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Holy Hell: 3. Metanarrativity: Who’s the Deleuze and who’s the Guattari in your relationship? aka the analysis no one asked for.

In this ep, we delve into authorship, narrative, fandom and narrative meaning. And somehow, as always, bring it back to Cas and Misha Collins.

(Note: the reason I didn’t talk about Billie’s authorship and library is because I completely forgot it existed until I watched season 13 “Advanced Thanatology” again, while waiting for this episode to upload. I’ll find a way to work her into later episodes tho!)

I had to upload it as a new podcast to Spotify so if you could just re-subscribe that would be great! Or listen to it at these other links.

Please listen to the bit at the beginning about monetisation and if you have any questions don’t hesitate to message me here.

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Transcript under the cut!

Warnings: discussions of incest, date rape, rpf, war, 9/11, the bush administration, abuse, mental health, addiction, homelessness. Most of these are just one off comments, they’re not full discussions.

Meta-Textuality: Who’s the Deleuze and who’s the Guattari in your relationship?

In the third episode of Season 6, “The Third Man,” Balthazar says to Cas, “you tore up the whole script and burned the pages.” That is the fundamental idea the writers of the first five seasons were trying to sell us: whatever grand plan the biblical God had cooking up is worth nothing in face of the love these men have—for each other and the world. Sam, Bobby, Cas and Dean will go to any lengths to protect one another and keep people safe. What’s real? What’s worth saving? People are real. Families are worth saving.

This show plugs free will as the most important thing a person, angel, demon or otherwise can have. The fact of the matter is that Dean was always going to fight against the status quo, Sam was always going to go his own way, and Bobby was always going to do his best for his boys. The only uncertainty in the entire narrative is Cas. He was never meant to rebel. He was never meant to fall from Heaven. He was supposed to fall in line, be a good soldier, and help bring on the apocalypse, but Cas was the first agent of free will in the show’s timeline. Sam followed Lucifer, Dean followed Michael, and John gave himself up for the sins of his children, at once both a God and Jesus figure. But Cas wasn’t modelled off anyone else. He is original. There are definitely some parallels to Ruby, but I would argue those are largely unintentional. Cas broke the mold.

That’s to say nothing of the impact he’s had on the fanbase, and the show itself, which would not have reached 15 seasons and be able to end the way they wanted it to without Cas and Misha Collins. His back must be breaking from carrying the entire show.

But what the holy hell are we doing here today? Not just talking about Cas. We’re talking about metanarrativity: as I define it, and for purposes of this episode, the story within a story, and the act of storytelling. We’re going to go through a select few episodes which I think exemplify the best of what this show has to offer in terms of framing the narrative. We’ll talk about characters like Chuck and Becky and the baby dykes in season 10. And most importantly we’ll talk about the audience’s role, our role, in the reciprocal relationship of storytelling. After all, a tv show is nothing without the viewer.

I was in fact introduced to the concept of metanarrativity by Supernatural, so the fact that I’m revisiting it six years after I finished my degree to talk about the show is one of life’s little jokes.

I’m brushing off my degree and bringing out the big guns (aka literary theorists) to examine this concept. This will be yet another piece of analysis that would’ve gone well in my English Lit degree, but I’ll try not to make it dry as dog shit.

First off, I’m going to argue that the relationship between the creators of Supernatural and the fans has always been a dialogue, albeit with a power imbalance. Throughout the series, even before explicitly metanarrative episodes like season 10 “Fan Fiction” and season 4 “the monster at the end of this book,” the creators have always engaged in conversations with the fans through the show. This includes but is not limited to fan conventions, where the creators have actual, live conversations with the fans. Misha Collins admitted at a con that he’d read fanfiction of Cas while he was filming season 4, but it’s pretty clear even from the first season that the creators, at the very least Eric Kripke, were engaging with fans. The show aired around the same time as Twitter and Tumblr were created, both of which opened up new passageways for fans to interact with each other, and for Twitter and Facebook especially, new passageways for fans to interact with creators and celebrities.

But being the creators, they have ultimate control over what is written, filmed and aired, while we can only speculate and make our own transformative interpretations. But at least since s4, they have engaged in meta narrative construction that at once speaks to fans as well as expands the universe in fun and creative ways. My favourite episodes are the ones where we see the Winchesters through the lens of other characters, such as the season 3 episode “Jus In Bello,” in which Sam and Dean are arrested by Victor Henriksen, and the season 7 episode “Slash Fiction” in which Dean and Sam’s dopplegangers rob banks and kill a bunch of people, loathe as I am to admit that season 7 had an effect on any part of me except my upchuck reflex. My second favourite episodes are the meta episodes, and for this episode of Holy Hell, we’ll be discussing a few: The French Mistake, he Monster at the end of this book, the real ghostbusters, Fan Fiction, Metafiction, and Don’t Call Me Shurley. I’ll also discuss Becky more broadly, because, like, of course I’ll be discussing Becky, she died for our sins.

Let’s take it back. The Monster At The End Of This Book — written by Julie Siege and Nancy Weiner and directed by Mike Rohl. Inarguably one of the better episodes in the first five seasons. Not only is Cas in it, looking so beautiful, but Sam gets something to do, thank god, and it introduces the character of Chuck, who becomes a source of comic relief over the next two seasons. The episode starts with Chuck Shurley, pen named Carver Edlund after my besties, having a vision while passed out drunk. He dreams of Sam and Dean larping as Feds and finding a series of books based on their lives that Chuck has written. They eventually track Chuck down, interrogate him, and realise that he’s a prophet of the lord, tasked with writing the Winchester Gospels. The B plot is Sam plotting to kill Lilith while Dean fails to get them out of the town to escape her. The C plot is Dean and Cas having a moment that strengthens their friendship and leads further into Cas’s eventual disobedience for Dean. Like the movie Disobedience. Exactly like the movie Disobedience. Cas definitely spits in Dean’s mouth, it’s kinda gross to be honest. Maybe I’m just not allo enough to appreciate art.

When Eric Kripke was showrunner of the first five seasons of Supernatural, he conceptualised the character of Chuck. Kripke as the author-god introduced the character of the author-prophet who would later become in Jeremy Carver’s showrun seasons the biblical God. Judith May Fathallah writes in “I’m A God: The Author and the Writing Fan in Supernatural” that Kripke writes himself both into and out of the text, ending his era with Chuck winking at the camera, saying, “nothing really ends,” and disappearing. Kripke stayed on as producer, continuing to write episodes through Sera Gamble’s era, and was even inserted in text in the season 6 episode “The French Mistake”. So nothing really does end, not Kripke’s grip on the show he created, not even the show itself, which fans have jokingly referred to as continuing into its 16th season. Except we’re not joking. It will die when all of us are dead, when there is no one left to remember it. According to W R Fisher, humans are homo narrans, natural storytellers. The Supernatural fandom is telling a fidelitous narrative, one which matches our own beliefs, values and experiences instead of that of canon. Instead of, at Fathallah says, “the Greek tradition, that we should struggle to do the right thing simply because it is right, though we will suffer and be punished anyway,” the fans have created an ending for the characters that satisfies each and every one of our desires, because we each create our own endings. It’s better because we get to share them with each other, in the tradition of campfire stories, each telling our own version and building upon the others. If that’s not the epitome of mythmaking then I don’t know. It’s just great. Dean and Cas are married, Eileen and Sam are married, Jack is sometimes a baby who Claire and Kaia are forced to babysit, Jody and Donna are gonna get hitched soon. It’s season 17, time for many weddings, and Kevin Tran is alive. Kripke, you have no control over this anymore, you crusty hag.

Chuck is introduced as someone with power, but not influence over the story, only how the story is told through the medium of the novels. It’s basically a very badly written, non authorised biography, and Charlie reading literally every book and referencing things she should have no knowledge of is so damn creepy and funny. At first Chuck is surprised by his characters coming to life, despite having written it already, and when shown the intimidating array of weapons in Baby’s trunk he gets real scared. Which is the appropriate response for a skinny 5-foot-8 white guy in a bathrobe who writes terrible fantasy novels for a living.

As far as I can remember, this is the first explicitly metanarrative episode in the series, or at least the first one with in world consequences. It builds upon the lore of Christianity, angels, and God, while teasing what’s to come. Chuck and Sam have a conversation about how the rest of the season is going to play out, and Sam comes away with the impression that he’ll go down with the ship. They touch on Sam’s addiction to demon blood, which Chuck admits he didn’t write into the books, because in the world of supernatural, addiction should be demonised ha ha at every opportunity, except for Dean’s alcoholism which is cool and manly and should never be analysed as an unhealthy trauma coping mechanism.

Chuck is mostly impotent in the story of Sam and Dean, but his very presence presents an element of good luck that turns quickly into a force of antagonism in the series four finale, “Lucifer Rising”, when the archangel Raphael who defeats Lilith in this episode also kills Cas in the finale. It’s Cas’s quick thinking and Dean’s quick doing that resolve the episode and save them from Lilith, once again proving that free will is the greatest force in the universe. Cas is already tearing up pages and burning scripts. The fandom does the same, acting as gods of their own making in taking canon and transforming it into fan art. The fans aren’t impotent like Chuck, but neither do we have sway over the story in the way that Cas and Dean do. Sam isn’t interested in changing the story in the same way—he wants to kill Lilith and save the world, but in doing so continues the story in the way it was always supposed to go, the way the angels and the demons and even God wanted him to.

Neither of them are author-gods in the way that God is. We find out later that Chuck is in fact the real biblical god, and he engineers everything. The one thing he doesn’t engineer, however, is Castiel, and I’ll get to that in a minute.

The Real Ghostbusters

Season 5’s “The real ghostbusters,” written by Nancy Weiner and Erik Kripke, and directed by James L Conway, situates the Winchesters at a fan convention for the Supernatural books. While there, they are confronted by a slew of fans cosplaying as Sam, Dean, Bobby, the scarecrow, Azazel, and more. They happen to stumble upon a case, in the midst of the game where the fans pretend to be on a case, and with the help of two fans cosplaying as Sam and Dean, they put to rest a group of homicidal ghost children and save the day. Chuck as the special guest of the con has a hero moment that spurs Becky on to return his affections. And at the end, we learn that the Colt, which they’ve been hunting down to kill the devil, was given to a demon named Crowley. It’s a fun episode, but ultimately skippable. This episode isn’t so much metanarrative as it is metatextual—metatextual meaning more than one layer of text but not necessarily about the storytelling in those texts—but let’s take a look at it anyway.

The metanarrative element of a show about a series of books about the brothers the show is based on is dope and expands upon what we saw in “the monster at the end of this book”. But the episode tells a tale about about the show itself, and the fandom that surrounds it.

Where “The Monster At The End Of This Book” and the season 5 premiere “Sympathy For The Devil” poked at the coiled snake of fans and the concept of fandom, “the real ghostbusters” drags them into the harsh light of an enclosure and antagonises them in front of an audience. The metanarrative element revolves around not only the books themselves, but the stories concocted within the episode: namely Barnes and Demian the cosplayers and the story of the ghosts. The Winchester brothers’s history that we’ve seen throughout the first five seasons of the show is bared in a tongue in cheek way: while we cried with them when Sam and Dean fought with John, now the story is thrown out in such a way as to mock both the story and the fans’ relationship to it. Let me tell you, there is a lot to be made fun of on this show, but the fans’ relationship to the story of Sam, Dean and everyone they encounter along the way isn’t part of it. I don’t mean to be like, wow you can’t make fun of us ever because we’re special little snowflakes and we take everything so seriously, because you are welcome to make fun of us, but when the creators do it, I can’t help but notice a hint of malice. And I think that’s understandable in a way. Like The relationship between creator and fan is both layered and symbiotic. While Kripke and co no doubt owe the show’s popularity to the fans, especially as the fandom has grown and evolved over time, we’re not exactly free of sin. And don’t get me wrong, no fandom is. But the bad apples always seem to outweigh the good ones, and bad experiences can stick with us long past their due.

However, portraying us as losers with no lives who get too obsessed with this show — well, you know, actually, maybe they’re right. I am a loser with no life and I am too obsessed with this show. So maybe they have a point. But they’re so harsh about it. From wincestie Becky who they paint as a desperate shrew to these cosplayers who threaten Dean’s very perception of himself, we’re not painted in a very good light.

Dean says to Demian and Barnes, “It must be nice to get out of your mom’s basement.” He’s judging them for deriving pleasure from dressing up and pretending to be someone else for a night. He doesn’t seem to get the irony that he does that for a living. As the seasons wore on, the creators made sure to include episodes where Dean’s inner geek could run rampant, often in the form of dressing up like a cowboy, such as season six “Frontierland” and season 13 “Tombstone”. I had to take a break from writing this to laugh for five minutes because Dean is so funny. He’s a car gay but he only likes one car. He doesn’t follow sports. His echolalia causes him to blurt out lines from his favourite movies. He’s a posse magnet. And he loves cosplay. But he will continually degrade and insult anyone who expresses interest in role play, fandom, or interests in general. Maybe that’s why Sam is such a boring person, because Dean as his mother didn’t allow him to have any interests outside of hunting. And when Sam does express interests, Dean insults him too. What a dick. He’s my soulmate, but I am not going to stop listening to hair metal for him. That’s where I draw the line.

Where “the monster at the end of this book” is concerned with narrative and authorship, “the real ghostbusters” is concerned with fandom and fan reactions to the show. It’s not really the best example to talk about in an episode about metanarrativity, but I wanted to include it anyway. It veers from talk of narrative by focusing on the people in the periphery of the narrative—the fans and the author. In season 9 “Metafiction,” Metatron asks the question, who gives the story meaning? The text would have you believe it’s the characters. The angels think it’s God. The fandom think it’s us. The creators think it’s them. Perhaps we will never come to a consensus or even a satisfactory answer to this question. Perhaps that’s the point.

The ultimate takeaway from this episode is that ordinary people, the people Sam and Dean save, the people they save the world for, the people they die for again and again, are what give their story meaning. Chuck defeats a ghost and saves the people in the conference room from being murdered. Demian and Barnes, don’t ask me which is which, burn the bodies of the ghost children and lay their spirits to rest. The text says that ordinary, every day people can rise to the challenge of becoming extraordinary. It’s not a bad note to end on, by any means. And then we find out that Demian and Barnes are a couple, which of course Dean is surprised at, because he lacks object permanence.

This is no doubt influenced by how a good portion of the transformative fandom are queer, and also a nod to the wincesties and RPF writers like Becky who continue to bottom feed off the wrong message of this show. But then, the creators encourage that sort of thing, so who are the real clowns here? Everyone. Everyone involved with this show in any way is a clown, except for the crew, who were able to feed their families for more than a decade.

Okay side note… over the past year or so I’ve been in process of realising that even in fandom queers are in the minority. I know the statistic is that 10% of the world population is queer, but that doesn’t seem right to me? Maybe because 4/5 closest friends are queer and I hang around queers online, but I also think I lack object permanence when it comes to straight people. Like I just do not interact with straight people on a regular basis outside of my best friend and parents and school. So when I hear that someone in fandom is straight I’m like, what the fuck… can you keep that to yourself please? Like if I saw Misha Collins coming out as straight I would be like, I didn’t ask and you didn’t have to tell. Okay I’m mostly joking, but I do forget straight people exist. Mostly I don’t think about whether people are gay or trans or cis or straight unless they’ve explicitly said it and then yes it does colour my perception of them, because of course it would. If they’re part of the queer community, they’re my people. And if they’re straight and cis, then they could very well pose a threat to me and my wellbeing. But I never ask people because it’s not my business to ask. If they feel comfortable enough to tell me, that’s awesome. I think Dean feels the same way. Towards the later seasons at least, he has a good reaction when it’s revealed that someone is queer, even if it is mostly played off as a joke. It’s just that he doesn’t have a frame of reference in his own life to having a gay relationship, either his or someone he’s close to. He says to Cesar and Jesse in season 11 “The Critters” that they fight like brothers, because that’s the only way he knows how to conceptualise it. He doesn’t have a way to categorise his and Cas’s relationship, which is in many ways, long before season 15 “Despair,” harking back even to the parallels between Ruby and Cas in season 3 and 4, a romantic one, aside from that Cas is like a brother to him. Because he’s never had anyone in his life care for him the way Cas does that wasn’t Sam and Bobby, and he doesn’t recognise the romantic element of their relationship until literally Cas says it to him in the third last episode, he just—doesn’t know what his and Cas’s relationship is. He just really doesn’t know. And he grew up with a father who despised him for taking the mom and wife role in their family, the role that John placed him in, for being subservient to John’s wishes where Sam was more rebellious, so of course he wouldn’t understand either his own desires or those of anyone around him who isn’t explicitly shoving their tits in his face. He moulded his entire personality around what he thought John wanted of him, and John says to him explicitly in season 14 “Lebanon”, “I thought you’d have a family,” meaning, like him, wife and two rugrats. And then, dear god, Dean says, thinking of Sam, Cas, Jack, Claire, and Mary, “I have a family.” God that hurts so much. But since for most of his life he hasn’t been himself, he’s been the man he thought his father wanted him to be, he’s never been able to examine his own desires, wants and goals. So even though he’s really good at reading people, he is not good at reading other people’s desires unless they have nefarious intentions. Because he doesn’t recognise what he feels is attraction to men, he doesn’t recognise that in anyone else.

Okay that’s completely off topic, wow. Getting back to metanarrativity in “The Real Ghostbusters,” I’ll just cap it off by saying that the books in this episode are more a frame for the events than the events themselves. However, there are some good outtakes where Chuck answers some questions, and I’m not sure how much of that is scripted and how much is Rob Benedict just going for it, but it lends another element to the idea of Kripke as author-god. The idea of a fan convention is really cool, because at this point Supernatural conventions had been running for about 4 years, since 2006. It’s definitely a tribute to the fans, but also to their own self importance. So it’s a mixed bag, considering there were plenty of elements in there that show the good side of fandom and fans, but ultimately the Winchesters want nothing to do with it, consider it weird, and threaten Chuck when he says he’ll start releasing books again, which as far as they know is his only source of income. But it’s a fun episode and Dean is a grouchy bitch, so who the holy hell cares?

Season 10 episode “fanfiction” written by my close personal friend Robbie Thompson and directed by Phil Sgriccia is one of the funniest episodes this show has ever done. Not only is it full of metatextual and metanarrative jokes, the entire premise revolves around fanservice, but in like a fun and interesting way, not fanservice like killing the band Kansas so that Dean can listen to “Carry On My Wayward Son” in heaven twice. Twice. One version after another. Like I would watch this musical seven times in theatre, I would buy the soundtrack, I would listen to it on repeat and make all my friends listen to it when they attend my online Jitsi birthday party. This musical is my Hamilton. Top ten episodes of this show for sure. The only way it could be better is if Cas was there. And he deserved to be there. He deserved to watch little dyke Castiel make out with her girlfriend with her cute little wings, after which he and Dean share uncomfortable eye contact. Dean himself is forever coming to terms with the fact that gay people exist, but Cas should get every opportunity he can to hear that it’s super cool and great and awesome to be queer. But really he should be in every episode, all of them, all 300 plus episodes including the ones before angels were introduced. I’m going to commission the guy who edits Paddington into every movie to superimpose Cas standing on the highway into every episode at least once.

“Fan Fiction” starts with a tv script and the words “Supernatural pilot created by Eric Kripke”. This Immediately sets up the idea that it’s toying with narrative. Blah blah blah, some people go missing, they stumble into a scene from their worst nightmares: the school is putting on a musical production of a show inspired by the Supernatural books. It’s a comedy of errors. When people continue to go missing, Sam and Dean have to convince the girls that something supernatural is happening, while retaining their dignity and respect. They reveal that they are the real Sam and Dean, and Dean gives the director Marie a summary of their lives over the last five seasons, but they aren’t taken seriously. Because, like, of course they aren’t. Even when the girls realise that something supernatural is happening, they don’t actually believe that the musical they’ve made and the series of books they’re basing it on are real. Despite how Sam and Dean Winchester were literal fugitives for many years at many different times, and this was on the news, and they were wanted by the FBI, despite how they pretend to be FBI, and no one mentions it??? Did any of the staffwriters do the required reading or just do what I used to do for my 40 plus page readings of Baudrillard and just skim the first sentence of every paragraph? Neat hack for you: paragraphs are set up in a logical order of Topic, Example, Elaboration, Linking sentence. Do you have to read 60 pages of some crusty French dude waxing poetic about how his best friend Pierre wants to shag his wife and making that your problem? Read the first and last sentence of every paragraph. Boom, done. Just cut your work in half.

The musical highlights a lot of the important moments of the show so far. The brothers have, as Charlie Bradbury says, their “broment,” and as Marie says, their “boy melodrama scene,” while she insinuates that there is a sexual element to their relationship. This show never passed up an opportunity to mention incest. It’s like: mentioning incest 5000 km, not being disgusting 1 km, what a hard decision. Actually, they do have to walk on their knees for 100 miles through the desert repenting. But there are other moments—such as Mary burning on the ceiling, a classic, Castiel waiting for Dean at the side of the highway, and Azazel poisoning Sam. With the help of the high schoolers, Sam and Dean overcome Calliope, the muse and bad guy of the episode, and save the day. What began as their lives reinterpreted and told back to them turns into a story they have some agency over.

In this episode, as opposed to “The Monster At The End Of This Book,” The storytelling has transferred from an alcoholic in a bathrobe into the hands of an overbearing and overachieving teenage girl, and honestly why not. Transformative fiction is by and large run by women, and queer women, so Marie and her stage manager slash Jody Mills’s understudy Maeve are just following in the footsteps of legends. This kind of really succinctly summarises the difference between curative fandom and transformative fandom, the former of which is populated mostly by men, and the latter mostly by women. As defined by LordByronic in 2015, Curative fandom is more like enjoying the text, collecting the merchandise, organising the knowledge — basically Reddit in terms of fandom curation. Transformative fandom is transforming the source text in some way — making fanart, fanfic, mvs, or a musical — basically Tumblr in general, and Archive of our own specifically. Like what do non fandom people even do on Tumblr? It is a complete mystery to me. Whereas Chuck literally writes himself into the narrative he receives through visions, Marie and co have agency and control over the narrative by writing it themselves.

Chuck does appear in the episode towards the end, his first appearance after five seasons. The theory that he killed those lesbian theatre girls makes me wanna curl up and die, so I don’t subscribe to it. Chuck watched the musical and he liked it and he gave unwarranted notes and then he left, the end.

The Supernatural creative team is explicitly acknowledging the fandom’s efforts by making this episode. They’re writing us in again, with more obsessive fans, but with lethbians this time, which makes it infinitely better. And instead of showing us as potential date rapists, we’re just cool chicks who like to make art. And that’s fucken awesome.

I just have to note that the characters literally say the word Destiel after Dean sees the actors playing Dean and Cas making out. He storms off and tells Sam to shut the fuck up when Sam makes fun of him, because Dean’s sexuality is NOT threatened he just needs to assert his dominance as a straight hetero man who has NEVER looked at another man’s lips and licked his own. He just… forgets that gay people exist until someone reminds him. BUT THEN, after a rousing speech that is stolen from Rent or Wicked or something, he echoes Marie’s words back, saying “put as much sub into that text as you possibly can.” What does Dean know about subbing, I wonder. Okay I’m suddenly reminded that he did literally go to a kink bar and get hit on by a leather daddy. Oh Dean, the experiences you have as a broad-shouldered, pixie-faced man with cowboy legs. You were born for this role.

Metatron is my favourite villain. As one tumblr user pointed out, he is an evil English literature major, which is just a normal English literature major. The season nine episode “Meta Fiction” written by my main man robbie thompson and directed by thomas j wright, happens within a curious season. Castiel, once again, becomes the leader of a portion of the heavenly host to take down Metatron, and Dean is affected by the Mark Of Cain. Sam was recently possessed by Gadreel, who killed Kevin in Sam’s body and then decided to run off with Metatron. Metatron himself is recruiting angels to join him, in the hopes that he can become the new God. It’s the first introduction of Hannah, who encourages Cas to recruit angels himself to take on Metatron. Also, we get to see Gabriel again, who is always a delight.

This episode is a lot of fun. Metatron poses questions like, who tells a story and who is the most important person in the telling? Is it the writer? The audience? He starts off staring over his typewriter to address the camera, like a pompous dickhead. No longer content with consuming stories, he’s started to write his own. And they are hubristic ones about becoming God, a better god than Chuck ever was, but to do it he needs to kill a bunch of people and blame it on Cas. So really, he’s actually exactly like Chuck who blamed everything on Lucifer.

But I think the most apt analogy we can use for this in terms of who is the creator is to think of Metatron as a fanfiction writer. He consumes the media—the Winchester Gospels—and starts to write his own version of events—leading an army to become God and kill Cas. Nevermind that no one has been able to kill Cas in a way that matters or a way that sticks. Which is canon, and what Metatron is trying to do is—well not fanon because it actually does impact the Winchesters’ storyline. It would be like if one of the writers of Supernatural began writing Supernatural fanfiction before they got a job on the show. Which as my generation and the generations coming after me get more comfortable with fanfiction and fandom, is going to be the case for a lot of shows. I think it’s already the case for Riverdale. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the woman who wrote the bi Dean essay go to work on Riverdale? Or something? I dunno, I have the post saved in my tumblr likes but that is quagmire of epic proportions that I will easily get lost in if I try to find it.

Okay let me flex my literary degree. As Englund and Leach say in “Ethnography and the metanarratives of modernity,” “The influential “literary turn,” in which the problems of ethnography were seen as largely textual and their solutions as lying in experimental writing seems to have lost its impetus.” This can be taken to mean, in the context of Supernatural, that while Metatron’s writings seek to forge a new path in history, forgoing fate for a new kind of divine intervention, the problem with Metatron is that he’s too caught up in the textual, too caught up in the writing, to be effectual. And this as we see throughout seasons 9, 10 and 11, has no lasting effect. Cas gets his grace back, Dean survives, and Metatron becomes a powerless human. In this case, the impetus is his grace, which he loses when Cas cuts it out of him, a mirror to Metatron cutting out Cas’s grace.

However, I realise that the concept of ethnography in Supernatural is a flawed one, ethnography being the observation of another culture: a lot of the angels observe humanity and seem to fit in. However, Cas has to slowly acclimatise to the Winchesters as they tame him, but he never quite fit in—missing cues, not understanding jokes or Dean’s personal space, the scene where he says, “We have a guinea pig? Where?” Show him the guinea pig Sam!!! He wants to see it!!! At most he passes as a human with autism. Cas doesn’t really observe humanity—he observes nature, as seen in season 7 “reading is fundamental” and “survival of the fittest”. Even the human acts he talks about in season 6 “the man who would be king” are from hundreds or thousands of years ago. He certainly doesn’t observe popular culture, which puts him at odds with Dean, who is made up of 90 per cent pop culture references and 10 per cent flannel. Metatron doesn’t seek to blend in with humanity so much as control it, which actually is the most apt example of ethnography for white people in the last—you know, forever. But of course the writers didn’t seek to make this analogy. It is purely by chance, and maybe I’m the only person insane enough to realise it. But probably not. There are a lot of cookies much smarter than me in the Supernatural fandom and they’ve like me have grown up and gone to university and gotten real jobs in the real world and real haircuts. I’m probably the only person to apply Englund and Leach to it though.

And yes, as I read this paper I did need to have one tab open on Google, with the word “define” in the search bar.

Metatron has a few lines in this that I really like. He says:

“The universe is made up of stories, not atoms.”

“You’re going to have to follow my script.”

“I’m an entity of my word.”

It’s really obvious, but they’re pushing the idea that Metatron has become an agent of authorship instead of just a consumer of media. He even throws a Supernatural book into his fire — a symbolic act of burning the script and flipping the writer off, much like Cas did to God and the angels in season 5. He’s not a Kripke figure so much as maybe a Gamble, Carver or Dabb figure, in that he usurps Chuck and becomes the author-god. This would be extremely postmodern of him if he didn’t just do exactly what Chuck was doing, except worse somehow. In fact, it’s postmodern of Cas to reject heaven’s narrative and fall for Dean. As one tumblr user points out, Cas really said “What’s fate compared to Dean Winchester?”

Okay this transcript is almost 8000 words already, and I still have two more episodes to review, and more things to say, so I’ll leave you with this. Metatron says to Cas, “Out of all of God’s wind up toys, you’re the only one with any spunk.” Why Cas has captured his attention comes down more than anything to a process of elimination. Most angels fucking suck. They follow the rules of whoever puts themselves in charge, and they either love Cas or hate him, or just plainly wanna fuck him, and there have been few angels who stood out. Balthazar was awesome, even though I hated him the first time I watched season 6. He UNSUNK the Titanic. Legend status. And Gabriel was of course the OG who loves to fuck shit up. But they’re gone at this stage in the narrative, and Cas survives. Cas always survives. He does have spunk. And everyone wants to fuck him.

Season 11 episode 20 “Don’t Call Me Shurley,” the last episode written by the Christ like figure of Robbie Thompson — are we sensing a theme here? — and directed by my divine enemy Robert Singer, starts with Metatron dumpster diving for food. I’m not even going to bother commenting on this because like… it’s supernatural and it treats complex issues like homelessness and poverty with zero nuance. Like the Winchesters live in poverty but it’s fun and cool because they always scrape by but Metatron lives in poverty and it’s funny. Cas was homeless and it was hard but he needed to do it to atone for his sins, and Metatron is homeless and it’s funny because he brought it on himself by being a murderous dick. Fucking hell. Robbie, come on. The plot focuses on God, also known as Chuck Shurley, making himself known to Metatron and asking for Metatron’s opinion on his memoir. Meanwhile, the Winchesters battle another bout of infectious serial killer fog sent by Amara. At the end of the episode, Chuck heals everyone affected by the fog and reveals himself to Sam and Dean.

Chuck says that he didn’t foresee Metatron trying to become god, but the idea of Season 15 is that Chuck has been writing the Winchesters’ story all their lives. When Metatron tries, he fails miserably, is locked up in prison, tortured by Dean, then rendered useless as a human and thrown into the world without a safety net. His authorship is reduced to nothing, and he is reduced to dumpster diving for food. He does actually attempt to live his life as someone who records tragedies as they happen and sells the footage to news stations, which is honestly hilarious and amazing and completely unsurprising because Metatron is, at the heart of it, an English Literature major. In true bastard style, he insults Chuck’s work and complains about the bar, but slips into his old role of editor when Chuck asks him to.

The theory I’m consulting for this uses the term metanarrative in a different way than I am. They consider it an overarching narrative, a grand narrative like religion. Chuck’s biography is in a sense most loyal to Middleton and Walsh’s view of metanarrative: “the universal story of the world from arche to telos, a grand narrative encompassing world history from beginning to end.” Except instead of world history, it’s God’s history, and since God is construed in Supernatural as just some guy with some powers who is as fallible as the next some guy with some powers, his story has biases and agendas. Okay so in the analysis I’m getting Middleton and Walsh’s quotes from, James K A Smith’s “A little story about metanarratives,” Smith dunks on them pretty bad, but for Supernatural purposes their words ring true. Think of them as the BuckLeming of Lyotard’s postmodern metanarrative analysis: a stopped clock right twice a day. Is anyone except me understanding the sequence of words I’m saying right now. Do I just have the most specific case of brain worms ever found in human history. I’m currently wearing my oversized Keith Haring shirt and dipping pretzels into peanut butter because it’s 3.18 in the morning and the homosexuals got to me. The total claims a comprehensive metanarrative of world history make do indeed, as Middleton and Walsh claim, lead to violence, stay with me here, because Chuck’s legacy is violence, and so is Metatron’s, and in trying to reject the metanarrative, Sam and Dean enact violence. Mostly Dean, because in season 15 he sacrifices his own son twice to defeat Chuck. But that means literally fighting violence with violence. Violence is, after all, all they know. Violence is the lens through which they interact with the world. If the writers wanted to do literally anything else, they could have continued Dean’s natural character progression into someone who eschews the violence that stems from intergeneration trauma — yes I will continue to use the phrase intergenerational trauma whenever I refer to Dean — and becomes a loving father and husband. Sam could eschew violence and start a monster rehabilitation centre with Eileen.

This episode of Holy Hell is me frantically grabbing at straws to make sense of a narrative that actively hates me and wants to kick me to death. But the violence Sam and Dean enact is not at a metanarrative level, because they are not author-gods of their own narrative. In season 15 “Atomic Monsters,” Becky points out that the ending of the Supernatural book series is bad because the brothers die, and then, in a shocking twist of fate, Dean does die, and the narrative is bad. The writers set themselves a goal post to kick through and instead just slammed their heat into the bars. They set up the dartboard and were like, let’s aim the darts at ourselves. Wouldn’t that be fun. Season 15’s writing is so grossly incompetent that I believe every single conspiracy theory that’s come out of the finale since November, because it’s so much more compelling than whatever the fuck happened on the road so far. Carry on? Why yes, I think I will carry on, carry on like a pork chop, screaming at the bars of my enclosure until I crack my voice open like an egg and spill out all my rage and frustration. The world will never know peace again. It’s now 3.29 and I’ve written over 9000 words of this transcript. And I’m not done.

Middleton and Walsh claim that metanarratives are merely social constructions masquerading as universal truths. Which is, exactly, Supernatural. The creators have constructed this elaborate web of narrative that they want to sell us as the be all and end all. They won’t let the actors discuss how they really feel about the finale. They won’t let Misha Collins talk about Destiel. They want us to believe it was good, actually, that Dean, a recovering alcoholic with a 30 year old infant son and a husband who loves him, deserved to die by getting NAILED, while Sam, who spent the last four seasons, the entirety of Andrew Dabb’s run as showrunner, excelling at creating a hunter network and romancing both the queen of hell and his deaf hunter girlfriend, should have lived a normie life with a normie faceless wife. Am I done? Not even close. I started this episode and I’m going to finish it.

When we find out that Chuck is God in the episode of season 11, it turns everything we knew about Chuck on its head. We find out in Season 15 that Chuck has been writing the Winchesters’ story all along, that everything that happened to them is his doing. The one thing he couldn’t control was Cas’s choice to rebel. If we take him at his word, Cas is the only true force of free will in the entire universe, and more specifically, the love that Cas had for Dean which caused him to rebel and fall from heaven. — This theory has holes of course. Why would Lucifer torture Lilith into becoming the first demon if he didn’t have free will? Did Chuck make him do that? And why? So that Chuck could be the hero and Lucifer the bad guy, like Lucifer claimed all along? That’s to say nothing of Adam and Eve, both characters the show introduced in different ways, one as an antagonist and the other as the narrative foil to Dean and Cas’s romance. Thinking about it makes my head hurt, so I’m just not gunna.

So Chuck was doing the writing all along. And as Becky claims in “Atomic Monsters,” it’s bad writing. The writers explicitly said, the ending Chuck wrote is bad because there’s no Cas and everyone dies, and then they wrote an ending where there is no Cas and everyone dies. So talk about self-fulfilling prophecies. Talk about giant craters in the earth you could see from 800 kilometres away but you still fell into. Meanwhile fan writers have the opportunity to write a million different endings, all of which satisfy at least one person. The fandom is a hydra, prolific and unstoppable, and we’ll keep rewriting the ending a million more times.

And all this is not even talking about the fact that Chuck is a man, Metatron is a man, Sam and Dean and Cas are men, and the writers and directors of the show are, by an overwhelming majority, men. Most of them are white, straight, cis men. Feminist scholarship has done a lot to unpack the damage done by paternalistic approaches to theory, sociology, ethnography, all the -ys, but I propose we go a step further with these men. Kill them. Metanarratively, of course. Amara, the Darkness, God’s sister, had a chance to write her own story without Chuck, after killing everything in the universe, and I think she had the right idea. Knock it all down to build it from the ground up. Billie also had the opportunity to write a narrative, but her folly was, of course, putting any kind of faith in the Winchesters who are also grossly incompetent and often fail up. She is, as all author-gods on this show are, undone by Castiel. The only one with any spunk, the only one who exists outside of his own narrative confines, the only one the author-gods don’t have any control over. The one who died for love, and in dying, gave life.

The French Mistake

Let’s change the channel. Let’s calm ourselves and cleanse our libras. Let’s commune with nature and chug some sage bongs.

“The French Mistake” is a song from the Mel Brooks film Blazing Saddles. In the iconic second last scene of the film, as the cowboys fight amongst themselves, the camera pans back to reveal a studio lot and a door through which a chorus of gay dancersingers perform “the French Mistake”. The lyrics go, “Throw out your hands, stick out your tush, hands on your hips, give ‘em a push. You’ll be surprised you’re doing the French Mistake.”

I’m not sure what went through the heads of the Supernatural creators when they came up with the season 6 episode, “The French Mistake,” written by the love of my life Ben Edlund and directed by some guy Charles Beeson. Just reading the Wikipedia summary is so batshit incomprehensible. In short: Balthazar sends Sam and Dean to an alternate universe where they are the actors Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, who play Sam and Dean on the tv show Supernatural. I don’t think this had ever been done in television history before. The first seven seasons of this show are certifiable. Like this was ten years ago. Think about the things that have happened in the last 10 slutty, slutty years. We have lived through atrocities and upheaval and the entire world stopping to mourn, but also we had twitter throughout that entire time, which makes it infinitely worse.

In this universe, Sam and Dean wear makeup, Cas is played by attractive crying man Misha Collins, and Genevieve Padalecki nee Cortese makes an appearance. Magic doesn’t exist, Serge has good ideas, and the two leads have to act in order to get through the day. Sorry man I do not know how to pronounce your name.

Sidenote: I don’t know if me being attracted aesthetically to Misha Collins is because he’s attractive, because this show has gaslighted me into thinking he’s attractive, or because Castiel’s iconic entrance in 2008 hit my developing mind like a torpedo full of spaghetti and blew my fucking brains all over the place. It’s one of life’s little mysteries and God’s little gifts.

Let’s talk about therapy. More specifically, “Agency and purpose in narrative therapy: questioning the postmodern rejection of metanarrative” by Cameron Lee. In this paper, Lee outlines four key ideas as proposed by Freedman and Combs:

Realities are socially constructed

Realities are constituted through language

Realities are organised and maintained through narrative

And there are no essential truths.

Let’s break this down in the case of this episode. Realities are socially constructed: the reality of Sam and Dean arose from the Bush era. Do I even need to elaborate? From what I understand with my limited Australian perception, and being a child at the time, 9/11 really was a prominent shifting point in the last twenty years. As Americans describe it, sometimes jokingly, it was the last time they were really truly innocent. That means to me that until they saw the repercussions of their government’s actions in funding turf wars throughout the middle east for a good chunk of the 20th Century, they allowed themselves to be hindered by their own ignorance. The threat of terrorism ran rampant throughout the States, spurred on by right wing nationalists and gun-toting NRA supporters, so it’s really no surprise that the show Supernatural started with the premise of killing everything in sight and driving around with only your closest kin and a trunk full of guns. Kripke constructed that reality from the social-political climate of the time, and it has wrought untold horrors on the minds of lesbians who lived through the noughties, in that we are now attracted to Misha Collins.

Number two: Realities are constituted through language. Before a show can become a show, it needs to be a script. It’s written down, typed up, and given to actors who say the lines out loud. In this respect, they are using the language of speech and words to convey meaning. But tv shows are not all about words, and they’re barely about scripts. From what I understand of being raised by television, they are about action, visuals, imagery, and behaviours. All of the work that goes into them—the scripts, the lighting, the audio, the sound mixing, the cameras, the extras, the ADs, the gaffing, the props, the stunts, everything—is about conveying a story through the medium of images. In that way, images are the language. The reality of the show Supernatural, inside the show Supernatural, is constituted through words: the script, the journalists talking to Sam, the makeup artist taking off Dean’s makeup, the conversations between the creators, the tweets Misha sends. But also through imagery: the fish tank in Jensen’s trailer, the model poses on the front cover of the magazine, the opulence of Jared’s house, Misha’s iconic sweater. Words and images are the language that constitutes both of these realities. Okay for real, I feel like I’ve only seen this episode max three times, including when I watched it for research for this episode, but I remember so much about it.

Number three: realities are organised and maintained through narrative. In this universe of the French Mistake, their lives are structured around two narratives: the internal narrative of the show within the show, in which they are two actors on a tv set; and the episode narrative in which they need to keep the key safe and return to their own universe. This is made difficult by the revelation that magic doesn’t work in this universe, however, they find a way. Before they can get back, though, an avenging angel by the name of Virgil guns down author-god Eric Kripke and tries to kill the Winchesters. However, they are saved by Balthazar and the freeze frame and brought back into their own world, the world of Supernatural the show, not Supernatural the show within the show within the nesting doll. And then that reality is done with, never to be revisited or even mentioned, but with an impact that has lasted longer than the second Bush administration.

And number four: there are no essential truths. This one is a bit tricky because I can’t find what Lee means by essential truths, so I’m just going to interpret that. To me, essential truths means what lies beneath the narratives we tell ourselves. Supernatural was a show that ran for 15 years. Supernatural had actors. Supernatural was showrun by four different writers. In the show within a show, there is nothing, because that ceases to exist for longer than the forty two minute episode “The French Mistake”. And since Supernatural no longer exists except in our computers, it is nothing too. It is only the narratives we tell ourselves to sleep better at night, to wake up in the morning with a smile, to get through the day, to connect with other people, to understand ourselves better. It’s not even the narrative that the showrunners told, because they have no agency over it as soon as it shows up on our screens. The essential truth of the show is lost in the translation from creating to consuming. Who gives the story meaning? The people watching it and the people creating it. We all do.

Lee says that humans are predisposed to construct narratives in order to make sense of the world. We see this in cultures from all over the world: from cave paintings to vases, from The Dreaming to Beowulf, humans have always constructed stories. The way you think about yourself is a story that you’ve constructed. The way you interact with your loved ones and the furries you rightfully cyberbully on Twitter is influenced by the narratives you tell yourself about them. And these narratives are intricate, expansive, personalised, and can colour our perceptions completely, so that we turn into a different person when we interact with one person as opposed to another.

Whatever happened in season 6, most of which I want to forget, doesn’t interest me in the way I’m telling myself the writers intended. For me, the entirety of season 6 was based around the premise of Cas being in love with Dean, and the complete impotence of this love. He turns up when Dean calls, he agonises as he watches Dean rake leaves and live his apple pie life with Lisa, and Dean is the person he feels most horribly about betraying. He says, verbatim, to Sam, “Dean and I do share a more profound bond.” And Balthazar says, “You’re confusing me with the other angel, the one in the dirty trenchcoat who’s in love with you.” He says this in season 6, and we couldn’t do a fucken thing about it.

The song “The French Mistake” shines a light on the hidden scene of gay men performing a gay narrative, in the midst of a scene about the manliest profession you can have: professional horse wrangler, poncho wearer, and rodeo meister, the cowboy. If this isn’t a perfect encapsulation of the lovestory between Dean and Cas, which Ben Edlund has been championing from day fucking one of Misha Collins walking onto that set with his sex hair and chapped lips, then I don’t know what the fuck we’re even doing here. What in the hell else could it possibly mean. The layers to this. The intricacy. The agendas. The subtextual AND blatant queerness. The micro aggressions Crowley aimed at Car in “The Man Who Would Be King,” another Bedlund special. Bed Edlund is a fucking genius. Bed Edlund is cool girl. Ben Edlund is the missing link. Bed Edlund IS wikileaks. Ben Edlund is a cool breeze on a humid summer day. Ben Edlund is the stop loading button on a browser tab. Ben Edlund is the perfect cross between Spotify and Apple Music, in which you can search for good playlists, but without having to be on Spotify. He can take my keys and fuck my wife. You best believe I’m doing an entire episode of Holy Hell on Bedlund’s top five. He is the reason I want to get into staffwriting on a tv show. I saw season 4 episode “On the head of a pin” when my brain was still torpedoed spaghetti mush from the premiere, and it nestled its way deep into my exposed bones, so that when I finally recovered from that, I was a changed person. My god, this transcript is 11,000 words, and I haven’t even finished the Becky section. Which is a good transition.

Oh, Becky. She is an incarnation of how the writers, or at least Kripke, view the fans. Watching season 5 “Sympathy for the Devil” live in 2009 was a whole fucking trip that I as a baby gay was not prepared for. Figuring out my sexuality was a journey that started with the Supernatural fandom and is in some aspects still raging against the dying of the light today. Add to that, this conception of the audience was this, like, personification of the librarian cellist from Juno, but also completely without boundaries, common sense, or shame. It made me wonder about my position in the narrative as a consumer consuming. Is that how Kripke saw me, specifically? Was I like Becky? Did my forays into DeanCasNatural on El Jay dot com make me a fucking loser whose only claim to fame is writing some nasty fanfiction that I’ve since deleted all traces of? Don’t get me wrong, me and my unhinged Casgirl friends loved Becky. I can’t remember if I ever wrote any fanfiction with her in it because I was mostly writing smut, which is extremely Becky coded of me, but I read some and my friends and I would always chat about her when she came up. She was great entertainment value before season 7. But in the eyes of the powers that be, Becky, like the fans themselves, are expendable. First they turned her into a desperate bride wannabe who drugs Sam so that he’ll be with her, then Chuck waves his hand and she disappears. We’re seeing now with regards to Destiel, Cas, and Misha Collins this erasure of them from the narrative. Becky says in season 15 “Atomic Monsters” that the ending Chuck writes is bad because, for one, there’s no Cas, and that’s exactly what’s happening to the text post-finale. It literally makes me insane akin to the throes of mania to think about the layers of this. They literally said, “No Cas = bad” and now Misha isn’t even allowed to talk in his Cassona voice—at least at the time I wrote that—to the detriment of the fans who care about him. It’s the same shit over and over. They introduce something we like, they realise they have no control over how much we like it, and then they pretend they never introduced it in the first place. Season 7, my god. The only reason Gamble brought back Cas was because the ratings were tanking the show. I didn’t even bother watching most of it live, and would just hear from my friends whether Cas was in the episodes or not. And then Sera, dear Sera, had the gall to say it was a Homer’s Odyssey narrative. I’m rusty on Homer aka I’ve never read it but apparently Odysseus goes away, ends up with a wife on an island somewhere, and then comes back to Terabithia like it never happened. How convenient. But since Sera Gamble loves to bury her gays, we can all guess why Cas was written out of the show: Cas being gay is a threat to the toxic heteronormativity spouted by both the show and the characters themselves. In season 15, after Becky gets her life together, has kids, gets married, and starts a business, she is outgrowing the narrative and Chuck kills her. The fans got Destiel Wedding trending on Twitter, and now the creators are acting like he doesn’t exist. New liver, same eagles.

I have to add an adendum: as of this morning, Sunday 11th, don’t ask me what time that is in Americaland, Misha Collins did an online con/Q&A thing and answered a bunch of questions about Cas and Dean, which goes to show that he cannot be silenced. So the narrative wants to be told. It’s continuing well into it’s 16th or 17th season. It’s going to keep happening and they have no recourse to stop it. So fuck you, Supernatural.

I did write the start of a speech about representation but, who the holy hell cares. I also read some disappointing Masters theses that I hope didn’t take them longer to research and write than this episode of a podcast I’m making for funsies took me, considering it’s the same number of pages. Then again I have the last four months and another 8 years of fandom fuelling my obsession, and when I don’t sleep I write, hence the 4,000 words I knocked out in the last 12 hours.

Some final words. Lyotard defines postmodernism, the age we live in, as an incredulity towards metanarratives. Modernism was obsessed with order and meaning, but postmodernism seeks to disrupt that. Modernists lived within the frame of the narrative of their society, but postmodernists seek to destroy the frame and live within our own self-written contexts. Okay I love postmodernist theory so this has been a real treat for me. Yoghurt, Sam? Postmodernist theory? Could I BE more gay?

Middleton and Walsh in their analysis of postmodernism claim that biblical faith is grounded in metanarrative, and explore how this intersects with an era that rejects metanarrative. This is one of the fundamental ideas Supernatural is getting at throughout definitely the last season, but other seasons as well. The narratives of Good vs Evil, Michael vs Lucifer, Dean vs Sam, were encoded into the overarching story of the show from season 1, and since then Sam and Dean have sought to break free of them. Sam broke free of John’s narrative, which was the hunting life, and revenge, and this moralistic machismo that they wrapped themselves up in. If they’re killing the evil, then they’re not the evil. That’s the story they told, and the impetus of the show that Sam was sucked back into. But this thread unravelled in later seasons when Dean became friends with Benny and the idea that all supernatural creatures are inherently evil unravelled as well. While they never completely broke free of John’s hold over them, welcoming Jack into their lives meant confronting a bias that had been ingrained in them since Dean was 4 years old and Sam 6 months. In the face of the question, “are all monsters monstrous?” the narrative loosens its control. Even by questioning it, it throws into doubt the overarching narrative of John’s plan, which is usurped at the end of season 2 when they kill Azazel by Dean’s demon deal and a new narrative unfolds. John as author-god is usurped by the actual God in season 4, who has his own narrative that controls the lives of Sam, Dean and Cas.

Okay like for real, I do actually think the metanarrativity in Supernatural is something that should be studied by someone other than me, unless you wanna pay me for it and then shit yeah. It is extremely cool to introduce a biographical narrative about the fictional narrative it’s in. It’s cool that the characters are constantly calling this narrative into focus by fighting against it, struggling to break free from their textual confines to live a life outside of the external forces that control them. And the thing is? The really real, honest thing? They have. Sam, Dean and Cas have broken free of the narrative that Kripke, Carver, Gamble and Dabb wrote for them. The very fact that the textual confession of love that Cas has for Dean ushered in a resurgence of fans, fandom and activity that has kept the show trending for five months after it ended, is just phenomenal. People have pointed out that fans stopped caring about Game of Thrones as soon as it ended. Despite the hold they had over tv watchers everywhere, their cultural currency has been spent. The opposite is true for Supernatural. Despite how the finale of the show angered and confused people, it gains more momentum every day. More fanworks, more videos, more fics, more art, more ire, more merch is being generated by the fans still. The Supernatural subreddit, which was averaging a few posts a week by season 15, has been incensed by the finale. And yours truly happily traipsed back into the fandom snake pit after 8 years with a smile on my face and a skip in my step ready to pump that dopamine straight into my veins babeeeeeeyyyyy. It’s been WILD. I recently reconnected with one of my mutuals from 2010 and it’s like nothing’s changed. We’re both still unhinged and we both still simp for Supernatural. Even before season 15, I was obsessed with the podcast Ride Or Die, which I started listening to in late 2019, and Supernatural was always in the back of my mind. You just don’t get over your first fandom. Actually, Danny Phantom was my first fandom, and I remember being 12 talking on Danny Phantom forums to people much too old to be the target audience of the show. So I guess that hasn’t left me either. And the fondest memories I have of Supernatural is how the characters have usurped their creators to become mythic, long past the point they were supposed to die a quiet death. The myth weaving that the Supernatural fandom is doing right now is the legacy that will endure.

References

I got all of these for free from Google Scholar!

Judith May Fathallah, “I’m A God: The Author and the Writing Fan in Supernatural.”

James K A Smith, “A Little Story About Metanarratives: Lyotard, Religion and Postmodernism Revisited.” 2001.

Cameron Lee, “Agency and Purpose in Narrative Therapy: Questioning the Postmodern Rejection of Metanarrative.” 2004.

Harri Englund and James Leach, “Ethnography and the Meta Narratives of Modernity.” 2000.

https://uproxx.com/filmdrunk/mel-brooks-explains-french-mistake-blazing-saddles-blu-ray/

#transcripts #supernatural #supernatural podcast #<60mins #this is first and foremost a podcast about cas and misha collins

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

hate me (but don’t)

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson, background pairings

fandom: marvel cinematic universe

rating: teen and up

word count: 4521

warning: swearing, smoking, alcohol

summary: Steve's planned a game of secret santa for the team, but Bucky's got other things on his mind. Like his crush on perfect, ridiculously hot Sam. And how he hates his guts. (university au, secret santa)

(my second 12 days of fanfiction fic!! which is totally not two days late... really hope this isn’t too messy. thank you @brandtwilliam for the prompt, i really hope you enjoy this ❤️ and don’t forget, you can still send me prompts if you haven’t already!)

read on ao3

Bucky is going to die.

Is that too dramatic? Maybe so.

But if your stupid secret santa turns out to be your stupid, ridiculously hot, too kind for this cruel world crush, Sam Wilson, who’s given you every perfect gift you could ask for, you’d feel like that too.

The only detail missing? He hates your guts, most likely.

…

Of course, the brilliant idea of a game of secret santa belonged to his best friend.

Steve’s always been social like that, which he guesses can be seen as a good thing, if Bucky was the same kind of extrovert and wasn’t dragged to everything by his friend.

Well, that he was being dragged to events might be a little harsh. Steve didn’t mean to force him, really. If the blonde just didn’t look so disappointed when he said no, Bucky might not give in every time.

And now, as the football team captain, Steve’s suggested a game for the holidays. It gets mixed reviews.

Generally positive, at least Thor and Scott’s in on it, Nat laughs sarcastically but doesn’t intervene, and Clint simply nods.

Rhodey shakes his head, and Bucky feels the same, but why not, he finally says.

T’Challa’s just as tired as he is of Steve’s games, surely. Alas, despite not everyone cheering, it’s settled. Hell, even Carol’s in on it, and she hates Christmas as a known fact.

And then there’s Sam.

Beautiful Sam, who transferred to Steve and his dorm, who his best friend met at a history nerd convention, of all things.

It’s not surprising that he got in on the team this semester. Because holy fucking shit.

Bucky likes to think he’s pretty fit, he can keep up with Steve, at least. Sam, however, just feels like he’s mocking him.

Because he’s too damn attractive for his own good, that is.

And seriously, he’s tried not to stare, still tries, during practice, but does he have to make it so difficult?

His arms, hands, calves, everything.

Like even just his jawline is perfect, come on!

And it’s been long since Bucky’s last relationship, he’d gotten over her, and a ridiculously hot friend of his best friend might be good for him.

Only problem, said hot friend hates him, first thing when they meet. No, he’s not exaggerating.

It was even before he got on the team, when he moved in the dorm, and Steve suggested the three of them have a game night. Bucky still has no idea what he did to Sam, but that evening, let’s say he got the cold shoulder.

And this guy only talks to him when he has to. Seriously.

“Hey, I, uh, I’m Bucky.”

“I know. And I’m Sam, by the way.”

Shit. All that’s spoken between them the first day, and this guy who may or may not look like a Greek god avoids him at every game.

Steve’s certain he’s imagining things, but it’s obvious, really.

Way to go, Bucky, crushing on the one person you’ll never have a shot with. But he’s learned to live with that loss.

It’s not like he got a realistic chance with him, anyway.

…

First week of December, and Steve seems to think ice skating is a good idea.

It’s supposed to be a whole team friendship thing once again, but a slight malfunction in the planning of it all, ends up having only Nat and Sam along with them.

Nat’s surprisingly sociable once you become friends with her. Believe it or not, Bucky thought she hated him too, in the beginning, but that’s the vibe she puts up around everyone.

Sam, on the other hand, seems like he’s pointed Bucky out as his mortal enemy.

When he’s watching this boy, which is probably distracting him too much during games, and class, and everything else, he’s never seen someone smile as much as Sam.

It gives Bucky this funny feeling in his stomach.

He sort of wishes he could make him smile like that. Or at all, really.

Sam’s always helped out Steve extensively with the last few parties he set up, because he might be an angel. He’s pointed this out to the blonde, who insists Bucky’s helped a lot too. Which, lie, but his friend won’t admit that.

And yes, he has confided this crush to his very friend. Bucky knows Steve wouldn’t tell a soul, he trusts him with his life, but the blonde’s also getting pretty impatient with him.

“If you’d get over yourself and ask him out.” is something his best friend’s told him too many times, believe it or not, Bucky has a hard time keeping quiet about just how ridiculously beautiful Sam is.

“Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“He literally avoids me, I told you this!”

“No, he doesn’t!”

“Have you ever even seen him look at me?!”

Nat’s always there when he zones out, too many people and Bucky needs some peace of mind. He appreciates that more than she knows. Like he’s ever gonna tell her that.

This constellation they’ve made on the rink makes sense.

Steve and Sam’s testing their abilities on the skates, cus they’re annoying like that, and the redhead’s joined him by the sidelines.

The boys’ begged her to join them, because it’s somehow destiny that Sam should like everyone but him, and maybe, Bucky felt a little smug when she favored him and declined the offer. He’s not gonna tell that, either.

Twenty minutes pass by before she elbows him, “If I ask you why you own a handbook about butterflies, will I get a sensible answer?” Okay, that does sound weird. He’s allowed to have interests though, right?

Like Steve’s obsession with the British royal family is any better.

And this is a fairly new interest, to be fair, despite that he’s always had a liking for biology. But honestly, bugs are fucking badass. Steve didn’t judge him, at least.

“Well…” he starts, just pausing long enough to witness his best friend nearly falling on his ass, glorious, “It’s from my secret santa.”

She laughs.

“One of those dummies gave you a book about bugs?”

“I like bugs.”

“Fair enough, still funny.”

He even tries to give her a mean eye, but she pats his head like a child. Bucky supposes that honesty’s part of her charm, at least he’s always felt that way.

Steve pretends to be offended, despite being used to it, and Clint just snarks right back at her. He’s never met two best friends so similar, to be honest.

“Tell me,” Nat speaks up again, even though she’s definitely going to ask Steve when they’re done here so they can eat, which Bucky will wholeheartedly tag along with, “What’s up with you and Wilson?”

If Bucky was drinking something, he’d choke. Maybe he chokes on oxygen for a second.

“I don’t know you’re talking about.” is the answer, he even tries a laugh but it comes out anything but casual.

Damn her, she can always look through him so easily.

She lifts a sharp brow, “For how much you both hang around each other, you spend an awful lot of time avoiding him.”

Oh, if only she knew.

…

The second week of December, the Christmas cheer just increases. In the dormitory, anyway, since Steve and Thor’s in charge of decorating.

Makes sense, given his friend’s eagerness in social gatherings, and Thor being the tallest university student ever, probably.

And in extension, the dorm’s having a Christmas dinner. Once again, Steve’s idea.

This is nice though, Bucky has to admit, when everyone’s bringing food and there’s not the pressure of a dance floor or ice breaker games.

And since Steve’s idea of Christmas cheer is “the more, the merrier”, plus ones are more than welcome.

Rhodey’s brought Tony, who’s a bit of an asshole, but his girlfriend Pepper’s nice, and he’d probably say Bucky can be an asshole too, so it’s whatever.

Carol would probably be alone with her girlfriend Val (who’s also a bit of an asshole, but like, less than Tony) than be here, but seems like she’s taking a liking to Thor’s new boyfriend.

Bruce, he’s from the science department. Doesn’t seem like the party type, and Bucky for once doesn’t feel totally alone.

But all his pessimism aside, this is not totally awful. Might even call it enjoyable.

He doesn’t feel pressured to make conversation, which is nice, and one Christmas beer doesn’t hurt.

Except he may or not become sulky, when, surprise, he spends his night trying not to stare at Sam, collect the courage to talk to him and then fail to do so.

The boy actually catches Bucky looking at him. Midst eating. He just might have hid under the table.

It’s not like anything dramatic happened, really, but he probably looked creepy. He just can’t help staring when he’s so pretty, can he?

And, weirdly enough, Sam raises a brow at him questioningly. The most interaction they’ve ever done, probably.

Well done, Bucky, as if he didn’t dislike you enough.

What boggles his mind is when he, after the dinner, finds a bag placed neatly on his desk. Secret santa, he almost forgot, it’s the end of the week.

Inside said brown paper bag is a bracelet.

Awfully similar to the one he broke last week, he thinks, and the obvious suspicion falls on Steve. He hasn’t told anyone about that besides his best friend, so who else could it be?

It’s sweet of him. And a bit stupid, given that these things have to remain a secret.

But Bucky will play along. Besides, this wasn’t exactly cheap, isn’t this breaking the rules? Maybe the blonde just used this opportunity for an actual Christmas present, all games aside.

He shakes his head with a smile.

Steve’s an idiot, but he means well. And Bucky makes sure to hide the wrapping just before someone, who he assumes to be his friend, walks in.

Only it’s a different blonde.

“Bucky! I was wondering-” Thor sounds excited, however, he stops in his tracks and stares. Right where the evidence of the gift is hidden. Not so hidden.

“Oh, your secret santa!” the giant exclaims, twice as excited, and Bucky nods. “What’d they get you?”

He fumbles with the bracelet, now around his wrist, “Uh, this.”

Thor squints, like this task takes all his concentration, and giggles. Bucky doesn’t really understand that, but the blonde boy takes a seat beside him on the bed before he can question it.

“Seems like someone on the team’s trying to impress you. Anyway, look what I got Bruce!”

…

It’s the third week of December, and because Steve is just the right amount of stupid, he’s broken his ankle. Ice skating, of course.

So, today’s going to be a weird day.

It was already weird from the get go, because Bucky was still thinking about last week’s secret santa gift, but after lunch, the signal for his best friend goes over his phone.

Immediately he’s greeted with, “Bucky?”

The voice is just an octave deeper than Steve’s, and he doesn’t fully register the situation before his “Steve?” is answered with, “No, man, he’s in the hospital.”

Long story short, Sam called him.

It makes sense, because the blonde’s got Bucky listed in his emergency contacts, parents being out of the country and everything, and he’s got Steve in his, but something about actually talking to a certain, ridiculously hot friend makes his brain malfunction.

And it’s not like he has much time to respond before the boy in the other end hangs up, opting to text him the hospital room number.

And now here he is.

He made sure to leave a chair between the two when he sat down, because Sam finding another reason to hate him would only add to the anxiety he’s already feeling.

Steve’s fine, he assures himself, but Bucky has a hard time looking away from the boy beside him. Well, more than usual.

“People ever tell you that you stare a lot?” Sam’s voice pipes up, and he jumps just a bit in his seat.

God, he’s really not subtle at all, huh. Not surprising, given how many times Steve’s told him.

“I, uh- no.”

That’s all you have to say? Come on, Bucky, you absolute idiot.

“Sorry, I’m just worried.” he shakes his head at himself. And somehow, because the world is being weird in general lately, the other boy looks back at him.

Okay, it wouldn’t be that weird, if he didn’t sigh, “You’re fine. He’s fine. I promise.”

Holy shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Bucky can’t let himself get too excited, most of all due to them currently being in a hospital, but the fact that he couldn’t find a hint of malice in Sam’s voice feels like a surreal dream. Not to mention this is by far the longest conversation they’ve had, ever.

Maybe this is one of those things his stupid best friend would consider a Christmas miracle. Your crush maybe doesn’t absolutely despise you, that’s something, right?

Less than ideal, but oh well. Bucky’s allowed to dream.

This makes it considerably harder not to stare at the boy, with the added bonus of Sam now being aware of it. Just his luck.

But noticing the other boy’s hands tightly clasped in his lap, this odd blinking that’s a little more rapid than usual, suggests that Sam’s just as nervous.

Strangely, that gives Bucky some peace of mind. Usually, this ridiculously hot guy is a picture perfect example of being calm, collected and patient. Except with himself, of course.

Steve told him they do yoga together, so it makes sense, but it’s like he’s got everything under control, you know?

Bucky wishes he had that sense sometimes, God knows how behind he is on studying, and maybe he’d actually have the courage to flirt with anyone (sitting next to him, preferably) if his nerves weren't such a mess.

He wants to reach out and touch the other boy’s arm.

Maybe that would ruin the moment, though. Definitely will ruin the moment. Who said they were having a moment, anyway?

“Thanks.” Bucky finds himself saying.

And now, Sam looks surprised.

“What for?”

“You know, uh… for calling.”

Sam is officially a ridiculously hot pain in the ass.

Because they’re having eye contact. For several minutes. Like humans do, you idiot, is what he thinks to himself, maybe he should really just get laid already like Tony told him once.

The other boy looks at him like he’s got something on his mind, mouth slightly open, but looks away before Bucky can think too much about his lips and how soft they may be.

He bites his cheek.

And it’s like the world started spinning around them again when the doctor lets them in Steve’s room, but not before Sam hands him a bag.

“Steve was gonna give you this after skating, man. Your secret santa- it’s so stupid, but they told us to get it. Don’t look at me like that.”

It takes Bucky a minute. Staring at the bag of plums handed to him. Watching the back of the other boy’s head as he leaves.

Too goddamn weird.

…

The fourth week of December comes too fast for Bucky’s liking.

In fact, it’s Thursday night, and Steve’s rambling from the other side of the room, convinced Natasha is his secret santa, when Bucky just wants to fucking sleep .

He loves the guy, but seriously.

Of course, he hasn’t told his best friend his suspicion that he’s his secret santa, because duh, but also, he’s not all that sure since last week.

Sam told him whoever it is gave it to them. And it kind of makes Bucky feel insane.

Of course, Sam could’ve lied to cover up for his friend, because he knows he’d do that. Damnit, his crush is possibly the sweetest, truest person he’s met in his relatively short life, and he just so happens to hate his guts?

Typical. But Bucky also feels like something’s changed in their dynamic.

He hopes he’s not imagining things. At least, Sam’s started greeting him at practice, and that alone is a major change, believe it or not.

They don’t even uncomfortably look away from each other while playing games with Steve, and God knows they’re doing a lot more now that the blonde needs to rest.

Last night, he had another genuine conversation, and their friend has never looked more confused in his life. He did also tease Bucky for a solid hour about it after Sam left, so there’s that.

Ultimately, near 2am, he gets out of bed and tells Steve he’s going for a walk.

Bucky hates the fact that this secret santa thing’s getting on his nerves, which isn’t his friend’s fault at all, he just needs a break.

Going for a walk usually means going to the roof for a smoke. Yeah, Bucky’s not proud of it, but it is what it is.

It’s helped him de-stress during exams, mostly, and it’s been two months since his last, but he knows Steve’s right when telling him to quit for good.

Sometimes Nat and Clint join him, which is nice, cause they’re not that big on late night conversations, either. He’s mostly looking to be alone right now, though.

Bucky’s putting the cigarette to his lips when he hears the door opening behind him, and who he’s expecting to be Nat and Clint or a shocked Steve turns out to be the very guy that’s been on his mind for too damn long.

He might know his voice immediately. Shut up.

Sam gives him a nod as a silent greeting, which he replies to of course, and standing next to him, with considerable distance, of course, asks him for a lighter.

Seriously, his crush lighting a smoke shouldn’t be so fucking hot.

Bucky feels kind of pathetic, but oh well. This is nice. It makes him nervous as fuck, but after ten minutes, it’s like the knot in his chest unwinds and nothing can be heard in the silence apart from the night traffic.

Until, suddenly, “You and Steve dated, right?”

He might have a small coughing fit after that comment. “I-I, well, uhm, yeah, but like, when we were fifteen!”

It comes out more defensive than he wanted, and Bucky might’ve just gone to the nearest wall and banged his head.

Sam chuckles, but he’s got this sincere look in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, man. Sorry.”

And because Bucky’s too tired to think rationally, he lets his guard down and smiles. He’s learnt to control his love struck smiles, as Nat once called them, very, very well around Sam, but fuck it.

It’s dark anyway, let’s just pretend they won’t remember this in the morning.

“No, it’s fine, really.” he scratches his neck, “I love him, really do, but he’s my best friend. Now I can’t imagine thinking of him like that.”

The shorter guy nods.

“Y’know, my ex, Riley,” Sam starts, because, suddenly, the air between them is changing, and it’s becoming a little more personal, “Think that’s same as you two. He’s like my brother now, honestly.”

They share a laugh on that, and Bucky tries to stop the butterflies forming in his stomach, he really does.

It’s on that the silence settles again, until Sam’s finished his smoke, too fast for Bucky’s liking and squashes it with his boot.

He did want to be alone, of course, so it’s whatever.

Just felt nice connecting, or something. He’s not sure that is what this is. December’s really changed his relationship with his crush, and albeit Sam doesn’t seem to hate him anymore, he’s a bit disappointed in this Christmas miracle.

The shorter boy turns before he leaves, however, “I mean, I’m more into long hair on guys, anyway.”

Well, he can’t just say that and not expect Bucky to look like one big question mark. What the fuck?

And as he makes his way back to this room, shaking his head, surely Sam didn’t mean anything by that off-hand comment, he finds not only his best friend soundly sleeping, but also a box of peppermint candies, his favorite, on the dresser.

…

And as by a whirlwind, here Bucky is, the last week of December, and Steve decided on an extravagant finale party, where the team would reveal their secret santa identities.

He hasn’t talked to Sam since that night on the roof.

Unwillingly, because the shorter boy’s started avoiding him again. Seriously, Bucky’s desperate.

His own foolery, thinking things had changed and they maybe could be friends, only his crush seems destined to hate him for eternity.

Bucky doesn’t even complain to Steve, he just accepts the fact.

In fact, he’s been nursing the same beer for the last two hours, still not being able to take his eyes from the ridiculously hot, and annoying, guy on the other side of the common room.

He doesn’t even care about the thought of getting laid with anyone.

Bucky’s too lost in this to think about getting over Sam, god forbid.

Besides that fact, he guesses the evening’s going alright. Natasha reveals herself as Steve’s gift giver, as suspected, his friend exclaimed in glee, Carol had Sam, Rhodey to Carol, Scott to Thor, T’Challa to Scott, Thor to Clint, Steve to T’Challa and Clint to Rhodey.

And see, that’s what ultimately leaves Bucky in the weirdest, stupidest, most ridiculous situation. He was, still, fully convinced Steve was his own secret santa.

At least he’d never figured Sam to reveal himself as the one.

Bucky wants to die.

How does the stupid hot, real life angel even expect him to react? He must know Bucky’s crushing on him. That’s probably what made him hate him again.

Fuck, this guy volunteers at homeless shelters, helps out every single one of his friends, he’s perfect , of course he’d give Bucky perfect gifts.

Well done, honestly, despite the apparent dislike.

They gloss over the revelation, anyway, Bucky himself too anxious to react besides the thank you’s, of course, and Sam looks at him the same way he did in the hospital that night. He’s officially going crazy.

That relation’s in the grave, more or less, given how quiet the other boy is. When he realises this, finally grabbing a second beer, Bucky just feels like crying a little bit.

Until the party’s well over, Steve’s puking his guts out in the bathroom, and he’s just tired.

Of course, that’s when his crush decided to find him.

He’s surprised, of course, but tries to fix his clothes and hair regardless. Who’s he kidding, he looks like shit right now.

“Hey, man-”

“Sam!”

Stupid interruption, goddammit. Bucky has the mind to apologize before rambling on, “Thank you. For all the presents, that is. You didn’t have to.”

Sam’s laughing. Not out loud, like, almost shy. In a Sam way. Fuck, he can’t explain it any other way.

His smile is almost smug when he answers, “Well, I kinda did in that game.”

First time his crush ever told him a joke. Cool, cool, cool.

Seriously, Bucky needs to calm down. He’s been here before, and after the night on the rooftop, he clearly did something wrong.

Must have, to make the angel hate him. There he goes, referring to him like a celestial being in his head. Anyway.

“I know, man. I just,” he’s almost interrupted by another groan from the bathroom, nevertheless, “I’m just Steve’s annoying friend. I mean, I assume you got help on that bracelet-”

“You’re what now?”

Update, said ridiculously hot friend of Steve’s now frowning at him. Probably the first time Bucky’s seen him confused, too, lots of new things happening. He can’t do anything other than shrug.

“Yeah. Man, it’s pretty obvious you don’t like me. Which is fine! Or it’s not, cause I've been... crushing on you ever since we met, but listen-”

Really, he could’ve continued for eternity, if his crush hadn’t walked right up close and grabbed both his shoulders.

Holy shit. Perfect Sam is so fucking close to him right now, Bucky looking right into his deep brown eyes. He never wants to look away. This is real life, somehow.

Even Sam doesn’t seem to know what to say, shaking his head, and Jesus, he’s pretty up close-

“Bucky,” he then says, “What did you think… was going on?”

That’s a weird question, so he furrows his brow. Steve’s probably still hurling, but he’s kinda zoned out all sound apart from their breathing.

Too dramatic. Like a sappy romantic drama. Shut up, brain.

“Like, with us.”

Okay, this is just ridiculous. Not as ridiculous as how hot Sam is, but it’s close. Must be a damn joke.

“Us? Sam, I’m not an idiot, you’ve been avoiding me ever since we met, and-”

“I’ve literally been flirting with you.”

What?

Now Bucky knows it’s a joke. Or maybe he’ll pinch him and he’ll wake up from this hangover dream.

Whatever it is, he sure knows what flirting looks like. Can’t do it himself very well, but not the point!

“Flirting?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims, suddenly seeming unsure of himself, which isn’t something Bucky wants to see ever again, making his stomach hurt, “Well, I thought so. That I was being cool, you know? But Steve suggested these gifts, and I admit, it’s better.”

All he has left to do is nod.

“Ugh, sorry.” Sam’s hands tragically leave his shoulder, scratching his forehead, and it’s official, confused Sam is adorable, “I see the misunderstanding. But also, I never got you alone, so.”

“Yeah, cause I thought you hated me!”

Well, this December’s much more interesting than Bucky would’ve bargained for. Ever.

Least of all that his stupid, ridiculously hot crush somehow liked him back. Damn, all this time he thought he had a nemesis, too?

“To be honest, thinking I had an enemy was kinda cool.” he tells the shorter boy with a laugh, because fuck it, this has turned into the messiest love confession ever, and it’s too late for Sam to take it back now.

Might as well ride with it. And of course, his angel of a crush rolls his eyes. But he’s smiling, just like on the rooftop.

He does also return his hand to the back of Bucky’s neck instead. Okay, cool. He can definitely keep going. Please keep going.

“You want me to take it back, or?”

“Oh my God, no.”

“Good.”

They’re so fucking close. Bucky’s head screaming at him. Those butterflies are probably fainting from exhaustion, at this point.

And they’re certainly having a moment now. Actually, they’re moving even closer, which he can’t complain to, and he doesn’t even care that he’s staring at his lips, until-

“Guys. I’m happy for you, but literally dying in here. Go away.”

Way to ruin the goddamn moment, Steve. He’s this close to cursing at the blonde boy, he loves that little shit, but seriously?!

Luckily, Sam’s in for the whole rescue.

“My room?”

“Definitely.”

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chiefstarlightunknown · 4 years

Text

THE PRINCIPLES AND ELEMENT OF BLOG CREATION

1. The TitleWe know, we know, you’ve heard this one a thousand times before. But that’s because it’s so vitally important to any blog post’s success. It doesn’t matter how much time and effort you put into the writing of your blog post – if no one clicks on it because your headline is boring, you might as well not have written one at all.Your blog title must be interesting. It doesn’t have to be funny or mysterious – of course, it sure helps if it is. But developing your title based on a few simple tips can make all the difference in the world.For example, research has shown that including numbers in a title has the power to draw eyes and clicks. Explanations abound – some say it’s because numbers are more eye-catching than words. Others say that it’s because the reader knows exactly what to expect, timewise. (There will be 5 tips in this blog, no more, and no less – I’ve got time to read that!) Whatever the reason, numbers work – which is why list posts are so popular

2. The HookOnce you’ve persuaded people to click on your blog post, the next step is hooking their interest right from the first sentence. That first paragraph is all-important in determining whether readers will leave the page within seconds, or stick around to read the whole thing. You’ve got to have a hook.What exactly constitutes a hook? Try a question – they draw people in because once a question has been posed, our natural response is to look for an answer. Another approach is to tell a story. Nothing grabs people’s attention more quickly and more thoroughly than a story. Experiment with various hooks to see what works best with your particular audience.

3. Visual AppealReading the text on a screen is different from reading it on paper. There’s just something about the internet that has conditioned us to gravitate towards shorter blocks of text, and avoid long, dense ones, when online. Whereas a magazine article can have long paragraphs and complex sentences, blogs need to be visually broken up in some way, to create plenty of reassuring white space around and between the lines.One way to accomplish this is to use bullet points. Numbered lists are also effective, as are subheaders. Short sentences and short paragraphs are necessary to keep readers’ attention. The ideal length for a blog post itself is a matter still under debate – some say shorter is better, as in 250 words or less, while others maintain that long, 1500 to 2000-word posts are more effective. 500-600 words is a common standard. But no matter how long the post, as long as it’s broken up into manageable chunks, it will look approachable to visitors.

4. Solid WritingSorry to break it to you, but your high school English teacher was right – good, solid writing skills really are important in the business world. Even if you have an awesome blog topic, and do everything else right, the instant your grammar falters or your style becomes awkward, you lose all credibility with your reader. Think about it – how many sites have you visited, only to suddenly become distrustful and leave, because their writing was simply unprofessional?Informal, conversational writing is one thing – it’s fine to break conventions now and again for the sake of sounding real. But demonstrating a lack of basic English language skills makes people nervous – if you can’t even be trusted to write a sentence correctly, how professionally will you really handle their business?

5. PersonalityNobody likes to read boring writing. That’s why textbooks never make it to bestseller lists. People like to read content that has style and flair – content through which you can see the personality of the writer. They want to feel like they have a personal connection with the writer, like they know a little more about them after they’ve read their post. And you don’t get to know someone through a dry recitation of facts or advice.Add your own personal style to your writing, whether that’s humor, emotion, or even just a conversational tone. Make your writing sounds like you. Don’t be afraid of sounding unprofessional – on the contrary, giving readers a glimpse into your real personality will go a long way towards establishing your credibility with them.

6. KeywordsNow here’s a more controversial subject. With Google’s constant algorithm changes, best practices change often in this area. But luckily, they seem to be changing for the better. The use of keywords in your blog post is necessary if you want people to be able to find you via search engines. But the days of stuffing your post full of the same two or three words or phrases over and over again is long gone – and in fact, was never the way keywords were meant to be used in the first place.The key to keyword use today is to be natural. Write for humans, not for search engines. Do include four to eight keywords in your post, but only if and when they fit naturally in your content – never try to force one, and never repeat a keyword endlessly. That will only mark you as spammy in Google’s eyes. Keywords used in titles and subheaders are especially helpful, as Google sees those as more important. But here too, good writing comes first, and keywords come second.

7. InterlinkingAnother controversial topic, interlinking is meant, at its heart, to provide the reader with a better experience on your site. We’ve all seen those blog posts where it seems like every other word or phrase is hyperlinked to another page – that is not what we want to emulate. Instead, a 500-word blog post should include only about 4-5 links to relevant content that will give readers a more in-depth look at a related topic. One link per every hundred words or so is a good rule of thumb.But the real key here is relevancy. Link to something that is unrelated to the anchor text (the blog text you hyperlinked to the new page) and Google gets mad. On the other end of the spectrum, if you get too matchy-matchy, Google gets grumpy, too. Avoid “exact match” links as well, where your anchor text says “buy goldfish” and it’s linked to “yourwebsite.com/buy-goldfish.” Instead, try linking that page to “thinking of purchasing a goldfish?” or something similar.

8. The ImageHumans have always been visual creatures, but the internet has made us even more so. Think of your own experience. Links to blog posts that appear in your Facebook feed without an image just don’t draw the eye, do they? But add a large, vibrant image that catches your attention, and suddenly, you notice the post, and are exponentially more likely to click on it.Web pages with images are more appealing to us, as well, and make us more likely to stick around to read what they have to say. Including a great image is vital to your blog’s success.9. The Call To ActionFinally, the way to achieve results from your blog post – the call to action. You need to end your post with a request. Tell your readers what you’d like them to do next. Visit your Facebook page? Check out your sale? Set up an appointment? Share their thoughts in the comments section?

The Principle of BLOG CREATION

1. Have a plan, or a goal or idea for your blog.

2. Publication excites new ideas while it captures and preserves others.

3. Say what you have to say for the sake of saying it.

4. Write for a living, vibrant, diverse audience looking for new ideas—don’t “calculate” the reception too much.

5. Present big ideas, different ideas, ideas you are passionate about and let your “fiery reason” loose.

6. Create as you need to; as often as you wish.

7. Talk in language everyone can understand.

8. Don’t attack individuals—deal with more important issues.

9. Be yourself.

10. Respond to other blogs and let the interaction happen as it may.

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tatiletotesamaze · 4 years

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Don’t @ me.

I touched very briefly on the need for a virtue system a while ago, a brief summary being 'societies exist as a natural part of the species, societies need a level of trust to function'. In that post I talked about ethics within a social contract, and I might well have actually been pointing myself toward contractarianism without knowing the word for it, however these are typically deontological systems and the Empire strikes me as more likely to really adhere to a rule consequentialist system (the consequence being what's best for the Empire, not really Bentham's utility). But, as we've seen with popular criticisms of (negative) utilitarianism it's better if there's something else to go along with it. Deontology, consequentialism, and virtue ethics should hang out more.

In part what I felt needed to be reconciled is the Sith ideology and the needs of a society to function. This is approached in the community-centric, self-centric post. One of the key interpretations of the Sith Code is 'might makes right' (and while one might take a more charitable interpretation, like those for the Will to Power, the Empire as a whole does not leave itself open to charitable interpretations) and this, as one can imagine, does not necessarily sit well with the necessity of Law and Order within any functioning society, much less one quite so hell bent on law and order as the Empire. Its law and its order true but law and order none-the-less.

And while it might be nice to have a unifying moral system for the Empire, I don't think it really needs one and, perhaps, having such a core aspect of a society and culture being fundamentally split better reflects the fractious nature of the Empire as a whole. (Funny aside I keep typing 'empure'.) So, what are the virtues for and to whom do they apply? I did write out a class structure but this is not the division we'll be examining. This is a "one for mine, one for thine" system. That is, there is one moral system for the Sith, based around (an interpretation of) The Sith Code and another moral system for... everyone else. For brevity we'll call them Citizens.

Virtues of the Citizen: Pride (in the empire and ones achievements) Courage Wisdom Temperance of action and feeling (self discipline) Orderliness *at once keeping stuff in order, but also understanding one's place in the Empire Excellence *the best me and the best I can do makes the empire better as a whole or the best I can do for the empire is the best me cleanliness *don't smell Unity *not necessarily friendliness, but not rocking the boat as it were "In all one's actions and duties to uphold the standards of the Empire” Timely - to know when best to be serious and to be jovial. Also, be on fucking time Respectfulness Charity toward children

Pride is important because one cannot uphold the Empire without being proud of it. Pride in this case acts as a kind of patriotism. It is not just believing that the Empire can be good, but that the Empire is good. That its actions are just and reasonable, for the progress and existence of itself, and because it is good and just and reasonable, everyone should partake in it. That's the kind of pride that is the "ideal" within the Empire: a heart-warming, chest-swelling belief that This Is Correct. It goes into the everyday as well, to the idea that "In all one's actions and duties uphold the standards of the Empire". To have pride in one's work and place within the Empire is to do your job well and to do it the best of your ability and push it further. Pride feeds into the concept of excellence: the best "me" and the best I can do makes the Empire better as a whole, or the best I can do for the Empire is the best "me". Alternatively, if one is ashamed of the Empire, one is at odds with the Empire, because the Empire is the embodiment of itself - it is the best at being what it is and it continually gets better at being itself by perfecting the aspects of it and refining them: getting rid of the chaff and the fat, all the unnecessary things, like the detractors, those who might call for a reining in of military spending or border expansion. Because if the Empire is the best (and it is) it is just that everyone should be part of the Empire or removed.

Courage is needed within the Empire and its Citizens for a multitude of reasons, but primarily it's perceived to be necessary within the context of the military, both in offensive actions and in defence of the Empire and its territories. To add some context, if we consider Aristotle's approach to virtues, he holds (held?) that practising one in excess or being deficient in it results in "a sin". With regard to courage specifically (being a classical virtue he did actually talk about this one specifically), courage in excess becomes 'rashness' and in deficiency 'cowardice', courage itself is the mean. With this in mind, courage as encouraged by the Empire - not explicitly but more implicitly within the culture and what is celebrated in literature - is a lot closer to rashness than one might expect. Risk-reward calculation errs toward the greater reward (hinging on it the reward being useful or progressive for the Empire), often regardless of the risk. As a result promotion will favour those who achieve these rewards. Longevity always favours those who can reduce the risks.

Wisdom should be fairly straightforward: it covers both lived experience and knowledge from a robust and continuous education. It is needed to temper courage to not become abject recklessness.

Temperance in this case is not merely the control of physical appetites and impulses but more generally the control of one's emotions. This in a way is an inheritance from the Sith. A Citizen will not be led about by anger or jealousy, nor will they wallow in regret or sadness (terms and conditions may apply). Of course, as it does derive itself from the Sith, it might be more apt to say that one ought not show one's emotions in a way that might cast one in a negative light. Ideally you'd be a master of your emotions, in reality much like the Sith these are fuel. Anger or jealousy can be used to drive one to excel against a rival. In practice that might be too hard and instead you undermine them and have them stationed somewhere awful, like Balmorra. It shares a domain with Timeliness - when it is best to show emotion, or what emotion it is best to show.

Orderliness and unity share aspects. Unity is at once getting along with one's fellows as well as being mentally and spiritually in check with the Empire. In part this stems from the order of the Empire - yes "class movement" is possible* but one should excel in and understand one's place first. There is also the concept of not "rocking the boat" as it were. Back to the concept of the Empire as a meritocracy, if someone is above you in the hierarchy it is just (they are more "Imperial" than you) and to go against them is to go against the set order. As you can probably well imagine this does lend itself to horrible abuses of power. One of the other interpretations of order in a more general sense is the rigid class system and the duty to uphold it. *actual results may vary

The ideal Citizen not only embodies each of these virtues, they excel in them and push themselves, and by extension the Empire, to greater heights. Fundamentally the perfect execution of all virtues of the Citizens is not possible as they are opposed to each with regard to how they are represented in Imperial culture.

Virtues of the Sith: Cunning Wisdom Living authentically (the existential ideal), you will often see this as self-actualization. Being able to make decisions for oneself without necessarily being bound to the wills and needs of others. Strength Will to power Justice (upholding Imperial laws and ideals) Magnificence

Cunning is, naturally, the purview of the Sith. To live within such a cut-throat environment as the halls of Sith academia, politics, or even administration, is to deal with other Sith and their own ends. In conjunction with other aspects such as strength and the previously mentioned interpretations of the 'will to power', means are used to achieve those ends, and those means are likely to be other people who can be bent to a Sith's will, including other Sith. So cunning is not only the ability to twist and connive through the Sith interactions and through the necessity that is Imperial bureaucracy, but to see when others are doing the same; to predict their ends and what means they will use to achieve them. Cunning here is not merely the conventional definition but is also quick witted-ness and having a keen mind. Sometimes deceit is not conducive to progress so you can't always rely on it. Sometimes honesty is best. If you can tell the truth and get one over on someone who is lying better than if you yourself were lying, tell the truth. The Empire does have the idea that the truth will out, so if the truth is already out it shouldn't be used to harm you.

Wisdom, of course, is needed for cunning to be useful. It also lays out the boundaries of one's experiences and one's abilities. A wise and cunning Sith can best one who is merely strong in the Force. There are plays and operas about this very premise, as it becomes a greater strength. Sith are also learned in far more spheres than Imperial Civilians. They have a greater access to literature, including philosophy and politics. A high-born Sith will have - if they so choose - a full education in philosophy and politics. Certain Imperial Civilians may also be educated in such matters but this is generally more restricted, either in subject matter, breadth, and depth or simply who is permitted to learn such matters (hint: not the lower classes, they might learn something).

Living authentically isn't so much a virtue as it is its own philosophy. Put very simply, authenticity is making decisions - both moral and social - that reflect one's own true self rather than decisions based (solely) on external influences or structures. It does base itself on the principle of knowing oneself, though in order to discover it you kind of have to start living authentically. Like devoting entire evenings to writing out essays on hypothetical ethics structures for fictional societies that aren't even yours. In the case of the Sith, this is again an example of their freedom and their place within Imperial society. However, if we take the lists to be in descending order of importance, it again ranks above

Strength, in that if you can't make your own decisions, or be true to yourself, or truly know yourself or be aware of your own true self, you won't have true strength in the view of the Sith. Cunning and wisdom feed into living the authentic life for the Sith, as they are methods by which this authenticity can be achieved, for - make no mistake - if your authenticity expresses or comes across as weakness, then other Sith will take advantage of that. Social standing within Sith society is limited and is only doled out to a few. It is by necessity a measure of co-operation, the Empire and Sith religion wouldn't persevere otherwise, but that cooperation can be, and is, strained. Which brings us to Strength. This is not simply physical power or the connection to the Force, though those are the most obvious and fastest routes to power and strength, but internal strength. Resilience of the mind and body to attacks both internal and external.

Justice is a lot of things to a lot of people. We talk of restorative or retributive justice in a legal or social sense but in a way all of our ideas of justice are inextricably linked to some sort of moral or ethical idea or ideal we have. Or maybe they aren't. Either way Sith are generally expected to deal in retributive justice when called upon to do so; both in determining the crime and enacting the sentence, they are beholden to the Imperial standard and Code of Conduct, and that does sometimes lead to lightsabers in chests. However part of the expectation is that they would defer to the Sphere of Law and Justice unless circumstances make swift action necessary. Of course this is the legal aspect of it, which is arguably separate from the ethical aspect of justice. If we take Plato's interpretation of what it is to be just, if a Sith acts in accordance with all their prescribed virtues (being that the virtues are inherently 'good' by Sith culture because they lead to the Best Sith and the Best Sith are Good Sith), then justice should arise naturally out of their actions, but the basis of that logic seemed kind of shaky to me, so this is where we will actually call in Contractarianism to an extent. Coupling the (presumed) Imperial codices of law - which is arguably a codified version of the Imperial Consequentialist ethical system, rule consequentialism - with Imperial Consequentialism and ideas such as disinterestedness and impartiality (similar but not quite the same) which we put together to come up with a rudimentary concept of fairness; if a Sith can act in such a way that is in harmony with those ideas, to the pursuit of the Good of the Empire (and the Sith, plural), then that is what we can call justice in the sense of a Sith virtue. We are not necessarily dealing with universal truths here but something more subjective for the purposes of this exercise.

Magnificence. Be bitchin' at all times.

The Sith might also be expected to perform the virtues of the citizens listed above, particularly those of being timely, orderly and clean. When in the presence of Sith of higher standing, or of Citizens of high standing particularly those of the military or intelligence, then such actions will also be expected. Temperance (self discipline) - the Sith rule and control their emotions. Though one might become powerful through unbridled rage, one might lose oneself to it and lose one's mental faculties including (ironically) the will to power, making one un-Sith-like.

As the people and the Empire are seen as being one-in-the-same ('people' here referring to all who live under the Empire (slaves excluded unless they've up-moved) but generally Citizens see themselves as being more the Empire than the Sith, this expanded below), anything that is perceived as being good for the Empire is good for the people and vice versa.

And, above all of these is a single virtue of paramount import: Loyalty to the Empire. As ever, these virtues are not to be practised in excess nor be shied from. Life in the Empire is a balancing act.

In addition to the aforementioned class structure, there are three Classes (four if we count slaves): The Sith, Citizens and de facto citizens. Citizens, which one could class all as for they all live within the Empire, but Citizens are those who are born to Imperial families, typically within core Imperial worlds. They have the force of longevity behind them, their presence and purpose within the Empire is inherent. They have the tried and true Imperial education, in mathematics, warfare, literature, and the sciences. They all hold in some form a military position. A teacher can be called upon to fire a gun, as a baker can be expected to fix a tank. Full time military service is performed by all citizens for four years, and after that they either continue within the military system or return to perform other vital roles within the Empire.

De facto citizens are those living on planets the Empire has conquered, by war or through the Treaty of Coruscant. Formal expectations of them are the same, however Citizens oft treat them not necessarily with contempt but not with high expectations. Citizens see their lack of Imperial education (something being rectified but sorely lacking in the adult generations) as a fault that prevents them from performing the best they can for the Empire (see the virtues). This disregard for their own experiences, talents, and cultures does, to put it mildly, chafe the De Facto citizens.

The Sith, of course.

---

If we posit that each Citizen is a microcosm of the Empire, this being an extension of the idea "Where there is an Imperial, there is the Empire", any imbalance of the above can be perceived as a reflection to what imbalance in society would be. And a society which is fundamentally unbalanced is an "unhealthy" one, so an unhealthy society is an unbalanced one. By the logic of this metaphor, an unbalanced (in terms of virtues and vices) Imperial is an unhealthy one, and an unhealthy Imperial is an unbalanced one. Now, on a meta level this is awful logic. In world it's also awful logic, it barely tracks even without external factors, it falls into one of the early fallacies that if A predicates B, A must equal B and therefore B=A. It kind of feels true, so there's an inclination to accept it as true (I like to call this the aesthetic of reason) without thinking too hard about it. The nice thing about the fiction I'm building here is the feelings don't have to care about the facts, so the general society of the Empire can take this poor logical statement as written and as a result not have to think too hard about why someone might not fit in with the system, or be at odds with it, or even why their physical or mental health is not ideal. It's because they're "bad Imperials". The crisis of faith experienced by a soldier who's seen their friends and comrades killed in a meat grinder on some bass-ackwards planet for barely any reward because of some higher-up's bruised ego isn't because there's something inherently wrong with the Empire, there must be something inherently wrong with the soldier because they can't grasp why the bass-ackwards planet and the higher-up's ego are more important to the Empire than the lives of their friends and comrades, because it is the duty of the Citizen to be the Empire and to defend the Empire. If you can't defend the Empire you can't be the Empire. The sacrifices are great because the gains are great. And all sacrifices are for the gains of the Empire. So yes if we take the microcosm metaphor at the beginning of this passage and bring it here, to this conclusion, you have a constant sacrifice of the Empire for itself, or more realistically with the example given, the sacrifice of the Empire for some middle manager's power trip. From there I can segue sharply into how the Sith are at the forefront of the cultural schism because of their infighting and how their own virtue system and Code put them at odds with the Empire at large and the idea of Citizens specifically. We can look at Force Sensitivity as something like a divine right in politics. The Emperor is a Sith, the entire Dark Council are Sith. We have the elevation of power and ability via a meritocracy (power is merit) and, in a way, the connection of the Force, to the universe, to the individual, is as if to have a fundamental connection to the universe or to a higher plane of existence, however you want to look at it. Couple this right to rule with a driving need to not be seen as weak and a converse amount of freedom and the right within the culture to "live authentically" and you will have a conflict. The need not to be seen as weak is different from being perceived as strong, but not very different, and this is somewhat at odds with the idea of freedom as the Sith have it. They are free to do pretty much as they will but they're also constrained by the ruthless power structure of their society. (Sith society is of course intertwined but largely separate from the Citizen's.) There is the emphasis on emotion, but that does not give you the freedom to be sad, because what makes you sad can be a tool to use against you. The same with happiness. Any emotion, positive or negative, can be used as a tool of manipulation against the Sith, as equally as they can be used as fuel for their own power. It is simply that certain emotions, like anger specifically, are more easily turned to one's own use than others.

The very basis of having a connection to the Force gives a connection to the Universe at large. It is a fundamental oneness to life and existence that those who are Force Blind don't have and, arguably, gives insight that those without it will never be able to grasp. (Theoretically.) Of course, this insight does not necessarily make those who have it infallible, much as they may wish it would. This fallibility paired with a secretive knowledge that is inaccessible to many is the reason for a lot of questioning and strife between the Sith and Imperial Citizen. Under the order of the Empire it should not be - remember the virtues of upholding order and unity - but if one must have the means of acquiring knowledge to be able to understand the knowledge and that means of acquisition is an innate faculty, then the veracity and reality of said knowledge is not something easily verified. "Trust me" isn't good enough when you literally cannot tell if someone is lying.

Another cause of the schism within Imperial culture is the want of Sith to see the Empire and Its people as tools for their own ends. This can come as a result of seeing the good of the Empire as being the same as the good of the Sith, or sometimes even the good of the Self. That is not necessarily true in all cases, though, as while their is an expectation to act moderately selflessly with regard to the Empire, Sith are still afforded a great enough degree of freedom and power that one could argue it's more of a social nicety than a hard rule. See Lord Grathan's estate debacle for a possible interpretation: his walling off and going against the Dark Council was a political and social faux pas but it didn't seem to turn him into an ethical pariah (correct me if I'm wrong, I haven't played in yonks).

I feel I ought to end with the rather obvious note that none of this is really achievable in an idealised sense. Any contradictory nature in the virtues listed above is entirely intentional as sometimes it feel like the entirety of Imperial society is several angry rocks lashed together with bungee cord and, while it strains to be coherent and does function on macro scale, the actual day-to-day life of the individual is fraught either with the meaninglessness of their existence within a vast machine that wishes for a useful life and useful death of its cogs or loomed over with ever present dread that someone with more power or influence than you might be annoyed enough to make your life a literal living hell at any moment.

Further reading: Crash Course's Philosophy: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL8dPuuaLjXtNgK6MZucdYldNkMybYIHKR James Tullos' The f@cism of military sci-fi: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vph_cDjcgEE Hello Future Me On Worldbuilding: How do Empires Work?: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51MWp0Hgo90 (this is a three part series, followed by The Rise of an Empire? and How an Empire Falls?) Stanford's Nietzsche article, specifically the Will To Power section: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/nietzsche/#SomeNietValu Stanford, Authenticity: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/authenticity/ Plato, The Republic (can you tell?) Contractarianism: https://www.philosophybasics.com/branch_contractarianism.html Fallacy (logic and reasoning), examples: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fallacy#Common_examples The Golden Mean, which you might recognise as the Buddhist Middle Way: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_mean_(philosophy)

Class hierarchy: https://tatiletotesamaze.tumblr.com/post/171101223086/im-going-to-do-it-properly-now-how-i-approach Community-centric, self-centric: https://tatiletotesamaze.tumblr.com/post/169745967921/imperial-life-things-two-archetypes-for Imperial Social Contract: https://tatiletotesamaze.tumblr.com/post/171174833921/ok-so-the-premise-is-basically-a-social-contact Health Care: https://tatiletotesamaze.tumblr.com/post/172526303826/i-wanna-talk-about-health-care-in-the-empire Where there is an Imperial: https://tatiletotesamaze.tumblr.com/post/170236577656/tatiletotesamaze-as-the-sith-occupy-a-strange

#swtor #long #headcanon #imperiallife

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shewhodoesnotexist · 4 years

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Okay, so The Rise of Skywalker. Saw it two weeks ago but it’s hard to do anything when you have so much free time ;) Two weeks ago I wrote the following: I’m a little dumbfounded… It felt like a string of fan theories put together, with a video game mode of running after stuff from one place to another xD they put in so much stuff but somehow not enough… Feeling? And I think this still sums up my impression the best. Nevertheless:

So we begin with some Sith artefacts none-one’s ever heard of… This is so reminiscent of some fan videos and theories I got into after TFA, many of them based on Legends/the old EU, things that never appeared in the movies. I’m fond of fan theories, but this just didn’t fit in at all here, and seemed so… artificial, video game-like: suddenly there’s a thing we need to find and then it’ll be fine! But first we need to find this thing and go somewhere else and do another thing and then we’ll reach the place!

Like… The Last Jedi was built around characters with personalities, their interactions and conflicts, and for all its faults that made it engaging. This felt completely flat. It was just going from place to place, maybe except for some of the Kylo & Rey scenes, there was barely any feeling in it.

Also, some scenes were so artificial and obvious set-ups, like the woman with the necklace demanding Rey’s full name – maybe she’s from a planet with different naming conventions, how do you know, lady? – just so she can say she’s nobody and then have the necklace taken by Kylo, and the woman at the end, so that Rey can say she’s Rey Skywalker, and Luke giving Rey two lightsabers so that she can give one to Ben (the scene itself was awesome, yes, but the set-up was painfully transparent). Devices, yes, but don’t be so blatant about it.

What was the point of that Threepio stunt? It’s introduced as a heartbreaking sacrifice, then it turns out nobody cares, then it’s played for laughs, and then it’s reversed. Really?

The Palpatine thing is such a clumsily done retcon, honestly. Yes, he was the ultimate Big Bad in the previous trilogies, so in that aspect it kind of makes sense, but in regards to Rey... They made themselves nobodies? Yeah, no, Kylo’s vision and words from TLJ don’t fit this, you can’t square that one. And so Rey’s arc from The Last Jedi is neatly undone and she matters because of her family and very nearly (see below) is defined by her ancestry. Honestly, whichever version you prefer, it would be better to stick to one. That’s not getting into the problems of selling your children.

And really… Rey suddenly and accidentally bursting out some Force lighting supposedly shows “who she really is”? When has the Force ever worked that way? And of course it only happens when it’s convenient. And suddenly “no-one knows me”. Great, now you can be emo together.

And why would Palpatine even want to have descendants? As a backup plan?

And that’s not getting into the fact that apparently Palpatine had a son, who was alive during OT, who somehow rebelled against him, and that’s a story potentially more interesting than this movie, which is ignored. Actually… all right, possibly Rey’s father was not Force-sensitive, which was why Palpatine wanted Rey specifically, but the wording (“to protect you”) makes it sound as if all that rebellion happened only after Rey was born and he realised Palpatine’s intentions towards her, which raises further questions. But enough on that.

It is also incidentally implied that Stormtroopers who defected are Force-sensitive, and that, too, is ignored. What Finn wanted to tell Rey could be that he loved her or that he was Force-sensitive, but, of course, it is never revealed. (Wait wait, apparently it was confirmed it was about the Force. He does talk about how he understands her several times, so that makes sense.)

Speaking of which, once again there is an effort to humanise the Stormtroopers… which is then once again ignored.

Also speaking of which, for someone raised to be mindless soldier, Finn has had quite a love life – like, approximately four possible love interests?

Remember when there was a sandworm in one of The Hobbit movies and people were joking that Legolas’ blue eyes were due to Spice? Now we can do that with SW, too!

Remember when I said I didn’t believe the Knights of Ren even existed? You probably don’t. But they might as well not. For all the mystery and speculation they turn out to be slightly more elite mooks and are killed in approximately their second scene. Even the Praetorian Guards were more impressive.

Hux being the spy is… silly. Wasn´t he super into the First Order? Now he´s undermining it just to spite Kylo. But it is rather funny.

I feel that having Leia start a Jedi training and then quit due to visions takes away from her character. What’s wrong with preferring a political/military career while being Force-sensitive? But no, she needs to have run through the woods with a lightsaber and bested Luke, of course.

Plus, Leia of all people attacking Kylo… This is upsetting. At least have her appear to him as she dies, too. I mean, like so much in this movie, the idea itself was interesting, but the execution undermined it.

I liked Rey healing Kylo’s wound, but it is true that the sudden introduction of Force healing (no matter its earlier introduction in The Mandalorian) raises some questions about why it’s never appeared before.

I am amazed at Adam Driver’s acting. The moment Ben comes back to the Light, you can see it in his face. It’s unbelievable how much he manages to convey. That man is a gift and I am happy it was not Eddie Redmayne, sorry

The ship in the desert, maybe, but you can’t tell me Luke’s X-Wing is readily functional after having been who-knows-how-many years underwater. That’s just ridiculous.

What was that football stadium. Who were these people. What was going on.

What was even Palpatine’s plan? Was it that because Rey was related to him, he could body surf into her and continue ruling, as some people are interpreting it? Or was it the old “strike me with your hate/anger and complete your turn to the dark side”, in which case it wasn’t even all that relevant that they were related, as he had another Force-sensitive family to prey upon already? And then it turns to “I can just suck power out of you two and it’s good enough”.

How was Ben able to get that planet unnoticed? That’s not to mention another falling-apart ship. Oh, but his entrance, with a blaster, and then passing the lightsabre between them, that was incredibly cool :D

A fleet of planet-killing ships, fine, we needed to up the stakes yet again, but they still have a single weak point… I guess there’s not point complaining about that.

We saw Ben smile :) It was so beautiful :) And they kissed :)

...aaand then of course he had to die *sigh*

I haven’t heard the word “dyad” in that context before, but I have read a bit about Force bonds, and aren’t you supposed to completely devastated after the other one dies, as if something is torn out of your soul? Even leaving that aside, wasn’t Rey rather fond of him? Show some grief, maybe? No?

We get to the end, and we are remembering that we are watching a movie called “The Rise of Skywalker”. All the Skywalkers and their descendants are dead. Solution: have Rey tell a conveniently placed rando she is a Skywalker and leave her to continue the Jedi and Skywalker legacy (the latter of which may not be so stellar, come to think of it). She is once again alone on a desert planet, but now she is different, and ready to set out and do… something. But on the other hand, she’s alone on a desert planet again, so she ended up where she had begun (still alone!)… and so did the story of the Skywalker bloodline, on the planet both Anakin and Luke disliked so much and Leia had nothing to do with. All that to have a repeat shot. I’m not all that impressed.

On the whole this movie gives the impression that the filmmakers were trying to play it safe and pander to the fans, mostly to the fans who disliked TLJ and those who craved nostalgia, and distance themselves from TLJ as much as possible, while cramming a lot of material into the movie at the expense of emotional depth. There’s no time to explore this significant moment, we need to rush elsewhere! Many of the concepts could have worked much better if the had been given more time and focus, but the end result is a mess. Not to mention the ST as a whole feels inconsistent. And yes, I’m upset that Ben died! But that’s part of playing it safe, I’m afraid.

I’m not going to go into the last-minute editing controversy.

I watched the SCB review and they said it was a combination of Harry Potter, Avengers and GoT finales – very accurate ;)

Eh.

#star wars #the rise of skywalker #tros spoilers #sw spoilers #of me #ignore as appropriate

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butlerofthecount · 4 years

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Tagged by (Kind of?): @ducktales-wco-oo and @gamblealife

Tagging: @tuesdayscanons, @ketchupblood, @airborne-disaster, @listofevilinventions, @darkwiing, @pick-and-shovel-laborer, and whoever else wants to!

Regular - Dextrius | Bold - Goosewing | Italics - Dexter

Dextrius

Goosewing

Dexter

layer one : the outside

Name - Count (Dextrious) Duckula, Ludwig Von Goosewing, Count (Dexter) Duckula Eye colour - Crimson, Puke Green-Yellow, Obsidian Hair style / colour - Black with purple streaks; fashioned with a fire motif in mind (Might as well have himself look hot, right?), Short and messy white, Medium-short raven hair that is nicely parted at the middle, yet some of the strands are uneven compared to other strands. Height - 4′7″, 4′8 1/2″, 4′7″ Clothing style - A stylized formal suit with some jewelry to complete the look. Flames are also visible on his cloak, though they aren’t real, just a part of the design. He prefers a classy bright violet and is proud of it. | Some undergarments like an undershirt and boxers with a heart pattern on them, pants, a vest, scarlet bow tie, spats on loafers, and a deerskin coat and hat to complete his attire. | A simple black suit jacket over a button up shirt with a red bow tie and a lavender cloak that reaches the floor. Best physical feature - Beak, arms, and chest. His small fangs can be seen as attractive, but also misleading for some of his more vampire traits, like how his arms may seem wimpy but have more to them than just their looks. What doesn’t disappoint is his chest however, as he does try to stay fit for his own satisfaction. | Chest and abdomen, as he is probably the most vulnerable there. Tries to stay clean and soft for the ladies. | Eyes, beak, and hands, for how gentle and smooth they feel, especially the last two.

layer two : the inside

Fears - Looking bad in front of a crowd, not being able to fulfill his dream of being a star, losing anything that he has gained at this point, Being alone, dying, and holy men and their items. | Not honoring his family lineage, going against his parent’s wishes, physically unpleasing people (to look at), old age, his insecurities, and being embarrassed. | Meat, Flesh, Blood, anything related to animals and their insides, terrible people, being used or abused by others, giant vegetable monsters, death in general, pain, confrontations with those much larger or heavier than him, and true vampries. Guilty pleasure - Playing video games, interacting with the villagers in casual chats, much to Igor’s dismay, going out partying and clubbing (He’s been through some things), and exercising. | Having conversations with his imaginary partner, Heinrich, using technology to date and mingle with others, Tries to attend the Vampire Hunter’s convention but usually gets denied, and his drinking problems. | Gambling and playing cards, trying to pretty up his hair and attire, keeping his feathers well plumed, and writing songs. Biggest pet peeve - Being given orders or bossed around | Being seen as a laughingstock or a lolcow. | Not being taken as seriously as he wants to be, despite his appearance. Ambitions for the future - Wants to be the most well recognized person in the world, no, in reality. He seeks the best, as he only deserves the best. | To avenge his parents’ death and rid the world of all vampires, while also continuing his bloodline. | To live his life the way he wants to, not how Igor desires.

layer three : thoughts

First thoughts upon waking up: - “So what’s the plan for today? Making a ruckus, plastering my luxurious face in several cities? Ah, I’ll think of something, I always do!” | “Eh heh, I hope dat my bed doesn’t need repairing again.” | “Ah! I better turn off the alarm clock before Nanny arrives!” What you think about most: - “What can I do to make myself the best, the most fantastic, the one that never winces from danger?” | “Duckula, you fiend, I will get you, and when I do, your end will be assured!!” | “Hm... I’m not sure what I think about most. Is it broccoli sandwiches? Or looking good? Hrm...” What you think about before bed: - “Ah, another plan foiled yet again. Oh well, better try again tomorrow!” | “I wonder what I might find in my dreams? Hopefully I’ll get an idea from dere...” | “Hopefully no one tries to make a rustle while I’m asleep. Don’t need to lose any more sleep than I already have.”

I wonder if: - “I wonder if anyone... really likes me for who I am?” | “I wonder if what I am doing is going to end the terror?” | “I wonder if there will be a day when Igor gives up his griping?”

What your best quality is: - Charismatic! | Honor! | Kindness!

layer four : what’s better ?

Single or group dates - Group | Group | Single To be loved or respected - Loved | Respected | Respected Beauty or brains - Beauty (But he’s no slouch on brains) | Brains (But he wants beautiful partners) | Both (As he respects someone for who they are.) Dogs or cats - Dogs (Doesn’t mind Towser at all.) | Dogs (Cats just don’t like him and his way of life.) | Cats (He loves to pet them and they love to rest on his lap.)

layer five : do you…

Lie - For certain | Only when forced to or to further his plans | Tries not to but has Believe in yourself - Without a doubt! Well, maybe one | Confidence drives his soul | Sometimes. Believe in love - Craves it! | Surely! | Yes. Want someone - They all do, just for their own reasons. Dexter’s the least yearning of one.

layer six : ever been …

Been on stage: - So many times | Once or twice | A couple of times Done drugs: - It’s safe to say yes, he’s done some, but it’s not like they’ve really affected him (Thanks to his supernatural tolerance) | No, besides alcohol and tobacco | He hasn’t really yet, but if he did, he’d have less tolerance compared to Dextrius Changed who you were to fit in: - He’s tried to adapt but for all of his attempts, he just can’t change who he really is. | He’s not willing to really change for others as he likes who he is and doesn’t feel like changing until his goals are complete. | Whether it’s to his life as a marshall or as a space bounty hunter, Dexter changes to try and make something different of himself from the rest of his bloodline. To be better than them.

layer seven : favorites

layer eight : age

Day your next birthday will be - October 23rd | April 8th | October 23rd How old will you be -, 35 or 879 | 67 | 45 or 889 Age you lost your virginity - For all of the silly stuff he’s done while at parties, he hasn’t lost it yet. He doesn’t know why, but it might have something to do with his fangs and him being a vampire... Or just unsatisfying to have “fun” with. | Oh, for sure nope. He’s been trying to for a good while. | Not yet, but isn’t pushing to get that changed either. Does age matter - Not really for Dextrius (He’s no pedo though) | Somewhat for Ludwig | And most definitely for Dexter

layer nine : in a person

Best personality - Supportive | Tolerant | Funny and Quirky Best eye colour - Really doesn’t matter | Sapphire Blue | Not really on that Best hair colour - Radical or Unusual Hair Color | Natural Hair | Not really adamant on a specific color or type Best thing to do with a partner - Have them adore and fawn over him, tend to his desires, snuggle with as he plants some kisses... not the deadly kind | To converse and put up with his shenanigans, perhaps even go out on romantic occasions if he can | Actually uncertain of what he wants

layer ten : finish the sentence

“I love - me and everything about my self... except for the insecurities. Those I can do without.” | “I love dat I know have de chance to bring honor to my family name and dis time, I will do it right!!” | “I love who I am, and the good people that I protect. And Nanny and Igor too. I can never forget them!!” “I feel - ...like I’m doing something wrong sometimes. Like I have to be different, and adapt to make people like me.” | “I feel as if dis device is not doing what I want it to do. Hrm... Stupid contraption!! Heh, why do dese dings always go haywire?” | “I feel like there may be something in my clothes... Is that you, Spurs? Ah, nope. Just a rat.” “I hide - my issues that I don’t want peeps to see. If they did see it, then they wouldn’t like me for sure. I know it.” | “I hide my wampire weapons for any visitors. Wouldn’t want to get another accident on my conscious, heh heh.” | “I hide whenever I get scared. It just seems like the best course of action sometimes, but when no one else will rise up, I’ll just have to. For everyone else.” “I miss - earlier times. Back then I could have done so much different to get what I want.” | “I miss my parents. They were very loving and caring, and seemed like great people.” | “I miss my time for the daily lunch broccoli sandwich. Hmph, looks like I have to make it myself...” “I wish - that I could be famous. Whether it’s by the country, the world, or even the universe. I just wish people would see me, and all that I have to offer.” | “I wish I could find a way to stop all of de wampires. Dat way, I can carry on with finding someone for me.” | “I wish my ammo wouldn’t keep getting clogged or misfiring. I need to shoot when I want to shoot!”

#(I think this is the last time I do this for three muses.)#(I have one more on another blog but that will be only for two characters. Two drastically different characters.)#(But this was fun to see more into all three of these boys.)#(It should help separate Dextrius from Dexter and give some more insight on Goosewing.)#Out of Ghoulish and Evil Schemes (ooc)#A Red Hot Return (Reboot Count Duckula)#Upholding the Wampire Hunter Legacy! (Doctor Ludwig Von Goosewing)#He's More Than a Mister; He's a Count! (Count Dexter Duckula)#Wondering out loud (Headcannons and Continuity thoughts)#Things that keep us calm. (memes!)

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lil-nest · 5 years

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TU vs VOUS, a quick guide

Hello, French learning friends! I’ve seen many people try and often fail to explain when you should use “tu” or “vous” in French, and for the longest time, I couldn’t find a reliable rule myself. However, a completely unrelated Ted Talk about communication and collaboration in human society helped me finally put my finger on the underlying pattern I could sense but not explain.

Now, before we begin, this post will be long. It is a “quick” guide not because reading it will be quick, but because once you have read it, deciding between “tu” and “vous” will (hopefully) be quick.

Introduction: On communication and collaboration in human society

First, as soon as I find the link again, there shall be a link in this sentence to the Ted talk I mentioned, it is mildly relevant to this introduction, completely irrelevant to French politeness in general, and pretty cool regardless.

Okay, so. Do you know what is super cool about human society? Our ability to communicate and then cooperate with total strangers with the help of social scripts. And it’s not even just basic cooperation like handed a bill to a cashier in exchange for a liter of milk. For example: last month, I was sick. So I went to the doctor. It was my first time meeting this particular doctor. And yet, before we even met, we had managed to agree to a meeting time. Then, I let a complete stranger poke at my throat and ears, trusting that he would not hurt me. Meanwhile, he put his finger near my very numerous and sharp teeth, trusting that I would not bite him.

Crazy right? You will probably answer “of course not!”. Because society has taught us that it is (most often) safe for Patients to let themselves be poked by Doctors, and that it is (usually) safe for Doctors to poke Patients without fear of being attacked.

Now, what you must remember for the rest of this is the way I capitalized Doctor and Patient. Because despite being both complete and complex people, for the duration of this appointment we were interacting as a Doctor and a Patient. We were both filling social roles in a socially scripted situation, and everything went smoothly because we both trusted the other would do it too.

There is, of course, another type of interaction, which happens between two people who know each other, (mostly) off the script, where things go smoothly because we know each other, and can predict what the other wild want, do or say and act accordingly. For example, if my sister decides to poke my cheeks, I trust that she won’t hurt me, because I know her, and she trusts that I will be careful not to harm her when I swat her hand away.

You see how different those two situations are? Situations like my visit to the doctor will be put into one big category of “Society is what enables us to trust and cooperate” and situations like my play-fight with my sister will be “Personal connection is what enables us to trust and cooperate” (There are probably real sociologic words for these things, but my knowledge comes mainly from science popularization, which often shies away from big words)

This distinction is important, because people are incredibly complex, and there is neither enough power nor enough storage space in our brains to consider every single person we interact with like Complex People. Instead, we create roles and stereotypes (some of which are bad, most of which are necessary - try to live your lives refusing to assume the nicely dressed people with silver plates in the restaurant are the waiters).

How do I get tu vs vous from this?

Well it’s easy, just ask yourself: Are we talking/interacting as Complex People or as Social Roles?

If you are talking as People, use “tu”. If you are talking as Social Roles, use “vous”.

Examples:

*)Checking out milk at the corner store. You are customer #172, they are Cashier #3, use “vous”.

UNLESS the cashier happens to be your BFF. Then, upon seeing them, your first thought will not be “This is a Cashier” but “This is my Friend, who happens to be a cashier”. Even though the situation should call for Social Roles, your brain overrides this by pointing out the Person hidden behind the Role: you should probably use “tu”.

*)Talking to your BFF: this is your BFF. You know each other like the back of your hands. “tu” is your best choice.

UNLESS you want to be very formal, but using vous for your BFF is like calling your husband “mister”. It’s funny if you’re doing it ironically, otherwise it will make the people around you feel like they are in Victorian England.

*)you just joined a knitting club: use “vous”, but because clubs are about socializing, you will most likely be told to use “tu”, and be quietly expected to tell people to call you “tu” too -in general, if someone tells you to use “tu”, especially during introductions, it’s better to reciprocate - this is because while you found the club thanks to Social Roles, the people in the club wish to become Complex People with other members, so you use “tu” not because you are already a complex person to these people, but because they are allocating the space in their brain for you to become one once you have gotten to know each other.

In a way, “tu” vs “vous” is a lot like first name vs last name vs title + last name. But since first/last name conventions are wildly different from country to country the comparison isn’t very helpful. Just note that usually in France, the people you call “tu” are the same people you call by first name, and the people you call “vous” are the same people you call “mister/miss/missus X” (note that “mademoiselle”, the French word for “miss”, is best avoided until you’re confident in your knowledge of the hows and whys of it, for reasons related to sexism which I will not get into because this post is long enough, just use “madame” for all women and if they don’t like it they’ll ask you to call them mademoiselle instead, no big deal)

Now if you only wanted the rule of thumb you may stop here, but I also added a bit about how and when mixing them might offend people, and another about exceptions and ambiguous cases, if you’re curious.

When and how choosing the wrong pronoun(?) will offend

Before I start on the exceptions, let me give you a general idea of what happens when you get it wrong, so you can decide what risks to take when you hesitate.

Now, obviously, in most cases, messing up will just result in being kindly told to use the other one, because causing a scene about it is most often a rude thing to do, especially if the person you are talking to is aware that you are not a native speaker. BUT regardless of how the other person reacts, the confusion might make them feel upset, and we’re trying to avoid that because we are kind people.

Now, if you call “tu” someone who was expecting you to call them “vous”, they will feel disrespected. The idea is that calling someone “tu” is a sign of familiarity and knowing each other. The person will feel as though you think yourself much closer to them than you actually are. In the words I used earlier, calling someone “tu” is claiming you are interacting with them as Real Complex People. If the person you’re talking to was just seeing you - and wanted you to see them - as a Social Role (Coworker, or Neighbour, or Literal Stranger Asking For The Time) they will feel as though you are trying to force yourself in a private social circle you weren’t invited in. This is why common responses (or internal rant) to being wrongfully called “tu” are along the lines of “you don’t KNOW me” or “I’m not your friend”.

For those it might interest (fic writers) asking someone to call you “vous” when they used to call you “tu” is a way of saying “we are now strangers” with irreproachable formality. Think of the Drama. Also if you feel like someone is acting in an overly familiar manner with you, ask them politely to call you “vous”. If they’re decent people and didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, they will understand the underlying request and correct their behavior. If they cause a scene, treat them like you would treat a guy who makes a scene because a girl in the street refused to give him her number.

However, if you call “vous” someone who expected you to call them “tu”, it is generally less likely to offend, because like all things concerning human relationships, if one person feels close to another, but the other doesn’t, the two people are considered “not close”. It might lead to disappointment or hurt, though, because being called “vous” when you were expecting “tu” means the other person doesn’t feel as close to you as you expected, and it can be a bit disheartening.

Note that that situation is different from the situation where you are a stranger to the other person but they ask you to call them “tu” because they wish to make the Social Role situation into a Complex People situation, or at least pretend to do so (this is most often seen at work, when your boss asks you tu call them “tu” for “team morale” or stuff, or things like vacation camps and stuff where the guides ask you to call them “tu” to avoid making the trip feel stiff and formal). In this situation the person you’re talking expected you to call them “vous” and hence do not have any kind of hurt feelings.

Exceptions and ambiguous cases

Now that you know the basics, let me tell you about all the ways everything I just told you is wrong. I mean, us French have several proverbs about how our all the rules in our language have exceptions, and this one has plenty.

The first exception is kids. My only advice for kids is “do your best not to use pronouns to them until you’ve heard someone else do it”. The general rule is that at least until they’re teenagers kids should call all non-friends “vous” and everyone should call kids “tu”. For teenagers you do literally whatever you want - people who call teenager “vous” usually do it in order to say “I take you seriously and I don’t think you deserve less respect than an adult”. Some teenagers see this and are happy about it, but you might get mocked. Also, note that more uptight and traditional families will expect their kids to be called “vous” - this might be useful to remember if you become an Au Pair or something.

The second related exception is post-BAC/university students. There the rules are simple:

-your classmates are all “tu”. Yes, even if you’ve never talked to them because your “class” if a “promotion” of 100 people. If they’re in the classroom with you and not teaching it’s “tu”. An exception might be made if you are An Actual Adult who went back to school as opposed to a Young Adult who never left it, but they tend to insist on being called “tu” too. Fellow students who are not in your class are will probably not care. Most student will go with “tu” in that wase, but I usually go with “vous” because being overly formal is how I cope with social anxiety.

-PhD students who do teaching for lower grade students (I think in the US they’re called TAs?) will call them “tu”. Lower grade student will decide on “tu” or “vous” depending on whether the PhD student is acting like “I Am Your Teacher” or “I Am An Older Student Here To Share My Knowledge”. If you hesitate “vous” will not be out of place.

-Teachers will expect to be called “vous” and whether they call students “tu” or “vous” is a coin flip. If the teacher calls you “tu” and is just being friendly, let them, but if they are being uncomfortably familiar with your, don’t hesitate to put an entitled expression and very formally ask them to call you “vous”. If they’re decent they won’t cause a scene, if they get angry it should be an alarm bell. (see above section). Once again, people who are not Young Adults will be called “vous”, even by teachers who call the Young Adults “tu”. (There might be something uncool about the way young adults who are students get treated like teenagers more than like other adults, but often they don’t consider themselves “real grown-ups” either, and either way it’s not the point of the post)

The third exception is about hierarchy: sometimes someone who is above you in a hierarchical environment will feel entitled to call you “tu” while demanding to be called “vous”. In any context other than university this is disrespectful and you should know it. It’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable calling them out, but know that you deserve better.

Ambiguous situations are usually either:

a)”We only interact via society roles but we do it often and a lot so we befriended each other and now we don’t know whether to keep using “vous” or switching to “tu”” - this is often the case among coworkers who slowly got to know each other. It’s best to have a conversation about it, even though it might feel a little awkward.

b)You are introduced to someone via a common friend, but you do not have a relationship with the person outside of the common friend. The best-known case if your In-laws -once again, just ask.

#french #linguistics #tu vs vous #long post #fellow french people and actual sociologists are welcome to make addition #also note that I can only vouch for france French #even only metropolitan france French #so if DROM-COM and non-France French speakers have experiences to share #they're very welcome

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raifuujin · 5 years

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(Review of the full A-Kon experience under the cut because I don’t agree with a lot of people complaining and I feel like writing about my thoughts about it.)

Aside from not seeing everyone I usually do in the dealer/artist area at con, I enjoyed this convention a lot more than previous years. Since I live near enough to Dallas that I never feel it’s worth the money for a hotel, I can’t speak for everyone’s experience, but it was so easy to drive to and get (pretty cheap) parking. Dealers/Artists hall seemed well set-up. There may have been some space issues, but from the perspective of some random con goer, it felt like the main problem would have been the schedule change, and the experience was still overall enjoyable. Food within that area is also a nice plus, even if the food itself was just ‘okay’. The pizza stand we found the next day was pretty good, though.

I got some Case Closed movie DVDs signed by R. Bruce Elliot. Which also felt nice, I liked the system that they had with the autographs. We’ve had previous years where you could be at the front of the line hours ahead of time for the more popular VAs, but never get a chance for an autograph because people would heavily abuse having fast passes to skip ahead and waltz up ten minutes beforehand and get in. I don’t know if we would have had that situation this year, but I still feel like getting rid of that fast pass system was one of the best decisions, as well as having a new system where you know if you’re guaranteed an autograph. There was also a ton of chances in general to see the guests, so it didn’t feel like there was a lot of congestion at any time. Very nice system.

Now, one of the biggest complaints was about the panels. I can understand why it’d be an issue: All of the panels were in one giant room and just separated by curtains. I personally didn’t mind it, but it’d probably depend on the panel people went to and if they need less noise. Panels dependent on video - probably weren’t as enjoyable. Panels that were interactive or improvised - not as disturbed by having random noise. Most panels I went to were fun little things where the experience was only heightened by interacting with other panels. When people within the panel couldn’t figure out what anime was being referenced, it’s pretty funny when someone next door yells out the answer (and probably gives the panelist some hope for anime fans, considering the awkward silences that would have happened otherwise sometimes). Not a problem for me, but I can see why it’d be difficult for other panels.

And the biggest thing people were complaining about before and during the con was heat. Which. I find to be the silliest thing to complain about, especially when comparing it to past years at Fort Worth. Yes, it’s summer. Yes, it’s Texas. Just like it’s been every year. The heat is something to be wary of, yes, and reminders to drink water are valid as heck. But people have been saying that events being in different buildings is going to get people in more danger of the heat than previous years? Just... no. No. I’ve been to all of the cons that were at Ft. Worth, and guess what? Many panels were in a different building than the main convention center. Sometimes, just going from one panel to another had you go from the ‘main building’ to the hotel panel building and back. Gaming was also in an entirely different building than the both of ‘em. Getting to any other buildings for anything required crossing streets, as opposed to the Park this year where everything’s in an enclosed space. Autograph setup was a mess previously (partially because they were doing two lines when spaces were only set for one) and I remember a food stand in the corner and general flow of everything regarding that section of the room was a mess, so that needed its own space. The only thing the convention center had going for it was it could accommodate both the dealers/artist/autograph section and the big area for the cosplay contest. And guess what, I do remember that first year at the convention center where they made everyone who didn’t have a fast pass make their line outside in the late afternoon until the time for seating, and that second year where they had everyone inside forming a line so close together that a fire marshal forced them to seat us because so many people crammed into one space was a lot of heat and a fire hazard. This year literally wasn’t any worse. So, sorry if I’m more than a little salty at people saying this year was going to be so much worse in terms of dealing with the heat. I go with three layers, pants, and a hat every year, and I’ll go ahead and say I literally felt no different than I have in past years.

Heck, people in cosplay so frequently hang around outside every year that I didn’t think they cared. The people who hang around in the building as much as possible could still be in buildings, the people who like the aesthetic that fountains and greenery offer will still hang around outside. I actually really liked being at the park so much better than the convention center, so I’m kinda hoping they stick with the park and iron out kinks, if it isn’t too expensive an area to rent. I do not want it to return to Ft. Worth. I won’t mind if they wanted to try a new location, though. This year was fine (despite many people comparing it to Fyre Festival of all things), but I do think too many people panicked because of unforeseeable changes and made it seem worse than it was by refusing to come at all. I’m sure it was frustrating, but people are being way too harsh on this year because of the new ownership and last minute things he had to do to pull it all together so people had something to go to this year. Some people threw a hissy fit and demanded refunds, but the team did try to accommodate everyone and assist with shifting plans. Did they need to upgrade everyone who had paid to attend before the con changed ownership? No, no they didn’t, but they probably knew the change was going to mess with everyone and wanted to include a consolation for the people who already had plans ready and made.

Honestly, it’s stupid to be so rude the first year someone is trying to deal with what they’re dealt. If you can’t change your plans and you’re mad, fine, but don’t blame the people trying to still make it happen. The previous owners were the ones who dropped the bomb to deal with, and the new owner did a damn good job with what time they had. I hope he’s not chased off by all the people throwing out nothing but complaints, because many of those people never gave him a chance to begin with.

#personal #ranting #long post under the cut #This was in my merch post but I figured it'd be best to put my con vent somewhere not attached to the tags I normally put on merch posts #But I needed to put my thoughts somewhere because I have seen literally no one saying anything that was nice about how the con was handled

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curriebelle · 7 years

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OK so here’s what I figured out about Castlevania

So there’s a couple of theories of games and narrative out there, and one of the theories I particularly like is that games produce spatial narratives. Games make stories by (and stories about) exploring space. While there are good counterexamples and counterarguments and stuff, Castlevania games are a pretty straightforward example of how spatial narrative can work, and the Castlevania animated series adaptation does an excellent job of translating that.

(Funnily enough the only other good video game adaptation - literally the only one I’m aware of - is the Japanese Ace Attorney movie, and AA is a good example of a game that doesn’t entirely rely on spatial narrative - but that just goes to show how hard it is to make spatial narrative into conventional narrative so ANYWAY)

With the disclaimer that I have watched Let’s Plays and speedruns and reviews of Castlevania games but haven’t played one yet, as far as I understand it, Castlevania games are about exploring a castle, and eventually - uh - whipping Dracula? And as you play, your avatar collects new moves or new items that allow you to access new parts of the castle, and you may also speak with various characters to learn more lore and backstory.

So, how is this a spatial narrative? Well, we can loosely define narrative as a series of cause-and-effect events strung together to make a story. In a straightforward, conventional narrative, a character takes an action, and that action has an effect (bad priest man burns Dracula’s wife; Dracula becomes pissed and kills everyone). Causes and effects loop onward to create stories (tadah!). Video-game spatial narratives use cause and effect, but they use it a little differently, because the player also takes actions that create effects in the game’s world. You press a button and Trevor whips something until it dies. Cause: button press/whip. Effect: dead cyclops. Nice.

The great thing about this kind of spatial narrative is that player input and perception become really important, and that’s a great way to get you invested in your avatar character. You might feel very strongly for your lil pixel Trevor, because you control his actions and you decide where he goes. There are narrative elements that never change - you are always in Drac’s castle - but there are narrative elements that are entirely your responsibility, such as the order of rooms you explore and the actions you take to get there.

Think about how you recount playing a video game to other people: “Okay so I unlocked the door and then I almost died because I didn’t see the spiked pit, but I jumped at the last second! I AM A DODGE GOD!” That’s spatial narrative: you explore space, react to it, and that’s your story.

SO THE COOL THING THAT I NOTICED ABOUT THE CASTLEVANIA ANIME is that they figured out how to translate spatial narrative into a traditional linear narrative. Normally this is pretty hard to do. You might have enjoyed your 80-odd hours of exploring 15th-century Venice, but that wouldn’t work in an Assassin’s Creed movie. There’s no player involvement, meaning such spatial exploration would be kind of boring.

And yet....we do watch people play video games online for hours and hours at a time, very often with commentary.

Basically what I’m saying is that in the Castlevania animated series, Trevor Belmont is his own Let’s Player.

Trevor is opinionated, sarcastic, and he can’t shut his mouth. He talks to himself almost constantly, particularly throughout Episode 2 where he spends a lot of time alone. When he doesn’t talk, he’s always reacting to new information around him. He infiltrates Gresit at the beginning of Episode 2, and spends the first half of his infiltration bitching about the smell of sewers and how hungry he is. Then he has to be quiet and stealthy, so we see him smirk at a sleeping guard as he sneaks past, and we see him shiver and pull his cloak when he enters the city, and we see him spit at a pile of corpses below a bridge. These details tell us things about Trevor, but also about the state of the area he is exploring and the lore behind it. It’s cold, it’s dirty, it’s poorly guarded, and death is common in this world.

If Trevor doesn’t draw attention to the details of his surroundings, the camera will. The colour palette of most scenes is either starkly cold (like the cyclops fight or Dracula’s mirror) or very warm (all the torch-wielding mobs). I think this is why the gore is also so vivid; it’s another jarring sensory experience, a way of making violence immediate and physical without putting a controller in someone’s hand.

You see, if your audience can’t experience the spatial narrative directly, because they can’t make decisions about what gets explored and how, the next best thing is to experience spatial narrative indirectly. Trevor acts very much like a Let’s Player, because he comments on details a “player” of his situation might observe through gameplay. He voices his thought processes aloud, and he’s pretty funny about it. My favourite example of this Let’s-Playin’ is the lead-up to the fight with the cyclops, so I’ll show you what I mean.

Trevor finds a secret passage by discovering an optical illusion hiding a tunnel. He smirks and crawls in. He sniffs a torch and smells fresh oil, which he notes aloud; then he knocks on a metal pipe, and says that it’s warm. You can almost imagine those as little dialogue boxes popping up when a player interacts with those objects, hinting at methods of solving a puzzle. This feels pretty game-y, for lack of a better word: Trevor’s navigating and puzzling just like a player would.

He climbs down a set of stairs, hears a noise, and calls, “I can hear you! I’m armed and a lot less happy than you are, so stay out of my way -”

Then he falls through the floor, lands, and comments, “Hah! Reflexes like a cat!” before falling through the floor again.

In both of these cases, Trevor’s comments are quite self-reflexive: they are all first-person statements. When he hears a noise, it’s not “what was that?” it’s “I can hear you.” “[I have] reflexes like a cat”.

I found this really neat because first-person speech is a hallmark of players who are engaged with an avatar. when you’re playing and your avatar gets zapped by the cyclops, you say “I died”, not “he” died. First person speech is particularly common when you, as a player, are most deeply, immediately engaged with gameplay, as when you’re instinctively reacting to a noise or a fall.

In short, the Let’s Play continues.

Trevor then finds a room full of stone statues, and comments, “Either someone left a statue of a speaker here, or...” (Feels like another text box prompt to me - one that leads into a boss battle.)

Cyclops appears, fight ensues. Trevor comments, “A cyclops. Right out of the family bestiary.” Then he uses the columns, a shortsword, and some slick whip tricks to murder the cyclops.

So, obviously a good staple for spatial narrative is combat, and I think it’s super telling that Trevor’s fight involves using the environment to his advantage rather than just whip whip whip whip. That’s another way of making the viewer care about the space Trevor is in.

Later on, Trevor comments on the electric lights in the cyclops’ cave, pointing out that only Dracula possesses the technology for such lights. Viewers remember those lights because the camera does a good job of focusing on them, but also because we are still thinking of this narrative spatially. This show rewards spatial thinking. When Trevor is escaping from the mob in Episode 3, his clever tricks on how to navigate the town and eliminate multiple enemies are all part of the fun; it’s a circus of combat Assassin’s Creed could only dream of, but it only works because every concept here is so tightly woven together with spatial narrative.

Trevor’s running commentary helps build that Let’s Play feeling of watching someone else experience a video game just like a player would, but it also informs his character as a sassy grump who doesn’t know when to shut up. The Let’s-Play-commentary forces a focus on space, action, and sensory detail, and because viewers are concentrating on those things, the show is able to pull references like the electric lights into focus even though Trevor never comments on them verbally until after the fight. I can’t even guess which of these concepts were intentional, or which came first, because they all work together seamlessly.

and like. it’s good or whatever. idk that’s all I’ve got for now

#castlevania #castlevania series #currie academia #maybe I'll essay this out properly one day #oh yeah spoilers for the series #sorry! :D

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everythingisgreenandsubmarine · 7 years

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"It" (2017) Review

SPOILERS FOR IT (2017) BELOW

It is a mammoth novel. At over 1100 pages, containing a huge assortment of characters, and spanning over 200 years of mythos, you can imagine just how hard this novel is to adapt. It's not just an issue of plot, it's an issue of time. While King has over 275,000 words to tell his story (the equivalent of a 4,500 hour film, if 1 script page is equivalent to one minute of film time) Andy Muschietti has given himself roughly four hours -- around 240 pages -- to adapt both halves of these novels.

The 1990 miniseries showed that this novel is both incredibly hard to adapt, and impossible to water down. While Tim Curry shines through, in that adaptation, as Pennywise, the rest of the film around him is rife with bad acting, poor writing, stilted dialogue, and cheesy effects. This miniseries covered the entirety of the novel, but even its three-hour runtime wasn't enough to effectively adapt King's story. Additionally, this adaptation avoided almost all of the violence, sexuality, and dark humor that made the novel unique, and memorable.

Andy Muchietti's It suffers, too, from this inability to capture the temporal expansiveness of King's novel. The first chapter of the film, clocking in at a little over two hours, covers the majority of the plot points contained in about half of King's novel. However, it fails to capture the depth, and the intricacies contained within those pages. Furthermore, its horror is executed in the most lazy, and frustrating, way: jump scares.

Let's begin with the writing, though.

This adaptation of It was originally written by Cary Fukunaga and Chase Palmer. Fukunaga was originally attached as writer/director for a long time. You may know Fukunaga from his directorial efforts on films like Beasts of No Nation and Sin Nombre, along with his directing work on the first season of the HBO show True Detective.

Fukunaga was fired from the project after it had been mired in development Hell for quite some time. After being fired, he shared some details about why he was given the boot, and what the producers wanted his film to be.

"I was trying to make an unconventional horror film. It didn’t fit into the algorithm of what they knew they could spend and make money back on based on not offending their standard genre audience. Our budget was perfectly fine. We were always hovering at the $32 million mark, which was their budget. It was the creative that we were really battling. It was two movies. They didn’t care about that. In the first movie, what I was trying to do was an elevated horror film with actual characters. They didn’t want any characters. They wanted archetypes and scares. I wrote the script. They wanted me to make a much more inoffensive, conventional script. But I don’t think you can do proper Stephen King and make it inoffensive. The main difference was making Pennywise more than just the clown. After 30 years of villains that could read the emotional minds of characters and scare them, trying to find really sadistic and intelligent ways he scares children, and also the children had real lives prior to being scared. And all that character work takes time. It’s a slow build, but it’s worth it, especially by the second film. But definitely even in the first film, it pays off. It was being rejected. Every little thing was being rejected and asked for changes. Our conversations weren’t dramatic. It was just quietly acrimonious. We didn’t want to make the same movie. We’d already spent millions on pre-production. I certainly did not want to make a movie where I was being micro-managed all the way through production, so I couldn’t be free to actually make something good for them. I never desire to screw something up. I desire to make something as good as possible. We invested years and so much anecdotal storytelling in it. Chase and I both put our childhood in that story. So our biggest fear was they were going to take our script and bastardize it. So I’m actually thankful that they are going to rewrite the script. I wouldn’t want them to stealing our childhood memories and using that. I mean, I’m not sure if the fans would have liked what I would had done. I was honoring King’s spirit of it, but I needed to update it. King saw an earlier draft and liked it." -- Cary Fukunaga

Ultimately, Fukunaga and his producers were trying to make two different films: Fukunaga wanted to make something akin to The Shining, or Rosemary's Baby, whereas his producers wanted him to make the next Conjuring film.

When Fukunaga was booted from the project, the producers hired writer Gary Dauberman (writer of Annabelle and Wolves at the Door) to make extensive changes to Fukunaga and Palmer's script. They also hired Andy Muschietti, writer/director of the 2013 film, Mama, to replace Fukunaga in the director's chair.

Sadly, what Fukunaga divulged in that interview is completely true. While some elements of his script has been kept, much of it was re-written to fit Muschietti's vision (which, in turn, fit Hollywood's vision). By this I mean to say that Muschietti's It is full of poor dialogue, jump scares, and very flat characters.

Part of this stems from what I mentioned above -- trying to adapt a huge novel into a relatively short script. Supporting characters, like Henry Bowers, or Beverly Marsh's father, are fleshed out in the novel, and given compelling backstories. In the film, they are defined by very rigid, and thin motivations. Henry Bowers, for instance, is a bully because his father is a violent drunk. That's it. That is the entire motivation behind this bully's extremely violent, and destructive tendencies. Beverly Marsh's father has no motivation, nor any backstory. He's just a looming, abusive figure that is shrouded in darkness.

The real issue with the writing of this film, though, is the depiction of Pennywise the Clown. Obviously this character is essential to the novel, and to the overall story.

Bill Skarsgård is fine as Pennywise, though he is very forgettable. His performance can be summed up as "forced" -- a combination of whisper-talking, and overacting. Pennywise's horrific actions are augmented by poor CGI, which takes away from both the character, and the Skarsgård's performance.

Furthermore, this Pennywise never feels like an organic part of the story. Pennywise is an old entity, spanning well beyond the lifespan of the children. Yet we never get a feeling for that age beyond some vague dialogue which speaks to it. Furthermore, because of all of the jump scares, Pennywise never feels scary. In fact, all of the scares in the film feel very forced, and inorganic to the atmosphere Muschietti attempts to set up.

The main cast is good, though, and they are the saving grace of the film. While Pennywise, and the fear surrounding him, feel inorganic and forced, the interactions and chemistry between the core characters is strong. They are funny, endearing, and realistic.

The real standout performance in this film comes from Finn Wolfhard, who plays Richie Tozier. Carrying the majority of the comedic relief on his shoulders, Wolfhard is able to punctuate each scene he's in with authenticity and endearing realism.

The rest of the cast works well, even if they don't quite fit the character descriptions we remember from the novel. In this respect, while they may not replicate the characters we have envisioned, they certainly embody them. The performances are all solid.

In fact, ironically enough, the younger performances are much better than their adult counterparts. Part of this could be from the shallow writing, or the stilted dialogue the adults are often stuck with, but it is worth mentioning.

The real issue with this film comes from the jump scares, though. Jump scares, by themselves, are not inherently evil. They are most certainly lazy, but they aren't the worst thing ever. A horror film can still be very good if it has a couple of jump scares in it. However, like many other things in the filmmaking world, less is more.

Muschietti does not abide by this adage, as everything from Pennywise's interaction with Georgie to the climactic third act are rife with forced jump scares, grating musical cues, and dramatic lighting.

That first interaction with Georgie helps set up the entire film, both in terms of tone, and in terms of scares. The script has jarring shifts in tone, which are best exemplified by Georgie chasing his boat down the street happily, running into a road block, and then meeting Pennywise. In a matter of a minute or two, we change the entire tone of the film three times, and without warning. This happens throughout the film continually, with varying degrees of success (blending horror and comedy can work, it just depends on how you do it).

My opinion of Skarsgård's performance is complicated, and this scene perfectly encapsulates why. There are fleeting moments where he captures the essence of Pennywise as a character -- this lure for children that is used so he can feed -- and there are moments where he feels like he is trying to be scary (which, as we all know, generally doesn't work; just like when someone is trying to be funny, it comes off as forced).

Skarsgård oscillates between these two positions frequently throughout the film. When he releases some balloons to reveal his face to one of our core characters, it feels forced. It's supposed to be scary, but it isn't. When he is playfully tortures Eddie, who has broken his arm, he inhabits the comedic, and terrifying, nature of Pennywise as a character. I don't know how much of this is Skarsgård's performance, and how much of it is the writing, but Skarsgård as Pennywise is wildly inconsistent, to say the least.

I guess those are the two terms I would use to best illustrate my feelings about this film: forced, and inconsistent.

None of this is to say that the film is unwatchable -- if you don't mind jump scare horror, similar to what James Wan provides (though Muschietti is not nearly as skillful as Wan when it comes to delivering said type of horror), then you will probably like this film.

However, from my perspective, as a filmmaker and a film lover, Muschietti's It is the kind of film that exudes all of the issues the horror genre currently has. It's full of forced scares, and light on depth and characterization. That doesn't mean it can't be enjoyed, nor does that mean it's devoid of any quality; it just means that, as an adaptation of its excellent source material, and as a film, it fails in a number of capacities.

#review #it #stephen king #film review #movies #horror movies

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real-faker · 7 years

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Ack sorry about sending another pitch question (I know you said something about people sending those) but you mentioned you pitched a show twice, and since I'm a creeper, I read the tags and you said the pitch wasn't how we'd think they'd be; how were they, then, out of curiosity? If I ever pitch a show, in your position, what should I expect? What exactly happened? Sorry for asking all these questions; you've been my inspiration for a while and I hope I can pitch my own show someday!! Thank you

Oh no, that’s fine! I don’t mind telling my experience with it, and I’ve even given pitching tips before, but this post is about the extent of my knowledge. (You can also just search my blog for “pitch”, ‘cause I’ve reblogged stuff from other people that actually KNOW what they’re talking about, haha) I just don’t want people under the impression that I’m super experienced with it, or that I’ve ever pitched to a big deal network or producer. I absolutely haven’t. I have exactly 2 pitching experiences. The first one was a few years ago at an event in Nashville called “Film-Com”, which is an annual trade show/expo event for financing and distributing filmmaking projects. Basically you get a booth, and you set up in this convention center with all these other aspiring creators (filmmakers, documentary people, a few video game/new media folks, all sorts), and they’ve invited a WHOLE SWATH of producers and industry professionals to come mull around the show floor with you so you can make connections and get your product out there EAT FREE MEALS and then idk, maybe fuckin’ walk around a bit and look at your dumb shitty projects if they fuckin’ feel like it but they probably wont, so what ends up happening is all the creators just walk around and look at each others’ shit, which for me—being the only animator there—means that a bunch of other jack-knobs who have some vague idea for a shitty cartoon end up giving me THEIR card so that maybe in the future I can work on THEIR dumbfuck ideas.ANYWAY, to get to the point, they selected certain projects and scheduled them to actually go up and pitch in front of a whole room full of producers. This happened over the course of the whole day, so I suspect the reason none of the producers were walking around interacting with people is ‘cause they were stuck in a room all day hearing 30 different suck-ass pitches and when it was all said and done they were probably exhausted. I was scheduled as the last pitch of the day. I enter the room and wait patiently; the person before me is running about 10 minutes over their allotted time. I scan the room… everyone is MISERABLE. They’re anxious, they’re uninterested, they’re sighing… the main guy who’s sort of monitoring the whole thing is pinching his brow and trying his best to keep up the pretense of politeness in telling the current pitcher to wrap it up. NONE of these people want to be here anymore. It seems like everyone’s spent the whole day “warming ‘em up” for me, but now they’re all sweaty and miserable, so I can either go up there and give another mediocre pitch, OR I can go up there and try my goddamn hardest to make them laugh.

I go up on stage, just IMMEDIATELY force myself to get over any fears I have, and I pitch W2H. I screen a short mock trailer I made (no way I’d force them to sit through that whole fucking thing), and it’s sort of like a fever dream, because I can see all of the life returning to their faces, they’re WAY into it, I’m doing fucking GREAT somehow, despite literally zero experience… and when it was all said and done, it became abundantly clear that even though they all LOVED it, not a single one of them could help me. None of them were animation producers. None of them KNEW animation producers. One guy suggested I go into comics, because “comics get turned into film and tv shows all the time”. I just had the PERFECT fucking pitch, and I pitched to people who couldn’t fucking help me. As I was leaving, many of them came up to me and actually thanked me for sending them off for the day on a good note. There was a big dinner at like, the fucking Governers’ mansion or something that night, and again, some of them were coming up to me and thanking me, wishing me the best and all that. I guess if nothing else, I learned what I’m capable of.

The second pitch was an ACTUAL disaster. When I’d first graduated I thought I could pitch W2H to Frederator, ‘cause it seemed like a good fit. They told me (understandably) that they couldn’t reverse-engineer a show from something I’d already produced, and also that it was inappropriate (despite having a show at the time called “SuperFuckers”, but whatever; language and subject matter are different things). Later on I got an email from them, saying that someone in their office was familiar with my work, and they invited me to come pitch them something that wasn’t W2H. They also said that I was free to swing by their office any time, even “just to hang out”, and that if I had any questions “whether it be pitching or where to get the best burgers in Burbank”, to hit them up. How friendly! How perfect! I was JUST about to move out to L.A., so I started working on this idea tentatively called “Gayliens”. I swung by their office once, you know, just to pop in, like they said; thought I’d make myself known or whatever. They looked at me like I was nuts. They still invited me in and we chatted for a bit about the history of early Disney studios, but when they asked why I was there, and I reminded them about the email they’d sent, they seemed to have no idea what I was talking about. I told them I was working on a pitch for them and that I’d be in touch so we could schedule something. When I finally finished putting my pitch together, I went in for a meeting with them. It was just 2 folks, we were in like a board meeting-type room (which I imagine is probably standard). They made some small talk with me first, which I’m sure was an attempt to loosen us all up a bit and set the mood, but all of their questions really caught me off guard. (I guess they asked where I was working, and when I told them I didn’t have a studio job, they asked how I was making money, and I’m sure it wasn’t meant to put me in an awkward position, but people asking me how I make money literally ALWAYS puts me in an awkward position, because my income sources are scattered and weird. Try explaining how youtube ad revenue works to your social services worker, it’s a blast.) SO okay, I let myself get tripped up a bit. I go on with the pitch; they don’t really want me to pitch the concept, they just have me show them my storyboards and read through the whole thing. They’re DEAD silent the whole time. I can’t get a read on them at all. When it’s over, they ask me some more questions that trip me up. Some of them are 100% my fault; they asked for a title, and I wasn’t ready to say “Oh, it’s tentatively called GAYLIENS,” out loud to people who I couldn’t get a read from.

It’s all kind of a blur, but the few topics of discussion I remember them bringing up were that “the storyboards look almost TOO good”, like it was TOO polished or well-developed (which is sort of a backhanded compliment I guess???), because see, “when they made Adventure Time… blah blah blah it just started off as this loose idea, and once they were a season or so into it, they started expanding on the universe and developing the characters a little bit more…” — AS IF ANYONE doesn’t understand why AT got so popular??? You don’t have to TELL ME, I WAS WATCHING IT, I FUCKING KNOW. No one gave a shit about AT until they got Rebecca Sugar and all these talented writers working on it a couple seasons in, and doing all this character-heavy shit. I tried to present them with something that had all that character shit baked into it already, ‘cause I knew they were gonna’ use AT as an example. But it seemed like they’re not looking for something that’s already developed with it’s own voice or sensibility, they’re looking for a vague idea that they can mold into something as they go.

They also told me–and I still can’t get over this–that they’re looking for “”””””characters that people will want to cosplay as””””””, which is funny to me for a plethora of reasons; namely that they have no way of knowing that PEOPLE DO COSPLAY AS MY CHARACTERS, but also that I spent half of my time in college working on ridiculous magical girl Adventure Time crossover group cosplays (don’t fuckin’ laugh) like trust me I’m ALARMINGLY familiar with cosplay, and ALSO, that looking for a new property with the guidelines that it should be “the next big thing that some fucking nerds will dress up as at comic con” just seems like such an out-of-touch-but-trying-to-be-hip, capitalize-on your-fandom-doing-all-the-legwork-for-you, fucking executive thing to say. I know I sound like a whiny art school kid saying that but my animation instructor was so anti-establishment, and I carry a lot of that with me still, and something about that statement–insignificant as it may be–kind of epitomizes how I feel about the industry? It’s a hard thing to explain. I walked out of that pitch with my mind feeling like TV static. My friends were waiting for me next door at a bakery and they were super excited, asking me how it went, and I was just like “I mean… BAD, for sure, but I don’t know where to even start.” Hahaha. I don’t know. It just seems like everyone wants to play gatekeeper I guess. They want This Thing™, but it can’t be too This Thing™. They want the thing to have A Fandom™, but they don’t really understand fandom ‘cause they don’t participate in fandom. They want Your Idea™ but they want to make it Their Idea™. I don’t know. I’m just angry and bitter and that’s my experience with pitching. Admittedly some of what went wrong in these pitches was my fault, or there were circumstances beyond my control, and regardless of how that pitch went, I don’t actually dislike Frederator (I’m on their youtube network), and Fred Seibert has actually done a ton of iconic shit.I don’t think I’ve ever AIRED MY GRIEVANCES in such great detail before, but there you have it. If you want some tips on pitching, you can check out the links I provided at the beginning of the post; there’s tons of people out there who actually know their shit too, and they’d probably give more proactive advice. I don’t know if this helps at all, but hopefully you can glean something from it! That’s just my limited experience with it. Haha. Good luck!

#pitching #ask #personal #Anonymous

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datingadviceonreddit · 6 years

Link

Don’t expect ANYTHING - the best stories and experiences from Tinder come from not expecting to find a partner, fuckbuddy, soulmate, or future spouse. Accept the opportunities as they come, and if you’re ready. Going into it with big expectations ruins the fun and potential partners and interactions that you’ll remember for a lifetime.Don’t come into it with a checklist & promote Yourself to target audience- It’s good to have an idea of what and who you’re attracted to, but when coming on Tinder, try to look beyond that as well. This may sound stupid, but I’ve honestly made some really awesome friends on tinder. Their bio said they had similar interests, and just because we don’t want to date- doesn’t mean we can’t have lunch and a good laugh together! Make a target profile links and check their FB profiles to know their interests. You may use some FB tricks(like this) online to get a proper insight to their profiles & promote your profile to these target lists. Sometimes not forcing things is one of the best actions you can take. I’ve met friends who are attractive and friends who I just connect with spiritually- sometimes giving someone a chance can surprise you.Don’t just say “hi” - There are people who are boring texters, and those people don’t even make it to meet me in person. This sounds cocky, but how can I expect you’ll have any more of a personality over a drink? I think the best people who caught my eye, kept me on my toes. They’d talk to me about my day and there’s- but they’d also share a story about their day and ask me a question that somehow is related and connects with it. (like if he got a sandwich at lunch- “what’s your favorite kind of sandwich? I really don’t like pickles on mine.”) just continuously keeping the conversation going, interesting, and asking less conventional questions is KEY. Being a ‘wyd’ kind of person loses me fast.Only one photo - or worse, a group photo. Show 3–4 photos of yourself. Show your favorite place or a cool place you traveled to. Show yourself in your natural element like playing guitar, or playing soccer. Show a selfie, a candid (of you laughing or being natural), a photo doing something you love, a photo of you that is the best photo of you - be it professionally done or one that you just think looks most attractive. This, is the perfect recipe.Don’t ask too much - It’s not a family reunion, you don’t want to ask or interrogate before meeting! Save some of the best stories up your sleeve and questions when the time is right. No one wants to be asked too many out of the blue questions (if you’re talking about tv shows and randomly ask her how many guys she’s dated or how many matches she got- just, no. Keep questions relevant or risk scaring her away). Be charming enough to get to the first date, and throw the sparks out when you meet. Show me how funny you are, or how much you know about the place we’re eating at- do you recommend stuff? Awesome!This is the best advice I can give after being on tinder multiple times for long periods of time. It’s about the journey. There’s so many people and a lot of time to find a spouse - enjoy the people and moments before life is serious and boring. via /r/dating_advice

#dating #dating advice #reddit

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teaganfoxwelltigertamer-blog · 6 years

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“Yeah, she’s fine - she just got a divorce, came out as a lesbian, and is moving to California.”

My mother casually explained what would be just the beginning of the most tumultuous time of my life - to my concerned relatives who frequented Facebook. This single sentence was enough to encapsulate all the tears, frustration, and heartache I would feel over the last few years - as well as the sense of self-truth, optimism, and freedom that I’d never before experienced.

I’m writing this in case anyone else who may happen to stumble upon my blog is experiencing such things - in the hopes that you may find some semblance of peace or reassurance that others have dealt with such trying times and have gotten through it. I can’t say that I’ve cracked the code, but I’m working on it and I hope that some of what I’ve learned along the way may help you to get through it, too.

I like lists, so I’ll just list out a timeline of what happened to me. Maybe you have a similar timeline? I hope this adds some context and maybe even lines up a little with what has happened to you. I hope you find something useful in my ramblings and know that everything will be okay :)

Anyway.

It’s difficult to pinpoint for sure when my life began to shift, but here’s my attempt:

May, 2011

I met HIM. I’ll call him “C”, for privacy reasons. We met because I was trying to get one of my pseudo friends to go out with a guy who also wouldn't leave me alone. This sounds super harsh, but I call her a “pseudo friend” because she was a nice enough person, but it was difficult to spend time with her because she would constantly only point out the negative in other people. The guy who wouldn't leave me alone, first struck up a friendship with me when I was dating a friend of his and he tried to swoop in immediately after he and I had parted ways. He was nice, enough, too, but I just wasn’t interested. On their first date, they decided to go to a bowling alley - and the girl invited me to come along. Maybe I’d meet someone, too. I did. Turns out, the guy went to the bowling alley every week with a group of guys (including C). The first interaction I ever had with C was when my friend-girl showed me a video of a ferret destroying a roll of toilet paper. C walked into our conversation and exclaimed “big deal, I destroy toilet paper, too - every time I eat Mexican food.” Later, he admitted that he didn’t like the guy, either - and neither one of us were huge fans of my pseudo friend. So for years after that, I would tell people that we met because of mutual hatred and he won me over with a poop joke.

2013

Was a really good year. He bought a house and we moved in together. I got my braces off. I graduated college and got promoted at work. My dad and C helped me buy a new car. Everything was looking up.

2014

After I moved out and my middle brother went to college, things started falling apart at home. My parents never really got along, but things had taken a turn for the worse.

2015

My parents got a divorce. It was my dad’s decision, which is huge because he was always a very quiet person and rarely stood up for his beliefs if he knew it would hurt another person. Looking back, I’m really proud of him. I love my mom, but I understand how hard that must have been for him to finally stand up and speak his mind.

My mom took it extremely hard, for good reason. She had never lived alone. She had never had a job where she had to support herself. She never had a job, period, during the time that my parents were together. She had not finished college (she claimed, because of me - but later admitted that she really could have if she wanted to).

This is the same year that I got engaged. C awoke from a nap and asked if I wanted to go to the park. We walked down to a river and I picked up a little pebble I thought was pretty and said, turning around to look at C, “do you like this rock?” He revealed the little ring box and asked me the same thing. I said “yes.”

But, even with the piece of jewelry on my finger, the small hole that I’d always sort of had in my heart began to grow into a ravenous mouth. I knew I needed something but I wasn’t sure what. I looked into a career change. I talked to C about getting another dog - a puppy. I even hinted at the idea that maybe I was experiencing baby fever. I knew we weren’t ready for a child, but I had to be honest with him about how I felt. As time went on, this intense feeling of need began to get physically painful. There were times where I felt like a planet without a core and I was crumbling in on myself. There was something huge missing inside me and all I knew was that it had something to do with love. I needed something to nurture and needed to feel nurtured, but I didn’t know what to do with it.

At this same time, a woman at work, in a different group approached me for a job in her department. I would be working under a different person on her team, but her and I clicked well and the group she was part of, was a company I had always dreamed of working for, so I was hopeful that maybe this change would help solve my intensely sinking feeling.

2016

This was a major year - one of the most difficult that I’ve ever experienced. My mother ended up attempting suicide twice.

Both times, I visited her in the hospital. The second time, I asked her to promise me that she wouldn’t end up there again. When she said “I’ll try.” I wanted to scream at her because I wanted something more substantial, more real and reassuring that she wouldn’t do it again.

But, I know how it is. I used to be suicidal, too. I was anorexic for 3 years growing up, but that knowledge only hurt me more because she saw how much my actions hurt her. Now, she was hurting me and my brothers. It was hard for me to comprehend at the time that she couldn’t even consider that, but I understand now. She was just feeling hopeless. She wasn’t doing it with the intention of hurting anyone. She was doing it with the intention of escaping the bad feelings and the harsh reality she was experiencing - that’s all.

At the same time, I was planning a wedding with C. As a stereotypical guy, C wasn’t super involved. He was making a good bit more than me, but because the wedding is for the woman (or whatever they say), I paid for most of it.

At work, I was becoming closer and closer with the woman who recommended me for my new position. I’ll call her “A.” A was amazing. She quickly became one of my best friends. I could talk to her about anything and everything. I talked to her about my parents’ divorce and my mom’s attempted suicides.

I talked to her about a conversation I had with my mom after the second attempt, when I decided that my mom and I should be honest with each other about everything. I told A what I said to my mother, that I felt like she was in constant competition with me. I told A what my mother said in response, that she felt like *I* was competing against *her.* I told A my response, too - that, if I had a daughter, I would want her to be better than me and I wouldn’t try and hold her back for fear of “competition.” A hugged me a lot and cried with me many times.

A was a wonderful confidant. She would listen to me. She would ask me what I needed to feel better and she would do just that.

This same year, I contracted pneumonia after numerous expensive urgent care visits. All they could say was that I was coughing a lot and it appeared to be some sort of respiratory infection, but when I was prescribed an inhaler and still couldn’t breathe, it was obviously something more serious. One night, it got so bad, that my heart rate skyrocketed. I couldn’t breathe and my heart was pounding from all the failed inhaler attempts. C called an ambulance and I was whisked away, forced to stay in the hospital for 3 days. The doctor told me later that they were about to put me in the ICU - if they hadn’t have been able to get my heart rate down in the knick of time.

When I came back to work, A decided I should work under her team - which was just her.

We started having weekly pow-wows where we would talk about what we would say to our VP to convince him to have HR make the change. We fought against the machine, in our heads. We were standing up to the patriarchy, in our imaginations. I felt more supported than I ever had in my life. Never before had anyone ever fought so hard for me. Finally, the sinking feeling in my chest and in my soul began to lift. A was slowly solidifying the emptiness I’d felt so viscerally just months before I met her.

I talked to C about A all the time. She was my best friend and after months of fighting, she became my boss.

C and I got married that April. Our wedding was very relaxed and fun. I walked down the aisle to a song called “I Like Giants” by Kimya Dawson - because I thought it would be funny and the tune was lively and happy-sounding.

I didn’t want a stuffy, conventional wedding and C and I accomplished that pretty well. However, looking back now, the song is kind of a funny tip-off to the events that would unfold. I like Giants. Especially girl giants.

C and I went on our honeymoon to Maine in May and then came back as husband and wife, back to normal life.

That July, A and I and the rest of our team went on a work trip to California. We would be gone for a week on the other side of the country. C was excited for me and I was nervous.

While there, I didn’t see A much. I was mostly restricted to working from the hotel and then worked on the floor another couple of days.

One day, though, I got a text from my mom that a terrorist attack had occurred in Germany, in the same town that my dad and brothers were staying. I panicked. She tried to call them, but didn’t hear anything. I called and texted my brothers - nothing. The whole world starting to feel unstable as if a global earthquake was happening and I had nowhere to hide.

Finally, I got a text from my youngest brother later that day. The attack had occurred right by their hotel. The attacker was still on the loose, but they were safe. They were on lock-down, restricted to their room.

I texted both C and A about what happened. I needed someone to talk to, to confide in and be comforted by. Both texted me back and A asked me to meet her at the bar immediately.

I went to the bar and she was already buzzed. She gave me a big hug and asked how I was doing. On the way to the bar, my brother texted me and let me know that the attacker was found. They shot him and though everyone was shaken, they were now safe.

I told her the news and we were both relieved, but still anxious by the possibility that it could have been much worse. A got close to me and put her hand on her chest, then on mine and said “from my heart chakra to yours”, as if transferring loving energy from her heart to mine.

I teared up and she gave me a hug. I didn’t feel like being out, so I thanked her and said goodbye - that I was going back to my hotel. She said “goodbye” and hugged me again, then found me as I was walking to the door and hugged me once more.

The next day was the last day we’d be in California. We had a big department-wide dinner at a restaurant overlooking the ocean. A and I sat across from each other by the window and admired the gentle, rhythmic motion of the waves in the darkness.

We talked about psychic abilities and energy. We talked about tarot readings and meditation. We talked about the afterlife. All things that C was not interested in. (C believed that when we died, that was it. I respect his beliefs, but they’re not my own).

At one point, A exclaimed that she was bisexual. She told this as part of a story, but I got a strange feeling that she was telling me specifically. I never knew anyone who wasn’t conventionally heterosexual. But, then again, I didn’t know many people and had only a handful of friends aside from A.

I was also homeschooled from 2nd to 10th grade, so I missed out on a lot of things - including different types of people.

At the end of dinner, we all piled into two cabs. A and I got into the same cab and sat beside each other in the backseat. We were both pretty buzzed at this point and for some reason, got on the topic of love. (I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised because any time I’m drunk, this is usually the first topic I discuss).

We talked about how same sex marriage should’ve always been okay. We talked about how anyone who loves each other should be together - how they shouldn’t be legally banned from each other. We talked about Cocorosie, the band, and how she didn’t know anyone else besides me who liked them - but she was a big fan.

We got to my hotel first. We said goodbye and she wrapped her arm around me in a hug... and kissed me on the neck.

In that small moment. In that 2 seconds of my life, everything changed. Like a match was struck in the pitch black darkness and suddenly, there was light.

I went to my room and immediately called C. I told him what happened. I said it was probably nothing, but I couldn’t understand why I felt the way I did. Even if the kiss was nothing but friendly, there was a part of me that wanted it to be more. I was at a loss - both giddy and scared. C was at his parents’ cabin for the week and was very excited about what I was feeling. He asked me to tell him exactly how I felt and exactly what she did. I gave him context. I told him about the bisexual comment. I told him about how she looked me in the eyes whenever we talked like she was shuffling through my soul. I thought this was just what real friendship looked like between two women, but the kiss somehow made it different. Even if she was just drunk and meant it as a friend. Somehow this was a catalyst to the biggest change in my life.

This was just the summer of 2016. After this moment, I looked at A in a different light. I was determined to find out what she meant by the kiss - and I was inspired (yet cautious) to figure out what I wanted her to mean by it.

I became obsessed.

I started writing her little notes and leaving them at her desk for her to find in the mornings. I started listening to her conversations or “feeling her energy” as she sat in the cubicle next to mine. If ever I got a sense that she was having a hard time or a bad day, I would immediately do everything I could to rectify it.

We messaged each other constantly. We had two 1-on-1s a week with the intention to talk about work, but it never actually panned out that way. Instead, we’d meet at coffee shops or book conference rooms and talk about life for 2 hours. It was wonderful.

During meetings, her and I would lock eyes and time would stop. I felt like she would bring me up at any chance she got. Whenever she would talk she’d say, “[T] does that, too” or bring me into the conversation in some way or another. She would touch me a lot, too. She’d rub my arm or put her hand on my shoulder. She’d make plans for both of us as if we were one unit. She would say things like “we should go home and take a nap.” As if we lived together.

After work, we would always walk together. She would look over the cubicle wall and say “pack yo’ shit.” And we would walk to our cars. Sometimes, she’d forget to hug me ‘goodbye’ because she was in a rush and I’d look sad or say “I need a hug though!” and she’d give me one. Sometimes, she would be having an especially difficult day and she would give me long, tight hugs and rub my back and speak into my ear.

At home, C would ask me how my investigation was going. He would ask me to tell him what I would do to A if given the chance, but I was shy. I wanted to kiss her, but I didn’t know what else. I felt like a 9 year-old boy who stumbled upon a porn magazine for the first time, exclaiming “wow, I really wish I could hold her hand.”

It felt good to get so much support from C because he was pushing me. He wanted me to explore my feelings. But, there was a part of me that resisted because I was afraid of where it would lead me. Maybe I was bisexual, but maybe I was beyond that. Whatever it was, I wasn’t straight and that scared me because there was a possibility that my investigation could lead me to a painful conclusion - the truth.

2017

By 2017, it was pretty evident that the tide was turning. I started therapy to talk about my “issue.” She encouraged me, like C, to figure out why I felt the way I did about A. Was it just A or was it all women?

The more I got comfortable with the idea of A, the less I was attracted to C. It got to the point where I really didn’t want to do anything with him. I became disgusted with the idea of it. I never really saw men as attractive, but I always assumed that that’s how all women felt. There’s nothing wrong with them, but they don’t have those beautiful, elegant feminine curves or the delicate step that women do. I felt awful. I saw how much it hurt C to not be wanted anymore. I told him it wasn’t his fault. I told him he was doing nothing wrong - that the issue was inside me.

It didn’t make anything better.

I admitted to A that I was questioning my sexuality and she wasn’t surprised. She had (and has) a boyfriend, too. But they’re both bisexual, so she understood where I was coming from. I didn’t tell her she was the reason for it, but I think she knew even then that she was.

She was a huge support for me, along with my therapist, and, unwittingly, C.

C and I talked about ways to find out for sure. I was honest with him about everything. The therapist encouraged me to talk to C about what he would be okay with me doing - to find out if I was bi or gay or just confused. We decided that I should go out with a girl that I liked and see how it felt. I texted a friend of mine from high school. She was a girl that I, looking back, also had a crush on. At the time I met her, I just thought she was super cool and I wanted to spend a lot of time with her.

C admitted that she was really cute, too. He was supportive and was excited for me as I asked her out. She was a bridesmaid at my wedding. Life is weird.

She knew that I was questioning and she wanted to help me out, too. I told her that C knew and that I talked to him about it and we both agreed that it would be the best way to find out. I told her that I really did have a crush on her, too. I wasn’t just using her for this. She (I’ll call her “L”) is a very kind person, full of nothing but love and light, so she found nothing wrong with this.

The first time L and I went out was during a big football game. C had his family over. I got dressed up and said goodbye to them. It was the first time I would miss a football game with them - because I had a date with a girl. His family was confused about why I was leaving and C told them I was supposed to hang out with a friend.

L and I went to a restaurant and laughed about how awkward we both were. It was exhilarating, but also nerve-wracking. I was married. I knew it wasn’t cheating if C knew what I was doing (and encouraged me to do so), but it still felt weird. I pushed through, though.

L and I went back to my house, so she could get her car. We hugged and said our goodbyes, the way we had done so many times as friends, but this time, she shyly put her hands on my face and kissed my forehead. When she stepped back, I grabbed her, pulled her in, and kissed her on the lips.

This was the first time I ever kissed a girl. She blushed immediately and laughed and said my name, giggling, calling me cute. I felt like the spark that had started in me was now an inferno.

I felt truth.

Her and I said goodbye and she went back to her car.

I walked inside and C’s family was still there. I felt myself beaming from the inside out. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. A part of me, looking back, was glad that L didn’t wear lipstick because it would’ve given me away.

When I saw C’s face, though, my heart dropped.

When his family left, I told him exactly what happened. He nodded, understanding. He asked what I thought and how I felt.

I told him the truth - or what I felt was my truth. I told him that I’m a lesbian.

As I said the word, I felt like I had shot us both in the heart. I knew that I had only kissed L, but there was something in me that already knew before that kiss that I was who I am.

He put his head in his hands and we both began to cry because we knew that it was the end.

I moved out the next weekend to live with my mom. I spent two days with her, then moved in with my dad.

I spent a couple weeks with him, then moved to a new apartment down the street from him. I picked the place mostly because it had a lot of windows and a covered porch that looked out into the woods and a tiny little stream.

At this point, I was dead broke. I was broke from the pneumonia and the medical bills associated. I was broke from the wedding... and the up front costs of the apartment pushed me over the edge and into debt.

I didn’t ask for anything in the divorce. I didn’t request alimony and I barely took what was mine. I wanted to travel light and I already felt bad enough about the circumstances that I didn’t want to put any additional, undue hurt on C. I never meant to hurt him and, in the end, he was supportive of me and my decision, but we both still left with heartache.

When I came out to my therapist, she welcomed me with open arms and admitted that she was also a lesbian. She gave me a list of movies and TV shows to watch as if they were a welcome packet as I stepped into a foreign land.

When I came out to my friends and family, they were a bit surprised (moreso than I thought they would be considering I was always a tomboy, didn’t like to wear dresses and named everything I owned “Tegan” from T&S), but very supportive.

I know not everyone has this same experience, so I am grateful. I did, however, lose some friends.

I lost one friend who thought she would be okay with it, but since she was another one of my bridesmaids, she had a hard time grappling with the fact that she had just stood next to me in my wedding to a man and was now asked to be okay with me wanting to date women less than a year later. I understood where she was coming from, but it still hurt.

The other friend I lost was L. I thought we were amazing together. She was adorable and kind and artistic. There was an innocence and a lightness to her that I’ve never seen in another human being. We went to two psychics together and both told us that we were soulmates.

I told this to A and she said, “yeah but a soulmate could just be a friend. It doesn’t have to be a romantic thing”, which I thought was odd.

The same day, (which happened to be International Women’s Day), I was helping A with something physical at work. We were taping something to a wall and when I needed the tape, she put it between her legs and said to me, “come on, it’s international women’s day, fool around with me.”

Never before had she been so forward with me. There was one time she was having a particularly bad day at work, so I left her a little present at her desk and she thanked me by coming around to my desk and slowly, seductively (I thought, at least) blew me a kiss. But, that was it.

Now she was forward with me. Now, when I had already moved on (A had and has a boyfriend and I didn’t want to interfere, so I forced myself to look elsewhere)... she decided to make it obvious. I brushed it off with a joke and said “if you want me to get fired, you can just fire me ��cuz you’re my boss. You don’t have to make it a sexual assault thing.”

I fell in love with L - and that was my downfall.

I told her in a text message because I was drunk - and she didn’t say it back. I knew that was trouble, and it was. When I asked her if she wanted us to be official (I told her and we weren’t even OFFICIAL!??), she said she’d have to think about it. She told me she felt weird about it. She wasn’t ready.

I was in a weird spot now. Alone in my apartment that I could barely afford, trying to make ends meet. I had lost an entire second family in the divorce. But, thank god I still had my own and I still had A.

L and I never slept together and I knew that was going to be an important milestone for me. A part of me was worried that I wouldn’t like sex with a woman and that I’d thrown away my marriage on a hunch without any real proof. What if I had thrown away an entire lifetime of what could’ve been - for a brief glimpse of who I thought I was?

I got on tinder and met a really sweet girl, I’ll call H. H was super cute and fiery. She was open and honest with me and went out of her way for me. I wish, looking back, that I could have appreciated her more. But, I met her in a weird spot in my life where I just didn’t care much about anything at all. Nothing really seemed to matter when I met H and I still regret that I couldn’t have met her at a better time, but everything happens for a reason.

I only went out with H a couple times, but each time, we slept together. She brought her fiery-self into the bedroom. There was an intensity to her that was breath-taking. The first time she stayed over, she asked me a few times if I was sure because she knew about my past, and I said “yes.”

My first time with a woman was so drastically different from my first time with a man. The man didn’t ask because he didn’t even know he was my first. He just did and when it was over, I remember thinking “that’s it?” And when it was happening, I remembered thinking “it’s happening.” But, that’s all.

With H, she asked me first. She had already shared something with me that made her cry and I held her and said it was okay. We already shared something emotional together before we did anything and she asked me and she knew my backstory and I knew hers before anything happened.

While it was happening was also drastically different. I felt the way I imagine reborn Christians must feel when they think they’ve found Jesus. I felt like a house with all the lights on for the first time. I felt like I had taken my first breath of fresh air in 26 years, like all the planets had aligned into a path that led me home. Even now, over a year later, I wish I could write poetry well enough to describe that moment when we both came at the same time.

I had never felt that before and seeing her body was orgasmic in itself. I was finally letting myself see a body that I found beautiful without pretense. It was as if I had taken the gloves off and allowed myself to truly feel the silk smoothness of a satin gown - something I could have only previously imagined, but always refrained myself from trying.

So yes, I thought, I am definitely a lesbian. I suddenly couldn’t imagine it any other way.

I was honest with H, like she was with me. I told her about my past and that I was on tinder still and that I was talking to a few people. I didn’t sleep with anyone else, but I wanted to be honest and let her know that I wasn’t ready for a relationship. She was a little hurt, but understood.

One of these other people was someone I’ll call, “G.” G was dark and mysterious. She was artistic and strange. I wanted to solve her puzzle, uncover her darkness, and de-mystify the secrets of her universe. While talking to H, I was continuously drawn toward G like a planet toward the sun.

The 2nd time I hung out with H said my goodbye to her in the morning, G texted me and asked if I could pick her up. Her mother had taken her to the city and she didn’t want to go home. I went to meet her. I heard her voice for the first time as we frantically tried to find each other at Piedmont Park. She was frustrated, but her southern drawl melted me.

We met up at a little restaurant and got drinks. She told me stories about her childhood. She told me how she got her head stuck in the bleachers in middle school. She told me how she didn’t like her father. She told me stories about her “ma” - all through anxious impulse because I wasn’t talking. I just wanted to listen to what would come out next.

After dinner, we decided to go back to my place so she could stay the night and I’d take her home the next morning. She sheepishly asked if I could take her to Wal-Mart first for some shorts she could sleep in and we milled around the men’s section for awhile before she settled on a pair and then went to my apartment.

With G, I was awkward. I wasn’t sure if she liked me or not. With H, it was obvious because she would touch me, put her arms around me, ask if I want to cuddle, and then breathe heavy in my ear as she held me as if trying hard to restrain herself. With G, we sat on separate couches. I was not confident enough to make the first move and G didn’t try anything. We ended up watching Broad City until the sun was about to rise and then decided to go to bed.

I was awkward with this, too because I didn’t know if she wanted to sleep in the bed with me or not. She bought clothes at the store, so she was obviously not planning on sleeping naked. But, she still got in the bed with me. We started making out, but she stopped me and called me “dangerous” and a bad influence. And we fell asleep, doing nothing but lying beside one another.

The next day, I took her home and she looked at me the whole way back, the way no one has ever looked at me before. There was an adoration in her eyes I had never seen, like she was beaming, radiating love.

I told H and she didn’t take it very well. I can understand that, though.

G and I started seeing each other more and more, but we never slept together. I respected her though and let her take her time.

About a month into us dating, I asked if she wanted to be official and she said “yes”, but not like that. She said “Yeah, I’ll be your bitch.” Which as an awkward person, was weird for someone to tell me, but G has her own way of doing things.

G bought me tickets to go skydiving for my birthday and I wanted to tell her I loved her, but I didn’t.

Thank god, we survived so I could tell her later.

At work, I had pretty much totally gotten over A. But, there were bigger issues at hand. A and I’s jobs depended on a social media site that the company we worked for suddenly deemed unimportant. There was blood in the water. The writing was on the wall: we were going to lose our jobs.

I was already broke and I already lived in a spot which didn’t have too many job opportunities in my field. And I was already in debt.

That summer, we went to California for two weeks - the last big thing A and I did as part of our jobs.

While there, I wrote G a letter every day and mailed it to her. Sometimes I sprayed the paper with perfume and sometimes I pressed jasmine flowers between the paper folds for her.

While there, I also confessed to A that I “used to” like her. She didn’t say it back. She said “I kinda always knew, but it feels good to hear you validate it.”

I didn’t and still don’t know how to take that except that maybe she was just trying to see what her advances would do. Maybe she was just being friendly after all and when I took it too far, she only continued for the attention. Maybe she liked me back, but she wasn’t ready to admit it.

I don’t know how to take it because we were drunk and I was telling her about past lives. I told her that I thought in one life, I was her stable boy (lol) and she was a Queen. She wasn’t supposed to be with me, but her and I liked each other because I was kind to her and she liked how I treated her horses (I was drunk, ok?). She asked me if she thought that maybe in another life, we were supposed to be together and I said “yes.”

While I was in California, my brother, who was caring for my apartment at home told me that it had flooded. Apparently, the upstairs unit had flooded and the water came in through the ceiling and caused a great deal of damage to their unit and mine.

When I came back, my home reeked of mold. The carpet in the bedroom was stiff and the air was thick and hard to breathe. I battled with the landlord almost every day, trying to clean up the mold and make the space feel inhabitable.

About a month after A and I came back from California, I was offered a job there at an exciting company that I was always a fan of.

I told G about it. A was conflicted because G and I had only been dating a couple months and moving together across the country was a huge step.

But, I’m stereotypical so we loaded up the U-HAUL (or whatever company we decided to go with) and then G and I jumped into my little sedan with my dog and her cat and whatever little knick-knacks we could fit, and drove across the country together - broke, in love, and hopeful.

When I left my old apartment, I knew I would be breaking the lease, so I used the mold as leverage. Unfortunately, they didn’t buy it. Instead, they charged me more - $1295 as opposed to the regular $1095 I used to pay per month because the industrial fan they put in the bedroom to dry out the carpet ran up my electricity bill. I refused to pay it on the grounds that it was unfair and unlawful (and because my dad, A, and G all told me not to) - and took off.

When we got to California after 3 days of driving, G and I had no idea what to expect. We had blindly picked an apartment in our price range without any notion of what the area would be like or what the commute would entail - so we chose a place in San Bernardino, almost 70 miles from my new job in Hollywood. Apparently there was a reason this apartment was reasonably priced.

Stepping into the apartment for the first time was depressing - and eye-opening to how different California would be from Georgia. It was well-worn, the cabinets were loosely placed, the carpet was off-colored, the lighting was dim, and there was no fridge. This was far from the apartment I’d left in Duluth with the wood laminate floors, the giant windows, the wooded view, the upgraded appliances - but this was California.

But, we made the most of it.

G spent most of her time looking for a job and I spent most of mine either driving to work, from work, or at work. It took me roughly 2 1/2-3 hours one way to get to my job. When G was able to find a job, she didn’t have a car, so I would drive her every morning and drop her off on the way to mine. I was waking up at 4:30am, taking her to her job, getting to mine at 8am, working till around 7pm and coming home at 10pm, going straight to bed and going through these same motions every single week day.

I was miserable.

Then, three months into my job, my entire department was called in to a meeting. Without warning, we were instructed by a teary-eyed HR rep that that day would be our last with the company. Our entire 100+ person team was being laid off.

At this point, the amount that I owed the old apartment was put into collections because the lawyer I had hired via the company I worked with was not answering his emails. I paid him $250 for his services - he had agreed with me that it was unlawful for the apartment to ask for the amount they were requesting because they not only violated their contract, but also health codes - but it took him over a month to write the letter, and because of that, I now had a negative mark on my credit report.

And I didn’t have a job.

And I was on the other side of the country from everyone I knew.

And I was still broke.

I spent every day applying for jobs in my field. I would drive G to work and then set up at a coffee shop and just apply for jobs and write cover letters until it was time to pick her up.

I was driving myself insane and I was becoming resentful, trapped in a constant loop of trying to do something for someone else. I couldn’t afford to do anything and was afraid to spend too much time on me for fear that I wouldn’t pick G up in time, that I might make her wait too long. I was afraid to spend a day not applying for jobs because I felt useless otherwise, that I was wasting my time or not trying hard enough.

After months of applying and only a handful of interviews, I finally landed a job. It paid less than my previous one, but it was something and I was grateful to be getting regular paychecks.

But, this new job was insane. I was working 11-12 hours a day, plus still taking G to work in the mornings. I was driving 2-3 hours one way or up to 6 hours every day to/from San Bernardino. I felt my sanity slip.

G and I no longer connected the way we used to. I was resentful, quiet. I just wanted to sleep and be left alone. She began to lash out with sarcasm and biting words that stung me and I shrugged off like bees (even though I held onto the little stingers as fodder for future arguments).

I began to regret bringing her with me. Even though she paid half the rent, I began to fantasize what life would be like, living as a roommate with a total stranger closer to work.

I talked to A and another friend back east about our problems. At one point, G had mentioned hanging out with some other girls and then made excuses about why we couldn’t all hang out together, when I suggested it. At another point, our relationship status was no longer visible on her Facebook profile and I lost it. It sounds so petty looking back, but we were on such thin ice that something as small as a twig could’ve broken it.

2018

The straw that broke the camel’s back was my dog. My dog has been with me through everything. I adopted her when I was with C, as a puppy. I raised her. Never before had I had a dog so loving as her, so emotional as Lolo. I treat Lolo like I would a child and I would give my life for hers.

One day, not long after Valentine’s Day, G had left a box of chocolates on the floor. Lolo had found it. It was a weekend, so thankfully, I wasn’t working - but it was one of those rare days when G had to do so on a Saturday.

I remember stepping out of the shower and seeing Lolo (happily) lapping up the last little bit of chocolate in the box.

I immediately texted G and asked how many chocolates were in it - did she remember how many she ate? I told her Lolo ate them and I needed to know roughly how much and if it was dark or milk chocolate so I could tell the vet.

G was defensive. She didn’t know, she said. She was also not worried about it, but I was. If you don’t know, chocolate is toxic to dogs - dark chocolate, in particular. And Lolo is a medium-sized dog, so it wouldn’t take too many chocolates to paralyze or even kill her.

I called the vet and rushed her to an emergency vet as quickly as I could. I remember the bill was roughly $600. They had to pump her stomach and kept her in observation overnight. The woman at the counter asked me how she ate so much chocolate and I told her that my “roommate” had accidentally left a Valentine’s gift on the floor. The woman asked if my “roommate” was going to help me pay and I, teary-eyed and broke, said “no.”

G didn’t help me pay for the vet bill. She apologized, though, and when she came home, she had picked me up a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed animal bunny.

I had enough, though. I told her it was over.

But, we had gone through this before. I had tried breaking up with G in the past. I had gotten pretty far, I thought, but G always roped me back in.

This time, I was resolute. G told me that I didn’t really want to break up. She told me that I was just stressed and I needed “help.” A part of me believed her, but the rest of me knew that it was gas lighting (and my therapist, A, and another friend said the same). G told me I needed drugs. That I only wanted to break up because of all the stress I was going through, that I didn’t get enough sleep.

But, I was done.

G and I broke up for a week.

I reached out to everyone I knew for advice, but I didn’t know anyone. I had Lolo with me and no one could take in a dog. I wasn’t going to get rid of my child - as dramatic as that sounds. Lolo was the only thing I felt I had left - and thank god, I still had her.

I finally found a potential roommate on Facebook - another girl who was also looking for an apartment, ASAP, in the same areas that I was looking in, with the same price range. It seemed perfect. The girl was very nice and seemed easy to get along with, so I was hopeful.

Every night, though, I had to come back to the apartment in San Bernardino, to the same girl I had fallen in love with and had moved across the country with. The girl I had asked to uproot her life to be with me. She would sit, balled up on the floor, and cry when she found something small and seemingly insignificant - a sock I gave her for Christmas, a little post-it I had put in her bag on her first day of work. It tore me to pieces to see her like that and I thought about how I had to see C like that just over a year prior. I felt like a monster going through peoples’ lives, tearing them apart.

G wanted me to continue sleeping in the bed with her, so I did, thinking that maybe it would help her somehow, like a small token of kindness.

G resolved to change, though. She decided I shouldn’t be driving her to work every day (which I was too stubborn to admit until everything fell apart). She bought a car the same day that we had split, but she didn’t just buy a car, she bought a Camaro. Which, told me that she had at least enough to buy a Honda Civic before any of this even happened. You know, something to just get her from A to B. I was enraged. Especially, because she asked me to drive her 2 hours to go get it from Hemet. To me, this just solidified my decision to leave.

But, as the week grew on, I became less resolute. Seeing her break down. Hearing her talk to her mother on the phone about how hard it would be. I decided she should take the San Bernardino apartment. It was closer to her work than it was to mine anyway and I didn’t want to put her in a bind. We met with the landlord and had them replace her name with mine on the lease.

Meanwhile, I met with my potential roommate a few times to tour various apartments in North Hollywood. We settled on a place and put in our applications. That same night, the money I owed the previous apartment finally showed up on my credit score (previously it didn’t affect anything except that debtors were calling me every day).

Needless to say, we didn’t get the apartment. I felt like shit. I warned the girl about what might happen, but since it wasn’t on my report, I was hopeful. I didn’t want to ruin her chances of getting a place, so I pulled out of the deal - hoping she could find someone else and have a better chance getting the next apartment she applied for.

But now, I had no options and the landlord at the San Bernardino apartment had told G that I needed to leave because I was legally not allowed to stay in the apartment anymore since I was no longer on the lease.

So, here I was - facing homelessness in an unfamiliar city on the other side of the country.

This was, by far, the hardest week of my life. Honestly, harder than the divorce I had just gone through.

Then, I broke.

A week after we split, I woke up next to G, who decided to test the waters and put her arm around me in the Saturday morning sunlight. I let her. My eyes welled up with tears and I put my hand on top of hers and held on tight. I scooted in closer to her after a week of sleeping on the opposite end of the bed, cold, and un-moving. It felt like heaven feeling her body once again, feeling her arms on me one more time. I felt like I had been sleeping on the cold hard ground, like I had truly been homeless - and had finally been offered solace and a soft, warm bed.

When G and I got back together, it hurt my friendship with A. I had confided in A about my relationship with G, just like I had confided in her about everything else. She didn’t believe that I had made the right choice, knowing what she did about G (from what I told her, at least). I felt like I let the whole world down. I was both relieved to see G’s smile again and be in someone’s arms and have some semblance of solid ground - and terrified with the idea of losing my friendship with A.. and equally terrified that I had potentially only gotten back together with G because the alternative seemed too difficult or scary.

For awhile, I was skeptical. I was skeptical about G’s newfound warmth and openness. I was skeptical about our future and about my own reasoning for staying in the relationship. But, it seemed like G had transformed overnight. She was driving herself to work every day and was much kinder in her words.

When G and I first started talking, I told her she reminded me of a burned down forest in the snow. I saw tall, sharp, black skeletons of pines jutting up from the white snow. I heard nothing but the lonely call of a raven somewhere in the distance, piercing the quiet and echoing through what once was - or could have been - a lush and lively forest. But, I told her I also saw the little buds of leaves beginning to unfurl upon branches too resolute or perhaps too stubborn to stay barren. I saw tiny tendrils of flowers and the bright green spikes of springtime grass in little clumps piercing through the ice. I think when most people saw her, they saw the harsh coldness and the spiky, almost dangerous hint of death and destruction. But, I was looking for those little signs of life and love and I wanted to help them grow.

Over the course of our relationship, G proved that initial metaphor to be true. She had experienced a lot in her 26 year relationship - from the deaths of past lovers to trauma and neglect to drug use and even an attempted murder that left her in the hospital and caused her to drop out of college. The world forced G to be cold, to build a shell around herself - but I saw the little flecks in her armor where the light shined through and I only wanted to help nurture those vulnerabilities.

When we got back together, she had taken off quite a bit of her shell. She was more affectionate, but also more determined. We decided that we needed to live closer to Los Angeles (where I worked) and she spent a good deal of time looking for apartments. When we finally settled on a town, we went on several tours together on the weekends, but since she got off work earlier in the day that I do during the week, she took the initiative to go any time and anywhere she could in the hopes that it would find us something sooner.

She found an adorable little place and we both fell in love with the town, the apartment, and with each other all over again.

Not everything is perfect now, but we are making it work.

TL;DR -

If you are going through a lot right now, just know that it WILL get better. The thing is, is that you can't just wait for it to get better. You have to make it so.

I have 2 other friends who went through divorce - with drastically different experiences. One met the love of her life while married to the “wrong” man and ended up getting pregnant just months after leaving her ex. She runs a school now (her dream) and has a beautiful little family and an adorable apartment that she shares with a man who shares the same dreams and passions that she does.

The other was married to the wrong woman and was married too young. After her divorce, she began to pursue her passions - she now works for the city and cares for the trees, does graphic design, is working on her music, going back to school to finish her degree, and is having a great time doing the things she enjoys most of all.

Obviously, I’m not saying that divorce is the solution to all life’s problems. I’m just saying that sometimes life sucks and sometimes it sucks for a long-ass time. I’m still broke. Every time I think I’m able to save money, California says I owe them $800 or my car decides it needs $600 or my dog reminds me that vet bills are never less than a couple hundred... but it’s all just a process.

And in any case, I believe in you :) You can do it. Just don’t give up :)

#my life #gay life #blogger #blooming #becomeatiger #inspiration

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