#also fucked up that peoples first thought upon hearing autism is thinking its something that means stupid

[krash-8]

neurotypicals will laugh when I say 'im autistic" like bitch im not joking AND now I know you think making fun of autistic people is funny

#also fucked up that peoples first thought upon hearing autism is thinking its something that means stupid #or something people only joke about #we are real friend #when i say “oh im autistic” i dont mean oh im stupid #being silly goofy #i mean im autistic and you laughing like its a joke shows what you think autism means #and then i clarify and they feel bad like yeah good #autism jokes by autistic people is one thing #neurotypicals being so comfortable with them is another #and they shouldnt make laugh or tell them unless its with an autistic friend and they are totally cool with it #or they dont mean it in a malevolent degrading way #anyways post was a joking tone but i do mean it #actually autistic #autism #actually neurodivergent #krash thoughts

[tarobytez]

disability in the Six Of Crows Duology; an analysis of Kaz Brekker, Wylan Van Eck, and the fandom’s treatment of them.

****Note: I originally wrote this for a tiktok series, which im still going to do, but i wanted to post here as well bc tumblr is major contributor to what im going to talk about

CW: ableism, filicide, abuse

In the Six of Crows duology, Leigh Bardugo delicately subverts and melds harmful disability tropes into her narrative, unpacking them in a way that I, as a disabled person, found immensely refreshing and…. just brilliant. 

But what did you all do with that? Well, you fucked it up. Instead of critically looking at the characters, y’all just chose to be ableist. 

For the next few videos paragraphs im going to unpack disability theory (largely the stuff surrounding media, for obvious reasons) and how it relates to Six Of Crows and the characterization of Kaz Brekker and Wylan Van Eck, then how, despite their brilliant writing, y’all completely overlooked the actual text and continuously revert them to ableist cariactures.

Disclaimer: 1. Shocker - i am disabled. I have also extensively researched disability theory and am very active in the disabled community. Basically, I know my shit. 2. im going to be mad in these videos this analysis. Because the way y’all have been acting has been going on for a long ass time and im fuckin sick of it. I don’t give a shit about non-disabled feelings, die mad

Firstly, I’m going to discuss Kaz, his play on the stereotypical “mean cripple” trope and how Bardugo subverts it, his cane, and disabled rage. Then, I am going to discuss Wylan, the “inspiration porn” stereotype, caregivers / parents, and the social model of disability. Finally, I will then explain the problems in the fandom from my perspective as a disabled person, largely when it comes to wylan, bc yall cant leave that boy tf alone.

Kaz Brekker

Think of a character who uses a cane (obviously not Kaz). Now, are they evil, dubiously moral, or just an asshole in general? Because nearly example I can think of is: whether it be Lots’O from Toy Story, Lucius Malfoy, or even Scrooge and Mr.Gold from Once Upon A Time all have canes (the last two even having their canes appear less and less as they become better people)

The mean/evil cripple trope is far more common than you would think. Villains with different bodies are confined to the role of “evil”. To quote TV Tropes, who I think did a brilliant job on explaining it “The first is rooted in eugenics-based ideas linking disability or other physical deformities with a "natural" predisposition towards madness, criminality, vice, etc. The Rule of Symbolism is often at work here, since a "crippled" body can be used to represent a "crippled" soul — and indeed, a disabled villain is usually put in contrast to a morally upright and physically "perfect" hero. Whether consciously on the part of the writer or not, this can reinforce cultural ideas of disability making a person inherently inferior or negative, much in the same way the Sissy Villain or Depraved Homosexual trope associate sexual and gender nonconformity with evil. ”

Our introduction to Kaz affirms this notion of him being bad or morally bankrupt, with “Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason”, etc. This mythologized version of himself, the “bastard of the barrel” actively fed into this misconception. But, as we the audience are privy to his inner thoughts, know that he is just a teenager like every other Crow. He is complex, his disability isn’t this tragic backstory, he just fell off a roof. It’s not his main motivation, nor does he curse revenge for making him a cripple - it is just another part of who he is. 

His cane (though the shows version fills me with rage but-) is an extension of Kaz - he fights with it, but it has a purpose. Another common thing in media is for canes to be simply accessories, but while Kaz’ cane is fashionable, it has purpose.

The quote “There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.” is so fucking powerful. Kaz does not want nor need a cure - its said in Crooked Kingdom that his leg could most likely be healed, but he chooses not to. Abled-bodied people tend to dismiss this thought as Kaz being stubborn but it shows a reality of acceptance of his disability that is just, so refreshing.

In chapter 22 of SOC, we see disabled rage done right - when he is called a cripple by the Fjerdan inmate, Kaz is pissed - the important detail being that he is pissed at the Fjerdan, at society for ableism, not blaming it on being disabled or wishing he could be normal. He takes action, dislocating the asshole’s shoulder and proving to him, and to a lesser extent, himself, that he is just as capable as anyone else, not in spite of, but because he is disabled. And that is the point of Kaz, harking back to the line that “there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken”. 

I cried on numerous occasions while reading the SOC duology, but the parts I highlighted in this section especially so. I, as many other disabled people do, have had a long and tumultuous relationship with our disability/es, and for many still struggle. But Kaz Brekker gave me an empowered disabled character who accepts themselves, and that means the world to me. 

Keeping that in mind, I hope you can understand why it hurts so much to disabled people when you either erase Kaz’s disability (whether through cosplay or fanfiction), or portray him as a “broken boy uwu”, especially implying that he would want a cure. That flies in the face of canon and is inherently fucking ableist. (if u think im mad wait until the next section)

Next, we have Wylan.  

Oh fucking boy. 

I love Wylan so fucking much, and y’all just do not seem to understand his character? Like at all? Since this is disability-centric, I’m not going to discuss how the intersection of his queerness also contributes to these issues, but trust me when I say it’s a contributing factor to what i'm going to say.

Wylan, motherfucking Van Eck. If you ableist pricks don’t take ur fucking hands off him right now im going to fight you. I see Wylan as a subversion another, and in my opinion more insidious stereotype pf disabled people - inspiration porn.

Cara Liebowitz in a 2015 article on the blog The Body Is Not An Apology explains in greater detail how inspiration porn is impactful in real life, but media is a major contributing factor to this reality. The technical definition is “the portrayal of people with disabilities as inspirational solely or in part on the basis of their disability” - but that does not cover it fully. 

Inspiration porn does lasting damage on the disabled community as it implies that disability is a negative that you need to “overcome” or “triumph” instead of something one can feel proud of. It exploits disabled people for the development of non-disabled people, and in media often the white male protagonist. Framing disability as inherently negative perpetuates ideals of eugenics and cures - see Autism $peaks’ “I Am Autism” ad. Inspiration porn is also incredibly patronizing as it implies that we cannot take care of ourselves, or do things like non-disabled people do. Because i stg some of you tend to think that we just sit around all day wishing we weren’t disabled. 

Another important theory ideal that is necessary when thinking about Wylan is the experience of feeling like a burden simply for needing help or accommodations. This is especially true when it comes to familial relationships, and internalized ableism.

The rhetoric that Wylan’s father drilled into his head, that he is “defective”, “a mistake”, and “needs to be corrected”, that he (Jan) was “cursed with a moron for a child” is a long held belief that disabled people hear relentlessly. And while many see Van Eck’s attempted murder of Wylan as “preposturous” and overall something that you would never think happens today - filicide (a parent murdering their child) is more common than you would like to believe. Without even mentioning the countless and often unreported deaths of disabled people due to lack of / insufficient / neglectful medical care, in a study on children who died from the result of household abuse, 40 of 42 of them (95%) were diagnosed with disabilities. Van Eck is not some caricature of ableist ideals - he is a real reflection on how many people and family members view disability. 

Circling back to how Wylan unpacks the inspiration porn trope - he is 3 dimensional, he is not only used to develop the other characters, he is just *chefs kiss* Leigh, imo, put so much love and care into the creation of Wylan and his story and character growth that is representative of a larger feeling in the disabled community. 

That being said, what you non-disabled motherfuckers have done to him.

The “haha Wylan can’t read” jokes aren’t and were not funny. Y’all literally boiled down everything Wylan is to him being dyslexic. And it’s like,,,, the only thing you can say about him. You ignore every other part of him other than his disability, and then mock him for it. There’s so much you can say about Wylan - simping for Jesper, being band kid and playing the fuckin flute, literally anything else. But no, you just chose to mock his disability, excellent fucking job!

Next up on “ableds stfu” - infantilization! y’all are so fucking condescending to Wylan, and treat him like a fucking toddler. And while partly it is due to his sexuality i think a larger portion is him being disabled. Its in the same vein of people who think that Wylan and Jesper are romantically one sided, and that Jesper only kind of liked Wylan, despite the canon evidence of him loving Wylan just as much. You all view him as a “smol bean”, who needs protecting, and care, when Wylan is the opposite of that. He is a fucking demolitions expert who suggested waking up sleeping men to kill them - what about that says “uwu”. You are treating Wylan as a burden to Jesper and the other Crows when he is an immensely valuable, fully autonomous disabled person - you all just view him as damaged. 

And before I get a comment saying that “uhhh Wylan isn’t real why do you care” while Wylan may not be real, how you all view him and treat him has real fucking impacts and informs how you treat people like me. If someone called me an “uwu baby boy” they’d get a fist square in the fucking jaw. Fiction informs how we perceive the world and y’all are making it super fucking clear how you see disabled people. 

Finally, I wanted to talk about how the social model of disability is portrayed through Wylan. For those who are unaware, the social model of disability contrasts the medical model, that views the disability itself as the problem, that needs to be cured, whereas the social model essentially boils down to creating an accommodating society, where disability acceptance and pride is the goal. And we see this with Wylan - he is able to manage his father’s estate, with Jesper’s assistance to help him read documents. And this is not out of pity or charity, but an act of love. It is not portrayed as this almighty act for Jesper to play saviour, just a given, which is incredibly important to show, especially for someone who has been abused by family for his disability like Wylan, that he is accepted. 

Yet, I still see people hold up Jesper on a pedestal for “putting up with” Wylan, as if loving a disabled person deserves a fucking pat on the back. It’s genuinely exhausting trying to engage with a work I love so much with a fandom that thinks so little of me and my community. It fucking shows. 

Overall, Leigh Bardugo as a disabled person wrote two incredibly meticulous and empowered disabled characters, and due to either lack of reading comprehension, ableism, or a quirky mix of both, the fandom has ignored canon and the experiences of disabled people for…. shits and giggles i guess. And yes, there are issues with the Grishaverse and disability representation - while I haven’t finished them yet so I do not have an opinion on it, people have been discussing issues in the KOS duology with ableist ideals. This mini series was no way indicative of the entire disabled experience, nor does it represent my entire view on the representation as a whole. These things need to be met critically in our community, and talked about with disabled voices at the forefront. For example, the limited perspective we get of Wylan and Kaz being both white men, does not account for a large portion of the disabled community and the intersection of multiple identities.

All-in-all, Critique media, but do not forget to also critique fandom spaces. Alternatively, just shut the fuck up :)

happy fucking disability pride month, ig

#soc #six of crows #kaz brekker #soc kaz #kaz talk tag #kanej #grisha #grishaverse #ketterdam #leigh bardugo #bardugo #crooked kingdom #ck #wylan #wylan van sunshine #wylan supremacy #jesper x wylan #wesper #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #wylan van eck #jan van eck #ableism #ableist bullshit #ableist slurs #disability #disability pride month #i will punch you in the face #el oh el #laugh out loud

[1990jeevas]

I know you posted it days ago but you said something about wanting to rant about either karl or his fanbase and its been itching at my brain. Ive no clue whats happening or what is happening at all cause no one seems to be making clear points?? Or explaining anything?

Obviously you do NOT have to talk about it im sure it might be a sore point to rant because people can get SO needlessly rude to others over it. But if you want to idk explain? Just rant? Im definetly curious what it was over or about.

The "you dont need to talk about this" is amplified by the fact i am DAYS late and you are probably over it by now.

okay hi yes im happy to talk about this but i think i should preface with two things:

1) even tho it may seem like im biased towards him or being very defensive of him im actually a super casual karl viewer and the only reason i am super defensive of him sometimes is bc we act a lot alike irl and that is mainly because of our neurodivegency. when i say a lot i mean we share traits like "annoying" stimming (jumping around, making loud noises, repeating the same phrases until everyone is sick of hearing them), the difficulty reading situations, the very obvious issues with volume control and not just bouncing from subject to subject to subject as we fucking please. basically anything you've seen karl do on stream that is Very Neurodivergent ive done the same in my own way which is why i get defensive when i see people calling him annoying or saying they dont like him, usually for these types of reasons. that being said, when i say im a very casual karl viewer, i fucking mean it. i usually only watch him when he's streaming with other ccs i like or when he's doing chill alt streams bc even with the annoying donos, he's pretty relaxing and comforting when he's just fucking around by himself and he isnt trying to get as hype as he would on a main channel stream. so yeah, it may seem like im biased and sure, i guess i am on some level, but it's not coming from a place of me hyperfixating on him or me even loving him as a cc, it's coming from me being a neurodivergent who likes him just enough to get upset when i see people basically being casually ableist towards him.

2) i dont have all the facts or even a great understanding on what the fuck has been happening recently with his "drama"...mostly bc he talked about it on his priv, which im not on, and people are gatekeeping the tweets, as they always do, and basically making you "dm to see them" (which is already a problem in and of itself bc apparently in these tweets he said he didnt want them being ss and shared, yet they are being shared thru dms over and over and over again like. at that point just stop withholding the information and post the fucking shit, you clearly dont care that he said "dont share"). additionally, most of the threads ive seen on this situation havent actually explained the initial issue, just talked about his apology (a lot of people have said "it's bad" but havent said why and with no screenshots ((i havent asked for someone to dm me them and i still havent seen them posted, which is mildly surprising, but incredibly frustrating at this point)), i only have a few basic details i can actually assess it on) or they talked about the initial issue in very vague details so um. excuse me trying to explain this now, but ill try and make it make sense with how little ive actually pieced together.

(oh, also, here's my first rant about the ableism in this fandom which is way more broad. this is a pretty different rant from that one, but they're both pretty big reasons why i hate this fandoms treatment of karl)

so basically the problems started with mr beast being apart of a charity stream that donated either to autism speaks or to a similar company, im unsure on that part. im also unsure on if the people participating in the stream actually knew of this or not bc, from what i remember, the money was being donated to a separate organization that was like. under the bad company or some shit like that, idk how stuff like that works and also i read about this shit months ago bc this originally happened months ago and just sorta came to a head recently.

anyways, i think karl was supposed to be apart of this stream but pulled out of it right before (that or these were two separate streams and karl was supposed to participate in the first but pulled out while mr beast did both?? idk. regardless karl did not actually participate, just mr beast). from there people started doing the guilt from association bullshit they always do, this was also doubled by the fact that the chris being racist stuff came out sometime around then and basically he got dragged all over twitter for "being ableist" and "supporting racists" and i cant remember if he actually apologized when this originally happened or not. i vaguely remember him apologizing about something back then but i genuinely dont know if it was this or something else.

basically that died down eventually, a good chunk of people unstanned him but him and honktwt didnt end up getting the lovely lil technotwt treatment and they still havent yet, surprisingly. good for them honestly ajsksk

but now we get to the past few weeks and apparently something happened with him "laughing at someone saying the r slur" (it was mizkif, i believe), specifically when it was directed at other people, which is a big yikes, obviously, but when karl was called out for this a lot of people kind of. made this into a situation that it wasnt bc um. basically karl didnt laugh at it, he gave a few nervous giggles, as people often do when in a situation like that (and karl specifically said he does this in the one part of his apology tweet which i did stumble upon, although it wasnt the important part of the apology thread bc why would it be) and people fucking crucified him for it. they quite literally dragged a neurodivergent man for supposedly "laughing at the r slur" when he can literally reclaim it and also he was just nervous laughing.

and this is where the situation just gets really bad because they. basically forced him to admit that he was autistic on his priv to apologize for this. i havent seen the screenshots of him saying this, but i saw people discussing it and i am frankly so fucking pissed about this because sure, it was a bad situation, and i understand people wanting an explanation, but an apology? for a neurodivergent man nervous laughing at a slur he can reclaim? and then forcing the man to admit something he literally said in that tweet he didnt want people to know which is why people were being so gatekeepy about it while also LOUDLY discussing the situation, as if that wouldnt drive MORE PEOPLE to look for screenshots and ways to get ahold of this information? and then people had the audacity to call it a "bad apology" when they had quite literally just violated his privacy by forcing him to admit something that he shouldnt have needed to share in the first place if he didnt want to, which he didnt.

and this is why im so pissed off. karl is already constantly picked at and made fun of and called annoying for his neurodivergent traits, things which he literally cant help, things which are generally harmless, and now he was forced into a situation where he can now be further picked at and made fun of and called annoying bc they forced him to admit something private instead of just understanding and accepting that he had been nervous laughing at someone using a slur he has definetly been called for his neurodivergency.

tldr of my thoughts: yes i think karl needed to address this situation, it definetly looked bad, but twitter stans have this sense of entitlement with their ccs and because of that, they consistently take it way too far and harm the people they claim to care about so dearly. we've seen it happen time and time again with dream, but this is the first time ive seen them basically force someone to out themselves to make their apology "valid" and most of them still seem to not want to accept it anyways, which just makes me feel bad for him bc now that info is out their and people are just disregarding it to continue "holding him accountable".

anyways, i think that's all i can really say on this topic rn tbh, if anyone else knows this situation better please feel free to lmk clarifications and ill add them in since, like i said, i know fuck all thanks to twitter being so goddamn hush hush about the important details while simultaneously being the loudest mfers about how much they hate karl now instead of just fucking unfollowing and moving on.

thanks for the ask and im sorry if this is confusing!! i just think this is one of those weird situations where like. i think karl deserved some criticism for what happened and how he handled it or at least he shouldve been asked to address it but that just. isnt what happened, at all. he was harrassed. karl got harrassed and because of that he handled this situation even more sloppily than he probably wouldve and exposed private info about himself that he didnt feel comfortable doing and it just. fucking sucks tbh.

#shit self #asks #karl jacobs #discourse #fandom critical #mcyt fandom critical #dsmp fandom critical #ask to tag #ableism #only reason im even saying what he said in those tweets is bc this situation literally makes no sense otherwise and basically everyone on #twt already fucking exposed this shit to people in and outside the fandom by bitching #long post #bangerz

[okadaizoirl]

Broly is an abuse survivor and "gifted child" survivor icon and here's why.

Hey hi hate to DBZpost on main but I wanna talk about the Broly movie. Can I talk about that? I'll tag this as spoilers since I can't put a Readmore on mobile or at least... Don't know how to.

Okay, so let me preface this accordingly: Everything I know about Dragon Ball is from my fiancé. Everything I know, he taught me. He showed me the original Broly the Legendary Super Saiyan movie, and... Damn did it leave a bad taste in both of our mouths. But I'm not talking about inferior walking 18 Wheeler Broly.

I'm talking about the one with character development. 2019 Broly. Who I adore.

Firstly, on an aesthetic level? His new design is far more interesting and piques one's curiosity more. And I'm going off of base forms because transformed... Oh it's a can of worms, squiggly dirty earthworms. So base forms only.

On the left is the original, which I personally find... Generic. Okay, he's decked out in gold and glimmer and has a concerning upper body situation going on. Next.

But the one on the right? My first thoughts were, "What's that cloth around his waist? It looks like a pelt, were there huge beasts on the planet he and Paragus were on? What's that collar on his neck? What's the story on those scars?" Instantly more stimulating.

But that's not even what sold my happy ass on 2019 Broly.

Now we get into spoilers, and I apologize for such, but they're critical to my point. When Paragus found him on Vampa, he took to being unshakingly authoritarian to train Broly to keep his already astronomical power level in check. When Broly found a friend in the monster he called Bai, Paragus shot its ear off and made it hate Broly-- His only friend now hated him, which is arguably worse than just killing Bai since once its mind is made up due to its primal nature, it won't change it for any reason. What's more? Paragus did this because he believed having a friend was interfering with Broly's training, like how parents of "gifted children" believe hobbies like playing video games is just distracting them from studying. But Broly still hung onto that ear because... That was his only reminder of having friends! I can't speak for every survivor, but I also have objects or memories that remind me of happy times in my past despite the shadow of abuse that looms over the majority of it.

But Paragus isn't just a psychological abuser. The collar around Broly's neck is a shock collar, one that sends almost lethal amounts of electricity through his body-- And Paragus holds the controller for it, and uses it whenever Broly "acts out". It's not brief either. Paragus is seen holding the button down. It's also been used so many times that when he shows Frieza the remote, not even using it, Broly immediately panics and starts frantically pulling at his collar. And what do we call that?

That's right! A trigger! His trigger is a... Trigger. That was in poor taste, I admit it.

Cheelai and Lemo instantly see Broly's situation, and when Paragus openly shocks Broly in the cafeteria, Cheelai is quick to not only confront Paragus, but take away his source of power over Broly-- The remote-- And smashes it when Paragus is out of sight. Because Cheelai is FUCKING GREAT. She and Lemo even stick up for Broly beforehand when Paragus silences him! Their bond grows even more as they ensure Broly is well fed, let him drink water (which was the first time he had ever done so!! PARAGUS WHY DID YOU LEAVE YOUR SON DEHYDRATED), and most of all, let him speak about the trauma he endured! The support an abuse survivor needs is perfectly illustrated in Cheelai and Lemo, who even live with Broly back on Vampa to ensure his safety. They're even firm on guarding him from Goku, despite the guy just coming by to give them a home capsule, because they're dead set on Broly not being taken advantage of again!

Broly's attitude towards Paragus is also a detail I appreciate. When Cheelai and Lemo bring up the fact that Paragus is abusive to Broly, he still retains a sense of obligation to love his father due most likely to common emotional abuse tactics. And with Paragus? It would be multiplied. "I chose to live on this horrible, inhospitable planet with you and leave our home behind, and I raised you in this hellhole, because I am your father and you will behave!" That's what I imagine it sounding like. Not a stretch, either, since Paragus shows in a lot of times how just his words have power over Broly. No threats to use the remote, just words. "We're here to eat, not talk." And Broly is immediately quiet. Though you may be asking yourself, why does he still stick up for Paragus while the man in question isn't there to intimidate him? Well... In my experience, repeated emotional abuse is akin to brainwashing. You start to think what you're being told is the absolute truth for how many times you hear it, and how things happening is misinterpreted by either you or your abuser as "proof" of this undeniable truth. Broly is still a victim in the time that he meets Cheelai and Lemo, so he has no time to process the fact that what his father told him isn't the truth.

When Paragus is killed by Frieza (BIGGEST SPOILER, SORRY), Broly's perspective is suddenly flipped on its head. The shock collar broke, but being in the half Oozaru state made it seem like he either didn't know or didn't care. But suddenly not only was the man responsible for that repeated pain and the death of his only friend gone, but so was the one he was convinced was the only person who cared about him. This triggered him to transform further. Why? Because this mimics those abused being separated from their abusers before they themselves realize they're in a pattern. When this happened to me, I was convinced I couldn't live without the person who treated me so badly. I didn't Hulk out like Broly because I am but a mere human with a lopsided pasty form and low power level, but I was under intense emotional distress for a long time. It got... Bad, too, but I don't want to add another warning to the tags when it has enough already. But my point is, this is still an accurate portrayal of a victim of abuse.

Also!! The fact that Frieza sees Broly only as a tool is highly reminiscent of how people see "gifted children"! And the fact that Broly transformed into the Great Ape multiple times, which carries a stigma amongst Saiyans as something only to be used as a last resort? And Broly constantly used it? And was looked down upon as a result, despite not really being able to help it? This is a parallel to a developmental disorder, such as Autism or ADHD! And Frieza sees Broly as a possible tool due to his power level (his natural skill), but more of a liability due to being prone to transforming into the Great Ape (his developmental disorder)... Which sounds... Familiar, doesn't it?

I'm kind of going all over the place here so I'll sum it up in a nice, neat little summary.

TL;DR Broly is the most accurate representation of a survivor of both parental abuse and "gifted child" culture I have ever seen and I am so glad that this is our canon Broly.

Also, the animation was James Baxter levels of smooth and I adored it.

#dbz broly #dbz super broly #dbz broly movie 2019 #dbz broly spoilers #shut up ruko #abuse tw #death tw #gifted children

[zoebechtle-blog]

Unlikely Chapter 1

I will be the first person to tell you - there was nothing about this relationship that made sense. On paper, we were painfully dissimilar: him, a sexy, successful Irish popstar wanted by half the world, and me, an American werewolf living in London. Well, not quite a werewolf, but it took monthly waxings to keep my Greek heritage off my upper lip. I barely topped out at 5’2” on a good shoe day, and leaned more towards the plump end of the body shape spectrum. My grandmother often spoke of my child bearing hips and tried to convince me that men liked a big ass and full boobs. She had yet to be proven right. Meanwhile, his chicken legs looked like they could barely support him. He binged watched ESPN and Golf Channel, and I had zero hand/eye coordination (the fact that I played soccer in high school was a fluke - there were no cuts). Before I met him I barely even knew what a melody was and had forgotten everything I had learned in elementary school music classes. He played the guitar like he was born with it, and pulled notes out of the air to make music that made my heart ache. As I said, nothing about us made sense.

I’d moved to the UK to attend grad school four years ago, and ended up staying. After spending my first year year here alone, and going on what can only be described as a series of tragic dates with men I’d met online, I was lonely and seemingly incapable of making friends. In an act of desperation, I texted my godmother’s niece, Hannah. The one and only time I'd met her we were six. She had told me that my hair cut made me look like a boy and I tripped her going up the stairs. It definitely was not love at first sight. I’d come to London with the number programmed into my phone, but determined not to contact the now-grown mean girl. However, desperate times...

It turned out that Hannah had actually grown up quite kick ass. She did something in the financial sector I could not begin to explain, but she was funny, charming, and when drunk could belch the alphabet. Given that my previous 52 Saturday nights had been filled with Netflix and listening to my neighbors fight or fuck, I latched on quickly. Over the course of the next few years I became friends with her crowd of friends, and a few people I befriended came into the mix. It was a small but lovely urban family, and for the most part we all accepted one another for who we were. I barely missed getting laid so good that my head pounded into a headboard while screaming out for God. Barely.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hannah was obsessed. Seriously. I was ready to brain her. The girl had finally swiped right and found a guy she was really into. For weeks we heard about him ad nauseum - Willie was Irish, worked at a firm four doors down from her in The City, and seemed like an all around decent chap. Being bitter, I naturally hated him before I met him. The nail in his coffin came the night Hannah casually brought up his roommate, and how she thought I’d like him. Nope. Not the dreaded friend fix up.

“Stop it right now. You know that’s a hard no.” I flung a piece of baby corn at her out of my stir fry to accentuate my point.

“C’mon. He’s proper cute, and is laddy without being a lad.”

“Yeah, because everything about me screams that I’m the lad type.”

“It’s not like a new type would kill you. There are only so many men in London who live in their mother’s basements with cats.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are ya?”

“Nope. Come on. He’s a musician and he’s hilarious. I met him at their house the other night. I think you two would get on. So does Willie.”

“Willie hasn’t met me. How does he have any idea who I’d get along with?”

“Obviously he’s heard all about you and the rest of the gang and seen pics on my Insta.”

I went back to my dinner frowning. It’s not that I didn’t want to meet guys, it’s that I was scared to meet them. Undoubtedly I would say something weird or awkward, or give out far more information than they ever wanted to know. A few dudes had piqued my interest over the years, but no one that I liked ever really liked me, and vice versa. A lot of mediocre to decent sex had been had (I’m not angel - momma knows what she likes), but that whole happily ever after thing didn’t seem like reality. At 27, I resigned myself to possibly getting a hamster (allergic to cats and who wants to walk a dog in London?) and embracing my spinsterhood.

This conversation and my lack of game stayed in the back of my mind for the next few days. Hannah was right about needing a change in my scenery. Especially since the failed date with the cat dude. My eyes itched in the memory. However, it was Thursday, and Thursday was quiz night at the pub. Most of our crew usually turned out to showcase our combined hundreds of years of education and to get a decent drunk on. I intentionally scheduled a light caseload on Fridays in the event of a hangover. I may get older, but wiser didn’t seem to be coming with the territory.

As luck would have it, I stayed late with a client this evening so I had to book it from the Tube stop to the pub. I texted Paul, one of our friends, asking him to save me a seat and order me a Stella. And a shot of Jameson’s. It had been that kind of day.

A text buzzed from Hannah as I got within a block of the bar. “Are you coming from work?”

“Yup. Got tied up in a session. Be there in 5.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Are you trying to come onto me, perv? Work clothes.”

“That you rolled around the floor all day in?”

What the fuck? I looked down at my black jersey pants and green boatneck tee. It wasn’t the most fashionable thing, but I did spend the majority of my day on the floor working with kids with autism. It’s not like I could do that wearing cashmere and stilettos. And who the fuck was I trying to impress? Two of the guys in our crew were gay, and I’d hooked up with the straight one already. These people had seen me vomit through my nose. Nothing I do could phase them.

Walking into the bar I greeted Eric, the doorman, with a wave (yeah, I’d made out with him once upon a tequila evening) and flashed a peace sign to Allie, our favorite server. We sat the same table every week thanks to the fact that Paul worked a few blocks away and often took a late lunch/early dismissal to get here in time to secure a table. Counting heads, I noticed the numbers were off. Instead of our usual 7-8, there were 10. Oh hell. New people.

As I got closer, I noticed Hannah hanging on the arm of one of the new faces. Great, it’s meet the boyfriend time. And he obviously brought his friends. I said a silent prayer that they weren’t stupid-we take pride in our 10 week unbeaten streak. Oh well, here goes nothing.

“What’s up, bitches?” I shouted as I wrapped my arm around Carly’s shoulder.

“Zoe!” Multiple people responded in salute as I squeezed in next to Paul. The empty seat was flanked by an unfamiliar blonde head, and being me, I didn’t look at him or acknowledge his presence.

“A Stella and a shot, my queen,” Paul said, gesturing to the table while offering his ruddy cheek for a kiss.

“Thank you, pookie bear.” I leaned down and blew a raspberry on his cheek.

“Zoe!” I heard Hannah trying to get my attention from three seats away. Grabbing the shot and sucking it back (oh, burning), I made eye contact with her, silently yelling for her invasion of my safety zone, and waved.

“This is Willie!” She squeezed the arm of the pale, dark haired guy next to her. He grinned, and shit, I did like his smile. He practically was a heart eyed emoji looking at Hannah, so I could check my attitude for the night.

“Hi, Willie,” I shook his outstretched hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise, Zoe. I hear I need to be on my toes around you lot.”

“We’re friendly savages once you get to know us,” I assured him.

Hannah piped up, “This is Deo, Willie’s brother.” Deo had eyebrows that challenged my tact, but he gave me a friendly smile. I made brief eye contact and nodded. Fine and dandy.

“And this is Niall. Willie’s roommate.” The blonde on my left grinned at me and offered his hand. Well holy motherfucker. This is why she was asking if I had changed. He was beautiful. Seriously. The scene from Wayne’s World where Wayne sees Cassandra for the first time basically became my life. I swear I could hear “Dreamweaver” playing in the background. I averted my eyes as I felt Paul elbow me.

“Hi,” I was very focused on tucking my purse under the table and adjusting my jacket just so on the back of the chair.

“Hey there,” he said. His voice sounded like the shot of Irish whiskey burning its way to my stomach. Oh hell. His (large, beautiful) hand was still hanging out there, waiting to be acknowledged. Unable to respond to basic decorum, I gave him a sideways high five. Oh my god. Paul loudly snorted into his beer as my face flushed hotter than the sun.

My phone beeped, saving me from more embarrassment. I looked at the text from Jess, sitting across the table. “Breathe, Z. And wipe the drool.” My response was the middle finger emoji. While I was texting her, Brian sent a message from the other side of Hannah, “Your game is on point as always.” “Piss off. It got you into my bed twice in the last year.” Ugh, he was pompous asshole. Unfortunately, he was also genetically blessed, so I sometimes got weak.

Unsure what to do and faced with a dry throat, I knocked back most of my pint. Sweet, sweet beer. My right leg start jiggling uncontrollably as I stared at the table in front of me. I could literally feel the heat coming off of Niall, and knew with the tight fit of the table if I turned even slightly our legs would touch. I scooted closer to Paul.

“Oi, Z! You’re on my lap. Unless you suddenly grew a cock, I’m not drunk enough for that!” Oh fuck you, Paul. I could feel Niall laughing beside me, and prayed it was at Paul’s inappropriateness and not my obvious social anxiety. Sensing my nerves, Jess stood and announced a toilet break and motioned for me. Carefully standing to not rub my ass on Niall’s shoulder, I slid behind Paul, digging my nails into his shoulder and hissing, “Another pint and shot, dickface. And this round is on YOUR tab.”

In the bathroom, Jess pulled out her makeup bag. “Okay, we need to cover up this flush. You look like a drunk sailor.” Hannah burst into the room with Carly hot on her heels. Christ, we were such a cliche.

“I can.not. believe you didn’t tell us Niall Horan was coming to quiz night, Hannah!” Carly stole a lipstick from Jess’s bag and started re-lacquering her lips. “I mean, what the fuck? We’re your best friends!”

Hannah took the compact of powder foundation from Jess and started working on my face, even as I tried to smack her hands away. “I didn’t know he was coming for sure. I invited Willie so you all couldn’t dodge meeting him. He asked if it was okay if he brought his mates.”

“Wait, you didn’t know Willie is Niall’s cousin? Do you not follow any of their instagrams? They post pics of each other all the time!” Jess shrieked.

“Yeah, I found out last week when I went over to his house. He hadn’t told me before. I assume he didn’t want a girl using him to get to cousin.”

“Niall FUCKING Horan and you didn’t tell us!” Carly continued to rage, pulling out her bun and fluffing her hair.

I stood in shock while Hannah tried to put concealer on a zit on my chin that wouldn’t go away and Jess sprayed something into my hair. “Wait up. Who the hell is Niall Horan and why are we freaking out that he’s here? Should I be freaking out? I gave him a fucking HIGH FIVE.” I didn’t know who he was but I could feel the panic rising.

All three stopped and looked at me. “Zoe. Niall Horan...From One Direction.”

“Oh my god. He’s the blonde one. I only know the name of Harry with the long hair. The blonde one is super cute.” Three pairs of eyes looked at me as if to say, “Duh.” “Omg, I’m sitting next to him. I GAVE HIM A FUCKING HIGH FIVE, HANNAH. Jesus.” The layer of powder spackling my face was now useless. My flush could heat a thousand homes during a blizzard. “Is this the cousin you wanted to fix me up with? Are you insane?!”

“Wait, what? You wanted to fix Zoe up with Niall?” Carly looked offended, and frankly I couldn’t blame her. She was the hot one. Hannah was the sweet one, Jess was the responsible one, and I was the funny one. We all had our unassigned roles, at least in my head.

Rolling her eyes, Hannah resumed my impromptu makeover as I stood, still dumbfounded. “Yes, slag. You have a boyfriend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I’d drop him in a sec,” Carly interrupted.

“Anyhow, yes, I wanted to fix up Z. His sense of humor is almost as evil as hers, and she deserves a nice, normal guy.” She poked me in the chest with a mascara wand to make her point.

“Hardly normal, isn’t he?” I responded, finally gathering a few of my thoughts. Jess laughed at my gaping jaw. “Han, I’m going to die at this table of embarrassment, and even if I don’t, Paul is going to murder me if we lose because my brain is cheese right now. I can’t TALK in front of a regular guy I don’t know. Nevermind one who is fucking famous.”

“Relax, Z.” Carly finally sensed my pending tantrum and threw her arms around me. “You’re fine. And remember, Paul is an asshole if we lose at trivia. Those bastards from Social Meme-ia are dying to break our streak. Tossers.”

An hour and a half later, we were in the middle of round two, and solidly kicking ass. I still had not made eye contact with Niall, though a few times during moments of excitement, I had bounced up and down and our legs collided. Each time I yanked mine back in horror, and I could hear him let out a little laugh. Carly had switched seats to be sitting across from us, and she was all but laying her tits on the table at him. I admired her confidence. Niall appeared to be eating it up, so good for him. Two whiskeys and three beers into the night, I was loosening up. Now I could at least blame my flushed face on the booze.

“Next two questions are for our science geeks in the crowd,” Ted, the quizmaster informed us. “Yes!” Paul pumped his fist and threw his arm around my shoulder. “This is all you, Zo!”

“No pressure or anything, thanks,” I laughed. The two questions dealt with the brain, and I squealed in delight. We won top points and took a solid lead. I made eye contact with the leader of Social Meme-ia and raised my eyebrow cockily. And maybe scratched my nose with my middle finger. Take that, losers.

“Science geek, eh?” Niall nudged my arm, forcing me to look into his blue eyes that basically cut my soul. He smiled the sweetest, softest smile I had ever seen. I (thankfully) resisted the urge to caress his cheek. And I realized I had not responded and was just staring at him.

“Um, yeah. I have a biology degree.”

“Don’t let her fool you, Ni,” okay, when did he become ‘Ni’ and why was Paul bellowing in my ear? “My Zoe girl has three fucking degrees and is the queen of the science category. She kills that ‘FUCKING WANKER at Social Meme-ia every FUCKING WEEK.’”

Trying to apologize for my drunk friend, I explained, “Paul leans on me because the only organ he can name is a penis.” Did I really just say penis?

Niall’s face turned bright red and he started cracking up. “You are all amazing.”

“Thank you, Ni!” Paul again shouted in my ear, causing me to physically cover it from his thunderous drunk voice. Also, again with the Ni? Had they even spoken to one another before this exchange? I took a swig of my pint and realized he was talking to me again.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, do you use your biology degree? What do you do?”

That’s an easy simple question. Even I can handle this. “Me? What do I do?” Okay, maybe not. He nodded at me encouragingly, and I polished off the rest of my Stella. “I use my powers for good instead of evil. I’m an occupational therapist at a clinic for autistic kids.”

“Very cool. I work with an autism charity in Ireland.”

“That’s cool.” God, Zoe. Open your mouth and let words fall out. It’s not hard. “Um, which charity?”

Allie came to the rescue with another round of pints. Niall motioned to me and himself, and she nodded in some understanding.

“What was that about?” I questioned.

“I ordered you and I another round of Jameson. I think we need to bond over shots-you’ve got a lot to say in that pretty head that you’re not letting out.” His grin split his face and I, to my own shock, found myself smiling back at him.

[duckanonisbackandgonnafucku-blog]

THE TEXT VERSIO XDXDX

This is a conversation between Miseru and yourself, YOASSISAMINE.

YOASSISAMINE: WANNA HEAR THE BEST THING EVER

Miseru: Yes

YOASSISAMINE: Tito climbed into Reggie's room and immediately punched her in the face, knocking her out cold. Upon awakening Reggie found herself bound and gagged to a chair. Tito was naked, standing in front of her with a big Hawaii boner staring her in the face. "As the ancient Hawaiians used to say... it's time for a dicking!" And at that, Tito leaped forward and grabbed Reggie's undeveloped breast. He grabbed with all his might, and ripped the skin from her body. Her muffled screams fell flat, and no one came to her help. The blood aroused Tito more than he'd ever been aroused. It reminded him of the stories his mother used to tell him of the ancient Hawaiin sacrifices in which the subjects would receive wounds to which the sacrificers would rape. He couldn't wait, Tito grabbed a hammer and smashed at Reggie's ribcage, again her screams were not heard. After breaking an opening to her insides, Tito plunged in. He thrust in and out in complete ecstasy. The pain was unbearable for Reggie and she lost consciousness. Tito came almost immediately, but he was by no means done. He pulled out of her chest, his PENIS dripping blood and semen. Tito cleaned his dick off with Reggie's tongue. Tito tore out a few of the ribs he had broken and shoved them up his ass to stimulate his enormous prostate. Tito then undid Reggie's restraints and began fucking her now lifeless corpse. After deploying his Hawaiin happy sauce, he decided he wanted a better look at Reggie. Tito shoved his hand up Reggie's ass. He thrust it in as far as he could and grabbed on to the first organ he could, and then pulled out. He ripped out her entire small intestine and part of her large. Tito started to giggle and coiled up the small intestine like a rope. He noticed the sun was coming up so he had to finish in a hurry. Tito went to his clothes and dressed himself. He pulled a large knife from his pocket and began to skin Reggie's body. Just then Tito remembered, he was not man, but bear. He Skinned himself to reveal his true identity, a Grizzly Bear. He sat in the center of the room for several hours until Reggie's father came in. "Reggie it's time for schoo-HOLY FUCKING SHIT A BEAR OH MY GOD REGGI-" and Tito attacked and ate Ray. Then Tito went outside and let out a bear noise and a ray came from the sky and swept him away to his home planet of Canada.

YOASSISAMINE: A MASTERPIECE

Miseru: ONe sec I’m reading it

YOASSISAMINE: OK

YOASSISAMINE: AND NOW FOR SOMETHING VERY HOT

Miseru: Ok send away

YOASSISAMINE: One day while Andy was masturbating, Woody got wood. He could no longer help himself! He watched as Andy stroked his juicy kawaii cock. He approached Andy which startled him and make him pee everywhere on the floor and on Woody too. Being drenched in his urine made him harder than ever! Woody: "Andy Senpai! I'm alive and I want to be INSIDE OF YOU." Andy: "Oh Woody Chan! I always knew you were alive! I want to stuff you up my kawaii ass!" Woody grabbed a bunch of flavored lube and rubbed it all over his head Woody: "Oh my! It's cherry flavored lube! Cherry is my favorite! Woody then stuffed his head up into Andy's tight ass! The other toys around the room watched intently as Woody shoved his head back and forth into Andy's nice ass, continuously making a squishy wet noise. The other toys also became aroused and they all gathered around Woody and Andy and started to urinate all over them, and then they started to masturbate. Andy: "Oh my goodness, Woody Chan! You are churning my insides up so well! Your nose is stimulating my prostate! OH YES! All the other toys became so aroused by this, that they could not help themselves anymore! They pushed Woody completely inside, and they all went inside. All of them wanted to be inside Andy's nice round ass. Andy: "No wait guys! My ass cannot hold this much! I'm getting so full! All the toys went inside of poor squirming Andy and pretty much, he was beyond full, and died from having his insides completely damaged. The mother came inside and found Andy, dead with a huge ass hemorrhage on his anus, with a HUGE belly full of toys.

YOASSISAMINE: HOLY FUCK THIS NEXT ONE 2 SEXY FOR TH WORLD

YOASSISAMINE: Lil Pump is a child prodigy. At a mere three years of age, he was able to fully master the English language. When he turned five, he enrolled at Hamburger State University. There, he earned his bachelors degree in Lyrical Composition with a concentration in mumble rap. By six, he had mastered calculus and started writing PhD level academic papers. While he struggled a bit with integral calculus, he figured it out through dedication and hardwork over almost twenty-three minutes. In one of his papers, he addresses a mathematical application of music that transcends human logic, acting as the spark for his music career. But before he could start on his journey to musical stardom, he resolved to finish his PhD. By eight, his intellectual capacity had exceeded that of an average twenty-eight and a half year old. Realising his prodigious growth, Lil Pump thought he should spend some time in self reflection to get a better grasp on what he could expect of himself in future. So, he went to the Himalayas for 7 years to find himself. There, he interacted with thirty-five yetis and managed to convince the Hindu god, Shiva to add him on Snapchat. After returning, Lil Pump kept his accomplishments secret, so people won't make a big deal out of them. He's always been the modest type. Finally, he started his music career. Having attained the status of a superhuman entity, nothing he has recently said seems to be comprehensible. Coming to your question, no, he did not drop out of Harvard. But that's irrelevant. Continuing with his story: His recent hit, “Gucci Gang”, is a work of art that scholars at top institutions around the world have failed to decipher. Lines from that lyrical masterpiece such as: “Gucci Gang Gucci gang Gucci gang Gucci gang Gucci gang Gucci gang Gucci gang” and “mah bih luh do cocaine” have felt academicians puzzled as to their true meaning, with seventeen Harvard professor having committed suicide after realising their relative inferiority as compared to the god-man himself.

Miseru: Hm that one was interesting

Miseru: So it’s that what happened

YOASSISAMINE: yeah

YOASSISAMINE: gucci gang is the best song in the world

Miseru: Hm I never would have thought

YOASSISAMINE: ok nexzt one its exrtra spicy

Miseru: Ok send away

YOASSISAMINE: I'm just like everyone else. I'm a normal guy. I go to school, work a part-time job, and in my free time, I play videogames or go out with my friends. However, some may call me a "Mama's boy." I disagree. I think it is perfectly fine to have a healthy and friendly relationship with one's one birthgiver. Often, I will spend my days watching Netflix shows with my mother, baking cupcakes with her, and shopping for various items with her. I love my mother dearly, and I share many aspects of my life with her. However, there is one thing that she must never know; something that I personally believe to be fine, but I know mother dearest would be upset over, so I never inform her of it. More times than I could count, I have snuck into my mother's bathroom, and stolen her dried, bloody, used feminine products. I find them irresistible. I am a great white, in that I can smell her blood from miles away, and immediately seek it out. On nights where I don't sleep with my sweet mommy, I go into my own room and lock the door before indulging in her excrement. I always have a cup of water handy, to help wash down the fibers. I eat them whole, string and all, consuming the mucus and tissue absorbed from my mother's delectable uterus. If I can find the plastic casing then it's always a bonus for me, as I eat those too. Don't tell my mom about this, she'll take away my Xbox One and then I won't be able to play Fortnite anymore, and then I would be really sad.

Miseru: Hm

Miseru: where do you find these

YOASSISAMINE: the internet man

YOASSISAMINE: i think reddit is huge poopyfuckcock

Miseru: the internet is an interesting place

YOASSISAMINE: but r/copypasta is great

YOASSISAMINE: https://www.newgrounds.com/bbs/topic/878204

Miseru: hm

YOASSISAMINE: https://www.reddit.com/r/copypasta/comments/57k36k/woodys_got_wood/

YOASSISAMINE: https://www.reddit.com/r/copypasta/comments/7v5iu6/lil_pump/

YOASSISAMINE: https://www.reddit.com/r/copypasta/comments/8fc40f/oc_eating_my_mothers_used_tampons/

Miseru: thets a lot of redit

Miseru: i cant spell

YOASSISAMINE: lots of other places were you can find these beauties

Miseru: Hm

Miseru: got anymore?

YOASSISAMINE: also here's a reall y good one

Miseru: Hm better then the others

YOASSISAMINE: https://www.funnyjunk.com/channel/cringe-channel/One+of+the+biggest+cases+of+autism/BLYMLOY#f190d1_5236800

Miseru: Hm

YOASSISAMINE: there's also a mario one but i haven't read it

Miseru: Ok

YOASSISAMINE: i think this is hte original

YOASSISAMINE: the funniest thing is that the rest of the post sweren't about their own autistic video games things

YOASSISAMINE: they were just making fun of OP

Miseru: Oh

Miseru: im gunna leave you

Miseru: for another

YOASSISAMINE: rip

Miseru: so this is goodbye

YOASSISAMINE: bye my deasr frond

YOASSISAMINE: BOOK MARK THEM

Miseru: Ok one sec then 

[casualarsonist]

American Psycho: A review for people who are scared to read it.

I have a theory that American Psycho was something of a literary template for The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time <cue howls of indignation>. Let me finish – I know that psychopathy is not autism, although the conditions can share some personality similarities, and I know that there is nothing more stigmatising and incorrect than to conflate the two, but from a textual point of view, let’s consider this for a second: both are written from a first-person perspective, narrated by characters who categorise the world around them in meticulous analytical detail. Both characters spend a lot of time explicitly explaining their actions to the viewer in a clinical, methodical way. Both novels devote entire chapters to musings on pop culture. Both novels depict their characters’ struggle to interact with the world around them as a result of their conditions. Obviously I don’t think that Mark Haddon sat down to read American Psycho and thought that he could write Patrick Batman-lite, but there is an interesting familiarity in reading American Psycho in terms of how it’s structured, and in how Bateman details his world. So perhaps my ‘theory’ is more of an interesting coincidence, but it stands that American Psycho is, at its core, a fantastic character study of a man who feels little connection to the world around him, and a vicious skewering of conspicuous consumerism. It has also been hugely misunderstood and misinterpreted by critics and the public alike for the entirety of its existence.

American Psycho is a 1991 novel by Bret Easton Ellis, centred around the obscenely wealthy New York yuppie, Patrick Bateman; a self-confessed ‘fucking evil psychopath’. It follows his life over a period of a couple of years (although the amount of time that passes between the various scenes is vague at best) as Bateman guides us through whichever experiences he chooses to show us. Now I know what you’ve heard, and don’t get the wrong idea - the majority of the novel simply depicts the superficial banality of Patrick’s life - vacuous conversations with his friends over dinner at expensive restaurants (or over drinks and cocaine at exclusive clubs), detailed dissections of certain musical icons, meticulous descriptions of the clothes and things owned by the people around him, and his liasons with various women in his social circle as they sleep, eat, drink, and do drugs with each other without any respect for established ‘relationships’. And that’s ‘relationships’ in inverted commas, because these people are self-centred-ness made manifest. Consumed by their obsessions with money and possessions, all of the characters seem incapable, undesiring, even, of forming genuine emotional connections to anyone around them. Their loyalties to their friends are tenuous, to their lovers even more so, and their conversations revolve almost entirely around fashion etiquette, which restaurant is the most chic (certainly not the same one that they’ve eaten at that one time in the last two weeks), and which piece of meat (apologies, ‘woman’) they’d like to have sex with.

But the novel is controversial for a reason, and there are certain parts of American Psycho that contain some of the most repellent and detestable things I have ever read. There was more than one occasion where I simply had to put the book down, cursing internally and aloud the lack of artistic merit and the pure sadism of these sections and the actions contained within. But it also stands true that the more reactionary among us will read these parts, or hear of them, and damn the book as misogynistic torture-porn, and will miss the point entirely. I can’t excuse the scenes of violence, and I still struggle to understand why they must exist in such a way. Perhaps they’re there to make the reader feel ashamed – to lure them into a trap with promises of titillation and taboo bloodlust, and then horrify us into self-reflection? But to boil the purpose of the novel down to these moments is far too simplistic. The characters and their actions are misogynistic, yes, because American Psycho is an apocalyptic look at America’s lust for wealth and reverence of the god Economy, forsaking all other virtues along the way. It is money as a substitute for masculinity. These men are disgusting, and their actions are disgusting, but at the centre of every single one of them lies nothing of value. They are pathetic - empty shells existing only for an induced high, for the hollow prestige of things that serve no purpose other than to be gaudy and far-too-expensive. They repeatedly order high-priced drinks and meals that they don’t touch and entertain themselves by abusing and belittling homeless people in the street. They’re pitiful, and prey on the equally vacuous women that surround them, bouncing from mate to mate, from drug to drug. American Psycho forces the reader to take a look at an unvarnished and extrapolated depiction of what corporate America desires most, and absolutely savages it in the process. The novel won’t let you relax - the rate of murders and the horror of the descriptions escalate in its latter half and it certainly makes it a difficult slog to the end, and just as you think you’re becoming complacent towards the nastiness, it ups the ante and leaves you feeling angry and repulsed all over again, but the truth is that other 90% of its 380-odd pages are really just filled with meticulous descriptions of things. To this end, and spoiler-free, it all feels a little pointless upon its conclusion. But perhaps that’s the point? It revisits a scenario that it has portrayed a dozen times before, and the text could be word-for-word copied from any one of a number of other points earlier and it really feels a little boring, a little underwhelming. And it should, because no matter the lengths Patrick goes to in order to stimulate himself, to make himself feel something – anything – other than boredom and disgust, neither he nor his friends can escape the empty repetitiveness of their lives.

If there were a narrative, it would be that we follow Patrick’s unravelling sanity as time progresses. He admits within the first few pages that he is a psychopath, but for a long time we only get hints here and there of his deviant actions. Then, one by one, and almost too casually, we are introduced to his disconnections from reality, and then his murders. They come without warning and unpredictably. He begins to hallucinate more vividly and frequently, and the novel reaches a point where one can doubt almost everything he says. At one point he describes in a rambling stream-of-consciousness his deranged ravings in the streets as he goes shopping one afternoon, assaulting people in public and screaming and banging his briefcase along a wall, eating his melting hair-gel and standing for an hour in a trance in a shop. At another point much later on he leads police on a chase through the city as he murders at will and blows up police cars. Whether or not he actually performs any of these actions is left almost entirely uncertain, and all confessions of his crimes are misheard or taken by others as jokes. He kills an associate and claims to drag the corpse through the street in a sleeping bag; he is even investigated for the man’s disappearance by a private detective, but then months later someone claims to have lunched with the man only a short time prior. Did Bateman really kill the man, or was it a hallucination? One can’t ever know, as all his friends look the same and they all frequently mistake one-another for other people; in this very conversation, the person who claims to have lunched with the dead man has mistaken Bateman for someone else. This is the level of unreliability that the novel operates on. The most stark degradation of his lifestyle is exhibited in the way his home life changes from a militaristic adherence to his beauty regimen to literally eating viscera on the floor of a blood-soaked apartment, and this is all interesting enough to read until we are jerked back abruptly to another table at another restaurant with another fancy meal and another asinine conversation.

Patrick Bateman’s life is hell. His environment is affluent, but it is hell. He knows this, and yet he wouldn’t tolerate the idea of another way of life as he’s so enslaved by his own mental state that he barely even realises that he hates everything about it. Easton Ellis takes us through this hell, bludgeoning us with mundanity and violence alike, until we understand that what Patrick Bateman has is not something worth dreaming of, that America is sick and Wall Street’s unfettered lust for money is a blight, a cancer. It’s at times sickening, at times humourous, and at times rather tedious, and that’s the point. You aren’t meant to read this novel and think ‘damn, I’d like some of that’. You’re meant to feel disgusted and kind of bored. You’re meant to see this extreme depiction of an affluent life it for all that it is, and all that it isn’t. The memories of the abhorrent actions fade surprisingly quickly, given the horror they invoke, which is the only reason they are bearable, and I’m not sure that it’s good for the sanity to read this novel repeatedly, but it is certainly one of a kind, and one of the most savage indictments of greed-soaked materialism ever put to paper.

#american #psycho #novel #brett #easton #ellis #review #literature