom had run back in to find my dad and they hadn’t come out yet. She was taking too long. They were both taking way too long. My body finally responded to the signals sent by my brain; I finally scrambled up to my feet and made a shaky step towards the house.

Do you want to die? Go find help! You can’t go in there yourself you idiot.

I stopped in my tracks. I turned around ready to run and find help. Any kind of help. There had to be someone who knew what to do. Someone who could save my parents.

My chest constricted and felt tight, and I was crying now from my own dread rather than from the smoke that was flowing from windows like dirtied water. The deadly streams slowly lifted and swirled around in the dark sky, the light from the full moon barely filtering through.

I only managed to turn partially before I was frozen again in my spot.

There was a guy. I don’t remember what he looked like or what he was wearing, but I will never forget seeing the flames flying from his hand. It’s kind of funny how his presence froze me, but what he was doing to the things around me was the entire opposite.

He looked like he was setting the trees on fire. His arms were stretched out as if they were hoses, his fingers splayed and the flames flooded wildly away from him. He looked entirely unaffected by the blazing heat that he was producing, he was calm almost, as if he was painting my village red and orange.

As the intense blazes flowed from him and wrapped around the trunks of the peaceful trees it sunk in that he was the one who did this to me. The one who did this to us. Why was he doing this?

The angry flames continue to appear from the palm of his hand like some kind of magic trick, and had I not been in a state of debilitating panic…it would have been beautiful almost. And in hindsight, his ability to control his element was undeniably alluring and sophisticated. But what could have been used for a bewitching show, was instead used as a show of power and destruction. That, was inexcusable.

I was standing there staring for so long that he must have felt my eyes gaping at him. He halted in his alchemy and shifted so that he was now facing me. He stared at me for what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than 2 seconds; I was still so entranced by the magic I had witnessed that I was frozen to the ground.

Seeing that I was making no motions to flee, that man smirked. He took a step towards me and I felt myself snap to.

He was going to come after me.

I was going to die.

So I did the only logical thing.

I ran.

I ran the opposite direction of him, right into the heart of my village. My house sat on the western outskirts of the little village and after 10 years of living here, I knew this place like the back of my hand. I knew that there was a river not far from where I was if I just ran straight. I just had to run straight.

And I did. I ran right passed the crumbling houses, right passed the charred bodies, right through the trees and brush that encircled what was once my home. I didn’t look back. Afraid that the man who could throw fire was behind me, I kept on sprinting.

I don’t remember how long I ran or how far. I just know that I didn’t stop until my legs gave up and I collapsed to my knees somewhere in the depths of the dense forest. I knew that I was lost. I knew that I should have reached the river long ago, but I hadn’t. I was in the thick of the forest in the middle of the night with no clue where to go next.

The heaviness of my situation crashed down on me, my body reacted first. A strangled sob found its way out of my mouth and my chest rose and fell at an erratic pace. It was like a thousand little birds had been trapped in my body and had begun to rip me apart from the inside so that they could escape. My heart and lungs wanted to escape. If it would stop the pain, then I wanted them to as well.

I had left them.

I left them all to die.

And now. Even if I wanted to go back, I had no way. I couldn’t trace my path back if someone held a knife to my throat.

I was alone, and it was my own fault. I should have stayed and died with them. I should have grabbed my mom and made her stay with me. I should have run in to the house after her. I should have gone in to save my parents.

The tears slithered in steady and heavy lines from my tear duct, I began screaming out into the sky. I screamed out in hopes that the darkness would swallow my sounds, and maybe I could be swallowed as well. The sounds ripped out of my chest hard and loud. They hurt, but the pain was the only thing I had to remind me that I am here. This is happening. This is real.

They needed me back there. I only thought of myself and now they were all suffering because I was too small, too young, too scared to do anything. My parents, my friends, my family, my village, all gone.

I didn’t deserve to live.

The chilly autumn air blew passed me taking the last of my energy with it, and I shivered. I had no more voice to use. My throat was dry and my cheeks were still damp from the salty streams left on them. I was defeated.

I thought for a second that I should just stay and die here. I should just stay still, and eventually starvation or a wild animal would come and take my life so that I won’t have to myself. After all I was a coward and I deserved it. I wasn’t worthy of taking my life with my own hands. It had to be another.

But then I thought about my mother rescuing me before running back into the fire herself. She saved me. She wanted me to live, and sitting and moping here instead of continuing to move would do nothing to help anyone.

If she wanted me to live…then I would do it for her. If not for myself, then I would do it for them. The winds whistled around my body as if encouraging me to stand and find my way to safety. A cold embrace, but comforting. It was the only thing I had left. Just the thick burnt clothes on my body, my shoeless feet, and the wind.

I almost got up to start walking after the consolation from the wind, but I was wracked by another wave of mourning. I sat there and silently bawled for at least another hour.

As expected, I don’t know how long I stumbled about the forest. I never did come in contact with another animal and I did happen to find the river after a while. Without any other animals around, finding food was difficult; however, I ate berries off of bushes and followed along the bank of the river letting its strong torrents serve as my hope to find some kind of town.

Luckily, my prayers were answered soon enough and I finally found a city. The city where I live now. I must have been around dawn that day when I reached the edge of the trees and was met with an asphalt road. I had never seen that kind of ground before and I was slightly afraid that it would hurt me. A dark unmoving river couldn’t be good news right? After taping the ground with my sock covered foot and finding it solid, I followed it into the city.

Young and naïve I walked right into the heart of the society I had been separated from. Right into the capital that controls the chunk of the world that I had never heard of or been a part of. I walked right into the hell that I once thought would be my new paradise.

There weren’t many people moving around when I arrived, which in hindsight was good for me. I had heard about what these kinds of cities were like. Living secluded in a semi technological village, hearing about these bigger and better cities were like our fairy tales, but until that moment, I thought that they were just places of legend. My home was only full of maybe a hundred people, but this place was thousands of times bigger.

I grew up hearing that these kinds of cities were big, bright, and loud, but it was nothing compared to what I was actually met with.

Large metallic and luminescent skyscrapers, their cold enormous walls that glowed with projected images and words. The images and words moved like they were a television screen, and I couldn’t figure out how they were being displayed. There must have been a projector somewhere.

Beautiful faces of people holding things that I had never seen and couldn’t afford were shown on nearly every surface. Large screens were everywhere and they were showing a woman who was more beautiful than anyone I had ever seen. The city felt alive with artificial life, and it was strangely devoid of soul.

I had never been exposed to so much technology in one place and it seemed as though that technology came with the loss of spirit. I was saddened by the lack of vehicles, but I could hear the engines of cars and the hums of the train not far from where I was situated. Twinkling lights illuminated the streets, music flowed from the different machinery, and I felt like I was in a new silver and shiny world. I was in a whole new world that seemed absolutely beautiful.

I hadn’t learned what that shiny beauty was meant to hide.

I had almost forgotten about the traumatic event I had experienced until I saw a woman standing at what looked like an outdoor pumpkin sale. Her jewelry adorned hand caressed the shell of one of the pumpkins and I watched in both awe and horror as her pumpkin grew 3 times bigger than before just from her touch. Seeing her use magic immediately triggered images of the man who could throw fire. The loud, unfamiliar, and shiny world around me transformed back in to the warm and comforting image of small houses, familiar faces, and tranquil nature. Images of my life ran before my eyes, and then they suddenly all went up in flames. I fainted before I could get a hold on my thoughts.

I woke up on what I assumed was a bed, and for maybe 5 seconds I thought that everything had just been some kind of messed up dream. However, I was quickly pulled from that thought when I realized that my ‘bed’ was more of a dingy cot than anything else. It smelt rancid. A mixture of dried piss, what I hoped was the smell of garbage (which I later found out was actually feces), and something metallic (which I also found out later was blood) invaded my nose.

I dry heaved a couple of times over to the side of the cot just from the disgusting smells. Only not actually throwing up since there wasn’t enough food in my body to release. I felt my eyes burning from the threat of tears and my body was on edge and ready to get up and make another run for the door. I didn’t know where I would go in this robotic city, but I wasn’t going to stay here.

I was almost done planning my escape when I saw it. Food. It wasn’t much, but after being in the woods and not having a sufficient meal for however many days I was out there, this was almost too much.

A bowl of rice, a piece of bread, and a large glass of clean non river water. I ate it greedily and my stomach twisted angrily in pain after being greeted with the sudden influx of nutrients. As soon as it all hit my stomach, I heaved violently. I almost threw it all right back up on the wooden floor under me, but I wasn’t going to let that happen. Perfectly good food wouldn’t be wasted. I swallowed hard in an attempt to keep down the bile and swallowed a few extra times afterwards just to push it and keep it from reappearing on the ground before me.

It was at that moment that I looked around the room. It wasn’t small…but it was awfully cramped. My cot was surrounded by maybe 20-30 other ones. They were all empty at that moment, but I could tell that people obviously slept on them and used them. All of them were uncomfortably close to one another, and there was a gap in the middle of the room giving it a little walking space. The walk space led to a set of stairs that led down, and I didn’t want to know what was below me. I noticed two square windows. One on either side of the room.

After a glance out of the one closest to me I could see that it was daytime. The ceiling of the room made the room feel like a large triangular prism. Where I found myself had to be some kind of attic or something.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the creaking of the stairs. I prepared myself to be met with my worst nightmare.

A man.

That man.

The one who could throw fire. I was afraid he had been the one to find me on the street and now he was going to kill me. After surviving on my own for as long as I did, I wasn’t going to just let him get rid of me without a struggle.

But I was wrong. I was met with someone who would be almost just as bad as the man who could throw fire. It was a woman.

She smiled at me, but it never reached her dark eyes. It looked professional, the kind of smile that was rehearsed to look warm and supportive. I wasn’t buying it.

She looked like she was around my mom’s age. Mid 30s or 40s, but she was actually around 50 at the time. Her hair was a light brown that reminded me of the pine straws I could find on the ground in the woods. Her hair was straight and barely long enough to brush against her thin shoulders.

She was skinny and tall and she would have seemed nice…had her eyes not been a soulless dark green. They were the kind of dark green that were like the leaves of a tree when the moon is dully lighting the sky. Ominous. Terrifying. I often times thought that if I looked into her soulless irises that my own soul would be sucked into their abyss. I couldn’t look into her eyes for too long, I wasn’t willing to find out if my theory and fear were legitimate.

She approached my cot and knelt down next to me. She glanced at my empty dishes. Her next smile was just as empty as the first.

Her fragile fingers lightly ran over the rim of my empty glass. “I see you’ve eaten what I laid out for you.” She searched my face. I didn’t respond. She continued on, “I run this place. Do you happen to know where you are?” I shook my head as a silent no. She took her hand away from the dish and moved it so that it sat on top of my matted hair. Her hands weren’t cold, no. But they weren’t warm. They felt…fake. Like the hand of one of my old dolls. She patted the crown of my head while her dark eyes looked into mine. “This is an orphanage sweetheart. I run this place.” I kept my lips together and shifted my gaze from hers. It felt like she could read my mind if I looked into her eyes, and I didn’t want her to know how frightened and confused I was in her presence. I left her on her own to deal with my frustrating silence. She tried a few other questions that were meant to level with me, relax me. None worked; I wasn’t going to tell her anything about me. I feared what would happen if she found out too much about me.

Besides, you aren’t supposed to talk to strangers. Especially strangers who take you to their house.

When she asked me my name, I was finally ready to answer her. I could tell her that little fact without giving away too much. I looked in to her soulless eyes and I sat for a second too long without answering so she asked if I had a name. I opened my mouth to tell her “Yes. I do have a name you dumb woman.” But when I wracked my brain for my name, I couldn’t find it. I closed my mouth and squeezed my eyebrows together perplexed while looking away slightly embarrassed.

My name.

What was my name?

I could feel it, but it was stuck on the tip of my tongue and wouldn’t fully show itself. It was hiding behind other memories and thoughts. Playing a game of hide and seek in my mind, and I was not in the mood for this silly game.

There was an A in it right? Or maybe it was an O? An H? Looking back at her, I could sense that she was getting impatient with me, so I stuttered out my final answer. “Y-yes…but I can’t remember what it is.” My voice was hoarse from lack of use, and I more or less croaked out that one statement.

She clicked her tongue and muttered out a quick, “How disappointing.”

I searched through my brain for a name to pop out. Any name. And just when I thought I had it, it would slip back into the recesses of my mind. I couldn’t remember any names. Not my own, not my parents, not anyone that I once knew. Their faces are still there, but the names have vanished. Much like their existence on the planet. My chest tightened in the way I had become all too familiar with, and my eyes began to spill hot and fresh tears. She wrapped her long arms around me in an attempt to soothe me.

She told me to quiet down. She told me that everything would be alright from now on. When she rubbed my back it felt off, I assumed it was just because it wasn’t my mom’s hug, but I welcomed it nonetheless. I needed the affection, even if it was coming from a woman who held the same amount of warmth as a soggy piece of toast.

She told me to call her Momma. She told me that she’d take care of me from that moment on. Feed me. Shelter me. Love me. And admittedly that was all I wanted at 10 years old.

I was ignorant to fall in to her trap and become a character in her little game.

I would pay for that mistake for years to come.

#exo fanfiction #reverse harem #reverseharem #i don't even know what to tag this #tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: drugs #tw: slavery #tw: self-injury #tw: sucide mention #exo

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roominthecastle · 7 years

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I really love you reading your meta about TBL - thank you so much for watching it again. One of the next title will be Philomela. The Greek mythology caracter was, raped by her brother in law, Tereus, who cut her tongue. She described her fate through a tapestry sent to her sister, Procne, who decided to kill her own son and make Tereus eat it.. So another tale of siblings, secret communication and child sacrificed. How do you think that could play into TBL ?

Thanks so much for reading my ramblings, anon. I appreciate it!

As to your question, I’m not sure. I think the simplest (and therefore most likely) scenario is that the (possibly mute) blacklister featured in this episode has a similar backstory and is on a revenge mission against a powerful person and/or institution that tried to silence/oppress her and others like her - a mission that gets accomplished only at a massive personal cost? But blacklisters tend to comment on the main characters’ ongoing stories + there’s no reason we should accept the show’s creative limits as our own, so we can look for other possible allusions here. I can think of 3 off the top of my head, but first allow me to add some more details to your summary above to make it easier to see the parallels:

The Philomela story is quite progressive if you think about it. It all begins with the two sisters, Philomela and Procne, missing each other. The latter’s husband, Tereus, agrees to escort Philomela from Athens to Thrace so they can see each other, and promises to look after her as if he were her own father. But during the journey he “falls in deep lust” with her, this lust wins out and ends in rape. When Philomela threatens to expose him, he cuts her tongue out, leaves her imprisoned in the woods, then tells her sister she’s dead. But the princess is determined to be heard, so she weaves her tragedy into a tapestry, and when her sister learns about what her husband did, they take revenge on him by feeding him what he loves, his son. They also pray to the gods to be protected in the aftermath, so when the enraged king attacks them, they all get turned into birds. Sources vary on who gets turned into what, but let’s go with Ovid: a nightingale (Philomela), a swallow (Procne), and a hoopoe (Tereus). The nightingale - Philomena and nightingale-mourning/sorrow/loss/pain/suffering connotations pop up in later works, too, e.g. by Chaucer, Shakespeare, Keats, Shelley, Eliot, and Atwood, so this is by no means an obscure tale.

Now, since Red is being attacked by a person (seemingly) v close to him, and the preceding ep focuses on Mr. Kaplan whose sister was also v recently introduced (411), we cannot ignore the obvious allusions here: sisters, silencing, imprisonment in the woods, a revenge plan involving digestion. Simply put, Red is a powerful man, a king of sorts, who gets betrayed by Mr. Kaplan, so he takes her out into the woods and shoots her to make sure she doesn’t divulge more of his secrets. She is presumed dead and for a while is imprisoned in a cabin, then disappears, and the attacks on Red begin. It culminates in him ingesting a poison in what he loves, scotch, which almost kills him. We also learn that Mr. Kaplan has a sister who was hardcore enough to face the Russian Mafia by testifying against a member, so she might not take too kindly to Red disposing of her sister. This is ofc pure speculation on my part since we know next to nothing about her and her “capabilities”, but the loose (!) similarities are there.

Another possible “commentary” this story can provide (depending on how it gets interpreted, if at all) concerns the way Red relates to Liz and vice versa. The king promises to protect the princess as a father would, but as they journey together, sexual attraction develops, which can already be considered a violation of this promise. Then control goes out the window and the princess is left violated and imprisoned. Again, the similarities are vague and I am NOT trying to suggest Red would ever coerce sex from Liz and then leave (that’s Tim territory), but as a Lizzington-inclined individual and in light of the current framing of their relationship, this “violation and control/power aspect” can be potentially relevant. I believe it’s entirely possible Red originally promised to protect Liz in a “fatherly” capacity (and reiterated this promise in 108 to Sam as well), but then during their criminal catching “journey” v “unfatherly” feelings entered the picture. Eros started to gain ground over power/control, and Red’s attachment grew. Liz and Mr. Kaplan (the “sisters” in this case) took issue with the way he was behaving, deemed it oppressive, dangerous, and selfish, then pushed back against it. Liz felt trapped and Mr. Kaplan (like most recently Emma in 411) urged Red to let her go, but he didn’t and it had its own tragic outcome. While I don’t buy this “selfish oppressor” image the show’s currently struggling to push on Red, it’s still a fact that Liz felt “intruded upon” and “imprisoned” by his “crime king” presence and Mr. Kaplan shared her views.

A third possible message “Philomela” might intend to deliver is a simple one we have heard from Red several times before (most recently in 413): “The truth will out. It always does.” After the persistent b.s. high tide on this show, a bit of truth would be nice for a change, and that’s pretty much all I can say with certainty here.

edited to add: Philomena and Philomela can be used interchangeably.

#anonymous #rape cw #the blacklist #lizzington #musings #speculation

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andersa · 4 years

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Alexander McCall Smith: Humankind by Rutger Bregman makes the case that humans are altruistic, not selfish

Rutger Bregman’s new book Humankind contains a real-life version of the ‘Lord of the Flies’ scenario that turned out very differently to William Golding’s novel, writes Alexander McCall Smith

Rutger Bregman's book Humankind could join the works of people like Sigmund Freud, pictured, in changing the way we think about human nature (Picture: AFP/Getty Images) Copyright: Getty Images

There are some books that you read, utterly rapt, in very few sittings, close with a sigh, and think, or even say, “Yes, precisely”. Sometimes such books make you want to write to the author and say thank you. So you get out your pen and you begin: “I do not make a habit of writing to authors...” (It’s remarkable how many letters to authors actually do begin that way.)

I am thinking of writing to Rutger Bregman to thank him for writing his new book Humankind. I shall probably not do so, because we all think of writing far more letters than we actually write. Indeed, there should be a special category of books: The Collected Intended Letters of... or The Unwritten Letters of...

This book has just been published and is beginning to be widely discussed. It is not entirely novel: the main issue it deals with has long been the stuff of debate in fields as diverse as biology, anthropology, and philosophy. The issue revolves around the question: is homo sapiens really red in tooth and claw? Hobbes and Rousseau are the poles there, and Bregman goes back to that old intellectual tussle, but with new insights, new evidence, and, in some cases, a fresh take on old evidence. This book, which is far from being a dry academic tome, could well be a much needed reminder of the traditional virtues of modesty and the like, of sharing, and of co-operation rather than vicious competition.

There are, of course, moments when the way in which we look at the world is changed by a single work. Darwin and Freud both produced books that changed the way we saw the world. In Darwin’s case, the publication of The Origin of Species was Copernican in the challenge it posed to our view of ourselves and of our place in the world. Later on, when genetics showed us how much of our DNA we shared with vegetables and pigs, let alone with other primates, notions of human exceptionalism were further weakened.

Freud’s writings similarly unsettled our view of ourselves, this time in the way in which we understood why we do what we do. Freud’s theories may not have survived scientific scrutiny, but the change that he brought about changed our fundamental intellectual framework and ideas of human motivation. Certainly, that was how Auden saw him in his poem In Memory of Sigmund Freud, where he wrote “to us he is no more a person/ now but a whole climate of opinion”.

The Selfish Gene

There have been others who have made people think very differently about the world, although few to the extent to which Darwin and Freud did. Scientific books may catch the popular imagination, as happened with Richard Dawkins’ The Selfish Gene, a widely read and highly influential work in its time. Then there was Stephen Hawking’s Brief History of Time that made the author a household name even in those households where cosmology may not be an everyday topic of conversation. That book sold in its millions, but has actually been read by a very small proportion of those who bought it – so obscure are the matters it sets out to elucidate. Even the duffers’ guide to A Brief History of Time has flummoxed most of those who have a copy. And yet for many, Professor Hawking did change their understanding of the world.

Bregman’s book may not change academic opinion to any great extent, but it stands a very good chance of having a real impact on the feelings of the general public. Having been written for ordinary readers, as opposed to specialists, it will no doubt be greeted with the academic sniffiness that is often displayed when a generalist presumes to write on subjects reserved for the Academy. Rutger Bregman, of course, does not pretend to be a professional evolutionary anthropologist or anything of the kind: he is an historian and journalist, described by the book’s publishers as one of “Europe’s most prominent young thinkers”. As a general rule, old thinkers are to be preferred to young thinkers – on the grounds that old thinkers have usually done a bit more thinking, have seen a bit more of the world, and have probably changed their ideas as they go along. But Bregman is a very good advertisement for those young thinkers who range freely over a variety of academic disciplines, are well-read, have open minds and are prepared to challenge philosophical orthodoxy.

The glove he throws to the ground in this invigorating book is a challenge to the received view that people are inherently selfish and violent. That is a view that has enjoyed widespread support, and has always been used as a justification for state coercion and control. It is also music to the ears of those who would regard human life as a matter of ruthless competition rather one of sharing and co-operation. That, Bregman argues, is simply wrong: we are an altruistic, co-operative species, and we flourish best when our institutions – and even business practices – stress trust and sharing. If that message rings true at this particular moment of crisis, then perhaps we should not be surprised. If books require the right zeitgeist to have a major impact, then Bregman’s timing may prove brilliant.

Humankind is kind

The book is crammed full of fascinating examples, including a real-life Lord of the Flies. William Golding, we are told, was something of a misanthrope, and in imagining the story of how badly a group of boys would behave if marooned on a desert island, he extrapolated from the way he would behave. We believed him. But in fact when a group of real Tongan boys were stranded on a small island for 15 months in 1965, they actually behaved extremely well. They co-operated, kept their fire going, and did not fight. All the things we need to do in our own crisis.

Reading Bregman on desert island behaviour sent me straight off to my own shelves, where I happen to have a book called The Robbers Cave Experiment, which gives an account of an important sociological experiment carried out on a group of American boys in 1954. They were not placed on an island, but were observed in camp conditions to see how they co-operated and related socially. They did not emerge as angels, but different sub-groups did co-operate to achieve common goals. That is not good news for the Golding hypothesis. The American boys, of course, were the product of American society, and would have been influenced by its individualistic ethos. The Tongan boys came from a very different society.

Bregman’s book is something of a beacon at the moment, when many are looking for values to profess in our traumatised and altered society.

Essentially he is reminding us that human nature is not inherently vicious; that we should celebrate kindness; and that conflict and confrontation are not what we are somehow programmed to perpetuate. People have started to talk about this book: perhaps the moment of this entirely positive, heartening message is about to come. Humankind is kind: we have seen that, we want it to be true, and there’s no real reason why we should not act accordingly.

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ultratangerine · 4 years

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Wanna know your thoughts on the subject. I think show don't tell isn't really the best literary advice. Like, it is good but it is good in a sense that, if showing but not telling benefits the intentions of the authors the best, then use it. It also makes it easier to read, but like. Tolstoy won't be Tolstoy if he didn't tell. Peace and War needs the tell part to work. Tbh in many stories 'tell" end up falling not because they "tell" but because "show doesn't match what's told".

OH thank you so much for sending this ask (though I’m not completely sure you sent it to the right blog, since I’m not a professional writer). I do have a lot of thoughts on showing vs. telling.First of all, you’re absolutely right on all accounts, especially with your last observation. People take “show don’t tell“ as gospell but, like any rule, it’s situational. I think there are a number of elements to take into consideration when making this choice.

1) Detail. Basically: “How important is this information and what role does it play in my story?” You make a good point with Tolstoy: he did do a lot of telling, which I think was a conscious choice. There were a lot of scenes which he absolutely wanted to put some emphasis on, so he showed such scenes in extreme detail. In other instances he did a lot a telling, because those parts didn’t need this much attention. If an author shows everything, the reader will drown in excessive detail, not knowing what’s relevant.2) Focus. “Is my narrator external or internal? What kind of connection do I want to create between the audience and my characters?“ Chuck Palahniuk has an interesting essay on showing, it can be used as basis for writing practice, but I think it’s very limited in it’s scope. If you have an external, non-omniscient narrator, then you’re pretty much limited to showing, because telling will feel either lazy or jarring. But if we’re inside the character’s head? We’ll most likely will be using every verb Palahniuk has “banned“: “to think“, “to know“, “to want“ and so on. People are intelligent creatures and we tend to verbalise what’s on our mind. True, saying outright a character is sad and angry is less impressive than showing them smash a glass, it’s a “filler“ sentence, but it’s often necessary, otherwise you might end up with a character whose actions aren’t grounded in their emotional state. In my opinion, for a healthy, well-rounded character it’s necessary to use both showing and telling.At the same time, avoiding outright telling can also be done intentionally: for example, to show how a character distances themselves from a situation emotionally. I can’t think of a good example from the top of my head, so I’ll be a bit selfish and use something from my own writing. Character A in my WIP has a dissociative disorder. On the rare occasions when he tells the reader about his feelings and thoughts, it’s usually something non-committal -- because he himself is confused about those topics. When he has a dissociative episode I completely switch to showing what’s going in the scene with no clear emotional reaction on his part in order to create a sense of detachment. Character B has a different problem: he lies to himself a lot and avoids engaging with heavy, confusing topics. When in his POV, the reader sees a lot of tiny details about things and people he has an emotional connection to. The character describes in painstaking detail a certain person’s looks and mannerisms, finding something new to add almost every chapter. He hears a floorboard creak and reaches for his gun in a single motion, as if he’s been practicing. He feels a certain smell and immediately stops everything to check where it’s coming from. This character also won’t say “I’m in love”, “I’m afraind”, “I’m in pain”, even though a more well-adjusted person would.3) Clearness. This is a bit related to both of previous points. It’s “How much do I want the audience to understand? What is the most effective way to deliver the message”. Iirc, the emphasis on “show don’t tell” in American literature comes from Hemingway and his “iceberg” theory of writing. He loved obscuring things from the reder and did very effectively -- so effectively, in fact, that much emotional impact of his work comes from NOT being told things. Think about the “baby shoes“ miniature: we know nothing about the family in question, nor when or how the baby died. We don’t even if know this woman truly wanted to be a mother -- or whether it’s a woman writing. The story is completely constructed inside our heads. But some stories require a lot of telling instead: maybe because what you have to say is complicated or because you want to engage the reader intellectually rather than emotionally.A work that, I think, has an interesting relationship with showing/telling is Umineko. It shows the characters and the setting in nuanced, almost eccessive detail -- and tells us virtually nothing. Even when you read the bonus chapters that explain what’s going on some questions are deliberately left hanging. In part this is because Umineko is a mystery story that want you to think about the clues, but it’s also used to create a sense of confusion, suspicion and unease. But Umineko also states its central message clearly and repeatedly. It’s only from this sort of contradiction that true understanding can be born.

Ahh, sorry, this is sort of long and my comma use is atrocious. Tl;dr: Just choose whatever you think fits your story best! There are no hard rules in writing.

#writing #show vs tell #writing rules #Anonymous

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