Re: villain stans, I really do think you're conflating two groups of people and I feel the need to point it out because the art of haterism deserves pinpoint precision. The thing is that I would consider myself, broadly speaking, a villain stan and I also can't stand the people you're complaining about in that post because I think they've missed the point entirely. They've ruined the entire villain-loving ecosystem. I can't even facetiously say "they've never done anything wrong, ever, in their entire life" about characters that may as well be called Murders McWarCrimes, and whose death or comeuppance I am eagerly awaiting alongside everyone else in the fandom, because some of these idiots actually mean it when they say things like that -- and usually about some of the blandest, most disappointing villains I've seen in a long time. It's like passionately defending the storytelling equivalent of a slightly offensive shade of beige.
Look, some of us see the "time to boo and hiss" signs the narrative is putting up, but I'm not looking to experience every story like it's a children's pantomime. Maybe sometimes I want a wrestling match instead. I know the heel is going to lose. That's their job. It's what they're for. But if imagining that they might win is outside the realm of possibility... well, it's probably not a very good story. The stakes are not compelling. There's a reason that I would describe, say, c1 Briarwoods as delicious and c3 Delilah as overstaying her welcome. A good antagonist is a vital part of the story ecosystem and I enjoy seeing that role played well.
But I don't get to relish in characters being terrible people who do terrible things anymore, because now villain fandom is always overrun by people who read one Wikipedia article on moral relativism and want to have debates about what if Murder McWarCrimes is good actually? No! No, they are not! And if they were, that would be stupid and boring!
And so I reach across the metaphorical aisle to you that we may share in one of the hater's greatest delights: the knowledge that no one likes those idiots, and everyone wishes they would just shut up, even the people they think are on their side.
Hey anon,
I will admit usually when I get a long ask telling me I am conflating things I roll my eyes and wait for someone to say "i am feeling uncomfortable when we are not about me" but, the truth is, I very much was, and you are correct to the point that I think we are fully in agreement.
To be clear: I am pro people enjoying themselves in, as you say, the wrestling fan enjoying the heel way! I agree - a good story needs a villain who feels like a genuine threat. I can appreciate a villain for what they are and enjoy them very much as a character! I am personally unlikely in most cases to root for them but people who look at the story, analyze it, and say "this will be a fun guy to care about, even though I know the victory's probably going to the heroes, and I will be normal and not terribly resentful" are entirely valid and my post is not about them (except to say carry on as you were). It sounds like you're in this latter category and so: carry on as you were, you guys are great.
But I am definitely conflating two flavors of annoying villain stan:
the first is, as you very eloquently put it, the Person Who Read One Wikipedia Article About Moral Relativism and ooooooh what if Mr. Murder McWarcrimes was sufficiently sad about bad things in his life such that the murder and war crimes are correct actually.
The second is the person who does understand that they are looking at a villain who is a bad person but seems actively confused that like, a largely hopeful or heroic narrative will probably not end with Mr. Murder McWarcrimes stabbing everyone to death and then evil laughing against a red lightning-filled sky and seems mad that people are like "actually I like Kit the Heroic Hero". Actual Play D&D is not a place where you'll find these people because a TPK is technically possible regardless of the existing themes! But like...for example, I have to imagine theatergoers in 1983 who weren't idiots did not walk into Return of the Jedi like "oh man I think Darth Vader's gonna win the whole thing and he'll blow up everyone and institute more Space Fascism over the nuked out husk of Endor." Like, as you say, the villain needs to have some bite to be worth my time, but deep in my heart, there are stories where I know that victory is assured by the nature of the plot and it's much more about how it will be assured and what sacrifices will be made, and so it's weird when someone seems to be existing in a denial that that's the story and is like NO Mr. Murder McWarCrimes is NOT going to get a comeuppance and everyone is going to DIE at his hand.
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So. This is part of two things.
May 15 Prompt: Nightmare, from @calaisreno’s prompt list. Check out their wonderful prompts!
AND
It’s a sneak peak for my current WIP: A Gentleman’s Shrine. You can find the post of what this fic is going to be about here.
Warnings: PTSD and Violence
A little context: This story takes place after WWI in England. John is on his way to the Noble Legacy Gala (explained in the post that I linked), and he catches himself in a nightmare.
•*•*•*•
It’s constant. Redundant. Persistent. Ceaseless.
Never-ending.
John only hears his panicked breaths, higher than normal. Dust is caught in his throat, gunfire is ringing in his ears. His sweaty hands are clinging to his rifle like it’s his one and only. Both German and English intertwine and he’s not sure which one he’s supposed to speak. He doesn’t believe he can speak.
Before John knows it, he catches a soldier’s head being pierced by a bullet, another taking the wrong step and his body detonates, blood splattering everywhere. He can’t move, or more like he doesn’t want to move because what the fuck is this?
This isn’t what he signed up for, it’s not. This doesn’t feel prosperous or close to honor. This doesn’t feel like he’s fighting for anything, let alone his country.
No, he is in the presence of hell. The Western Front is where men turn into something equivalent to animals, fighting for land they will never step foot on. It is where intelligent minds turn into a sequence of survival instincts. It is where all humanity comes to an end.
“Get up, Watson!” John barely registers a strong hand pull on his arm, hoisting him up and out of the mud mixed with blood. “You’re gonna die if you don’t–”
Whoever was speaking to him is shot to the floor, his limp body hitting the mud John was just near unconscious on. Limping away, John stumbles through the trench, looking for…something. Or was it someone? Was he even looking for anything in the first place? What was he searching for? What was he after? What is the point?
Someone charges after him with a close—combat knife, and John holds his rifle up and shoots. He shoots the man. He’s dead. He’s–
No. No, no, no. What has he done? What has he–
John kneels down next to the man, checking vital signs, as if that will accomplish anything. He hears him mutter something in German, but John doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand anything. Realizing he’s doing everything in the wrong order, John tries to press down on the wound and attempts to stop the flow, but it's no use. When a river begins, it doesn’t cease.
John sobs, repeating an apology that won’t do any good. He’s a doctor, he’s trained for this, he can help. He can help, he can sort this out and get this man to safety because he has a family at home and they’re waiting for him. They’re waiting for him and John’s made their wait worth nothing.
This is wrong, this is all wrong. He wants to go home. He wants to go back to Mum and Harry. He doesn’t want to forget the feeling of sitting at the dinner table and eating his mum’s soup.
Keep the pressure, keep the pressure. Don’t let this man die.
He doesn’t want to forget the voice of his sister, cracking jokes and hearing his mum scold her for the inappropriate ones.
The man is dead, but John doesn’t stop the pressure. He will never stop. He will never stop apologizing, and he will never forget the man muttering in German, “Please, God, let me live.”
——
John screams as he wakes, jolting up in his seat. He takes several deep breaths, trying to calm himself, return to a leveled mindset that he didn’t have during the war.
“Sir?” a man’s voice asks. “Sir, are you well?” He puts a hand on John’s shoulder and John flinches away. Realizing his rude behavior, John forces himself to lose the tension in his body, shifting in his seat. He swallows.
“Uh–yes. Yes, I apologize. I…” John looks around the train, seeing the other participants staring at him with horrified expressions. Mothers hold their children tightly and fathers grace him with disturbed looks. John forces his eyes to the crew member, who seems unsure of what to do in this position. “Only a nightmare,” John dismisses, clearing his throat.
“Should…we move you to another cart?” the man asks, eyes flickering to the other people seated.
John’s jaw clicks. “No, this isn’t to happen again, I assure you. I’ll be fine here.”
With hesitance, the man nods. “Alright, then. Would you care for any refreshments?”
“No,” John says. “Thank you.” The man leaves and John’s face burns. He’s made a fool of himself, he never should have fallen asleep, no matter how long the journey is.
Everyone in the cart begins to forget about the outburst, going back to their conversations or finishing their small meals. John rests his head on the back of his seat and stares out the window, watching plains of grass pass by and sheep being heard.
John should soon be arriving at the next train station soon enough. He closes his eyes, wondering what his life has become.
*•*•*•*
I hope you all enjoyed this little sneak peak! I saw the prompt for today and thought it was perfect for this. This fic is currently in the works and I promise that it includes a lot of research, not just assumptions or blind facts, haha. So I’m certainly trying my best ❤️
Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @thegildedbee @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortina @kettykika78 @johnlockbbc
(Let me know if you want to be tagged in the future)
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{I'm going to post this as it's own thing as well, since I'm pretty proud of it. This is in response to "The Future is Plural" and those who respond with The Future is Singlet. This entire thing is aimed at anti-endos, and I think is an important read for them. I also wanted it to reach my normal audiance as well, since a lot of you probably have some of the tags I tagged the original as blocked.}
"The future is singlet" goes back to what I reblogged earlier, which I doubt y’all would see since it’s a pro-endo post. Nobody is asking for there to be more abused kids. If they are, they probably aren’t speaking in good faith on this argument or they have something else they need to work through.
Let’s say that we know, 100% for a fact, the only way to be a system is through trauma. There is still use for you in that phrase. The point of “the future is plural” is not what it says on the tin, as you've shown. We’re not asking for there to be more systems, if we’re thinking strictly in your terms. We’re asking for it to be believed; for it to be taken seriously. We want it to be normalized in the way where if someone says “hey I’m plural” we believe them. We want there to be more understanding and less hate. We want to ensure that those ahead of us don’t have to face what we have, and that what those before us have done was not in vain.
You know why it’s not okay for clinicians to abuse their patients with DID? It’s not because they woke up one day and decided “maybe we shouldn’t be treating our patients like this.” It’s because activists before us did their job. Back in the ‘80s there were so many fucked up practices being done to those with DID, named MPD at that time. Which I must include because it is pertinent to the history of our disorder. Law suits have been brought to court and have been won over these practices. Now, while we are quite a bit better in terms of clinicians that specialize in DID, we aren’t in terms of the general population. They may still believe we are voilent and scary. They may still believe that it’s not a real disorder. They may still believe that it’s just like what they see on TV. Which, as everyone here knows, it isn’t.
We want to make sure they understand that we are humans, too. While we may be many, we aren’t terrible or lying or any number of things others who have no experience with DID think. We, as a community, deserve better. We deserve to be believed. We deserve to be treated with respect and dignity.
And so, I bring it back to one of my first points. Even if we were arguing for there to be more systems, it’s not in the way you desperately want to believe. It’s not begging for more traumatized children. It’s not through pain and suffering. Its a call for pride on all sides. It’s also recognition of the systems that just happen, it’s to celebrate the beauty of those who found their plurality and aren’t traumatized like you or I. You can believe that systems and dissociation ONLY form from trauma, but you wouldn’t be right. To the end where even Dr. Collin A. Ross, one of, if not THE leading researcher in the field, outright states that there are those out there who have been diagnosed with DID and who struggle with dissociation who have no trauma history. He himself has said that there are even people who are multiple that would not fit the criteria or don’t have the difficulty that those with DID must to experience for it to be the disorder it is. (Thanks sysmedsaresexist!)
If you won’t listen to those who experience endogenic plurality, if you won’t listen to those who have done research and have still come to this conclusion, if you won’t listen to those leading in the field of trauma and dissociation, then who will you listen to? How will you be able to make sure you’re not spreading the same misinformation and hate that the phrase “The future is plural” is a desperate plea to combat? How are you better than the endogenic systems you want to demonize so badly?
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So, I started writing a dumb crackfic about a bunch of my blorbos attempting to hit on my newest blorbo because it was funny in my head buuuuut turns out I'm not funny enough to bring it to life so I probably ain't gonna finish it. But I don't wanna feel like I completely wasted my time, so I'm just gonna drop the unfinished thing here because I can't seem to make myself continue it. It's a shame because I feel like it would have gotten a little better/funnier after I got the set-up out of the way, I had plans for where this would go, but alas, my brain has failed me yet again. And whatever, this most likely appeals to absolutely no one anyway, so here it is, read at your own risk because it sucks!
Jack was minding his own business before the show, wandering the halls while dicking around his phone, when he spotted Hook, just standing there.
‘’Hey man, what’s up?’’ he said, leaning against the nearest wall, still looking at his phone.
When no response came, Jack looked up. Hook was still as a statue, his eyes focused forward. Did he not hear him?
‘’Hello? Hook?’’
Jack got closer and slowly turned his head in the direction Hook was staring. ‘’What are you looki - whoa!’’
Jack almost dropped his phone when he first caught a glimpse of her. No wonder Hook was staring - she had to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever soon. She was fucking gorgeous. The kind of woman that’s so beautiful it feels like she shouldn’t be allowed to exist. Or that you shouldn’t be allowed to look at her, how dare you think yourself worthy! But she was real and she was right there all the way over on the other side of the hallway. She seemed to be checking how she looked in her phone’s camera, adjusting her long blonde hair and examining her makeup as though it wasn’t already perfect. She was perfect. She was wearing this all red ensemble that showed off just how killer her body was. And she was tall too. Long legs.
Jack’s mouth was agape. He knew it wasn’t polite to stare but how could he not?
‘’Jack, buddy,’’ Hook said, not taking his eyes off the beauty across the hall. ‘’I’ve found my next conquest.’’
Jack couldn’t take his eyes off her either. Who could blame them? ‘’Who is that?’’
Hook somehow managed to tear his eyes away from the vision they’ve been blessed to look upon and turned his head to Jack instead. ‘’My next conquest. Weren’t you listening?’’
Jack forced himself to look away - any longer and he was about to start drooling. ‘’No, who is she? What’s her name? I’ve gotta know.’’
‘’You seriously don’t know who she is?’’
The two men whirled around to find Daniel Garcia right next to them.
‘’How long have you been there?’’ Hook asked.
Daniel waved him off, a whatever gesture and then nodded his head in the direction of the unbelievably gorgeous woman. ‘’That’s Mariah May!’’
Hook and Jack blinked at him.
‘’From Stardom?’’
More blinking.
‘’Club Venus? Rose Gold?’’
‘’You’re just saying words at us, man,’’ Hook said.
Daniel gave them a judgemental look. ‘’You guys don’t watch Stardom? For real? Do you not watch any joshi wrestling at all?’’
Jack scratched the back of his neck. Hook gave a half-hearted shrug.
Daniel shook his head. ‘’What’s wrong with you guys? Y’all got no taste. Where else do you find spots to steal?’’
‘’My dad,’’ Hook said.
At the same time, Jack said, ‘’Shawn Michaels, I guess?’’
Daniel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘’I’m surrounded by uncultured swines. Look, she was one of the hottest - literally - free agents in the business. She just signed here, she’s debuting tonight.’’
‘’She’s a wrestler?’’ Hook said. ‘’Damn. Would have been easier if she was a rat.’’
‘’She could be,’’ Daniel said. ‘’You can be a wrestler and a rat at the same time.’’
Hook narrowed his eyes at Daniel. ‘’You would know.’’
Daniel smiled back, completely oblivious. ‘’Yeah, I mean, look at Adam Cole. Or Edge. Or CM Pu -’’ He stopped himself and his eyes went wide in Jack’s direction. A very uncomfortable silence fell over the three of them, one that seemed to last precisely one million years. ‘’...other examples…’’
‘’Alright, enough standing around,’’ Hook said finally. He took his hands out of his hoodie pocket and cracked his knuckles. ‘’I’m going in.’’
Two hands, one from Daniel and one from Jack, shot out and grabbed his hoodie, preventing him from taking a step.
‘’No way,’’ Daniel said.
‘’Nuh uh,’’ Jack added.
Hook glared at the two. ‘’I saw her first.’’
Daniel was aghast. ‘’No, I saw her first! You didn’t know who she was until fifteen seconds ago!’’
‘’That doesn’t count,’’ Hook argued. ‘’I saw her first in the building, so I get first dibs.’’
‘’That’s not fair!’’ Jack whined.
Daniel said, ‘’You don’t understand, man - I’ve been crazy about this girl ever since I first saw her on Stardom World. I’ve been waiting for this moment for months - that could be the love of my life right there!’’
‘’Yeah, well, I wanna fuck her,’’ Hook said, as though that was the most airtight, well-reasoned counterpoint imaginable. ‘’You can fanboy over her all you want after I’m done with her.’’
‘’Hell no! I don’t want your sloppy seconds!’’
‘’If ‘the love of your life’ is sloppy seconds, what does that say about you, huh?’’
Hook and Daniel had been gradually inching closer to each other with each response. They both looked mad, like they were one second away from throwing punches. Jack couldn’t let that happen. Not after last time…
He put a hand on each man’s shoulder and created some distance between them. ‘’Guys, guys, calm down! We don’t need to fight.’’
Clearer heads seemed to prevail, Hook and Daniel shared a nod and then their body language changed, less guarded.
‘’Besides, you’re both wrong,’’ Jack continued. ‘’I should get to approach her first.’’
Hook and Daniel, now suddenly allies, raised an eyebrow each at Jack. ‘’Why?’’ they both asked at the same time.
‘’Because…’’ Jack started. His mind drew a blank. ‘’...I…want to…’’
Now it was Jack’s turn to be blinked at. He wracked his brain - he couldn’t let this opportunity slip away, not when the girl in question was that hot.
‘’Okay, here’s why it should be me! Or, I guess, here’s why it shouldn’t be either of you!’’ He pointed at Daniel. ‘’You hit on girls all the time, while I don’t. So much. So it’s only fair that I got a shot first because, you know, it’s a special occasion.’’ Daniel looked incredulous and opened his mouth to respond but Jack cut him off by pointing at Hook and continuing. ‘’And you! Aren’t you already seeing someone?’’
‘’Uh, no? The fuck you talking about?’’ Hook asked, looking very annoyed at the mere suggestion.
‘’What about that girl you hook up with all the time? The one who’s always texting you? Carly something?’’
Hook rolled his eyes. ‘’Alright, look - technically, I never told Carly we were exclusive. I just…told her a bunch of other stuff and she kinda assumed and I didn’t correct her because I didn’t wanna seem like an asshole. But just because she lets me hit on the regular doesn’t mean I owe her anything - she should understand that. So how is it my fault if she gets mad about something like this?’’
Jack furrowed his brow at his best friend. ‘’You…you don’t seriously think that, right? That’s gross!’’
‘’Nah, that makes perfect sense,’’ Daniel said. ‘’Flawless logic. She’s the one in the wrong, not you.’’
He and Hook shared a quick fistbump. Fuckboy solidarity.
Jack sighed deeply. ‘’See? This is why I should get to shoot my shot first - I won’t treat like her dirt like you two assholes!’’
Daniel looked offended. ‘’I’ll have you know, I’ll treat her like a queen!’’
Hook nodded. ‘’Yeah, same. Unless she doesn’t want me to, you know?’’
Fistbumps all around.
‘’There’s gotta be a way we can decide, fairly, who gets to go first,’’ Jack said. ‘’Some way we can settle this like mature adults. Like men.’’
The three men took a long moment to ponder their predicament and search for an appropriate solution.
Hook glanced down at his fist. ‘’Rock, paper, scissors?’’
‘’Yes,’’ Jack said, emphatically.
Daniel rubbed his hands together. ‘’Alright, how we doing this? Elimination style or triple threat rules?’’
Jack decided to defer to Hook; it was his idea after all.
Hook considered it for a moment. ‘’The usual 3-way match rules. First to score a fall wins.’’
The three of them formed a triangle and each of them placed a fist onto their other palm, ready and waiting. After silently confirming they were all ready through a series of shared nods, Jack took it upon himself to count them down.
‘’Okay, here we go! Rock, paper, scissors, sh -’’
Before he could finish, Jack was shoved back by Daniel, his back colliding with the wall. Daniel then grabbed Hook’s hand, still balled into a fist, and promptly covered it with his own palm, preventing Hook from changing his option and signalling paper-beats-rock.
‘’I win!’’ he announced proudly.
Hook ripped his hand away. ‘’Like hell you do!’’
‘’The fuck was that?!’’ Jack demanded, rubbing his back where it was now sore. ‘’That wasn’t a win, you cheated!’’
Daniel smiled smugly. ‘’No, I didn’t. We said triple threat rules - that means it’s No DQ.’’
A lengthy discussion ensued about what exactly constitutes a disqualification in a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, hollowed by a side tangent about why there aren't disqualifications in a triple threat match. Upon realising that they weren’t going anywhere and were just wasting time, they all agreed to play by elimination rules. Hook was the first fall, picking paper while Jack and Daniel went with scissors. And in the finals, Jack’s paper bested Daniel’s rock. How poetic.
‘’Yes!’’ Jack exclaimed triumphantly. He took a great deal of satisfaction in Hook and Daniel’s sour, dejected expressions.
Jack glanced back over to confirm that Mariah was a) still there and b) hadn’t overheard any of that, which turned out to be true on both counts. She was in the exact same spot as before, still admiring herself in her phone’s camera. Jack could relate.
Jack took a few deep breaths to psyche himself up. ‘’Okay, Jack, you got this. You got this! I know exactly what’ll work here!’’
Hook groaned. ‘’You’re not seriously gonna try that again, are you?’’
‘’I told you, it totally works!’’ Jack said, defiant. ‘’Sometimes.’’
‘’What’s he talking about?’’ Daniel asked.
Hook sighed. ‘’He has this thing he does to try and pick up girls. It’s stupid - he just stands around looking sad and supposedly, a girl will eventually come up to him and ask him what’s wrong.’’
‘’It. Works. Sometimes,’’ Jack insisted.
Daniel considered that. ‘’Huh. Yeah, I can see it. One time, there was this girl who told me I had ‘sad eyes’ and it was half the reason she fucked me. So you might be onto something.’’
With his confidence boosted, Jack took another breath to calm his nerves and headed down the hallway to his target. He willed himself to stay calm, but he grew more nervous with each footstep. The closer he got, the better he could see her. She was even more stunning up close.
When he was near enough, he put on his game face. Which was to say, he put on his best sad puppy dog eyes and leaned against the wall, dejected.
His head was bowed, but he could see Mariah out of the corner of his eye. Unfortunately, she was still distracted by her own reflection. Jack didn’t blame her, but he really needed her to look his way.
He let out a loud sigh. Nothing. So he sighed louder. Still nothing. The third sigh was so loud and exaggerated, it was almost comical. But it was the one that got the job done. Mariah finally looked up from her phone and found him there. There was a flash of concern on her face and Jack knew his diabolical plan was working.
‘’Excuse me, are you alright? You look really sad!’’
Whoa, she has an English accent? Jack wasn’t expecting that. It took him a couple of seconds to process and actually respond.
‘’Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just one thing after another today, you know?’’
Jack knows this is the part where she asks more questions about why he’s so sad and tries to cheer him up.
Mariah just hummed. ‘’Okay,’’ she said, and then turned her attention back to her phone.
Uh oh. It’s not going according to plan! Jack’s brain scrambled for what to do next. He pushed himself away from the wall and closer to her.
‘’Uh, hey, wait! Uh, I’m Jack!’’ he said, offering his hand out.
She eyed his hand curiously and then reluctantly shook it. Goddammit, why did he try to shake her hand? That’s not romantic, that’s…business-y?
‘’Nice to meet you, I guess,’’ she said. ‘’I’m Mariah May.’’
‘’Yeah, I know who you are,’’ Jack said. He wracked his brain for what it was Daniel said about her back there. ‘’I saw you wrestle in, uh…Venus World?’’
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