#for the record i am a mania defender

[tiredguyswag]

damn i love my religion but these entitled privileged brahmins need to shut the fuck up and stop victimising themselves and then blame the lower castes and adivasis when they don't get their desired seat like your gods modi adani ambani and advani are hellbent on wiping off adivasis and that is why these fuckers like to call them naxals and forest dwellers to justify ousting them out of their fucking homes good god no wonder users like hindulivesmatter magic-coffee vindhyavihasini are defending a fucking genocide these braindead genocidal maniacs. i know we should not spread such distaste against anyone but damn these people i feel so sick going through their blogs they are not even hiding that they want india to be a hindu rashtra don't they know if india does become a hindu rashtra, their rights over properties will be taken away, their husbands can marry again and more patriarchal casteist bullshit these nazi apologists can pull out. and absolutely seeing a radfem terf hindulivesmatter suddenly care about ram ji accepting trans people right before ram mandir fucking cunts. people who they think are "hinduphobic" and stalk their accounts are most of the times hindus themselves, and most all of them queer people themselves. so by that logic does it not mean these people are harassing queer people on this fucking site. forgive me for my rage but i used to follow some people who used to reblog these users and i am so fucking ashamed of them and myself. like they deny sati ever existed, IT DID THERE ARE RECORDS EVEN BEFORE JAUHAR. they say casteism is a western concept, the SAME PERSON WHO SAID THAT LITERALLY SAID SHUDRAS SHOULD NOT ENTER TEMPLES. like the hindutva mania is getting into children i am scared what these people will do to us as whole.

i saw the stuff your mutuals post and they're so funny it's hilarious how hindutvadis lose their minds over posts that doesn't even concern them.

.

#i am so sorry #the executives they are dysfunct. i will read this properly later #sanghi bs #asking moi

[mineofilms]

The Art of Fake

Some quick Wikipedia definitions here to set the standards…

Art - A wide range of human activities that involve creative imagination and an aim to express technical proficiency, beauty, emotional power, or conceptual ideas. There is no generally agreed definition of what constitutes art, and ideas have changed over time.

Even this definition can be challenged to any level of accuracy of what art actually is.

Music - The art of arranging sounds, in systematic time, through the elements of melody, harmony, rhythm, and timbre. It is one of the universal cultural aspects of all human societies. General definitions of music include common elements such as pitch, rhythm, dynamics, and the sonic qualities of timbre and texture.

Video Production - is the process of producing video content for video. It is the equivalent of filmmaking, but with video recorded either as analog signals on videotape, digitally in video tape or as computer files stored on optical discs, hard drives, SSDs, magnetic tape or memory cards instead of film stock. There are three stages of video production: pre-production, production (also known as principal photography), and post-production.

This stems from a bulletin/generalized social media post discussing poser artists trying to defend spam marketing on social media as actual marketing. I kind of wrote the original post to draw out some of those people on my social media platforms, because I am tired of seeing so much desperate “check out my art” spam on the platform(s).

All the platforms...

I am not speaking to or about people who are/work in art or are inspiring artists themselves; but rather people that attempt to peddle art online, whatever it might, posing as artists/creators, but in reality they are either beginners or just people who do not know their craft and try to make money doing it because social media marketing aka network marketing is what all the college kiddos are doing now under the disguise that they are professionals and can make a quick buck doing this.

These people do not have marketing degrees and basically either joined upon one of those network marketing companies like; DirectScale, Herbalife, LuLaRoe, AdvoCare, V Shred, Beachbody, It Works! Granted most of these are fitness network markers but their examples are some of the best at describing the level of bullshit, woke, misinformation, car salesperson mentality you will ever see on the internet.

People who try to peddle artistic services of any kind online but lack any real artistic talent, value, and marketing knowledge to do so. My whole argument is just because social media provides avenues for artists to make a living, push, sell, promote their art, whatever-it-may-be, does not mean, open the flood gates for anyone who believes they are an artist. I have struggled my whole career dealing with this issue.

My Direct Messages on social media are flooded with people that claim to be an artist, a band, music, videographers, designers, fitness trainers, doctors, webmasters, photographers and they either want me to help promote that or expect me to be on board with that because of my generalized managing skills. However, their efforts are just shit. It’s all APP-driven now.

Welcome to APP-Mania brothers/sisters/other(s)…

One doesn't even need to know how to read music to create music anymore or do actual, real, graphic design. Need that done, here is an APP for it.

Yes, I have an issue with this…

Not all peoples’ are like this, but a great very many are. Yes, this is an assumption based on my POV (Point of View) and experiences. My opinion, which is mine, not yours… The only data I have to really solidify my take is my POV and my ever-growing SPAM-box (inboxs full of spam messages). Those are the ones I am talking about here. Not your everyday artist just trying to get out there. There is a difference.

I actually have to search for good quality art/media these days because the internet is so flooded with fakers or people with very high self-inflated beliefs about their work and no one close to them has the heart to tell them it isn't good or even close to being on the same level as someone that works on this stuff daily for years of their life.

The people or person that is getting offended by me calling out the pink elephant in the room is probably the very person/people I am talking about. If one gets offended because they post a really shitty finger painting of whatever and they cannot sell it for pennies on the dollar that should be a really good indication that- that person doesn't have what it takes "currently" to be a real artist. Just like I am not a real writer. I haven't sold anything and when I do, then I can walk around and call myself a writer, till then, it will always be "inspiring writer,” not "professional writer."

Most agree with my assessment of the situation. When I only have to tell off/block one person out of many, that is valuable data to be considered. Not finding that one comment to support my narrative. That is what CNN/Woke Culture bullshit is all about.

It’s like Reddit. Reddit is great if you want a reply to a query. Any-reply-to-a-query… The issue is more times than not that response is incorrect and/or has nothing to do with the topic. It’s nonsensical… However, one did get a response and that is what Reddit is good for. One will always get one there. That isn't a good practice, but yet, that is the POV we live in- in this society of 2022.

I will not apologize for offending the hypersensitive people out there. I will listen to any counter discussion as long as one is willing to match what I have presented. Simply arguing for arguing sake just so that person, troll, whatever, can play devil's advocate to be heard, will-not-be-heard. They can spend as much time as they want, typing, yelling into their mic, or whatever.

Holding up air quotes and saying FACTS over and over doesn’t make a thing real or a fact…

I simply will not give that person my platform to rant on. Name-calling or trying to insult me, personally, will not work. I do not play the hate-baiting game. You will not get a rise out of me.

You will just realize that you wasted your time; which you only have so much of, is the most valuable resource you have and can never get back. One could say the same about me, but what most do not know is that I can type well. I type with a partially good hand and another that doesn't work so well. I am also over 60% blind, yet, I still can type around 75 words per minute on a computer. So before you flip that on me, I have spent much less time writing what I want to say than you have. Not all the time but a lot of the time.

Going back to APP-Mania here...

There are reasons why TikTok and platforms like it exist and it isn't to make everyone an artist/creator. If one is TikTok famous, it’s a joke, sure it is important to them and perhaps that little bubble of acceptance from other people. However, most people believe it isn't art on a serious level. It’s like fart/poop joke logic. Sure, one can get a good laugh there, but to be serious and call that an art form or marketing and they should be financially compensated for it. No, just no... We should not give people a pass in the arts because they can create. Anyone can create now in APP-Mania, no one is arguing that, but just because one can create doesn't mean or even imply that this is art and it deserves that respect. No... Quality overly Quantity, Quantity does have a quality all its own but not in the arts.

It’s just trashbag logic…

If you create, want respect, and get paid for those efforts, then become a real artist. Go get a real education in that field. Take a few marketing classes, not YouTube, two minute tutorials on Instagram marketing, and flood the Internet with that bullshit.

Most likely you will fail for a time. All real artists do, that is the whole point.

In order to be great at something, one must be a miserable failure at it beforehand. Jesus, did this whole woke generation not see Rocky I, II, and III, really?

In what reality do we live in where one does something the very first time and they are the best ever at it? Seriously? We call that a Savant and it is rare and it does happen but it isn’t that prevalent.

This is the whole point of struggle…

This is what sets the professional apart from the inspiring. People really do not wanna stay in their lanes anymore. They see something, they think they can do it better and try, if they do not get the response they want they just keep doubling down on that.

That is what failure is…

Why the Art community doesn't get that, well they do, the real art people do. They accept that and always get up, dust themselves off and get back to it. That isn’t doubling down. That is accepting you need to do and be better and making strides to make that happen.

I won't accept anything less than that. I have a standard. The bands I represent have a standard. The film people I communicate with have a standard. The Art people I support have a standard of quality and yeah, we should get a little irked by posers pretending.

I mean, cave art for example. It's shit, but for cave art its cave art, no one is arguing that, but it’s still just that, scribbling on a wall. At least cavebrats stayed in their lane.

About over these college kids believing just because they are in college, they know. No, they do not. They are learning. Always the student and never the master should be the approach of inspiring artists. Not the opposite. Yet, that is what we deal with on occasion in 2022 culture...

The Art of Fake by David-Angelo Mineo 5/14/2022 1,708 Words

[serendipityseulgi]

8 Ways of Love.

– kim hongjoong

according to the ancient greeks, there are eight different types of love. here is:

･*:༅｡ the one known as mania, the obsessive love.

aka, the kind of love that can lead you to obsession, jealousy, and madness and can be toxic if not kept under control.

TW // sexual harassment. 

* italic text indicates flashback.

8 ways of love series; part ii

A not-so-healthy love story in which you reach your breaking point in your relationship, giving Hongjoong an ultimatum – to fix his toxic tendencies or to let you walk out on him forever. 

love catalyst: survival.

There are times where you often underestimate how much Hongjoong truly loves you. 

You don’t always fully grasp the extent he will go to make sure that everyone knows your his, and his only. The limits he will push to prove just how much you matter in his life, and the boundaries he will cross to ensure that no one would ever, ever take you away from him.

How he absolutely cannot live without you, and you can’t live without him.

Because he just loves you so much that the feeling almost consumes him, and it drives him crazy. He knows how much of an impact you have on him. How you could do absolutely nothing and he would still kiss the ground you walk on. How he worships every single part of you and will go to the absolute ends of the earth just to keep you forever. How he simply could not care about a single thing in this world except for you.

And for most people, they strive for that kind of love. The kind that consumes you so much that you would do absolutely anything and everything for your partner.

But the way Hongjoong loves you is intense, and it’s obsessive. It’s exhausting it absolutely drains all the energy out of you. To have to love and care for one another more than yourselves. That no matter what kind of shit you put each other through, you’re always going to be together.

It’s overbearing and overwhelming in all the wrong ways.

You hate how much Hongjoong loves you. Because he treats you like shit. Makes you feel like shit. Acts like you aren’t shit.

Not without him at least.

It’s unhealthy, to put it simply.

Neither one of you are that delusional, though. 

You’re both painfully aware how borderline toxic your relationship is. Hongjoong’s manipulative in certain ways and he uses that to his advantage. He won’t admit it but he loves how codependent you are on him. He knows that he can fuck up a million times and you’re always gonna be there to pick up the pieces and love him again and again. He makes promises he can never keep and gives you false hope just to make sure you stay in his arms, even if it’s only for one more day. He hears you say that you hate him more than you love him, but it doesn’t matter because he knows how you feel deep down. You’re always going to love him.

He defends his behaviour, constantly telling you he only acts that way because he loves you and wants to protect you. And you know he’s not a terrible person. Aside from his possessive nature and his intense anger problem, he’s actually one of the best people you know. It’s contradictory in every sense.

It was just the way he loves you that brings out the worst in him.

You know there’s no good that could possibly come from being together anymore. You both know that by now.

But the truth is, neither one of you will ever walk away.

12:41 AM

It’s past midnight when you walk in your apartment, your heart heavy and filled with despair. Your feet hurt from standing in those wretched heels for hours, your mascara is dripping down your tear-stained face, and your head is pounding from the events that transpired only a few hours prior.

You have no words. 

All you want to do is curl up in your bed and sleep away your worries. You want to ignore everything that’s happened even for just a few hours and deal with the damage in the morning, but you know he won’t let you.

He never does.

When you hear the door slam behind you, you feel a sense of deja vu. 

You’ve been in this exact situation more times than you could count and you’re starting to think there’s actually no hope left in your boyfriend. 

At this point in time you don’t even know if this relationship is worth salvaging anymore, and the very thought almost has you in tears.

You’re feeling a million things right now but above all, you’re just pissed beyond belief and you want to cry and wallow away in your tears. You feel every negative emotion surging through your body right now and it makes you all the more exhausted. 

Hongjoong stands behind you, equally as pissed, and you refuse to acknowledge him because you know it’s all his fault. 

It’s always his fucking fault.

“Y/n, look at me.” he commands, but you don’t listen.

Your back is still turned to him, eyes fixated on the marble pattern on your kitchen island as you try to suppress your anger. Your eyes start to water again and your body begins to shake.

He waits for you to face him. 

But you don’t. 

Because you don’t even want to talk to him right now, let alone look him in the face. You swear you’ll punch him if you do, so you save himself the trouble and start walking towards the direction of your bedroom.

Hongjoong is fast though, and he’s quick to grab onto your arm to pull you in front of him.

“Can you say something?” he asks, a little too aggressively for your liking, and you just stare at him. The glare in your eyes never falters and for a few seconds you two are just staring each other down with you still refusing to speak.

You take the opportunity to yank your arm out of his grip and he lets out a frustrated groan.

“I’m tired.” you say with a blank stare, prepared to walk away again.

“So you’re not even gonna talk at me?!” he asks with that aggression still evident in his tone.

You breathe in a heavy sigh before whipping around to face your boyfriend, your eyes narrowing immediately when you make contact with him. “What do you want me to say, Hongjoong?” you ask with frustrated tears running down your face. “What the fuck do you want me to say when you keep doing this over and over again?!”

“All you ever do is walk away when you’re pissed at me and you go off the next morning talking shit to your friends. So if you have something to say, say it to my fucking face.” he spits at you with menace and your eyes darken.

“Well what the fuck is the difference of me going to my friends and going to you?! It’s not like you ever fucking listen to me anyways! I’m sick of having to repeat myself day after day! The amount of times this has happened and the amount of times I tell you the same exact thing! When I keep asking you to change and you never do! We have this exact conversation all the time, what is the use of me talking anymore?! Nothing ever changes so why the fuck should I bother wasting all my time and energy fighting with you about the same shit that’s gonna piss you off next week?!” you shout before turning around once again.

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything back to that, because deep down he knows you’re right. He knows that you’re a broken record at this point, he knows that anything you say now would just be reused arguments he’s heard in the past, he knows that he’s not going to listen to you. So he doesn’t retaliate.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?” he counters.

You take in a deep breathe. “Why don’t you tell me exactly it is that you want to hear? That I’m just going to accept the fact that you never fucking listen to me? That you somehow find it acceptable to be punching random guys in the face for looking at me? That we fight about the same shit every week? Or how you can’t seem to control your anger? How you have absolutely no regard for how you make me feel? How you think acting so possessive over me is something to be proud of?! How we’ve been together for three fucking years and the more days I spend with you the more I realize I’d rather be dead than be with you!”

Hongjoong’s face falls for a second at your words but you soon come to regret it when he’s pushing you against your counter. He’s seething inside, you can sense it. You know your words cut deep but Hongjoong won’t admit it. His ego is too big for that. 

“You’re one to fucking talk.” he grits his teeth. “You act like such a fucking bitch all the time and yet I’m still willing to bend over backwards just to keep your ass happy. You overlook all the shit I do for you because you’re selfish. You think I don’t listen to you? When have you ever listened to me?! You’re so fucking ungrateful when all I’ve ever done was love you!”

You scoff. “This is what you call loving me?!” you gesture to your current position. “Hongjoong do you even realize what we’re doing right now?! Do you even acknowledge how messed up you are?! When you go around knocking guys’ teeth out for doing so much as looking at me, for picking fights with your own friends when they’re being friendly towards me, when you fucking call me names and blame me for the fact that you can’t bear the thought of another male giving me an ounce of their attention, do you think that’s fucking normal?! You’re just fucking insane!” 

“You think I do that shit because I like it?” Hongjoong hissed. “No, I fucking do it because I know how guys think y/n! They’d take advantage of you if they got the chance! Use you like you’re a fucking toy to them or something! You can’t trust these people all the time! I fucking act that way to protect you!”

“Yeah is that it?” you sneer. “Or is it because you’re just so fragile and insecure inside you’re too afraid that one of these days someone might actually take me away from you and I’ll fucking leave. You think you can control them and control me by threatening them, assaulting them? You go off and snap at people who piss you off because you think you have some sort of claim over me! So are you sure you do it to protect me? Because I don’t think so. I think you do it 'cause you know you can’t function without me. Because deep down you know you’re just a little bitch without me. You’re nothing without me.” you spit at him. 

“Fuck you.” Hongjoong shoves you harder into the counter, a sharp pain shooting up your spine. His arms are gripping tightly onto your own and you don’t think he realizes he’s hurting you because he’s too focused on your words and how badly they’re affecting him. 

“You have a big fucking mouth sometimes you know that? You like to talk like you’re so big and purposely rile me up, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are catching an attitude with me? Watch your mouth and how you talk to me or-”

“Or what? What are you gonna do, Joong?” you challenge, shoving him away from you. “You gonna break up with me? Kick me out again? Call me a fucking slut and send me on my way?” you mock. “Or are you gonna hit me this time? Huh? Because I get you so fucking angry. Why don’t you try it? Instead of punching holes in the wall why don’t you try doing it to my face instead? I bet you want to. I bet you really want to fucking hit me. So do it. Hit me!” you push him back. “Fucking hit me!” you scream as you repeatedly hit him in the chest and Hongjoong snaps, grabbing onto your wrists tightly.

“You’re a fucking crazy bitch.” he seethes. “I may be a piece of shit but I’m not fucking abusive. I would never hit you no matter how mad you make me. So fuck you for ever thinking I’d put my hands on you. Fuck you.” he pushes you off of him.

He storms off into your bedroom, slamming the door like he always does. You stand there in the middle of your living room shaking your head. This is nothing new. It’s nothing you aren’t already used to.

You sit on the couch, burying your face in your knees as you cry. You cry with a heavy heart because you don’t know what else to do. 

All you’re left with is your own thoughts, thinking about all the times you should’ve walked away.

Because God knows it should’ve happened a long time ago.

You remember the first incident like it was yesterday.

2 years, 6 months, 7 days ago.

You remember it was only six months into being with him when he had assaulted your ex in front of your eyes. 

There was no remorse, no regard, nothing for the human life in front of him. Just pure rage that that good-for-nothing scumbag tried to touch you. His prized possession. The love of his life. The only thing that ever mattered to him.

Seeing your ex-boyfriend touching you like you were still his fuelled a fire inside Hongjoong like never before and he absolutely lost it. 

“S-stop Chris, seriously get off me,” you stutter trying to push the male off of you. 

You don’t remember how you got yourself into this situation through your drunken state.

All you know is one second you’re dancing with Irene and the next you’re pressed up against a brick wall by your ex-boyfriend.

He’s pressing you into the wall so hard it makes your body hurt and you can feel his boner rubbing against your thigh. You want to scream but when you try no sound comes out. You’re crying and your throat closes up because you can’t breath with him pinning you so tightly.

“Y/n, baby relax.” he whispers and you smell the stench of alcohol lingering on his breath. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ve never hurt you, right?” you feel like you can’t breathe. “I just wanna talk, that’s it...” his voice is gentle but it doesn’t provide you any comfort whatsoever.

“Y-you don’t have to pin me against the wall if you wanna t-talk, Chris.” you breathe out. “G-get off of me.”

“I just missed you,” he says gripping you tightly. “You missed me too right?”

“Fuck off!” you try to scream, but his heavy weight on you is restricting you from moving a muscle. “M-my boyfriend is gonna find me and he’s-”

“He’s what?” Chris snickers. “You’re dating that pussy bitch Hongjoong, right? Yeah, as if he’s gonna come to your rescue when everyone knows he’s a fucking bitch boy. You know better than to go for nice guys, right y/n?” he chuckles.

“Y-you’re drunk, Chris. Let me go.” you try to shove him back but he’s much bigger than you. You stand absolutely no chance.

“Where is your little boyfriend anyways, huh? ‘Cause I’ve been watching you since the moment you got here and all I saw was you with Irene and Seulgi. Does your boyfriend even know you’re slutting it up at a bar without him?” Chris taunts you and you cry even harder. “I wonder what he would do if he saw me and you together right now. Probably nothing right? He’s too nice for his own good. Wouldn’t touch a fucking fly.”

“Please just-”

“Relax, y/n. I know you miss me. Miss what we had. You don’t always have to play hard to get,” he whispers in your ear, pushing your dress up your thighs. “Just enjoy it and-”

“Y/n?” you hear a voice call behind you, and you recognize it almost immediately. 

“Joong?” you call through your hazy vision and you take the opportunity to push the man off of you. “J-joong, I wasn’t doing what you think, he pinned me, I-i tried to get him off but he wouldn’t, fuck, it’s not what it looks like-” you can’t formulate a coherent sentence because you know exactly what it looked like and you’re afraid he won’t believe you.

“Y/n get behind me right now.” he states calmly, and you don’t hesitate. You run up behind your boyfriend as Chris stands in front of him with a cold stare. 

Your heart is still beating hard against your chest and you study Hongjoong’s expression to see what his next move would be because frankly, you don’t know. 

“Can I kindly ask what the fuck were you doing to MY girlfriend?” Hongjoong asks, voice still calm and collected it almost scares you.

“Hey man, no need to get upset, we were just chatting.” Chris raises his hands in defence.

Hongjoong laughs, but there’s not a hint of amusement in his tone. “Chatting, huh?” he mocks. “About what?”

“Look, with all due respect, I know she’s your girl now and everything but you have to understand me and y/n have a lot of history. Just rehashing some old shit-”

“No you weren’t.” Hongjoong interrupts. 

“Excuse me?” Chris raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry but you’re being pretty fucking hostile right now, don’t you think? Like, what exactly are you trying to accomplish, you’re not very intimidating.” Chris laughs.

Your eyes are moving back and forth between the two males and you don’t exactly know what’s going to happen next. You’ve never been in this kind of situation before, let alone predict how Hongjoong would retaliate. You’ve never seen him angry before.

“You wanna know what it looked like to me?” he asks rhetorically, slowly walking towards your ex. “You were forcing her against her will to talk to you.” he states, still calm. “You were touching her. You were groping her.” Hongjoong begins backing him into the wall. “You were sexually harassing her. After she begged you to stop.” he states. “You lifted up her dress, and then what?” Hongjoong’s cornered him into the wall. “You were gonna fucking rape her. Right?”

“Woah, woah, hey, I was not gonna fucking rape her-” Chris defends.

“No?” Hongjoong raises his eyebrow. “Are you saying you weren’t trying to fuck my girlfriend?”

Chris scoffs. “That isn’t rape-”

“But she told you to stop, didn’t she?” Hongjoong folds his arms across his chest and your eyes are bulging out of your head as you witness this new side o him. “And if I wasn’t here right now... what exactly would you have done?”

“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend? She seemed to be enjoying it, right?” he turns to look at you. “Admit it, y/n. Tell your bitch of a boyfriend that you’re better off with me. Hey, do you know how fucking easy it is to get with your girlfriend? Ask me, I have experience.” Chris chuckles. “What do you think would’ve happened if you weren’t here right now? Y/n probably would’ve let me fuck the shit out of her because that’s how easy she is. Probably would’ve fucked her better than you ever have-”

Hongjoong lets out a chuckle before finally snapping. You see his fist raise up in one swift motion, and he punches him. Hongjoong punches the shit out of your ex and you let out a shocked gasp. Your hands fly over your mouth, covering your face in surprise.

“Hongjoong!” you try to stop your boyfriend but he doesn’t listen. 

“Keep talking, I fucking dare you.” Hongjoong spits. He’s still punching him and it doesn’t seem like he plans on stopping anytime soon. “Your mouth is fucking shit, you know that? You’re a fucking scumbag.”

He punches him again.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit talking about girls this way.” Another punch.

“You would go as far to fucking rape her if you didn’t get what you want?” Hongjoong’s fist collides with his face again. “That’s the kind of guy you are?”

You hear another punch.

“Then you deserve to fucking die here.”

He’s hovering over your ex’s body, continuously delivering blows to his head. He doesn’t stop even when you start to see blood. It’s everywhere, coming out of his eyes, his mouth, it’s covering his entire face and it scares you.

“Hongjoong stop!” you call.

“S-stop” Chris chokes out, trying to use whatever strength he had left to stop your boyfriend from continuing his assault.

“Joong stop, you’re going to kill him!” you scream.

“Maybe I should.” Hongjoong chuckles menacingly. “He deserves it, don’t you think?” he glances at you and your eyes widen.

You shake your head. “Please.” your voice is quiet. “Just leave him.” and finally your boyfriend relents.

He spares another glance to the bloodied man on the floor who’s coughing profusely to catch his breathe, and he leans over him.

“If you ever fucking touch y/n again, I will fucking kill you.” Hongjoong growled. “I will hunt you down and fucking kill you, and I’m gonna make it slow and painful. If you do so much as breathe the same air next to her, I can promise you, I will come after you. So don’t ever think about coming near her again, you understand?” Chris doesn’t say anything and it pisses Hongjoong off.

Hongjoong grabs onto his collar, lifting him up till their faces are almost touching. “Do. You. Understand?”

“Y-you’re fucking crazy.” Chris manages to say through his coughing fit.

“Yeah I may be,” Hongjoong chuckles. “But I’m not a fucking rapist like you. I don’t force girls to do things they don’t want to. I don’t try and take away what’s already taken. Y/n’s fucking mine, you’ll never go near her again.”

Your eyes are wide with horror and you see your boyfriend’s fist covered in Chris’ blood. Your eyes scan your ex’s body laying limp on the ground, spitting out the remnants of blood out of his mouth. Hongjoong stands up looking over him, and you’re frozen with shock.

“I was fucking wrong, y/n. You should fucking leave. You don’t want to be with a guy like this, he’s a fucking psychopath-” Hongjoong kicks the words right out of his mouth and you jump back with a gasp.

“Lay here and rot.” 

Hongjoong grabs onto your hand, dragging you away, and even if you want to pull your hand away, you don’t. You’re too scared to. 

You’re left in a state of shock witnessing your sweet boyfriend nearly kill the man you once loved. Granted, it was probably well deserved given that he was harassing you and was about to do far worse had Hongjoong not shown up. But you don’t think it should’ve been to such an extent. 

You don’t talk for the entirety of the car ride, but you do spare small glances at your boyfriend who’s eyes were directed onto the road.

Hongjoong can sense your intense stare and he sighs, turning briefly at a stoplight to face you.

“I only did that because he was gonna hurt you.” he sighs. “You know that right?”

You nod slowly. “Y-yeah.”

“Don’t be scared, baby.” he says gently, reaching over to grab your hand as you flinch slightly. 

The light turns green. He averts his gaze back onto the road, but he rubs the back of your hand in an attempt to comfort you.

Your heart is racing and you know you shouldn’t fear him.

But you can’t help it.

Seeing him like that was a first, and you didn’t like it.

“Y-you didn’t have to hurt him that bad.” you whisper.

“You’re not defending him are you?” he glances at you.

“I-i’m not, Joong.” you’re quick to say. 

“So why does it sound like you are?” he badgers.

“You almost killed him.” you swallow the lump in your throat.

“He was touching you, I saw him. He was going to-”

“But he didn’t.” you interrupt before he can finish his sentence. “You stopped him before he could do anything. And I’m thankful that you did but... that should’ve been it. We should’ve walked away, but you just ... you kept going.”

“He was hurting you, y/n, I couldn’t let that slide.” he tries to defend.

“But you weren’t you back there, Joong. I’ve never seen you so... violent. I didn’t like it.”

“I’m sorry baby. I couldn’t help it. I was just protecting you.”

His words repeat over and over in your head, but you can’t ignore the sinking feeling in your gut. He almost killed him. He threatened to kill him. You’ve seen possessive before, but not to this degree. 

No, what happened back there wasn’t normal.

You don’t talk anymore after that, instead counting down the minutes till you were safe and sound in the comfort of your home. 

When you do get home you run off into the shower immediately, wanting to wash away how disgusting and dirty you felt after what you witnessed.

You shoot Irene a text to tell her you made it home okay and she lets you know she’s gone home with Seulgi and is glad you’re safe.

You spend a long time in the shower, trying to ease your racing mind and your thumping heart. You know Hongjoong’s waiting for you in bed, he can’t sleep properly without you in his arms. But you dread the moment you have to get out and face the reality of what happened. So you choose to stay in there until the heat runs out.

You hate to admit that you don’t want to be near him right now, but you can’t help it when your mind keeps flashing back to seeing your boyfriend’s eyes fill with rage. How he went from being so calm to snapping in an instant. How he mostly like broke your ex’s nose and most likely gave him a concussion, and left him there without a single ounce of guilt.

You don’t say anything when you enter your bedroom, and Hongjoong notices your distant behaviour. 

“Y/n, can you come here please?” he asks gently and you lock eyes with him.

You don’t know what else to do except comply, and the minute you’re sat next to him, he pulls you into his arms.

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier.” he apologizes, and you snuggle deeper into his arms.

“It’s okay, it just.. caught me by surprise that’s all.” your throat burns as you suppress your tears.

“You know why I did it though. I would never let anyone hurt you.” he states and you nod. “I just hate the thought of someone else touching you. Especially him.”

“I know.”

“I had to get rid of him someway, right?” he asks, it’s a rhetoric question so you stay silent. “This way he won’t ever come near you again.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” your voice is quiet and your vision starts to blur from holding in your tears.

“I love you, y/n.” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your head. 

“I love you too.” you choke out.

“You’re all mine right?”

You nod again, this time letting the tears fall down your face.

“All yours.”

You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to give him the power of being able to control you. But you tell him what he wants to hear because you don’t know what he would do if you didn’t.

“Promise me you won’t ever leave me.” he begs his arms tightening around your body. “I don’t know what I would do if you ever did.”

Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest that it hurts and your mind is panicking with so many thoughts. You’re scared, but you also know you still love him.

And you want to give him the benefit of the doubt that this incident was just a one time slip up, so you forgive him, and you commit to his promise.

“I promise.” you gulp. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Little did you know how true that statement would be.

Hongjoong falls asleep next to you, with your head on his chest, and the sound of his heartbeat rings in your ears. You look up at his sleeping state and your eyes start to water once more.

You think about how he was a good boyfriend, one that made you happy and did everything he could to ensure you stayed that way. He was sweet, he was kind, he was everything you wanted. 

You look at Hongjoong and think about how he made you smile and laugh like no other person ever had, how made you feel safe in his arms, how he kissed away your tears when you were sad, and how he treated like you an absolute goddess, never making you think otherwise. He was there to provide you comfort and pleasure, and he was good at everything he did. 

Up until that point he was perfect. 

A little too perfect that you knew there had to have been something wrong with him.

And now you knew.

You tried to rationalize his flaws with all the redeeming qualities he had.

He was good to you.

He absolutely doted you.

He loved you.

So why was it right now, looking at him at this very moment, you wanted to throw up in disgust at the mere sight of him.

2:07 AM

You think about that first incident as you sit curled up on your couch, and you’re left wondering why you continued to stay after that. That should’ve been your first sign to get the fuck out and leave. 

But you didn’t. 

You stayed.

And right now, you’re looking at yourself with disgust.

Seeing as how things haven’t gotten any better.

No improvement, no changes.

Nothing.

So why the fuck are you still here? you ask yourself.

But you know it’s because you love him. That you’ve never loved anyone the way you loved Hongjoong. You knew from the moment you met him you knew you wanted him to be your forever.

But this wasn’t what you meant.

This wasn’t what you signed up for when you gave your entire being to this very man. 

You’re smart enough to know you’re only going to keep getting hurt. But your love for him remained so strong and completely outweighed the bad. You know you’ll never be able to bring yourself out the door and leave him behind.

You’re stuck with him. Forever.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door opening, and you watch as Hongjoong passes the kitchen into the living room where you’re sat. You don’t know how much time has passed until you look over to the clock and see that it’s been well over an hour and you have yet to move a muscle.

Hongjoong walks over to you as he sits down beside you.

“Are you done having your bitch fit?” he chided and your eyes narrow at him.

“That’s how you’re really going to start this conversation right now?” you scoff. 

“What, you think I was gonna come here and beg for your forgiveness? I didn’t peg you for an idiot, y/n.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that? It’s like you want to keep fighting with me!” you shout, getting up from your spot to stand in front of him. “You make me feel like I don’t have a right to be pissed at you and then you come back an hour later and talk to me this way?”

“I came down here to tell you to get the fuck up to bed. Like aren’t you fucking tired of doing this every time? Let’s just fucking be done with this shit and go to sleep and-”

“And what? Deal with it in the morning? Or fuck me until I eventually forgive you? Because that’s always what happens right? You know exactly how to make things better, right? But it’s always temporary! We’re always just gonna keep coming back to this over and over again! Nothing’s changed in the last three years!”

“You’re constantly throwing around the fact that I don’t listen to you, that I don’t fucking change, but what about you? What have you done for me to compromise?!” he retorts.

“Compromise on what?! All I’ve been asking you to do was to control your behaviour! Stop acting so possessive and violent over me because you should know by now, I’m not going anywhere! But you keep doing this, you keep lashing out on other people who don’t always deserve you, you put me in a position where I have to fix your mess, while you live a guilt free life! You’re just driving me away at this point! You continue to lie to me, saying you’re going to change and fix your behaviour but you never do! Why can’t you just do this one simple thing for me?!” you badgered with annoyance.

“Because you’re mine!” he screams at you.

You look at him with a glare, and you shake your head.

“But that’s the thing Hongjoong, I’m not! I’m nobody’s! I belong to fucking nobody but myself. You don’t fucking own me Joong. I’m with you because I love you. I stay with you because I love you. I can acknowledge that you might be bad for me but I choose to put that shit aside because I fucking love you! You make me fucking miserable and yet I stay with you when I know I fucking shouldn’t! That’s how much control you have over me!” you return.

“And everything I’ve done for you is because you have control over me! Why don’t you understand that?!” he asks, getting up in your face.

“This is fucking toxic, this isn’t good for us!” you pull at your hair in frustration.

“It’s not like you’re going anywhere anyways! If you think this relationship is too much for you, why do you continue defending me and putting up with it?!” he argues.

“Because I’m still trying to make this work!” you cry. “I’m still trying because I still love you! But I can’t keep seeing past all these problems we have! I’m done overlooking all the shit you put me through. I’m reaching my last fucking straw, Joong! I’m reaching my fucking breaking point!” you scream in frustration. “So let me make one thing clear, the minute I decide I’m done, that’s it. I will fucking leave you if you push me to it, and you’re gonna let me because you don’t own me.” you say. “I’m giving you one last chance to prove to me that you’re gonna fix up and change your attitude. I want you to prove me wrong, prove that you aren’t gonna screw up again. Because the minute you fuck up, Im gone.” you threaten.

“You’re just fucking saying that.” he scoffs. “You always fucking say that and then you come back to me!”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. “You know what, fine. Watch me leave then.” you stomp upstairs and Hongjoong follows suit.

You close the door behind you with force but Hongjoong opens it before you can shut it fully and he watches you messily grab random articles of clothing, pushing past him to retrieve every item you can take. 

You’ve always made empty threats, you’ve never actually left him before and he knows you won’t. You’ve never been able to. 

But when he sees you grabbing a duffle bag and filling it with clothes it actually starts to scare him.

“Cut the fucking act, y/n. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove-“

You stop forcefully throwing hangers around and throwing your clothes around so carelessly to look at him. “You think I won’t leave you? I told you to fucking watch me.” you state continuing your haphazard packing.

Hongjoong lets out a frustrated sigh and grabs onto your arms to stop you. “Stop it.”

“Fuck you, let go of me.” you spit.

“I told you to fucking stop.” he says through gritted teeth.

“I swear to god if you don’t fucking let go of my arm-”

He doesn’t let you finish. Instead he pins you to the bed, hovering over you. “You’re not fucking leaving, stop being so fucking dramatic and just go to fucking bed! It’s fucking late, you need to chill out!” he scolds but you don’t listen. 

“What, so now you want to stop me?” you glare at him. “You could just kick me out again! You’ve done it before right? So why won’t you let me fucking leave this time on my own!”

“You always feel the need to bring that shit up, get the fuck over it! I’m not letting you leave-”

“WHY NOT?!”

“Because you’re acting fucking crazy and you’re out of control right now! Just fucking relax for once-”

You punch at his chest but his grip is too strong and you let out a frustrated groan. “GET THE FUCK OFF!” you screech at him but he doesn’t relent.

“Y/n, stop-”

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” you scream. “I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU!”

“YOU CAN HATE ME ALL YOU WANT BUT YOU’RE NOT LEAVING ME!” he screams back at you.

You manage to free your grip from his wrists and you do the one thing you’ve never done before. You slap him.

It shocks the both of you and your mouth fall slightly open in surprise. He doesn’t say anything at first and you can tell he wasn’t expecting it either.

But then his eyes darken and they glare into your wide ones and he pulls on your wrist, teeth clenching. “Don’t ever fucking hit me again.”

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out.

“You’re not going anywhere.” he states. “I’m gonna go into the living room and you’re gonna stay in here and calm the fuck down. Then we’ll talk.” he says. “and if you still want to leave after that, fine. I won’t stop you this time. But you need to fucking relax and clear your fucking head. You’re fucking insane.”

And he leaves you alone once again.

You think about the one time you actually did leave.

But it wasn’t a choice you made on your own.

1 years, 9 months, 23 days ago.

You were used to his possessiveness by now. You knew his love for you was borderline obsessive, and you hated the fact that you still loved him too. You still chose to ignore all the red flags, overlooking every toxic trait he had.

You continued to put up with it and you excused his behaviour because... well it wasn’t like he controlled you completely.

He never forced you to tell him things you didn’t want, never controlled the things you did, never gave you shit for the things you wore, never made you feel like you needed to rely on him for everything.

He still gave you your freedom.

He just didn’t hold himself back from how other people acted around you. 

It was at his birthday party, you recall.

And it was the first time you were meeting the majority of Hongjoong’s friends. You wanted to make an effort to mingle with them to show your boyfriend you cared about the people in his life.

Sure you knew of his closest ones, the other seven boys he allowed you to be near. They were the only ones that Hongjoong felt comfortable with you being around.

But this time you were surrounded by new faces, and it wasn’t like Hongjoong warned you of any of them so you took it upon yourself to befriend a few of them. You figured if he let him into the comfort of your own home, they had to have been good people.

You saw no harm in it, and at first he didn’t see the harm either.

Until he noticed the lingering stare in Sehun’s eyes, and the way his fingertips would ghost over the skin of your shoulder, and how his knee would brush against yours every so often. 

Anger started to bubble up in his chest at the sight of you laughing at something Sehun said, and the jealousy ran rampant in his veins. 

He tried to control his feelings at first, brushing it off as Sehun’s overly flirtatious nature. 

But it was when he saw his friend place his hand over your bare thigh that Hongjoong finally lost it. 

Before you could even take Sehun’s hand off of you and tell him to back off, Hongjoong’s grabbing onto him in an instant, throwing him away from you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hongjoong seethes as Sehun’s eyes widen.

The guests eyes avert to the scene in front of them and you look over at Seonghwa and San pleading for help.

“Woah, calm down, Joong.” Sehun says with a light chuckle. “I was just telling your girlfriend about-”

“Yeah, exactly, MY girlfriend.” Hongjoong interrupted. “So why is that you feel the need to touch her like she’s fucking single? You don’t think I’ve been watching you eye fuck her this whole night? Don’t you know how to back off?” he pushes at his friend’s chest.

“Dude, relax, it’s not that serious.” Sehun rolls his eyes. “You know me man, I would never do anything to disrespect you, or your girl.”

“That’s not what it fucking looked like you prick-”

“Okaaay, Joong, how ‘bout we go somewhere else, hm?” Seonghwa calls, placing his arm around your boyfriend’s shoulder as he and San guide him into one of your guest rooms.

You follow suit with Wooyoung and Yunho behind you as you leave the confused party guests to themselves.

“Are you okay?” Yunho asks and you nod your head.

But inside, you’re heart seizes with fear, because you know exactly where this conversation is gonna go. 

When you enter the room, it feels tense right away, and Hongjoong eyes you with a cold stare. “Do you have anything to say for yourself right now?” he calls over San’s shoulder.

You shake your head. “W-what did I do?” you ask genuinely.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Hongjoong scoffs.

“Joong, stop.” Seonghwa sighs, placing a hand on his chest.

“You know what your problem is, you fucking act like such an innocent little bitch when in reality you’re the biggest slut i know.” he spits at you suddenly, and it has everyone’s eyes widening at his bold statement.

“Pipe down, hyung. Don’t call her that.” Yunho shakes his head disapprovingly.

“What was I doing wrong?! Talking to him?!” you scoff.

“For letting him touch you like that! He was fucking flirting with you and you didn’t do shit about it-”

“Oh my god, you didn’t even give me the chance!” you say, throwing your hands in the air. “If you just waited one more fucking second I would’ve told him to take his hands off me and-”

“Bullshit.” he laughs. “You wanna go whore around? Fine. But don’t fucking lie to my face and pretend that you didn’t do shit.” he pushes past Seonghwa to get in your face. “Go back out there with him if that’s what you want.” as he shoves you back.

“Woah hey, Joong, don’t do that.” Seonghwa intervenes when he sees his best friend push you a bit too hard.

“How are you gonna blame me and say it’s my fault? All we were doing was talking!-“ you try to defend, tears threatening to spill.

“Talking my fucking ass,” your boyfriend scoffs at you.  “You’re just a fucking attention whore. What, I’m suddenly not enough for you? So you go around prancing like the little slut you are because you need validation from other guys?!”

You feel embarrassed at your current situation, feeling the heavy stares of Hongjoong’s best friends on you. Fighting with him in private was one thing. It was shitty and made you feel terrible, but you could handle it. 

But being in the same room, hearing your boyfriend call you names while his friends watch from the side has you recoiling in pure humiliation.  

“Hongjoong that’s enough! Fuck, what is wrong with you man?” Seonghwa pushes his friend back.

“Why don’t you ask her? Why are you guys acting like i’m the fucking villain?!” Hongjoong sneers. “You think she’s the fucking victim here? Look at her. Acting all innocent and crying like a fucking bitch. What are you so upset about?” he glares at you and you stand still in your spot, not knowing what to say. 

“Joong, I’m sorry but I don’t think what I was doing was wrong!” you say. “You wanted me to get to know your friends and that’s exactly what I was doing! You can’t get mad at me for doing what you wanted!”

“You let him fucking feel you up, you let him touch you when you know I don’t like that shit. You’re making all these excuses to justify the fact that you can’t be satisfied with one man giving you all his attention?! How are you gonna say you didn’t do anything wrong when you let that happen?! When you know it would upset me, on my fucking birthday no less? Fuck you y/n! Your mouth is fucking shit, all you know how to do is lie!”

“You know what, fuck you too Joong. I put up with so much of your shit, I forgive you every time you get pissed over another guy being around me. I clean up your fucking mess time and time again and this is how you treat me?! Are you just going to get mad every time a man does so much as breathe next to me?! You’re going to blame me for shit I didn’t even do-“ he interrupts you, refusing to hear your side.

“Yeah I fucking blame you!”

“God can you fucking relax and think about what you’re saying right now?! You’re literally causing a scene at your own fucking birthday party-”

“Yeah and what?!” he screams at you. “You don’t think everyone at this fucking party should know how much of a fucking slut you are?!”

You gape at him and so does Seonghwa and San whose holding their best friend back. 

“Woah, hyung that’s not fucking cool.” San says. “I know you’re pissed off and drunk as fuck right now but do not treat your girlfriend that way.”

Hongjoong chuckles, “Why? She thinks she can do whatever the fuck she wants anyways. Why the fuck can’t I call her out on her shit?”

“Because she didn’t do anything!” Wooyoung shouts, coming next to you protectively. “You need to fucking relax. Yunho, help me get everyone out of their house. They need to deal with this shit with less people here.”

Yunho nods his head, leaving the room with Wooyoung to usher all the party guests out.

“Joong, don’t be unreasonable right now. Be mad at Sehun all you want, but don’t accuse y/n of being at fault when she didn’t do anything. She’s your fucking girlfriend for god sakes, don’t treat her this way-” Seonghwa begins to defend you but Hongjoong stops him.

“You know what, take your fucking shit, get the fuck out of my house, and don’t fucking come back!” he grabs your purse and throws it in your direction and it nearly hits you in the face.

“Hyung!” San shouts as he holds his elder back.

“Are you actually kicking me out right now?” you ask in shock.

“You’re damn right I am.” he states. “Go fucking slut it up on the streets for all I give a shit! Since you want male attention so bad, see how long you last out there!” Hongjoong taunts you.

“D-don’t fucking do this, Joong.” you plead. “I know you’re pissed at me but don’t make me leave, I have nowhere else to go.”

“Ask me if I give a shit.” he rolls his eyes. “You want to act like an ungrateful bitch then get the fuck out of my place. I literally fucking give you everything, I love you like no else fucking will. You don’t fucking appreciate me then Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

You don’t move for a second, but Hongjoong pushes past his friends, gripping onto your arm as he drags you out of the room. 

The guests are long gone by now, and you don’t admit that you’re thankful that no one else has to witness this right now.

“Joong, let go of her!” Seonghwa calls after him, as him and San follow you both out the door. 

Yunho and Wooyoung are in the kitchen when they see their friend dragging you outside and they’re quick to try and resolve the situation, but there’s nothing they can do at this point that’ll calm Hongjoong down.

“You don’t want to fucking leave? I’ll make you leave! Don’t ever try and come back here, I mean it!” he pushes you forcefully out the door and slams the door in your face and his friends stare with their mouths open in pure horror.

“Are you crazy?! What is wrong with you?!” Yunho gapes.

“She wants to act like a whore then let her. When everything I do is for her, it’s not enough! She wants to find comfort in other men then she can fucking do that.” Hongjoong simply shrugs. “Let her learn her lesson. See how long she can survive without me.”

The four boys don’t say anything, instead choosing to leave and find you to ensure your safety. They don’t recognize this man in front of them, and they never thought they’d witness him act this way.

They hate him right now, and they think you deserve to hate him too.

They find out downstairs in the lobby, crying on the bench hysterically. It’s 2 in the morning and they know how tired you must be, so Seonghwa kindly offers you to stay at their place for the time being.

“Y/n, don’t worry about Hongjoong right now.” Seonghwa sits next to you.

“I have nowhere to go-”

“You’re going to come stay with us.” he states. “We have a spare room, you can stay there for as long as you need. You don’t have to worry about him right now, he’s being a fucking dick. Drunk or not he shouldn’t be treating you this way.”

“He’s gonna get mad if I go with you-”

“Let him get mad then.” San interjects. “It’s better than you sleeping on the streets by yourself. You’re better off with us.”

You don’t hesitate after that and you agree, thanking them profusely for their generosity. They sit with you until the Uber comes, asking you every few minutes if you’re doing okay. You realize that not even your own boyfriend has shown this much compassion towards you in a long time. 

“Does he always do this to you?” Wooyoung asks and you shake your head.

“No, no..” you say. “He just, he gets jealous easily. Doesn’t like when other guys are around me. He’s kind of possessive and he just, acts out I guess.”

“I didn’t know he was like that.” Seonghwa sighs. “He doesn’t ... hit you does he?”

“No! Never, no.” you’re quick to say. “He just needs to control his anger better...”

The Uber pulls up in front of your building before any more words can be exchanged, and the boys guide you over to the car.

When you get inside, you rest your head on the window and cry again. Silently this time, but the boys know. They can only imagine how you’re feeling at this very moment, and they feel terrible inside.

You look over to Yunho who’s sitting beside you and he stares back at you. 

“Do you think he hates me?” you ask quietly.

“No, y/n. He could never hate you.” he sighs. “He loves you so much.” he tries to reassure.

“So why does he treat me like this?” you return, and Yunho’s heart breaks for you.

He doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t even know the answer to that himself.

He shakes his head with another heavy sigh, reaching over to comfort you. “I don’t know, y/n.” he admits truthfully. “All I know is that I’m sorry he did this to you.”

Everyone else in the car can hear your conversation, but out of respect for you they pretend to ignore it.

But in their heads, they’re all thinking the same thing as Yunho.

They’re sorry he did this to you too.

4:12 AM

A few hours pass and you’re calmer now.

Your head still hurts and your heart feels heavy but you’re less angry. So you figured that counted for something.

You’ve sat with yourself for the last two hours, weighing your options.

You could still leave.

But just like the first time you left by force, you still have nowhere else to go.

You could go back to Seonghwa’s place, but it took a long time for him and all the other boys to forgive Hongjoong, you didn’t want to burden them and drag them through this mess all over again.

You somehow managed to convince them you and Hongjoong were doing better, and you didn’t want to have to put them in another uncomfortable position where they would have to pick sides.

You figure here is better than nowhere, even with the endless cycle of this torment. 

Half of you wants to leave, to forget about this whole nightmare and leave this life behind. To not look back and leave your boyfriend for good. To find someone else who could probably treat you better than this.

But the other half knows you depend on Hongjoong too much for your happiness. It’s the optimistic part in you that keeps reminding you that despite all these reoccurring fights, he still makes you happy, in some ways. 

You’re conflicted to say the least, and you don’t know what you truly want to do.

Because if you leave you’ll come back, and if you stay, you’ll just subject yourself to this miserable life over and over again.

You don’t see any winning options.

Hongjoong’s soft knock interrupts your thoughts and he comes in shortly after. “Are you good now?” he asks softly and you nod.

You scoot across the bed to make room for him and he takes it as a sign to lay next to you. You two don’t say anything for a long while. Just staring into the plain white walls of your bedroom. You can hear each other breathing heavily, words lingering on the tips of your tongues, yet, none of you say anything.

The silence lasts for what feels like an eternity before he finally decides to speak first.

“So are you going to leave?” Hongjoong asks, turning to face you.

You shrug. “I want to.”

“So why don’t you?” he asks, but this time, there’s not a hint of malice in his tone. For once, it’s just curiosity.

You finally lock eyes with him and your face softens. “Because I fucking love you.” your eyes water, and Hongjoong pulls you into his arms. “I don’t know why I can’t leave you Joong. I fucking hate you and love you at the same time. You literally make me feel like shit. You do nothing good for me. You ruined my life.” you cry into his chest and he hugs you tighter.

“I know baby.” he murmurs, and it shouldn’t comfort you. But it does.

“I should leave.”

“You should.” he agrees.

“There’s only so much I can handle. I can’t stay with you if you aren’t willing to change, even a little bit. This is getting too much and I keep giving you all these chances when I should’ve walked away a long time ago.” you exclaim.

“I know.” is all he can say.

“I want to leave you, but at the same time I can’t stand the thought of not being with you.” you sigh.

You hate yourself right now because you sound so fucking stupid.

You could never explain why you continue to stay with him, because you don’t even know the answer to that yourself. All you know is that you’re a fucking idiot.

“I know I don’t deserve you, but I need you here with me, y/n.” he sighs. “I don’t ever want to know what it’s like to not have you anymore. I love you, you know I do. That’s why I do this, it’s just because I love you.”

You’ve heard it all before.

You shouldn’t believe him.

You shouldn’t even let him convince you of anything.

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness for the millionth time.

“If you forgive me this time, it’s the last time I’ll put you through this ever again.”

“Don’t lie to me, Joong.” you shake your head.

“I’m not.”

“I want to believe you so bad.” you sigh.

“So believe me.” he turns to you. “Trust me now like you’ve trusted me all the other times before. I swear to you that I’ll put more of an effort this time.”

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling, refusing to meet his eyes.

You think about the time you forgave him for kicking you out.

1 year, 8 months, 23 days ago.

One month later, Hongjoong’s begging for you back, asking for your forgiveness as you sit at Seonghwa’s dining table, void of any emotion.

You’ve lived 30 days without any communication with Hongjoong, and you hate to say that it was the worst thirty days of your life. 

Even after tossing you out like you were nothing, you still missed him beyond belief, and your heart craved him every night he wasn’t right beside you.

You know at this point, you were just as fucked in the head as he was.

For continuing to love a man who proved time and time again that he wasn’t good for you, and he never would be.

“What makes you think you deserve to talk to her after you pulled that shit last month?” Seonghwa raises his eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as he eyes his best friend.

“I-I was drunk, Hwa.” Hongjoong excuses and his friend scoffs.

“You’re pathetic.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “You can’t just come back and expect her to be okay with what you did to her. And why now? You should’ve done it the night after you tossed her out but instead you choose to wait a whole fucking month?”

“I wanted to clear my head. I wanted to think about what I did wrong and make sure I made it up to her the right way.” Hongjoong defends himself. “Can you just let me in so I can see my fucking girlfriend? Since when were you so protective over her?”

“Since you treated her like fucking garbage!” Seonghwa retaliates. “I shouldn’t even let you do this, but you’re my best friend and you need to do what’s right. But if I ever catch you treating y/n that badly again, I will make sure you never see her again.” 

Hongjoong nods his head, but inside he’s rolling his eyes at his elder. He hates that Seonghwa cares about you all of a sudden, but he won’t be unreasonable this time. He’ll admit his faults. Right now the only thing he cares about is getting you back.

Seonghwa finally lets him in and he takes you to the dining area where you’re seated reading a book. You don’t notice the presence of the two boys right away until Seonghwa clears his throat and you look up.

“Y/n, Hongjoong wanted to talk to you.” Seonghwa states, leaving the two of you alone.

You just stare at him at first, not knowing exactly what to say or do. You don’t know if he’s going to lash out at you, or forgive you for pissing him off the night of his birthday.

He approaches you gently, leaning down next to you as he places a small bouquet of roses on the table.

“I know this isn’t enough of an apology for what I did, but, I didn’t mean what I said that night.” he says gently.

You look at the roses in front of you and sigh. “You really hurt me you know that?” 

“I know.” he bows his head down in shame. 

“I get it, Joong. I can deal with your possessiveness, I can deal with your anger problems, but calling me names? Kicking me out? I let so much shit slide but when you go off and blame me for things that I didn’t even do...” you say quietly.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, baby.” Hongjoong sighs. “Everything I said that night was out of anger towards Sehun. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, but it just killed me to see him all over you like that. You know that I love you too much and sometimes that makes me act out.”

“You can’t keep doing this when someone makes you mad.” you say. “You should know by now I’m all yours. I told you that so long ago. You don’t have to worry about me leaving because I won’t. But you can’t do this ever again, Joong. Please.” you plead.

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t do this again. But please forgive me, because I can’t live without you. I miss you so much. And I still love you. No matter what I said, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I always will.”

Your heart softens hearing his words and your eyes begin to tear up. Hongjoong looks at you endearingly and you suddenly remember the face of the man you fell in love with so long ago.

You go against your better judgement and forgive him.

Like you always do.

“I love you too.” you say.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, placing his hand on your thigh comfortingly.

You sigh.

You take his bouquet of roses as a silent sign of forgiveness and you scoot over to let him sit next to you.

Hongjoong pulls you into his arms, hating the prideful feeling inside of him, knowing very well things were going exactly how he expected. He knew this was going to happen. He knew you were going to forgive him and take him back.

Because you always take him back.

4:30 AM

“Y/n, I love you, you know that right?” he says.

“I know.” you swallow your tears. 

You do know he does.

But it never really feels like it.

“But.. if you claim to love me why can’t you change? Or at least try to? You keep hurting me and then you say it’s because you love me but, you don’t exactly show me that. I don’t understand how you can keep putting me in this position and say you do out of love.” you ask.

“I can’t explain what makes me act this way. But I go crazy when it comes to you, and it’s because of how strongly I feel for you. I don’t know why I treat you like shit. I don’t know why I do the things I do.” he admits.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t love me at all. You just look at me as something that belongs to you.” you say.

He hates that you’re partially right. 

“That’s not true.” he lies. 

He does love you. He loves you more than anything else in this world, that much is clear.

But you’re right about you belonging to him.

Deep down he thinks you’re stupid for thinking you don’t belong to him. 

You are is his. You always will be his.

But he doesn’t try to prove you wrong. He keeps his mouth shut.

It’s silent again, and your heads are both swirling with a million different thoughts, and you want to say a million different things to each other. 

But you feel like there’s nothing left to say. 

Because everything that could be said, already has been.

The cycle will just continue. It’s never going to stop.

And there’s no one else to blame except for the poor decisions you both make.

You let yourselves get to this point.

“You need to let me leave, Joong. I can’t keep doing this.” your lips quiver and your voice breaks.

“No y/n-”

You stop him. “No, listen to me first.” you say. 

“I told you. I’m tired of doing this again and again. You need to promise me right now you’re going to do something to change yourself because I meant it when I said I will leave if you keep driving me away. Because if you can’t promise me this one thing, and actually mean it, you have to let me walk away. If you claim to care about me, and if you really do love me, you’ll either do this for me or you’re going to let me be happy without you. So please, Joong. I’m begging you. Please. Please just do this for me or just let me fucking go.” you cry, and he pulls you into his chest as you sob.

He doesn’t know what to tell you.

Because if he promises he’ll change, he’d only be lying. 

But if he doesn’t, he has to force himself to let you go.

And he could never do that.

“I’m not letting you go.” he states, and you know that’s his way of avoiding your promise.

“We aren’t good for each other. We shouldn’t be together.” you bury your face in his chest, and his hold on you tightens again.

Hongjoong’s throat starts to burn. “I know.” he whispers. “But we also can’t be without each other.” 

He feels your tears soak through his shirt.

“You’ll change this time, won’t you?” you look at him with pleading eyes. 

He doesn’t want to, but he nods anyways. 

He just doesn’t offer any sort of reassurance.

You want him to say sorry, Hongjoong can feel it. He knows all you’ve ever wanted was to hear him apologize and mean it.

But he never does. Because he isn’t sorry.

He isn’t sorry for scaring away those guys who threatened to take him away from you. He isn’t sorry for calling you those names. He isn’t sorry for making you feel like you can’t get anyone better than him. He isn’t sorry for knowing how much you truly depend on him and need him. 

He’s not sorry, and he never will be.

So instead he chooses to say ‘i promise.’ like he’s done again and again. He repeats those same words to you and he feels you relax in his arms.

He knows you’re not stupid enough to believe him, but you’re too optimistic for your own good. Always choosing to believe he can change. Always seeing the good that’s left in him and your broken relationship. And for the record, he does try, but his love for you is just so obsessive and consuming it drives him mad. He just can’t bear the thought of someone else taking you away from him. He can’t control the way he acts and he knows its unhealthy. 

But he lies to you because he knows it’ll keep you with him. 

“I promise I’ll change.” he whispers in your ear.

And you want to believe him so badly. But you know it’s just an empty promise. Because you know the next chance he gets, he will put you through all this again. And Hongjoong won’t admit it but he knows you’re always going to forgive him. No matter how many times you threaten to leave and actually try to, you’re going to end up back in his arms every night, loving him like you’ve never loved anyone else before.

So for right now, you just pretend. You pretend he means what he says and you pretend that things are going to get better. 

You want to believe that he’ll change.

But deep down inside, you know he never will.

LA FIN.

#kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong angst #hoongjoong smut #ateez #ateez one shot #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez angst #ateez smut #thekpopnetwork #kpop #kpop reactions #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #8 ways of love

[ccohanlon]

on (my) madness

I never told anyone what I knew. Which was that it wasn’t for anyone else what it was for me.       Ted Berrigan, from Cranston Near The City Line

“What the hell are you looking at?“ “Does it bother you?” “Yeah, it does.” “I’m sorry.” “You think you’re going to get to know me, but you won’t.” “I’m willing to try.” “I’m not anything like you think.” “I don’t think anything. Why don’t you tell me what you’re like?“ “Tell you what? I don’t know. Why are we even talking?” “I want to see how I can help.” “I don’t need help. I’m just tired. I don’t want to think.“

Listening to a recording of my first encounter with the psychiatrist who would finally help me to gain control of my mental illness, it is hard to recognize the low, robotic snarl that is my own voice. Every word abrades with a drug-compressed anger, and there is an agitated physicality about them that even now is frightening. I am, quite literally, bouncing off the wall.

It was April, 2000. I had just resigned as a director of the publicly listed internet company I had co-founded and its board, caught wrong-footed by my sudden departure — they had hoped to engineer it on their own terms — was busy concocting responses to enquiries from a local press that sniffed a scandal. And there was plenty of lurid fodder for it. I was threatened with a suit for sexual harassment, and several employees, at least one director, a co-founder, a former mistress, and a relative would speak on and off the record (mostly off) to newspaper reporters about my personal and professional excesses, from violent mood swings, fearsome bouts of abuse directed at staff, and periods of dark, incommunicative withdrawal, to my abandonment of a wife of 10 years for a tumultuous relationship with a married woman half my age and a financial recklessness that had me tap-dancing on the edge of bankruptcy despite a generous salary package  and tens of millions of shares.

The worst stories were true. I didn’t bother to defend myself, even when the chairman of the board tried to disavow any knowledge of my having a history of mental illness, despite the fact it was noted in clippings contained in the company’s own press kits. Instead, I was reclaimed, if not forgiven, by the family  that I had left a year before, and together we fled to a large house outside Tulsa, Oklahoma, my wife’s birthplace, which was as far away as we could get from a life that had almost devoured us all.

At first glance, Tulsa was an unlikely refuge. Once the capital of America’s oil business, when the Oklahoman wells dried up in the early ’70s, the city had shifted its entrepreneurial focus from natural resources to health care and religion — the city is referred to as ‘the buckle’ of the Bible belt that threads through most of the country’s fundamentalist Christian states, south of the old Mason-Dixon line. Today there are as many medical practices and hospitals as there are churches and perhaps not surprisingly, given Tulsa’s growing population of charismatics and their born-again disciples, it has attracted scores of talented young psychiatrists and psychologists, several to Oklahoma University’s Department of Psychiatry. But I was not aware of any of this when I first found myself sitting in the waiting room of the Department’s outpatients unit. I was aware of very little. I was deep within the throes of rapidly cycling episodes of mania and depression that had already been diagnosed with deceptive precision as Bi-Polar I Affective Disorder (Mixed). I was unmedicated and unarguably mad.

The term ‘manic depression’ – like the word ‘mad’ – is anachronistic. It has the whiff of 19th century bedlams and over-romanticised Byronesque excesses. Besides, it is too often confused with uni-polar depression with which it shares — during its ‘down’ cycles — the same symptoms of persistent melancholia, disinterest in oneself and one’s surroundings, significant changes in appetite or body weight, difficulty sleeping or oversleeping, loss of energy, feelings of worthlessness or inappropriate guilt, difficulty thinking or concentrating, and recurrent thoughts of death or suicide. As its names implies, manic depression or bi-polar affective disorder, has an opposite and seductively corrosive upside which includes, among other things, persistent, abnormal exhilaration — or, paradoxically, irritability and violence — reinforced by over-inflated, occasionally messianic self-esteem, decreased need for sleep, increased talkativeness (often as a release for racing thoughts), distractibility, physical agitation or an inability to settle even for short periods, and excessive immersion in risky behaviour ranging from sexual promiscuity and self-endangering stunts to gambling and spendthrift shopping sprees.

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual IV, the US psychiatric ‘bible’, describes the three main sub-sets of the disorder as follows: Bi-Polar I, in which one has experienced at least one manic episode and depression, as well as, possibly, psychotic symptoms; Bi-Polar II, in which one has experienced moderate mania, or hypomania, but has not experienced psychotic symptoms; and Cyclothymia, a milder form of bipolar disorder, in which the cycles of depression and hypomania are shorter, irregular, and less intense, with episodes lasting for days rather than weeks.

The alternation of depression and mania usually occurs over several months, but it can also be rapid cycling, which is specified by the American National Institute of Mental Health as four or more incidents of illness within a year. Worse, there can be mixed symptoms in which mania and depression are simultaneous: for example, a depressed, suicidal mood exacerbated by sleeplessness, agitation, and racing thoughts.

In the most severe cases of Bi-Polar I, the periods of psychosis are marked by hallucinations (seeing, hearing or sensing things that are not present) or delusions (false, fixed beliefs that fly in the face of reason or contradictory evidence and are not explained by a person’s usual cultural concepts).

A diagnosis of bi-polar affective disorder can be hard to pin down, not because the mania is latent or unrecognizable, quite the opposite, but because a patient will most often seek help during the debilitating, depressive phase of the illness, when it is indistinguishable from uni-polar depression, rather than during the elated, edgy manic phase. Psychiatric diagnoses are always reliant, in part, on the openness of the patient, and while some patients find it relatively easy to talk about the general symptoms — if not the causes — of depression, it is not the same with mania. Patients can fool themselves into thinking there is nothing to talk about: the highs of mania often feel so good, whereas the lows of depression never do. They can also be unwilling to expose their more ruinous manic symptoms —violence, sexual addiction, infidelity, gambling, or profligate spending — because they are ashamed or they fear their doctor’s reprobation or they derive a perverse sense of fun from keeping their unruly dramas secret.

In many cases, doctors just don’t see it.

Two per cent of Australians suffer a bi-polar affective disorder. Around 20 per cent of those with Bi-Polar I will die by suicide. Despite its current, transient allure as the illness of the moment, the result, perhaps, of its tantalizing glimmer of careless self-negation, there is nothing glamorous about the disorder. More than any other mental illness, it is a black hole of neurobiological, chemical and emotional disarray with a capacity to destroy everyone and everything that stray into its swirling maw. And unlike an addiction, there is no choice about whether you have it or not. It’s genetic, not neurotic, the bad luck of some natural draw.

I was eight years old when I experienced my first manic episode, a fit of inexplicable rage at the end of a normal day at school that could only be subdued by the attendance of the family doctor and an injection of a sedative. For several weeks afterwards, I was nervous, unfocused, and I kept complaining of “these things in my head that won’t stop”. I had always been sensitive to loud noises, but now I heard otherworldly sounds and voices within those noises. I didn’t tell anyone about them. I also didn’t tell anyone that I felt like something was different inside me, as if my body had been possessed by an unfamiliar anima.

Over the next few years, a new me did emerge. The young boy who did well in class, who had an IQ of 141, who captained the winning house in sports during his final year at primary school, became a disruptive, failing high school student. I passed through half a dozen schools, attending fewer and fewer classes as teachers threw up their hands at my lack of interest in learning and my increasing delinquency. I grew more solitary, introspective, and angry in each.

At home, I was worse. Conflicts with my parents were fraught by an ever-present threat of violence that by the time I had reached my early teens, had become intolerable for all the members of the family. I refused to cooperate with their attempts to get me help. Unusually for a young adult with the disorder, I didn’t try to self-medicate with alcohol or drugs — for forty years an unlikely instinct for survival has steered me away from all substances that can topple me into psychosis — but I thought nothing of stealing money or running away to spend the night with a girlfriend and if obstructed, usually by my father, pulling a knife to intimidate.

I left home when I was still a teenager, abandoning the prospect of a tertiary education. For a decade, as relentless and often simultaneous cycles of extreme highs and incapacitating lows laid waste to my attempts to start, let alone sustain, something approximating a normal life, my parents would allow me to return to recover, albeit with a mixture of caution and dread, then lend me their support to start again. But this was just the beginning of a long and devastating siege, not just for me but also for my family and (by now) my few friends.

At 25, I assaulted a person with whom I was sharing an apartment in London during yet another manic rage and I was forced to surrender myself to a psychiatrist. In his reference to the clinic to which he recommended I be committed, he wrote:

“My impression is that he is a very depressed individual who has a great deal of difficulty dealing with negative emotions, specifically rage. He is an action person who ‘acts out’ and therefore avoids feeling.

“His development seems to have been marred by a lack of structure so that at times he is unable to be self-disciplined. There also seems to be an intense need to flirt with death.”

That opinion, formed during a single, prolonged session during which I said nothing at all, was the basis of my treatment as a sufferer of uni-polar depression (and my temporary commitment), despite inferences in the two short paragraphs that there might be much more to my illness than that. For another seventeen years, through two stays in mental health facilities in the UK and Australia that were more protective than curative, the treatment persisted. Nobody noticed that the variety of medications prescribed to alleviate my depression actually elevated my mood way above any median line of ‘normal’. Borne aloft by mania, I would stop taking the drugs (which were, as it turned out, hopelessly inappropriate and even dangerous for my real condition) and cancel my regular appointment with whichever psychiatrist was caring for me at the time.

I am happy, I thought, so I must be well.

It was a physician in Los Angeles, an experienced general practitioner rather than a psychiatrist, who recognized that the diagnosis of uni-polar depression was wrong. Treating me for sciatica over a few weeks, he observed the acute mood swings, the jittery inability to settle and the extended, rambling monologues of elevated mania, as well as an episode of almost fugue-like listlessness. He asked me to discuss my previous mental health and its treatment with him, and to describe my behaviour when I was ‘off meds’ and not seeing a psychiatrist. Two hours later, I was sitting with a psychiatrist at University of Califomia Los Angeles who, after two or three more sessions with me, agreed with my physician that I was bi-polar. He prescribed 500mgs a day of a drug called Depakote, a proprietary form of sodium valproate, an anti-convulsant which has proved more successful than lithium in controlling mania among many patients with Bi-Polar I, and insisted that I discontinue the antidepressant Zoloft, prescribed by a previous psychiatrist. We agreed to schedule regular bi-weekly sessions for him to monitor the effect of the new drug and possibly, to introduce some others, like Lamictil or Lexapro, to control my depression and to modify an increasing obsessive-compulsiveness and some unusual, phobic affects (among them, a 20-year refusal to dine at other people’s homes).

I never filled the prescription, and I never saw that psychiatrist again. A couple of years ago, in a Nike store in Tokyo, I came across a pair of the most comfortable shoes I have ever worn. Somewhere between a rubber-soled slipper and water-sock, the porous nylon slip-ons were so snug and light that walking in them felt like skipping barefoot on air. I had to buy them.

On my way to the counter, I was gripped by a mild panic. What if the shoes wore out and I couldn’t replace them? What if the shoes were only distributed in Japan and I wasn’t able to find them elsewhere? I asked the shop assistant in halting Japanese if there was another pair in my size in stock. There was. I said I would buy them too.

But the panic wouldn’t subside. I asked the shop assistant how many other pairs in my size were in stock. He checked the storeroom: three in black, three in red, one in orange. I told him I would take them all. By the time he had returned with the boxes, I had decided that I should make sure I had enough to last for a couple of years. I asked the shop assistant to check the stock in other Nike stores in the city, as well as the main warehouse. For good measure, I asked him for a few pairs in my wife’s and my mother’s sizes.

Within an hour I had bought 87 pairs, in three different colours, at around $35 each, for a total of just over $3,000. I arranged for them to be couriered to my home in Tulsa (for an additional cost of a couple of hundred dollars), where they still gather dust in three large wicker baskets.

It is hard to describe the curious conflict of uncertainty and excitement, which mark these impulses, but  it is typical of manic behaviour. When I was being deposed by my first wife’s lawyer’s in the course of a suit for divorce, her counsel focused on my high expenditure on gifts, which, she argued, were most likely for young women. But it was not that simple: my own counsel demonstrated that I spent money on everyone, even people I didn’t know, for reasons I couldn’t really justify other than it satisfied a momentary need which, had I ignored  it, would have driven me to maddening distraction.

Ah, madness. At times, it is almost as if, consciously or not, you are driven to unleash it and give it free rein. Little wonder then that its sufferers are drawn to the arts or entertainment, from Dante, Michelangelo, Caravaggio, Lord Byron, Vincent Van Gogh, Dylan Thomas, F. Scott Fitzgerald, James Dean and Jackson Pollock to Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys, Spike Milligan, Robin Williams, Robert Downey Jnr., Carrie Fisher, the directors Francis Ford Coppola and Tim Burton, and media magnate Ted Turner.

There are three dirty little secrets that, I suspect, sufferers of a serious bi-polar affective disorder share. The first is that we have a strange, self-destructive love of our madness that makes us unwilling to surrender it to treatment; instead, we find every excuse not to take the medications that if they cannot eradicate, can at least relieve its worst effects. The second is that we love the rush of mania – love the sudden pituitary flood, the caustic buzz of chemical imbalance – that is as addictive as a first hit of high quality crack (and unlike crack, future rushes are always just as good). The third is that whenever we are dragged down by the cold, grim undertow of depression, there is rarely a moment in which we are not contemplating death.

Even an accurate diagnosis and the best medical care cannot guarantee the stability of the disorder. A year after I had begun treatment at Oklahoma University, where I had been undergoing twice-weekly therapy sessions and weekly reviews by both a resident psychiatrist and the head of the department, the latter to  refine the medications and to monitor their effect, I was out of control again. I had accepted a job in Japan, and untethered either to my family or to the group of doctors who were treating me, and commuting more than 20,000 miles a month. I became tired, less mindful of my treatment and prone to escape into the behavioural patterns that had torn my life apart a few years before.

This time, threatened with the irretrievable loss of my family, I drew back from the edge. I resumed my medication – now 2,500mgs of slow release Depakote a day – to control my mania, 20mgs of the anti-depressant Lexapro, and up to a milligram of Clonazepam a day to control my sporadic anxieties. The doses are now  the daily sacraments that affirm my commitment to sanity.

My battle with the disorder continues to be part of the everyday life of my family. There are still confounding moments when it subverts the medication or over-runs its modest defenses to assail me with despair or jittery manic impulses. The disorder gets worse as I get older: sadly, I am becoming more and more intolerant of its endless, wearisome cycle: when I am low, the longing to end it is always close by, like some dark angel offering to enfold me within its wings.

It doesn’t help that recent, prolonged periods of wellness have brought disconcerting revelations. A year and a half ago, I began to experience what I described later to my psychiatrist as momentary flashes of an alternative reality, as if layers of memory had been peeled back by the reconfigured chemistry in my system to allow me clearer glimpses of my past. Except that it was not a past that was familiar. There was something so hallucinatory about it that for a while, I was scared to acknowledge it, let alone investigate the discrepancies. When I finally did, it became apparent that my psyche was littered with delusions and inventions. Some were being dissolved by the medication, but not enough of them, and I was faced with a disturbing, disjointed mystery of who I really was, when, where, and with whom.

Right now, there are memories I have that I know are real, and there are those I suspect or know (now) are not.  Then there are the nulls, the unrecoverable blank spots, as dark and impenetrable as the dead screen of a television. I hear from others about something I said or did in the past and I have no recollection of it at all: it’s as if they are talking about a stranger. I am gripped by a need to reach back into my past and salvage whatever fragments of my memories I can find. But it’s a flawed ambition: so much wreckage, physical and emotional, is strewn across nearly half a century that, like a crashed airplane re-assembled by forensic investigators in the hopes of figuring out what happened to it, whatever I come up with can only be a skeletal approximation of the real thing.

And yet the process of recovering as much as I can from my disordered psyche, of bringing some coherence to the details, of being convinced that what I remember is real rather than imagined or invented, still feels urgent. Perhaps it is because, without memories I can rely on, I am disenfranchised from my true self, and the experiences and perceptions that have shaped my connection to the present feel meaningless. All I am is my disorder.

That thought alone is enough to drive anyone mad.

First published in The Bulletin, Australia, 2004.

#mentalillness #bipolar #madness #depression #selfmedication #psychiatry

[ankhashiva]

Heyaaa~ it's me again •~• Can you do angsty!kid! Julius (after the Midnight Sun Arc) x fem s/o ? But s/o loves him nonetheless. The world just need some more Julius stuff. There are so little ff of that hot guy. *-* Love ya! ♡♧

Hey ! :D I agree, the world needs more Julius stuff soooo I’m glad you requested again O/ Sooooo, I kept the same S/O from your first request, I enjoyed the idea of continuing somehow their romance. I also added one of my theories about Julius in this little scenario, I hope you will enjoy it! What I listened while writing your request: Undisclosed Desires  - Muse

_______________________________________________________________Heart and Soul

Clover Castle, 3 days after the siege of the capital.

The city resumed its life as well as possible, the Magic Knights clearing the debris thanks to their magic. But the city was like the victims of that terrible night: broken. A good number of Magic Knights of each company found themselves possessed by the Elves, the return to reality was terrible. Guilt, doubt, broken pride, anxiety. These feelings haunted these defenders of the Kingdom. And S/O quickly understood that they were also gnawing at the nation’s pillar, Julius Novachrono. 

Since his resurrection thanks to the Swallowtail, the artifact created by Secré, Julius was 13 years old again. S/O had passed from tears of sorrow to tears of joy in a fraction of a second, realizing that the man of her life was alive, in front of her, but by holding him against her, S/O felt like a void. It had disturbed her at the time but her doubt had been dispelled by Julius’s usual joviality. Three more days passed, in a new routine. S/O, herself Magic Knight at the Silver Eagle, helped to rebuild the city. The amount of astronomical work made her return to the palace late at night and completely exhausted. She had little time to give to Julius. But today, she was able to return earlier to see her lover.

S/O wanted to knock on the door when she heard Julius’s voice rise in power. She risked to enter discreetly and her heart tore apart. Julius was out of his mind, swinging the papers on his desk with a loose, fulminant gesture. S/O rushed to him and held him in his arms, to calm him down. He did not push her away. He accepted the embrace without flinching, and embraced her in return with extreme shyness. They stayed like this for a few minutes, S/O slipping his fingers into Julius’s hair to soothe him. When they broke the embrace, S/O picked up the papers, organized them before putting them on the desk. Julius observed it without really observing it, as if it were elsewhere. 

« Why don’t we take a break? Just you and me. » proposed kindly S/O. Julius nodded his head mechanically and both went to their common room. He sat on the couch, in front of the fireplace, and stared at him with his beautiful amethyst eyes. S/Oalso sat near his lover. She knew that Julius could be dispelled (especially if it was about magic) but this case was special. S/O broke the silence. « Julius… Do you know that you can tell me everything? That I am here for you? » Her tone was so sweet that Julius turned to his beloved, his eyes bright. 

« I dedicated my life to making the Clover Kingdom a kingdom where inequality would be one day in ancient story. I had sacrificed my personal life without regret, climbed the ladder to become Magic King. I worked tirelessly but I was careless. And it drove the Kingdom right into the brick wall. I cheated myself, many people died because of it, others are traumatized by the elven possession they suffered. I wasn’t able to protect the Kingdom, and now I’m stuck in my 13-year-old body.” S/O delicately took Julius’s hand, as if to encourage him to continue spilling his guts. He took a deep breath, then continued. 

“I have lost almost all my martial influence to the nobles who possess power and wealth, convincing them will not be easy.” The weight of the role of Wizard King suddenly seemed to become unbearable. Julius put his hand on his neck, feeling uncomfortable. “Worse, all this is not what worries me the most,” he replied, his piercing gaze on his S/O. Before the astonished expression of his beloved, he took gently her hands and confessed. « Ever since I resurrected with this body, I keep thinking you don’t deserve this. That you will be better off with a man who is physically adult. That I make you suffer. And by thinking that, I make myself suffer. Why would you stay with a teenager when you could live a happy life with someone who could back you up, not slow you down? These thoughts loop around in my head like a broken record and I can’t sleep anymore.” Julius’ hands trembled imperceptibly, but not enough to be unnoticed by S/O. She delicately took Julius’ face in her hands, with her eyebrows wrinkled, and looked deadly serious. Julius had never seen this expression on her face before and his heart skipped a beat. After what seemed to be an eternity, S/O broke the silence.« I fell in love with Julius Novachrono. With his personality. With his heart and, above all, with his soul. I won’t deny that your adult appearance also had a pleasant effect on me, but it was you and you alone that I fell in love with.  So now you’re going to listen to me. When I saw your corpse in the city, my world collapsed. I didn’t know anything about the Swallowtail, I really thought you were dead. A part of me died at that time. I never thought I’d see you again. And to have seen you the next day, physically adolescent and mentally the same, I didn’t believe it at the time. It was a miracle. I don’t care if you’re a teenager, because I’m in love with your soul. » Julius spread his eyes and then a shy smile appeared on his face. “Then, if it bothers you so much…” S/O went on, plunged into deep reflexion. Your resurrection spell remains a spell used thanks to an ancient artifact. I am confident that we can find information, people who can help get your body back and your powers.” Said S/O innocently. «Vanessa Enoteca of the Black Bulls is a witch, who knows what knowledge they possess at the Witches Forest» Julius had his magic-mania eyes back in just a few seconds, realizing what his beautiful and clever lover had just said. He was twitching on the couch, as if his fears had been dismissed. “Do you know how much I love you?” He said to S/O, his eyes bright with emotions. The young woman chuckled and he replied « I have my little idea… But do you know how much I love you?» And to turn the words into deeds, S/O slipped a light kiss on the lips of the man of his life. Julius blushed slightly, offering him a gentle smile. Nevertheless, he was lucky. As long as his soul mate was at his side, everything would be fine. “We’ll get through this together”

#black clover #julius novachrono #scenario #x s/o #x fem s/o #sfw

[m-taylor-ky]

Trump’s madness is sickening

I am sick and tired of writing about all the stupid shit Donald Trump says and does every day, every week, every month and every year he is president.

I am sick of trying to point out all the ways he is destroying norms, breaking laws, ignoring ethics and failing at his job in spectacular ways.

I am sick of trying to be a relatively fair observer of what he does and says when everything he does and says is the opposite of fair or decent or responsible or presidential or even human.

I am sick of trying to be a grown up and not curse, not call names, not stoop to his level when he has no level. There is only lower, only more immature, only more rude, only more childish and only more psychotic.

I am sick of trying not to scream on the page by writing in all capital letters and cursing him, cursing the absurdity, cursing all the people who continue to defend him, explain him and promote him.

I am sick of trying to rationalize why it is important to continue to keep a record of this presidency so that history understands how abnormal all of this is. How not everyone fell victim to the lunacy. The reality must be documented. His reality cannot become the official version of history.

I am sick of seeing every important story that demands attention and demands debate get swallowed up by his circus, his lies, his alternate reality and his toxic presence.

I am sick about how every major institution in our country has been made weaker because of him. Our trust and belief in political parties, government, the military, business, law, the media and everything else is weaker because he has never suffered a single consequence of his madness.

I am sick that his madness, his mania, his idiocy has seeped into a portion of America, which has become more emboldened because of him. People once on the fringe of society now think they are dominant and entitled and that their opinion is worthy of being considered.

I am sick of thinking about how much longer I have to suffer through this reality. I am sick thinking about what will happen after the 2020 election – win or lose. It will not be pretty or nice either way. It makes me sick to even consider.

#Democrat #Democrats #liberal #politics #Trump

[avengers-dark-messenger]

                                                  Chapter 1.2                                                “First Contact”

“My name is Tony Stark and I am Iron Man.” I'm almost tired of saying it. I almost wish – almost, for a second – I was capable of keeping a thought in my slightly undersized head. That I could keep a single secret or pithy remark to myself. If I could just keep to myself, I could be the world's shiniest street vigilante.

Well, second shiniest, behind a fully worked-up and sweaty Luke Cage. I've asked him on more than one occasion to try experimenting with using his head as a retroreflector for in-battle telemetry, but he thinks I'm just making bald jokes. I would never, for the record, make fun of Q-Ball's hairless melon and frankly only a baldy like him would even think that way.

I mean the marketing opportunities alone! (We're back on the burden of being billionaire and known superhero Tony Stark, here.) I should hyperlink everyday conversations... Note to self: make a note to Friday to make a note to me to invent something like that.

If I were a secret vigilante, I could invent a terrible, tragic backstory for the media -- something campy and dramatic, like my parents dying before my young, innocent eyes. Or just let the world speculate: Is He Man or Machine? They could make me a licensed Transformer.

There would be extraordinary savings, too. Significant. The money I spend defending my home is outrageous. Botswana spends less on defense. That's not a joke – I have it on great authority from Miss Potts that the numbers are, if anything, conservative.

And then there's the benefit to my free time. Now, far be it for me to bemoan the lifestyle of a decorated world-renowned certifiable extra-super-hero, but sometimes I do miss the humdrum old-fashioned days of living as a billionaire drug-addict playboy. I could be, right now, with a beautiful nude woman, hovering above Central Park in a levitating nuclear-heated jacuzzi of my own design and manufacture, and instead I'm on a nondescript soundstage in the NBC building recording local PSA's.

“Alright Mr. Stark, resetting. Next up: Tallahassee,” shouts some pretentious director in a frankly ludicrously tall chair.

“Happy, I think we should seriously consider initiating Operation Red Diamond.” To the world it may look like I'm muttering to myself like an insane madman, but in reality I'm communicating with my best-friend-bodyguard using a bone conduction earpiece I designed myself in a fit of depressed mania. Like a completely sane madman.

“Tony Stark has never met a problem he couldn't solve with an ICBM,” comes Happy’s inevitable rejoinder. He thinks he's clever with his snark, but I hear the faint sounds of an artist named Jewel in the background. The clarion tones are so crisp, so clear, with so little loss in the mids and lows, it could only mean one thing.

“Happy, do you remember me? Because I remember you. And since you're hanging out back at the jet instead of enduring this publicity dog-and-pony show, I'd sugg–”

“Uh, hey, Tony–”

“Happy I've told you never to interrupt me while I'm cranky.” But then I notice it. No one is staring at the amazing, shining Man of Iron beneath the dazzling studio lights. They've all turned away, staring at flat-screens on the wall, all of them showing the same thing. I hear Happy say something about “a situation” but I've already ignited my thrusters and noted the donation I'm going to have to make to NBC for repairing their wall.

I fly to five-thousand feet and see it in the distance, what the camera feed was showing.

“Friday, zoom.”

“Yes boss.”

Even with a better look, there's just nothing remarkable about this thing. It looks to be perfectly spherical, no obvious means of propulsion, the deepest, purest black I've ever seen, and it’s just hanging in the sky. I speed toward it, and it doesn't move at all. No shifting in the wind, no wobble from oscillations in thruster output. It must be the size of a city block and it's as still as my soldering hand.

When I get within a mile I start scanning all known hailing frequencies. This thing doesn't want to talk and doesn't want to listen. Or it communicates in a way I’ve never even heard of. So to speak. There doesn't seem to be anything to latch onto to try to hack, either. It's just a giant, floating black ball. So, okay, screw it, Plan F. Let's go old fashioned.

“Friday, voice mode: crowd control.”

“Volume at maximum, sir.”

“Hey, terrifying ominous sphere? Here on Earth we introduce ourselves when we come to a new area – I'll start. My name is Tony Stark, and I am Iron Man. Ask anybody. Now, you are...?”

Silence. Complete silence. My sensors are picking up birds a thousand feet away but this thing is as cold and quiet as death itself.

“Friday, hail Nick Fury.”

“Calling. First attempt.”

It doesn't finish ringing once.

“I don't know what the hell that thing is, either, Stark, and why, exactly, are you out there alone?” You know, behind that tough exterior of his, believe it or not, is an even tougher exterior that has been painstakingly hidden away through years of practice and speeches from HR reps.

“I'm doing well, thanks, and yourself?”

“Best we can tell this thing entered the atmosphere with hardly a whisper. Either no one noticed, or it appeared out of nowhere. No energy spikes, nothing. The Russians are saying it's the Chinese, the Chinese aren't saying anything, and the goddamned Canadians are – “

“Well, I can tell you it's not Chinese, that's for sure. God knows what the canucks are up to though.”  Might as well fly around and see if I can find an entrance of some kind. Or any kind of crease or line at all that might indicate this isn't just a single cast piece of whatever the hell this is. I'm running the tips of my metal fingers along the outside, puttering along below Mach 1, looking for anything -- anything -- and not even getting a spark. 

If I were to engineer a giant spherical monolith, where would I put the door handle?

“This looks to be maybe a metallic alloy, or... almost like a polished obsidian... But, Fury, this thing's impenetrable. I can't find anything to grab onto, physical or digital, to even start piecing together what it—”

“Which is why I'm telling you to stand down and wait for backup.”

“Aw, just one more minute, Ma! If I can maybe – oh, wait, action.”

A blade of light had opened, bright and golden, like an eye might, a straight line growing and becoming round as it did. When my displays adjusted to the brightness, I cold see a long cylindrical tunnel, lighter in color than the exterior, leading deep inside.

“Fury, I think I found an entrance. Or at least something that might do in a pinch.”

“We have specialists on the way to assist, Tony, just man the perimeter until our team arrives.”

“Specialists? More special than me?”

Then everything went brilliant white. And the heat, how instant it was, how it pierced through my armor like it wasn't there at all; I never saw it coming.

#iron man #ironman #tony stark #the avengers #avengers #marvel #marvel content #marvel comics #marvel community #marvel fanfiction #marvelfanfic #marvel fandom #marvel fiction #ADMChapter1 #Avengers: Dark Messenger #writers on tumblr

[captain-ed-tucker]

The True Maniac

You are the chosen one, they say. You are meant to be the savior of the world, they say. All those words, they are my company every day, day after day, they follow me, stalk me, haunt me everyday of my life, it's almost insane. Wait...it IS  insane. Funny you should say that really cause ya know, I knew this gal the other day who had a hot ass and gosh she was cute and I could go on and on...oh...oops...I went on one of my rants again. I'm sorry. I'm rude. I should start again. My name is Johnny Lawrence and you are probably one of the voices and people that come through my head each and every day, you all keep me company, it's kinda sweet, but in a creepy way. But I'm the step son of Sid Weinburg, he's the CEO of Texaco and Time Warner, yes, that guy on TV that asks you for more subscriptions, that creepy greasy guy is my step dad, funny you should ask why the bloody hell am I related to that guy in the first place. Ah, it's a long story really, I hope you have patience cause I'm probably gonna ramble and ramble and go off on maniac induced episodes where my thoughts might not connect with my words and my stories may seem more fantastical than usual, it's all up to you to whether to believe me or not, I don't care if you don't, nobody has believed me in a long while.

You still here? Wow. I'm suprised, most voices and people tend to go away after awhile, you are creepy as hell, after my imaginary dead brother York, who by the way never existed, nor was ever born. I hope for the sake of my story, no York was ever born in San Francisco, it's highly unlikely, but hey, you never know.

Oh and by the way, I lost my girlfriend becuase of a BLIP, lost my title for the All Valley Championship cause I was concussed and dizzy and hallucinating, only to be fucking crane kicked in the face. But hey, at least I have a job as a Rad Tech and am living on my own, so ha! You can't call me a basement dweller since I live in a apartment all by myself overlooking the ocean and ninety percent of the time, I see tourists hanging out there taking selfies and making out like it is some sort of lover's nest. Ugh, I guess I get what I pay for...literally...I got this place on the cheap side with the help of AdBuddy since I could barely afford it on my own and rent is fucking up my savings, like C'mon, stop fucking me up here damn it! And not to mention the fact that my REAL step brother's trial Ryan Weinberg, who has been accused of sexual harassment at the workplace and I was named as a witness, my step dad wants me to lie on the stand...can I do that? I mean... that just feels so wrong, very wrong. Tell me I'm not the only one that I'm feeling this way, cause I have no idea what to do next.

Oh...great Jed is here, wait just a minute while I talk to him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh Johnny, just here to deliver your latest mission, the details will be soon revealed as you go."

"Don't you think this is not the right time?"

"Oh but it is."

"Oh and by the way, you will have a handler, she has a certain Jai sais ne qoui about her. You will know her when you see her...DON'T FUCK THIS UP!"

Okay...now Jed has left and I'm still stuck with you. You have this intense, scruffy look about you...I can tell you really are a curious person, you aren't like the others before...that's interesting. Most have tried to change me, give me orders or tell me that I'm chosen or some bullshit...some of those days I'm convinced of that bullshit and actually believing it, the scariest part is not hearing a lie, it's believing the lie and perpetuating the lie. I get up and head to my apartment and flick all my pills that are there to "fix" me...you can't fix what is broken and I am broken.

I also find the package for Neberdine Pharmaceuticals and Biotechnology. Odd...they never send me anything, I haven't even heard of them at all. It is scary and creepy though, I wonder if the FBI is watching me, I might close the curtains and I should...you think I could be watched...right? I...I feel like everything has eyes and cameras and ears and mics and all the tech in the world to enhance interrogate me before I have a chance to defend myself...wait...the phone is ringing...I have to pick it up, just wait here ok?

"He...hello? Who is this?"

"This is Neberdine Pharmaceuticals and Biotechnology research institute inc. Speaking, we are here to speak to you becuase you have been chosen as a "Hero" Candidate"

"Well...what DOES a hero candidate do?"

"Well we have them do experiments that others normally do not do and we treat all sorts of problems, including prostate problems"

"Popcorn problems?"

"Yes popcorn problems."

"Thank you...I'll consider it."

I hang up the phone in utter confusion and now you are looking at me like I'm an idiot! STOP STARING AT ME JOHN KREESE! STOP!

END OF PART ONE

I get up and, oh...fuck, you are there again, well done you asshole, you are still with me. Oh well, I don't have time to yell and holler at you, I have to get ready and go to work and then head over to my parents house, my brother is celebrating his engagement to Adelade and they are going to announce a wedding date and it all is amongst this scandal of his sexual harassment of a clerk. I have no ideas what I feel or where I stand anymore.

Work is a boring affair as you can tell, you're already doing your kiyakis and forward thrust punches and I'm busy as hell scanning patients and I have lots of paperwork, not to mention the decontamination process I have to go through every day just for health purposes so I'm not literally emitting X Rays by the time I leave the hospital.

Getting rides on the tube to my parent's mansion is very expensive for now since my budget has been tightened becuase I went on a mania induced spending spree and I racked up so many charges and fees from gambling with the furries and casinos are never happy to see me, I never understood why that was the case.

Regardless, I have to call on an AdBuddy and he soon comes over and inserts funds into my account, but in exchange, I have to view a bunch of ads that are read aloud by the AdBuddy and one of them is about Neberdine Pharmaceuticals and Biotechnology. Neberdine is everywhere...the pattern is the pattern, there is a larger force at work here and I'm sure of it. I know it, I can feel it at work, it's a bit mysterious to others, but not me, I'm the only one who understands how this works at all.

I can see you have cleaned up real nicely for the occasion and I thank you for that, I have to admit Sensei, you really look handsome in a suit, it really suits you...get it? Hahaha! Oh...I see you don't get the joke? Oh...ok, oh well then. I then go in and hand my coat to the butler and head up the stairs through the foyer and then meet my parents, my step mom and my step dad, both are looking regal tonight since their oldest firstborn is celebrating his engagement again since my "Incident". I hate to admit it but the nieces and nephews are the only reason I even bother show up to family functions at all, I hate this fake, plastic family filled with Barbies and Ken's, I want something more than this Kreese...but what is it I want?

Soon my brother Ryan is busy singing and wooing Adelade and she's smiling and tearing up and all that sappy shit, I wonder if she's marrying him for the money, I would hate for that to happen to Ryan, I had my own experience with Ali Mills and it didn't end well at all.

Soon the adults want to play balderdash but honestly, I feel suffocated and I wanted out of here as soon as possible, the fakeness was getting to me and I can hear them begging me

"Aw cmon! You used to love balderdash"

"Balderdash is fun!"

"Really? What's wrong, play with us!"

"Please play with us! Just one round! I promise!"

At that, I just can't stand it anymore, there is a roaring fury in me that explodes and I yell at the top of my lungs

"BALDERDASH IS STUPID! IT'S BULLSHIT!"

One of my nieces burst out in tears and I can only look on in guilt as as my other brother Andrew glares at me angrily, great...another brother that hates me...fun. I storm out and I see you following me, why do you follow me? Leave me alone, just let me get a smoke, at that moment I can see one of the dog shit cleaners whirr by, it's a small machine the height of my ankle and it sucks in the shit and sprays the sidewalk clean and I walk past and go home...I have to do this, this is everything I will do, to sign up for the trial and to cast you out for good, you had a great run but you need to fuck off.

I arrive at a grey concrete bulding with narrow Rainbow stripes running up the side and I can see the sign of the bulding is in Japanese and I enter and a Japanese woman coldly greets me and hands me a clipboard filled with paperwork, judging on the amount I have, I'm gonna be here a long time just filling out papers. Fuck my life. Another guy next to me adds "Ooo five bombs eh? See that? That's where the money comes from." Sure enough, there are five bomb logos printed on it and I add

"Is it safe?"

"Hell no! The more dangerous, the more money! That is usually how it goes."

I look down at the form and then sign it and turn it in and the intercom says

"Johnny Lawrence to intake exam room four"

The Asian woman bows before me and I bow back and I sit down in the chair, I'm apparently going to be strapped to a lie detector machine. The blood pressure cuff is slipped on my arm and a pulse ox device is placed on my finger and a galvanic skin response device is placed across my chest, she then asks me to tell her how I feel when I see a series of photos. I can hear the clicking of the machine as the metal needles move up and down the paper, leaving trails of red, recording my reactions and my responses and she starts with the first photo which is a bottle of pills and I reply

"Poisoned"

The next picture is of a family, sitting around a table and enjoying a meal and I reply

"Suffocated"

I then see a ink blot and I reply

"Confused."

The test goes on and soon she says "I want you to turn your attention towards me as I ask you this final question." And I look up into her expressionless eyes and I hear a ding and the green light next to me lights up and she said "Congratulations, you have passed the test, you are now in the ULP Phase III trial." She bowed at me and I bowed one last time and I left the exam room, perplexed at what was the final question. I sit down, holding my badge that is labeled with the number 1 on it and as I look up, I see a man I never thought I would ever see again in the flesh, Daniel LaRusso and he is yelling at a test protocor screaming "This is bullshit and you know it! PATRICIA LUGO!" And he storms off after the woman that handed me the clipboard, I don't know what does he want with her but FUCKK!!! HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE! DAMMIT!

End of part Two

I get up for the day and I stretch the kinks and massage my knee, fuck, that knee has been giving me so much chronic pain for so long, I have resorted to opiates to at least bring the edge down, it doesn't help much with my life, I don't have a job becuase I'm labeled a "Drug addict."

I'm a drug addict for trying to relive chronic, never ending pain from the shattered knee, it's the same knee that suffered a devastating injury at the tournament and yet I managed to defeat Lawrence, Chozen worsened the injury and when I worked in construction, an accident shattered the knee and now I have to put it in a brace so it doesn't cave in on the weight that I put on my knee.

I slip on the brace and grab a stack of magazines and some cash and walk to the nearby store and ask for some cigarettes, the clerk asks me how I am going to pay and I snap

"I'm gonna pay with an AdBuddy."

"No AdBuddy payments accepted here."

I groan and pull out what little change I have and I slam it on the countertop and then he hands me my cigars and I light them, soon I feel a bliss sink over me as I limp back to the shared apartment I have with the others and I run to my room...I NEED THAT PILL! I want to suffer in a way that my knee can never give me suffering, this is the suffering that makes me scream and want to tear out my soul and I have begged for death so many times, but really, I am alone.

San Francisco is a boring as hell city, I moved here when my mom died seven years ago, I gave up hoping for healing, my opioids and my cigarettes were all I ever needed now a days. I swipe the drawer open and open the bottle. The pill is shaped in the letter "A" and I sigh, this is my last pill. I say

"This is it, you are my last pill, then it's fuck you forever."

I then sit on the couch in the cramped and messy living room and I grab the remote control and mash the pill up and snort it all up and gosh...I'm in it.

I wake up hours later, I'm in tears yes, but I am alive, this pain reminds me that I am alive, that I am breathing and that I am fighting, that I'm still awake and that I'm still ok. But I have to pay someone a visit, someone I haven't visited in forever, someone that I haven't spoken to in forever.

I then go to my wallet and yell at my roommate

"Who stole my money?"

"Well you haven't paid your share of the rent in two months!"

"MAYBE IT'S BECUASE I HAVE CHRONIC PAIN AND I CAN'T WORK! I'M ON DISABILITY!"

Oh wow...way to go you son of a bitch, you had to screw that up. Well then, let's try another tactic, the puppy brown eyes and some pleasing.

"Well can I at least have twenty bucks?"

"Well then, fine take some. Calm down junkie!"

Oh Fuck you bitch, like you had your knee kicked in and your knee crushed by some careless truck driver who was high on No-Doze to realize you were nearly under the fucking truck.

I snatch the bill from her hand and I go to my cousin Louie's home, as usual, he is in his A-Void pod, that antisocial idiot hates everybody, well I need his money and I need it now, I'm a man on a mission and nothing is going to stop me. One problem, he changed the combination to the safe and I grunt and I head out to the backyard and i find the pod and press the button and say

"Hey Cousin? How are you?"

A mechanical click and then he replies

"Fine."

I snort

"Your yard looks like a fucking mess."

And it literally is a fucking mess.

"Oh um...what's the combination to the safe."

Another click and a whirr and he replies

"I changed the combination to the safe."

"Thanks for the information Captain Obvious. So what is it?"

"Your birthday."

Really? Fuck you.

"I brought you something to eat."

"Applejacks?"

"Yea."

I slam the cereal on the table top in the dining room which looks like it has seen better days, I step over rubbish and junk from the good old days and I then enter the combination and then I grab the money and then leave, funny how my cousin used to be married until his wife was shot to death while coming back to work, I guess in a way, he can't move on from his loss like I can't move on from mine.

I stand at the bus station, ready to buy the bus ticket to Newark, but as soon as I want to enter the bus station, I want the A pill, I want it so badly, I can't resist the urge and I mutter a "Fuck you" and run off. I'm so ashamed and angry, I am weak and pathetic, that's all I'll ever be.

I approach my friend Kamreon who is playing chess with a foul mouthed furrie and the man is winning and Kameron is my source of these pills, I know that he can get me to them, I know so. I approach him and I ask

"I need more A pills."

"I can't, these pills are really hard to procure! These are from my dad's work!"

"Then how do I get into Neberdine?"

"Sign up for a study, help my dad make millions, for all I know, you could be testing deodorant for a week."

Fuck no, I am NOT going that route, to just end up testing deodorant, no way!

"Gimme a name Kameron! Any name!"

I slide over a one hundred dollar bill and he sighs and gives in before replying

"Patricia Lugo, and can I say something as your friend?"

"Yeah?"

"You sound like a junkie."

I roll my eyes and reply

"I am NOT a junkie!"

And I run off to a store that can dox that woman and give me something to work with.

End of part three

I soon arrive at the doxxing shop and a bored Asian man looks up at me and asks

"What can I do?"

I look to the side before scribbling onto a notepad and hold it up to the Plexar glass barrier and the unamused looking man adds

"Can't read your shit writing."

I roll my eyes before adding

"Lugo. Patricia Lugo of Neberdine Pharmaceuticals and Biotechnology."

A few clicks of the keyboard later and a click of a mouse and he continues

"Patricia Lugo was arrested for disorderly conduct and public intoxication, had her arrest records wiped by ZipDox in order to get the job at Neberdine. But, ZipDox's records can be easily unscrubbed and that's why I call ZipDox, ShitDox. If you want more, you gotta pay us more than she paid ShitDox to get her records scrubbed. I'll say...500 dollars, and you get a free calendar as a frequent customer."

I sigh and slip the Bill's under the glass partition and he hands the calendar over and then adds further

"Patricia Lugo lost custody of her daughter Usnavy after the arrest and her daughter goes to Hunter College. I could have her daughter kidnapped, I know a few guys with a white van."

I shake my head, I don't want anybody hurt, that's the last thing I want, for anybody to get hurt in my search, my quest for the A pill. Nobody should get caught up in my quest for me to drown myself in self-misery and self-pity. He then adds

"It also says she has a FriendProxy appointment at the Bonsai Gardens."

"I'll be there."

"Ooo interception. Sneaky I see."

He smiles snidely and I pay up and leave and then I cancel her FriendProxy appointment and get a lapel pin with a FriendProxy logo on it and then I stride over to the gardens, they remind me again of someone I lost, someone I cared about, someone who meant so much to me in a fatherly way, the bonsai trees remind of him so much, it is really painful, and suddenly, she comes over and embraces me, breaking me from my thoughts and she says without a second thought.

"Remember when we met here? At this same place?"

"Oh yeah...oh yeah, all the beautiful Bonsai trees. They remind me of so much."

"I wonder what are you talking about? I was talking about the moment we met? Remember when we also went to Chinatown and we went over the Golden Gate Bridge?"

"Oh yeah, and I remember when we went to see my uncle Liam."

"Now who the fuck is Uncle Liam?"

That question brings my thoughts to a screeching halt as she continues:

"Honey? Are you ok? What are your ratings? You do not seem compatible at all."

I'm fucking pissed off, I'm not compatible with anyone and to hell with that bullshit talking lady! All she seems to do is yammer off on a tangent that I sure as hell do not talk about. Before I can stop myself, I cut her off and say:

"Listen up, I'm here to fuck your life up, I canceled your FriendProxy appointment and I'm here to ruin you forever."

She is taken aback and shocked, she seemed a bit stunned by what I was saying and I'm not sure how to react to that as she slowly digests the information and she adds

"What are you talking about."

And what am I talking about? I haven't a fucking clue at all. Perhaps it's the drugs or the energy that's fizzling out but I feel so ashamed and embarrassed, I have no idea how the hell am I supposed to get her to funnel me at all, I quickly walk away to a hall overlooking a pond where koi fish swim around and I see her again and she says

"You know, you remind me of my daughter. She's just like you. Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are so you desperate to join Neberdine?"

#billy zabka #dutch karate kid #karatekid #karate #the karate kid #johnny x daniel #daniel larusso

[psychzine]

Symbols, Signs and Saints

David M. Rubin, PhD

01/10/2022 

I believe we reference infinite connections that are part of one story. When time arrives, we leave our cells. 2.014 Objects contain the possibility of all situations.

 … an innocent trifle – a basket with ten different fruit jellies in ten little jars…

 The dark trees mentioned that my elderly parents had pondered the symbols and signs. They whispered to the writer the concepts in their mother tongue -- as best they could puzzle out. Mrs. Sol, the Soloveichiks. Dr. Solov. Sun. Solid. Sole. My mother was a blanched angel and my toothless father just another immigrant, who thought his new world job was to pray for all of God’s children. He imagined buying them perfect gifts. 

Noumena. Terrible undulations – signals – across the water. Phenomena. A tiny unfledged bird twitching in a puddle. Aunt Rosa and all her worries destroyed by the Germans. Pneumonia. The ugly vicious backwards American children. Phenomena. The hardened eccentricities of a prodigiously gifted child. Noumena. A dense tangle of logically interacting illusions. Tenderness transformed into madness. Symbol. Beautiful weeds that cannot hide from the farmer. 

The elaborate article was inanimate and capable of sign-speech. The Principles of Referential Mania. It re-named me and made me purposefully inchoate filled with uncertainty and mystery. It put me beyond irritable reaching after reason. Yet it misunderstood its own references. It purposefully misrepresented the arising of my intentions and grotesquely misunderstood my actions. From the window I saw the old man gently swaying a basket like an old censer. I am poetry like Shelley’s monster or Keats the man. 

Morphy. Capa. Euwe. I watched a game that was never played. The maestro wouldn’t touch the pieces and the magician wouldn’t speak the coordinates so they sat in silence. In our collective dream we experienced the future when he realized the king wasn’t there to be defended, couldn’t be lost. E2. E3. E4. E5. I chase the creator across Arctic ice floes. Powerful freedom like walking across the Sea of Galilee. 

The knave of hearts, the nine of spades, the ace of spades, the maid Elsa and her bestial beau. The phone rang. It was a girl asking for Charlie. A wrong number. Again, and it was Madeline from her dream calling for Porphyro. The letter “o” instead of the zero. 

He re-examined with pleasure the luminous yellow, green, and red little jars. 

Sol rexus. E7. Time arrived. I left my cube. Time, space and cause and effect. E6. E5. I walked into the rain and along the brown path and walked and just kept walking. I wore out the soles of my shoes and layers of sock and skin. The sky watched me. The clouds analyzed my breaths that the glass at the bus stop conveyed to all unfeeling things. They told the trees and they talked among themselves about my 2 Copyright David M. Rubin intentions. 6.4311. Death is not an event in life: we do not live to experience death. The solid mountains recorded my passing. 

… plum, quince. He had got to crab apple... 

Their telephone rang again as I tore a hole in this world. 1.1 The world is the totality of facts, not of things. 

Of candied apple, quince and plum… 

I Porphyro unwound, uncoded, flew as if upside down. Shadowed by phenomenal nature, I traversed dark to light and again, through the file and crossed rows. I ran through the moors, heart on fire, past 100 swordsmen, barbarian hordes, whose very dogs howled against my lineage. I ran past a whole blood-thirsty race.

Numb were the beadsman’s fingers… skeletal, wan. Bare and silent feet on the church’s cold stones. They pay for him to pray for everyone. He prayed for the lords and pitied the amorous pawns and hotblooded knights and knaves, none of whom appeared that night to the sleeping princess. His prayer he saith, this patient holy man. 

I moved from the shadows in that mansion foul and tapped the shoulder of the Beldame Angela, withered of body and soul. The old crone startled but knew my friendly face and grasp’d my fingers in her palsied hand and said follow me. Through this lowly arched way to a moonlit room, pale, lattic’d, chill and silent as a tomb. 

She pleaded in whispers for me to leave as ‘twas St Agnes Eve – where Madeline fair lady was to sleep in enchantments cold, in lap of legends old. How virgins might have visions of delight, and soft adorings from their loves receive upon the honeyed middle of the night. Just look upward with eyes for all that they desire for Agnes’ dream, the sweetest of the year. 

Sudden a thought came, a stratagem I propose that makes the Beldame start: “a cruel man and impious thou art! Let her pray, and sleep, and dream alone with her good angels, far apart from wicked men like thee. Go, go! Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst seem.” 

“I will not harm her, by all saints I swear or look with ruffian passion on her face.”

 “Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul? A poor weak, palsy stricken, churchyard thing, whose passingbell may ere the midnight toll; whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening, were never missed.” 

My gentle speech, so woeful, and of such deep sorrowing turned her mind that Angela gave promise she will do whatever I shall wish, betide her weal or woe -- which was to lead me, in close secrecy to Madeline’s chamber, and hide me in her closet that I might see her beauty unespy’d. Though never on such a night have lovers met since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt. 

I gazed on that bed beneath the triple arches garlanded with carven fruits and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, and shone the wintry moon its fair jewels on Madeline’s fair breast as she said grace, a splendid angel. I grew faint. Her heart was voluble, paining with eloquence her balmy side; as though a tongueless nightingale should swell her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell. She loosened her fragrant boddice, by degrees her rich attire crept rustling to her knees. Half hidden like a mermaid in sea-weed. 

All cates and dainties shall be stored there… 

I heap’d with glowing hand in golden dishes and in baskets bright the jellies soother than the creamy curd, and lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon, manna, and dates. I slid the distance to the bed as if on an iced stream, unsure the boundaries or whose dream this was. I played an ancient song – “La belle dame sans mercy” -- to wake Madeline from sweet sleep where she dreamed of my perfection. She woke to a painful reality and upon seeing me softly moaned “how chang’d thou art! How pallid, chill and drear!” 

бледный, холодный, и унылый! 

And I was belched back through time and shadow across the moors and granite mountains. With unimaginable distance the torrents of my wild scandal increase in volume and volubility. I am magnified a million times and the ultimate truth of my being summed. 7 Whereof one cannot speak thereof one must be silent. I awoke with bandaged feet in the sanitarium in a room with a northern wall longer than the southern.

Republished with permission. Original source.

[nitrateglow]

A few hours ago, my browser recommended me the article “There is No Case for the Humanities” by Justin Stover. At first I thought it would be a call to reform of the humanities departments in academia, which I could totally get behind. It was not. If anything, it was painfully regressive in its views on the place of humanistic subjects in everyday life. Apparently, only scholars should bother with literature, history, art, and language. Apparently, this matters to no one outside of a lecture hall.

Such thinking appalls me to my very core.

If you were to buy into Stover’s ideas, then the humanities are only of interest to the scholastic elite. He actually compares humanities professors to members of a golf course, imparting a sense of frivolity to the study of literature, rhetoric, history, art, and religion. To him and to many, the humanities are worthless because they do not give people immediate economic benefit. Hence why everyone insists you’re better off sticking only to STEM majors or business or trade schools. He says the humanities are only really meant for academics who shut themselves off from the world and publish overly-specialized articles in publications no one but other academics read. Of course, they’re useless.

I take issue with the idea that the humanities are entirely frivolous: I have seen how students still write at a fifth-grade level or use strawman arguments when they leave high school; they NEED to learn how to properly write a sentence and communicate their ideas. That’s just part of the working world. Learning to fact-check is also rather important given the media atmosphere of our times. Considering how multicultural the world is becoming, learning how other people see the world isn’t so frivolous an idea either. And do I need to argue that history is important? Like, really? Of course, I do have my own problems with academia, having worked in it, but that isn’t my point here. I just take issue with the frankly elitist notion that “normal,” non-academic people have no use for the humanities. So did someone else as I came to discover. 

This rebuttal by Roberto Fubini is simple and direct: yes, we do not need the humanities to continue breathing. However, a world without myth or art or language is a dismal one. Our biological functions do not need these things, but as human beings, we absolutely do.

Fubini argues that the humanities should not be seen as the study of irrelevant, dead things only of interest to specialists, but of things vital to our lives and our understanding of the world. Anyone can benefit mentally and spiritually from the humanities. Here’s his defense for the humanities:

The humanities need no case: a response to Justin Stover and many others.

Editor’s note: This letter was written by a reader of the site; I have provided the links to posts he addresses in his remarks and include his references.

Rimini, Antica Cafeteria, Piazza Tre Martiri / January 2018

Dear Editor,

Your excerpt and publication of Justin Stover’s piece, “There is No Case for the Humanities,” brought to mind the ironies in the attempts to marginalize the study of literature, language, history, philosophy, or religion – in short, those areas we now call the humanities. All these attempts, Stover’s included, create puppets of the humanities and give them voice from their ventriloquism: squeaky, insecure sounds, which offer caricatures and puffed-out straw men. Stover would have us imagine the humanities confined to the university library and lecture hall, with their professors holding forth on the narrowest of subjects. Small wonder, then, that scientists push them aside and receive greater recognition.

These ventriloquists of the humanities may be staging their spectacle with the aim of delighting or antagonizing their readers, but they miss the central point. The staging and spectacle employ the very means they would caricature, namely the humanities. Rhetoric, logic, and language are at the heart of the humanities, and their opponents – as well as many of their would-be advocates – secretly make use of the humanities in their speeches about its worth.

Language: if one sits in a café in a busy square and listens to the conversations, not to eavesdrop, but rather to take in what language reveals, then one comes closer to the heart of the humanities. It is the language of gossip, anger, excitement, exhaustion, distraction; it is the language of lies and love. Federico Fellini in his Amarcord, his film of remembrance, traveled back to this seaside city to record this language. Recording this language, he made a work of art. But this art is not above us, foreign to us. It is not a learned abstraction. On the contrary, its language illuminates our lives. The groundlings in the Globe Theater could applaud Shakespeare’s Tempest, and follow Ariel as much as Caliban.

Stover speaks for many others who would make the humanities into fragile, erudite, and airy subjects. They are much more basic and durable. In fact, they preside over the means of their making. He argues that the humanities produce overspecialized and effete scholarship. We could try to defend this humanities hologram. But this would be only more theater of the absurd, when the drama itself lies in the language of argument. Stover overlooks the real stakes of his “case” against the humanities: the loss of language, or more specifically the loss of care for and love of language.

If we look to poets and thinkers across the centuries, we discover, repeatedly, that they have criticized scholars for their narrow pursuits, and also for their quest for fame and money. So Socrates mocked the sophists, and Lucian the philosophers. Seneca ridiculed their excesses, a theme picked up by Erasmus’s Folly, and then by Rabelais and Montaigne, who stated (or understated) that “the greatest scholars are not the wisest men.” This resonated with the words of Seneca, who called them “a spiritless lot: for people are forever acting as interpreters and never as creators, always lurking in someone else’s shadow” (letters 33 and 87).

But – in case you think I am now being pedantic myself – the point is to learn from the humanities, the range and depth of its literature. By this means we might more fully understand ourselves by understanding others. Scholarship, at its best, serves as the café waiter or maître d’ to these literary offerings.

The humanities are so fundamental that critics (and advocates) easily overlook them, but this oversight is part of our modern malady and one-sidedness. Here Italians are more alive to the dangers of this one-sidedness, which is why Rimini will always celebrate Fellini, and Certaldo its Boccaccio, and why Roberto Benigni, the actor and comedian, can read Dante before thousands of people on the steps of Santa Croce in Florence. The leading television program right now is a tour of Italy’s cultural heritage by Alberto Angela.

Russia, too, has long explored this modern urge to isolate and limit the humanities through science and scholarship. Gogol, in his brilliant Dead Souls, has his protagonist Tchitchikov visit two estates: one is run according to the latest scientific methods; on the other, the learned landowner yearns to educate the peasants in German arts and manners. The first farm is a model of utility and proficiency and the second is in disarray. Gogol shows us the ‘triumph’ of the sciences at a cost, the cost of character and personality, as well as the vanity of erudition. Both extremes exist to the detriment of both.

This is comical, but relevant, as relevant as the question raised in Dostoevsky’s Devils: what is more important, Pushkin or a pair of boots? Stover would have the humanities push literature into scholarly insignificance. But the humanities, at heart, tend Pushkin’s fire, so that his words could warm the spirits of Dostoevsky, Tchaikovsky, and Akhmatova, and through them untold numbers of readers for generations to come. As Joseph Brodsky observed, Dostoevsky found inspiration and insight in the very syntax of the Russian language, in its use of dependent clauses, which led to the spiraling psychological digressions that wind through his work.

Does all this that the humanities provide then need a “case”? Can we ever stand as advocates or lawyers for the humanities? Or do they not, rather, wait upon us to become more alive to their resources? They require not a case, but care. They remain in patient uselessness; they guard the gifts of language, which we all need though too little respect in our preoccupations with science and technology.

Rabindranath Tagore a century ago contemplated the advance of the sciences in words that were pungent and prescient. Tagore held science in esteem and met with Einstein in 1930 to discuss the nature of truth. Yet as an educator, poet, and philosopher, he warned against the single-minded mania for science as the path to fulfillment. He spoke to Japanese students in 1916 just as Japan was pursuing Western technological ‘advancement.’ The life of science, he told them, was a “superficial life”:

Science, when it oversteps its limits and occupies the whole region of life, has its fascination. It looks so powerful because of its superficiality – as does a hippopotamus which is very little else but physical. Science speaks of the struggle for existence, but forgets that man’s existence is not merely of the surface. Man truly exists in the ideal of perfection, whose height and depth are not yet measured. (“The Spirit of Japan,” July 2, 1916)

The height and depth of humanity, then: these are the coordinates of the humanities. We may ignore them as we ignore our inner lives, our need for myth and stories, even our love for flowers: all “useless” things that, somehow, we secretly recognize as essential to who we are, to our self-knowledge and our self-realization. Erwin Chargaff, the great biochemist who explored our DNA, echoed Tagore’s warning, with greater pessimism: “Our time” – he wrote some forty years ago – “when even Old Testament prophets must disguise themselves in laboratory gowns, will not understand when I say that the majority of those things that concern or should concern humanity plays out in realms in which the natural sciences have not bearing at all.”

It is pleasant to be idle in a city like Rimini and sit outside in warm January weather and, like the statue of Julius Caesar in the Piazza, observe the passeggiata of life. Life in the round is the realm of the humanities. This realm is more than the courtoisie of an educated few, as Stover imagines the culture of the humanities. If we listen to the poets and singers that voice our mythologies, our lives follow a richer cadence. Schools and universities may have retreated from these voices, but they have never left us, nor do I think they ever will, if the gods are kind. It falls to us to watch our language more intently, with a sense of wonder before what may appear on the horizon, what new vessel may bring the wandering poets home after what seems so long an exile.

Cordially,

Roberto Fubini

Amen!

#humanities #literature #art #history #religion #language #philosophy #thoughts

[illizitaffairs]

Taylor deserves better by fucking everyone

When I think about the success I’ve had, the life I have built, it all comes back to the path Taylor shaped for me. And I’m really fucking tired of holding back my thanks for her and not defending her. 

As a dean’s list post-secondary student studying media, communications and PR I am exhausted of seeing Taylor’s legacy continually beaten and worn - but more so, I am disappointed in myself for not defending her the past couple of years. 

I am fucking exhausted of seeing her work not recognized in the way it should. 

I am fucking sick of this culture of not being able to accept that a strong, young woman is better at this than people who have been in the industry for double the amount of time she’s been alive. 

And I am so, so fucking disappointed in myself for not saying this sooner.

The more educated I become in the background work involved in making Taylor the phenomenon she is, the more I understand the hardship, innovative thinking and uncelebrated strategy involved in her legacy. As a woman, I should be celebrating this. Instead of using my education and voice to defend this, I have done nothing to stop a culture of assumptions, stereotypes and uninformed opinions that clearly hurt her.  

This is my (educated) analysis of how under appreciated Taylor Swift is and how the world (including me) has done her legacy wrong. 

I write this from a class discussing how best to formulate social media cross-promotion, and the importance of shaping trends that your target market will follow versus following trends they establish for themselves. As I listen my anger and frustration is bubbling over. This is what Taylor has done since she was still on myspace. This is what she has continued to do through the cross-promo for anything she has ever released or done.

I don’t have the time to find stats to back up my points, but in summary:

1. Taylor defined cross-promo marketing. Look at what she’s done with Reputation. Millions of people are buying multiple copies of her album and merch to have a higher chance of getting access to pre-sale. Not even to buy the actual tickets! Just to improve their fucking chance at getting in. She’s making millions off of the hope her fans have of seeing her live. This is because of the decade-long career of tours that have sold out in minutes due to other equally-as-successful cross-promo campaigns. This also applies to her reposting photos of fans buying albums on release week - just the chance of getting noticed is enough to make people go out of their way to make a big scene when buying her album. 

PEOPLE. THIS IS LEGACY DEFINING STUFF. The excitement of music-buying or tour ticket purchasing may not be new, but the way the Swift team navigates it and uses social media to push it is iconic. THAT is why she is only artist to sell over 1 million copies of her album during release week. THAT is how she has set so many records. Her strategies are flawless and executed perfectly. It’s like all of what I learn in my degree done right. She deserves a standing ovation for this work. 

2. Taylor has built her career on the only reliable thing in her world: herself. Without going into an entirely separate rant, there is lots of pieces of culture that tie into Taylor’s brand whether she wants there to be or not (you know the article I could @ here). Instead of focusing on those pieces she can’t control, she has shaped her success based on her stories, her perspectives, her world. The choices she chooses to PUBLICLY voice (more on this later) only build on to her brand of self-sufficiency and self-love. This is a strategy that will sustain her for generations to come. By not getting overly controversial about anything she allows herself to only be critiqued for her choices and actions - which she clearly believes in and stands in strong in. We’ve seen that this is a double-edged sword and has opened her to the vicious, personal attacks that have nothing to do with her artistry. These attacks are childish and undermine the strategy behind her. 

This strategy allows her to build a brand that has longevity to it - so long as she stays true to herself and genuine in her work (which! she! has!) she is timeless. 

THAT is why her career is still booming after a decade with little sign or slowing down or losing momentum. THAT is why she will always find supporters. 

Her brand is hers alone to define, and she has yet to attempt to stray or change that. Reputation has proven that she understands this and will continue to own it for as long as she chooses to make music. 

3. She has gone through a media cycle that has spiralled others out of control. And she has turned out fine. The hypocrisy the media has displayed to this point is outstanding. I just love (sarcasm!) how media rips apart people who over publicize their good deeds - they call they fake-feminists and attention-grabbers, and then say the same about Taylor for choosing to keep her efforts quieter. 

It is easy to find hundreds - nay, thousands of good deeds and standings of good will that Taylor has done that she has never publicized. Hospital visits, private donations to fans and organizations both big and small, packages, house visits, school visits - THE LIST GOES ON AND ON. She does wonderful, beautiful things with the position fame has put her in. What qualifies that as shame-worthy?

Which leads me to my next frustration: how many people can honestly understand what it is like to be her? A multi-millionaire with one of the largest young, impressionable followings? She has done remarkably well to not stray into dangerous habits (at least that we know of). She deserves recognition for being one of the only people in the world who understand that. Comparing her to other famous women in the same demographic, how many of them deal with that scale of fan-following and mania? Or wealth? Or both while also being framed as a man-eater, cry-baby or worse?

Most recently, she doesn’t speak out on issues and they dub her as anti-feminism. Yet her sexual assault trial gets little to no coverage the way it should, her donation after the trial got 0 recognition as well. Taylor Swift should be considered a fucking warrior for handling this, and she got absolutely nothing. 

Look at what she’s just done on Jimmy Fallon. No agenda, just a beautiful and genuine offer of love and support to someone in their time of need. That is who Taylor Swift is. That is what Reputation is about. That is what her career should be defined by.

I’ve been a Taylor Swift fan since 2009. Middle-school was filled with t-shirts, posters covering my room, demanding only Taylor birthday cards, learning to play guitar and countless other interests. This went on for years. Like many of you, I became “that” Taylor Swift fan. 

But it went beyond my material involvement, Taylor’s example helped shaped me into a strong, self-sufficient and confident person. Throughout those formative high school years where we all struggle to find ourselves I managed to unapologetically strut my talents and personality with minimal struggles with self-love. I credit this to learning early on how to express myself and work through difficult emotions - a lesson learned by watching Taylor’s example.

Honestly, watching her career made me want to understand what makes people successful. Carefully analyzing and watching her over the years is what led me to my dream degree. Now, I’m top of my class and research how to build success like she has. I found my niche, my passion, my path in life because of watching her success. I found something I’m really fucking good at and do work I’m really fucking proud of because of watching the work her team does. I’m so thankful for that.

I never thought Taylor wasn’t worth defending. But like so many young, impressionable women, I was scared of making myself a target. I was scared of defending her while she got dragged for her work. This is where I failed her. I was scared of being outcasted for being a marketing nerd, so I shied away and explored other interests. I wish I had continued to vocalize my support for her the past couple of years rather than shying away. It’s a big regret for me.

Taylor has never shied away from a spotlight that has continually targeted her, framed her poorly, victimized her or shamed and blamed her for playing the victim. She barrelled through establishing her dominance, owning her brand, and then reclaiming it like a fucking queen through Reputation. 

I never had the strength to do this in my life until recently. In my own life, I’m reclaiming my time, reclaiming MY reputation (which, without going into a backstory, has seen it’s own unfair blows recently and has hurt me tremendously), and reclaiming my fucking life because Taylor has shown me, yet again, how to come out on top of struggle.

As a public relations student, I look back on the work Taylor has done and I see her not just as a music icon or role model. I see her marketing intelligence, thorough understanding of her fans and how to reach to them, and how to manage her reputation which has been thrown under the bus and pulled through the mud for over a decade.

As a fan, I see how she’s grown, strengthened and shined through unchartered waters, and how after all these years she is still underestimated, undervalued and under-loved. 

As a woman, I see my sister who needs more support for the brilliancy in which she’s handled the cards she’s been dealt. I see an example set for me and girls after me. Taylor didn’t ask for that when she released Tim McGraw, but she’s done it anyway on her own terms. I value that. I stand by that. I won’t be silent any longer.

I hope there are fans like me out there who see this and agree. I’m tired of being the only fucking person I know who thinks this. And I hope it’s not too late for these words, for my to label myself as a Taylor Swift fan and own it. I just hope I’m not alone in this anymore. (Is the term Swifty or Swifties still a thing? Is that like a ten years ago thing? I’m so out of the loop now.)

#taylor swift #taylor swift rant #taylurking #taylornation #reputation #taylor swift reputation #swifties #taylor #swift #i dont even know what to tag anymore i just hope someone out there agrees lol #taylor defense squad #reptaylurking

[happenable-blog]

WWE Raw Highlights & Review: April 1st, 2019

Stephanie McMahon makes an announcement Stephanie comes out to open Raw and made an April fool’s joke about her being the fourth competitor in the main event this Sunday. She goes on to announce that it will be the winner takes all in the main event as all the titles will be on the line. I think we all saw it coming. Now the question is will they unify the belts or just have the champion defend both of them separately. It was just an announcement rather than a promo. So no rating here. Seth Rollins confronts Brock Lesnar Heyman and Lesnar came out next to cut a promo. Heyman said that Stephanie saying Winner takes all is poetic justice as the winner(pointing at Brock) will take all Rollins have to offer. He reminds us that Lesnar conquered the streak at Mania and defeated Roman Reigns last year. Both get superheat from the crowd. He says that Rollins is just an afterthought to Brock. And this Sunday the Universal championship match will end with Seth's chest below Brock's feet and title above his head. I guess they just reused this line from Becky Lynch promo last week. “Burn it down”  Rollins comes out and says the raw after Mania Brock will no longer be holding the Raw locker room hostage. It maybe improbable for Rollins to win but it is not impossible. Lesnar is just laughing at Seth’s face. Heyman is shouting on themay beide, “He is a funny guy”. Lesnar just shoulder bumps Seth and is walking out but he is taken out by Rollins who hits him with a low blow. Lesnar hits a German and went for an F5 but Rollins counter and hits him with a low blow again. He hits the curb stomp and stands tall with the Universal title.

Not a fan of Rollins hitting Lesnar with a low blow as he is supposed to be a babyface here. That also proves that Seth can’t beat Lesnar without hitting him in the balls. It doesn’t make me believe that Rollins can beat Lesnar on his own. The promo work was good though. Rating: 3.5/5 8 Women Tag Team Match: Women's Tag Team Champions Boss & Hug connection, Natalya & Beth Phoenix vs The IIconics, Nia Jax & Tamina Beth is competing on Raw after 6 years. Nia & Tamina and the IIconics are already in the ring getting the jobber entrance. Michael Cole said that Beth is the only women to compete in both men and women Royal Rumble matches. Did he forgot about Nia Jax just this year? IIconics are great in this match as they do their iconic pose midway in the match while Bayley is out. Peyton went to tag Nia and Tamina but they just jump out of the apron denying to be in the match. Bayley went to tag Sasha in but she is pushed down by Beth. Beth tags herself in. She went to the ropes but Tamina pulled the second rope down to drive her to the floor. Beth spears Tamina through the barricade into the time keeper’s area. The crowd chants “Holysh*t” and “You still got it” to this amazing spot. Natalya, Sasha and Bayley are just looking on over the other side of the ring looking concerned. If you are that concerned just go to her. Peyton takes the glamazon back to the ring. Beth hits her with the glam slam for the win. Both the babyface teams stand face to face after the match. Winner: Boss & Hug , Natalya & Beth Phoenix It did a good job hyping the match this Sunday there is a very less storyline going into the match but I do enjoy random big spots and good to see the glamazon back in the ring. Rating: 3/5 Batista Live

Batista got cheered at his hometown of Washington as he comes out to cut a promo. This was a different promo than usual as the lights went out and the only spotlight was on Batista in the ring as one of the Elias’ performances. The crowd chants "Welcome back". He gets the mic to his face and points at the titantron. A video package plays which shows Batista beating Triple H every single time they had a match and only had one line in the whole video repeating over and over again. That was what Batista said to Triple H on SmackDown 1000 never defeating him. Back in the ring Batista looks directly into the camera and says just three words to Hunter, “Kiss my ass” and drops the mic he even gives some fans at the ringside high fives which were not very heel thing to do. To be honest I loved the promo. I was like woah after he dropped the mic after just three words. But for a go home angle, I would have liked if both competitors would have been there. Maybe just to have a face-off or Triple H comes out to just beat down Batista. Rating: 3.5/5 Elias is outside Metlife stadium. He said he will be headlining WrestleMania with his musical act where there will be no interruptions and the crowd singing “Oh walk with Elias” He says that he will be the only talk of Wrestlemania this Sunday. Well, I am guessing Cena will make a random appearance and will interrupt Elias. Apollo Crews vs Jinder Mahal The ring is weirdly surrounded with the undercard like the Ascension EC3 and even Tyler Breeze was there. Apollo just won with a frog splash. Nothing big in the match Winner: Apollo Crews The trophy was brought on the apron for Apollo to pose with it. Everyone gets in the ring and brawls and sends each other over tge top rope to the hype for the Battle Royal. Crews and Jinder with Singh Brothers are the last ones in the ring. The latter is thrown out of the ring by Crews. The trophy is again brought up on the apron for Crews to pose with. Graves predicted that Che will win the ATG battle royal and to be honest that is a possibility. I just don’t care about this battle royal the winners have no great track records after they won. And beside Braun that’s all your undercard and people I have not seen for months. Why should I care? Rating: 1.5/5 Kurt made his last appearence on Raw The crowd chanted “Thank you Kurt" before he could say anything. He basically thanks the crowd for always cheering and booing him. The announcer focuses everyone’s attention to the titantron. Kurt seemed shocked by this and seemed like it was a genuine surprise for him too. A great video package with all of his career highlights was shown. You can watch the video on wwe.com and also on their official youtube channel. Back in the ring Kurt is filled with tears. Corbin comes out to interrupt the moment. Kurt seems genuinely pissed and I think he is. Corbin says that Kurt can’t stand with the superstars of today. He is just getting slower and can’t last with him. He said he is pissed with everyone filling his DMs saying Kurt deserves someone better as his last opponent. The crowd chants "Yes he does”. Angle challenges Corbin for an exhibition match right now. Corbin does the usual heel move where he teased to get in the ring but backed out. He said that if he gets in the ring Kurt won’t make it to this Sunday. Mysterio comes out and challenges Corbin on Kurt’s behalf. Corbin just attacks Mysterio but he is taken out by Kurt with an Angle Slam. The video package was great, highlighting Kurt’s career. I thought we were getting Angle vs Mysterio tonight? In my opinion, Kurt was for real pissed at Corbin. I still can’t believe they are going on with this match. Do you want to know how I would have had Kurt’s farewell match? Read it here. As for this segment, I just want Corbin to leave my TV screen. Rating: 3/5 Charlie interviews Charlotte backstage. She said she will be the one taking it all at the main event if WrestleMania. Charlie did mention the weird stipulation in the 6 woman tag match later on the night that whoever betrays their team first will be pulled from the main event this Sunday. She said she is not like Ronda or Becky. She is cool-headed. Raw Tag Team Championship Match: The Revival (c) vs Aleister Black & Ricochet The Revival once again didn’t get any entrances. Just give your champions an entrance. The Revival works over Ricochet for a while but he is taken out by a double huricanrana by him. That leads to a comeback by the babyfaces.  Revival works over Aleister black now. His arm is injured and he can’t get much offence in. This leads into Ricochet hot tag. He keeps rolling over Wilder for two counts. Wilder drives ricochet face first into the mat after he was punched by Dawson from the outside. But a two count. The Revival is working over Black but he fights back  with a boot to Dawson and a tornado DDT to Wilder. Ricochet also dives over the turnbuckle to hit them with his insane dive. The referee is counting out. Wilder made back in the ring but from under the ring Dawson grabs Ricochet’s leg denying him to get back inside handing Revival the win. Winner via count out and still the Raw Tag Team Champions: The Revival This was a good match. I guess Revival won’t be defending those titles at Mania. Well, they at least got to retain the titles. I thought Ricochet and Black were going to win for a moment. Rating:  3.5/5 After the match, Wilder is taken out with the Black Mask and Dawson is hit with a 630. Ronda is air punching backstage when she is approached by Charlie. She said she doesn’t want to talk but goes on to talk anyway. She said this Sunday will be the judgement day for both of her competitors. But if they try anything in the match later the judgement day will be tonight. Roman is getting interviewed backstage. When asked about the rumours of him not being 100% for this Sunday, he said he is going to end the rumours from the source and beat down Drew. Mcintyre beats down Roman from behind and leaves him struggling. Becky Lynch, SmackDown Women's Champion Charlotte Flair & Raw Women's Champion Ronda Rousey vs The Riott Squad Before the match, Charlie is in the gorilla interviewing Lynch. She said she will be the first ever RAW and SD champion this Sunday at WrestleMania. She will break the god complex of Ronda. Becky also said that she has been screwed by the McMahon family in the past and she has no choice but to walk out with every gold to deny the McMahons further screwing her. In the match, Lynch tags herself in by just slapping Charlotte on the back. She mocks charlotte’s walk and told her to punch her, which will, of course, take her out of the WrestleMania main event as per the stipulation of the match. Becky is getting worked by the Riott squad. I think this is her punishment for the Twitter exchange with the rivals. Charlotte tags herself in. She gets on the face of Becky but Ronda tags herself in. Morgan tried to roll Ronda up but she just slams Morgan on the mat and locks the Armbar for the win. Winner: Becky, Charlotte and Ronda As soon as the match ends, Ronda started beating Charlotte. Becky joins in to beat them as well. Security ran down to separate them but they all just beat down the security to have a shot at each other. The cops came out and handcuffs all three of them. Why were the cops out I still have no clue? All three of them are still trying to fight the cops resisting arrest.

Backstage the cops lead them to the car and they have Becky and Ronda in the same car. They both looked at each other and then started to fight each other with the kicks. Ronda just broke the window of the car with a kick. The cops take Becky out of the car. Charlotte then comes out of the other car and kicks Lynch. Then we see Ronda just getting on the driver seat and driving it straight to the other car in front of it. She couldn’t steer as she was stil handcuffed. The brawl was great. I absolutely loved the brawl. Especially with the handcuffs on but why were they handcuffed in the first place? Many people find it funny. And while reading this again I am laughing too. There was no logic there just a big spectacle. But I would let it slip at least I am invested in the blood feud among these three. Rating: 4.5/5 Handicap Match: Braun Strowman vs Jobbers Strowman just screams at them saying you’re Colin Jost and Michael Che. He just bulldozed them over in this match. Runs around the ring for shoulder tackle twice. Throws them in the ring clothesline in the corner. Powerslams both of them one at a time and then a double powerslam with each of them on each shoulder. The End. Winner: Braun Strowman Whatever I can’t care less for this “feud” and the Battle Royal. Rating: 2/5 Bobby Lashley Interview Bobby Lashley and Lio Rush are in the ring next to have an interview with Charlie. Charlie shows the replay of how Finn earned the title shot against Bobby before asking Lashley that is he concerned. Rush says that Balor didn’t pin Lashley and he is just dead weight. Charlie asked Lashley about the rumours the Demon being there this Sunday. Lashley replied that Finn Balor is Demon and Demon is Finn Balor. He has defeated Finn Balor and he will do it same with the Demon. Finn appeared on the titantron saying some jibberish about his Demons being Lashley’s nightmare. I didn’t understand it. But he got covered with smoke and when the smoke settled it was the Demon. It was confirmed that the Demon will face off with Lashley for the IC title I had no clue what was Balor talking about. But at least the Demon is gonna be there. The entrance will be grand. This segment was no good, unfortunately. Rating: 2.5/5 Rey Mysterio vs Baron Corbin Corbin is working over Rey after Rey had some offence, in the beginning, cause… he is small. He just works over him for a LOOOOONG time. Rey finally had some comeback and hit Rey with a tilt a whirl DDT. He hit Corbin with a 619 and went for a splash from the top rope but Corbin rolled out. Corbin hit Rey with a deep six for the win. Winner: Baron Corbin This being in the main event gave me hope that maybe someone will come out to take out Corbin out of the match this Sunday. But after the match, Kurt Angle came out and locks in the Anklelock on Corbin where he tapped. This was your last TV segment before WrestleMania on Raw. Rubbish.

Rating: 2/5 I only loved two segments. The women's brawl and the Batista promo. It's astonishing how I don't care about many matches in the WrestleMania card. Any other day it would have been an average show but you expect more from the go-home show for freaking WRESTLEMANIA. Raw Rating: 2/5 That was our review of the show. Don't forget to follow Happenabler on social platforms by clicking on the icons at the bottom of the page. And stay up to date with our every new post. It's WrestleMania week so a lot of them are coming. Stay up to date and make it happen! Read the full article

#darpantikiya #goclassico #happenable #happenabler #harshpandey #koreandiverse #otakutakara #Raw #Rawreview #tanishadetwani #vaibhavtanwar #wwe

[justanothercinemaniac]

Epic Movie (Re)Watch #162 - The Adventures of Ichabod And Mr. Toad

Spoilers Below

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: No.

Format: Blu-ray

1) During World War II, Disney produced a number of “package films” of which this was the last. The war took a number of Disney animators and put a strain on the studio, meaning they had a lot of half ideas which weren’t short enough for a short nor long enough for a feature. So Disney decided to group them together. The results included Fun and Fancy Free, Make Mine Music, Saludos Amigos, The Three Caballeros, Melody Time, and this film. It was after this film that Disney would return to full length stories with 1950′s Cinderella.

2) They key to this working as a package film and not some strange double feature is the live action connecting tissue. Scenes in a library with two disembodied narrators (Basil Rathbone for “The Wind and the Willows” and Bing Crosby for “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”) is a simple thing to help the film feel like a total picture.

The Wind in the Willows

3) As with most Disney films, the supporting characters of Mole, Rat, & Badger are well established through initial introduction and design.

4) There is a nice establishment of Toad’s wild character before we even meet him.

Badger: “What good are his promises when these wild manias take him?”

And then “Merrily on Our Way to Nowhere in Particular” is a strong visual introduction to how nonsensical and merry Toad is.

Toad is largely a selfish character bust still likable and charming. As the narrator observes himself at the end of the segment, we all wish we could be a bit more like him. Enjoy life more, have more adventures, and just have a merry good time. Toad is a wonderful introductory character, with moments like the setting in of his mania being wildly enjoying to watch. But there’s always a bit more to him than we expect. A bit more cleverness and later in the film a bit of regret. A fun character who may not be as much of an icon as Mickey Mouse but still a Disney great nonetheless.

5) One of the ways the “Wind in the Willows” adaptation stands out to me among other pieces of anthropomorphic animals interacting with humans is that the animals are their standard size. I’m so used to a Mickey Mouse being the same size as Donald Duck and such but these creatures are all their normal sizes. It was a small thing but it struck me.

6) It was when Mr. Toad defends himself in court that I remembered an old adage I heard from a lawyer: only an idiot defends themselves.

Toad certainly is that. A little too sure of himself, a little too trusting. Having a real lawyer probably would’ve helped his case.

7) The Weasels.

The weasels have become one of Disney’s most prominently reoccuring bad guys, having memorable roles in Who Framed Roger Rabbit and “Mickey’s Christmas Carol” to start. They might be better remembered for Roger Rabbit than they are for this film, but without the weasels being a standout element in this movie they would not have been in Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

8)

Narrator: “Yes, once again it was a White Christmas...”

So Rat and Mole must be visiting Scrooge to ask for some charity at this time.

9) Ah, that 2017 feel.

(GIFs originally posted by @fantasia1940)

10)

Rat [after Badger tells him he found evidence supporting Toad]: “Then Toad was innocent this whole time?”

Was that ever in question? This is a Disney movie. Unless you’re Robin Hood, the title character is not going to be stealing a car.

11) I like how Disney could be a bit more “edgy” back in their early years.

Mole [upon seeing the weasels]: “Oh look, they’re all asleep.”

Badger: “Aye lads, they’re DRUNK!”

12) The chase for the deed to Toad Hall through Toad Hall is a fun bit of animation and includes some great classic gags to it.

(I don’t think the quality of this video is great but it gets across the cartoony slapstick fun I’m talking about.)

13) I find it a tad dissatisfying that Toad ends basically where he started emotionally, but again the narrator observes that we all wish we could be as adventurous as he.

14) This note is less about the film and more about the ride it inspired. “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride” is an attraction which first opened in Disneyland in California (it used to have a twin in Orlando but it was replaced with a Winnie the Pooh ride a believe) where you board a motorcar and ride through town hall...before you get hit by a train and go to hell. That’s right: a Disney ride sends you to hell.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

15) The format of the “Sleepy Hollow” segment of the film relies more heavily on Bing Crosby’s narration than “The Wind in the Willows” did on Basil Rathbone’s. In fact, it plays out like Crosby is reading out of a storybook with animation put to it. He even voices all the male characters (since they only speak in song).

16) Ichabod Crane.

I am actually very impressed and very grateful with how close this version of Ichabod Crane is to Irving’s original character. In most adaptations of the story (1999′s Sleepy Hollow, the recently cancelled TV show “Sleepy Hollow”) he is made more heroic. Nothing could really be further from the truth from the original source material. His physical ugliness (not so ugly in animation but it is intended as such from a design standpoint) reflects his internal ugliness in a strange way. Ichabod Crane is a glutton. A man full of greed who bases every decision in life on how it will help him get ahead. Even his wanting to be with Katrina is EXCLUSIVELY based on how rich she is and how a marriage to her would give him stature. There is even a theory out there that says Ichabod is the villain of the peace - as his greed and desire for status reflect many other Disney villains such as Jafar from Aladdin and Ursula from The Little Mermaid - while Brom Bones is meant to be the hero.

17) Brom Bones.

One of the earliest lines about Brom Bones is this:

Narrator: “There was no malice in his mischief.”

If we subscribe to the theory that Brom is the real hero of the peace, you can see how it might work. He is a friendly guy even if he is a bit brutish. And he moves against the greedy Ichabod Crane. However, it’s hard to get past his initial bullying of Crane for just existing in the town or the fact he only moves so hard against Crane just because they’re both interested in Katrina. Either way, he’s a solid addition to the film (and even reportedly inspired some of Gaston in Beauty and the Beast).

18) Bing Crosby’s skills as a vocal musician are well featured in the film, with one of my favorite (and underrated) songs being “Ichabod”. It’s a simple toe tapper elevated by Crosby’s skills and serves to very clearly introduce Crane to the town of Sleepy Hollow.

19) Katrina Van Tassel.

So Katrina is...pretty much a female shaped object. She never speaks or sings or anything. Her purpose in the film is literally to be something Brom and Ichabod fight over, and she is “written” as a vain manipulative creature who delights in men fighting over her. And that’s it. That’s her “character”. Usually I try to look for the good in older Disney animated heroines, but I can’t really with Katrina. Ah well.

20) “The Headless Horseman” is another strong example of not only Crosby’s vocals but also the best song in the entire film I think.

According to IMDb:

The song "Headless Horseman" is considered one of the darkest songs written for a Disney film. It, much like "Worthless" from The Brave Little Toaster (1987) and "Hellfire" from The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996), was nearly cut from the film.

I’m not familiar with “Worthless” but I do love some dark Disney songs (with “Hellfire” being one of my all time favorites). The song was originally meant to be sung by Thurl Ravenscroft (“You’re a Mean one, Mr. Grinch”, Fritz in The Enchanted Tiki Room, and the lead singer of the Singing Busts in The Haunted Mansion ride) and you can still hear his version on "Walt Disney Records Archive Collection, Vol. 1". Or it’s on YouTube right here.

21) The build up to the final encounter with Ichabod and the Headless Horseman is great. There is an excellent sense of darkness, dismay, and fear. Strong imagery bleeds through the scene (a cloud blocking out the moon like a hand, all the creatures of the forest seemingly saying Ichabod’s name, the reeds beating out like horse hooves) and creates a wonderfully tense buildup to the climactic finale.

22) The Headless Horseman.

According to IMDb:

The Headless Horseman is often cited as being, along with The Horned King in The Black Cauldron (1985) and Chernabog in Fantasia (1940), as one of the scariest villains in the Disney canon. Disney still receives complaints from parents about the character frightening their children.

You can definitely see how that’s true. The sheer design of the Horseman is brilliant. He is dark, ominous, but towering and powerful. He is someone/something you would not want to run into alone on a dark night. His mad cackle and wild horse - along with the iconic flaming pumpkin - just add to the terrifying design. For a character with such a brief amount of screen time, the Headless Horseman is one of the most iconic characters in Disney’s canon.

23) The final chase with Ichabod and the Horseman is incredible. It is tense, scary, filled with action, but still featuring some of the signature cartoony fun that Disney is known for. This isn’t suddenly an R-rated horror film, it’s a Disney film but what Disney looks like when things start to go haywire! The final image alone is iconic in and of itself.

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad is a fun Disney film. A good way to kill only an hour of your time (seriously, it’s just 68 minutes), it features iconic characters, wonderful visuals, strong humor, and a surprising amount of freights. Particularly good for a Halloween viewing, it’s a wonderful piece of animation all around. Give it a watch if you’re ever looking for some old school animated fun.

#The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad #The Legend of Sleepy Hollow #The Wind in the Willows #Disney #Mr. Toad's Wild Ride #Epic Movie (Re)Watch #Movie #Film #GIF #Bing Crosby #Basil Rathbone #Mickey's Christmas Carol

[hanzi83]

Different topics: Self reflection, Pro WWE Stans, and Backlash of the XXXtentacion Joke

Blog

I am back for another blog. I keep thinking it will be the end, but due to not being able to jot down my personal thoughts I have had the need to at least put my mind frame out there so people can see where my mind is going. I am going to focus on certain things, I mean there will still be self loathing and self reflection with a mixture of other things on my mind because sometimes, as limited as my verbiage can be due to being a fucking scattered brain nut who can’t organize the thoughts in his head in a precise manner, and can’t figure out where my mind has been over the course of the last decade and that is the unfortunate thing about someone who followed the lead on how to think because I never knew how to think for myself, and I have fell for ignorant point of views or limited point of views and it has never left me satisfied.

Over the course of the last few years I have moved towards being more of a leftist person. I used to not be empathic or sympathetic towards others because I thought nihilism is such a cool and edgy thing for most of my existence, when being a nice person did not make me stand out and made people dislike me for being too much of a square, not realizing I was buying into a normalized right wing and centrist mentality because of the people who had platforms, who would be woke about certain behaviors and on certain issues, and it feels like with all the shit I have been through, trying to interview different people on my periscope sessions, and even talking to people with ignorant views, to see a better way, even if they seem like a Trump supporter, who still have minorities as friends etc, and I feel it is a challenge, because my mind is weak and it feels like if I am not embraced by leftist leaning people, who never really say anything when I am dealing with harassment, it seems more people who come across as peaceful centrists or right wings that they are embracing me, like “Look our side is embracing you, those leftists don’t care about you” and I feel like a certain point I might buckle, because I am a weak minded person, and I have always conformed with who I was around with the outlook, so I constantly deal with this harassment the more I try to put out a more peaceful message.

I am vehemently attacked for having a different outlook on groups fighting against oppression so the right wing government agents trolling me, are trying to paint me as a terrorist sympathizer, while they are the ones siding with the real systemic terror that is taking place. I am accused of hating all white people, when I have pointed out how people are buying into a systemic white supremacy and it is a big no-no. The people, who are supposed free speech advocates, are not for me expressing how people who think they are being edgy are not really being edgy. I have been blackballed from even being able to have a career when I have contributed many ideas that have been taken from me, and the specifics have never made me point it out, just the fact that I contributed.  Maybe that was  Stern Show tactic I fell for, because Stern was a huge influence to me and I always wanted to impress him, so when he would make fun of Stuttering John for keeping tabs on what joke he wrote and would have all sorts of papers he made light of that, and that is when I decided never to keep tab of what ideas and jokes were used by multiple people. The propaganda is so real, even if I explain my narrative, they will just say I was a crazy caller and nothing more, and then they will hint that I helped Stern make millions and I am owed money, and they will deny it is my incapability of finding a job and never disclose that they are keeping me censored. They fuck with my views and pump them up when it is convenient, to show these views on periscope, especially are not genuine. They constantly try to peace talk with me, and not disclose their views are leaning toward the right, so I don’t immediately shoo them away.

This is where it ties into wrestling because they love when I lose my mind. I have spoken out about WWE’s practices, and how I don’t like who runs the company etc, I still appreciate the people who work there and entertain the fans, but even rubbing it in my face I won’t be a part of the Summer festivities in Toronto is meant to make me lose my mind because I lost my mind when Mania festivities took place. Sometimes I wonder if this is all worth it, over the last few months I have not cared about pop culture news or television shows/movies etc to catch up on anything. Maybe I should not care, but it is literally everything we consume is run by some sort of evil. I am sure this computer I am typing on was probably put together by some sweatshop worker or something. It feels like the easiest mind frame to have does just not want to be here because I try to be socially conscious, but I am still using shit that is tied to evil shit, whether it is a tablet, or consuming from some fast food place or something. I lose my fucking mind and the possibility that people I know are also involved with shady things, even though I don’t fucking know, it fucks with me. \

So the wrestling stuff has really taken its toll because even though I believe a lot of the stuff outside the ring, even stuff involving media outlets is also like wrestling, maybe I am buying into it but ever since the introduction of AEW, which does have shadiness with its owners as well, to be fair, it seems like the pro WWE contingent have attack others like they are socially conscious, while never copping to the fact they might be taking WWE money to shill for them online, and because they call out Saudi Arabia, or calling out Hulk Hogan, they think they are doing their due diligence of being socially conscious, and will constantly show off WWE hiring minorities as the most socially conscious shit ever, while it is performative at its best. They accuse others of not keeping the same energy while also not keeping the same energy. Their points towards other companies and people are valid, but the fact they are acting like these new hip people and they are siding with WWE, it supposed to be this manufactured talk about race misogyny etc, while they are supporting the company who have systemically caused a lot of this shit as well. So when there are accounts dedicated to mocking Dave Meltzer, who I don’t agree with by the way on a lot of shit, and I have called him out as well, but since he is has been more on AEW side the harassment has taken another level, under the guise of criticism of his reports etc, there have been attacks on his family and his kids, and when he finally puts on his own board the name of the person doing it, which anyone can see, he is accused of doxing even though it was his first name. I wouldn’t have done it since it said in their terms that no one would do that, but these same shit disturbers are acting like the biggest victims, so much so that he put out the name himself on his own twitter, totally normal for someone to do when they fear their name is out there.

These same dudes who are performative about the outrage were the same ones attacking other people who don’t believe a company with shoddy morality and has had a huge track record of sweeping corruption within their own company under the rug, would actually being capable of exaggerating one of their employees, or independent contractors’ battle with cancer. Now it is genius if this was a lie or some sort of exaggeration because you present a severity of something like cancer, which is horrible to have, so now because people question it, they will have their shills attack anyone questioning it, and if it does end up that this was a lie, it shows how so many of these WWE shills and fan boys and girls, are propping their own experiences and this narrative of “HOW DARE YOU QUESTION THIS, THIS IS NOT A STORYLINE” the same fucking guy who grilled Brian Pillman’s wife on live television after her husband’s death so he could deflect blame on the company, the fact that he may have paid off people to get off Jimmy Snuka off a murder, or the infamous ring boy scandal, or how recently in the affidavit there was reports from Ashley Massaro being raped and it was covered up. “BUT THEY ARE A PUBLICLY TRADED COMPANY” Yeah because that has stopped other publicly traded companies from partaking in any shadiness or corruption.

These same people who care about the sanctity of cancer victims, they were the first ones who would pile on me and tell me to go kill myself, someone who has mental illness, and they had to secrecy of hiding their identities even though I know which people they were and I cannot prove it technically but people accusing Meltzer using his fan boys to defend him etc, are the same ones defending WWE and being a stan of a billion dollar company. I could be wrong about the Reigns stuff but everything to me in this system is manufactured in some way or another, whether it is staged or some other cause orchestrating. I don’t have all the facts, and that is true, but since you guys pit me as this guy who is in his mom’s basement and is a fucking loser, why would you be so threatened by some mentally ill asshole right? Obviously I struck a chord with you guys if you are encouraging me to kill myself, and then acting like you are not doing at behest of a billion dollar company, or some popular radio host who can never be called out.

 The last thing I will say and I am in a hurry. There seems to be this controversy of XXXtentacion joke by some comedian. I have many thoughts of this. People are outraged because she made a joke about someone, who on his time on earth was not the best human being and did horrible things, so she made a joke that his death of getting killed and robbed would be commercial for why you should get Venmo. The joke was not the greatest, even though I feel she has every right to do that joke, comedians should be allowed to try something out without the fear of getting people to threaten her and dox her. Part of me feels, as much I agree with any comedian being able to try to do their jokes and apply their craft, that there is a contingent of right wing comedians who hide behind free speech etc, but they will censor anyone’s else’s free speech under the guise of getting their fan base to threaten other women, but are for this woman’s joke who mocked XXX’s death. Comedians act like their craft is some pure art and never call out the government agents and undercover law enforcement supporters in their own shit. Only time you see these “edgy” comedians call out someone, is when it is someone being “Too PC’ but never call their own side’s bullshit and act like they are the fighters of free speech, while still being prostituted by the right wing side, which has always had a part in the comedy world. Ill see supposed conspiracy theorist comedians, who will put out shit as fact, and I have put out theories, and always state I never know for a fact, but these people will put out that Drake and other rappers sacrificed XXX like it is a fact and that is more dangerous than getting backlash for a fucking joke. It feels like these things are created, maybe both sides are in on it, but it serves its agendas, because the cultists of XXX’s will have a field day and then the ones fighting back have a new angle of a comedian being the fucking victim. These same comedians would not approve of me calling out how comedians are compromised, and not with the jokes they tell, but when they do their podcasts or radio shows, and are being 100 percent serious will advocate for death of minorities and intellectualize it.

I never seen anyone in comedy ever call out how comedy shows like Stern Show or O&A helped start the alt right, and even though these shows were hilarious and there was satirizing of racism, misogyny, and homophobia etc but when they spoke out seriously about things they were spreading nonstop propaganda, and acting like the side they were fighting for is completely freedom, while constantly tying corporate nature with people speaking out against the systemic evils, even if it was limited, like they were not doing the same thing but on a much more edgier level. You don’t see any of these free speech comedians ever call out people like Stern for blackballing me from comedy and not letting me have a more progressive message or maybe explaining how there are initiations about how people have to partake in propaganda to make it, no one wants to hear that shit, so they will limit the messages on either side. No one will pay attention to this anyways, because I will be lumped in with every blogger who is censoring comedy, even though I want comedy to be free, and this supposed presentation of “what comedy is supposed to be” is also prostituted and no one will ever dare point it out and it will just be seen with different cliques and more limited narratives.

So there is my fucking piece. It was shitty and no one should respect me. I hope someday I am out of this world so I never have to endure the pretentiousness and maybe I won’t feel the need to give into this bullshit because my mind does weaken and sometimes I wish I did sell out because it looks so appealing to be celebrated and be able to have connections, but I isolated myself and am not capable of fully trusting another fucking human being. I will always be miserable, and even though I used to think it was cool to be miserable, and self centered, because that was seen as the ultimate “I don’t give a fuck” thing, I realized it was propaganda, but it might be too late for me because my mind has been poisoned for so long, that my mind could be persuaded into this shit. It is what scares me, and for the good of this planet, I would beg people to just rid me off here because it is becoming too much for my fucked up brain to handle.  

Let me clarify though, every comedian has a right to try out dark material, it might not land well, but sometimes it feels like these situations are meant to cause a reaction because it is the new marketing, and I don’t think that XXX deserved to die, being shot at 20 year old is horrible and I do personally believe that someone could have changed if the right people had got to him, and I always feel like people in the industry who do horrible things is part of some initiation, and for some rappers it is always meant to put them in violent situations etc, but no one ever wants to discuss that, so maybe XXX was changing his life and the problematic behavior, but people have to keep in mind that people don’t also have to like what he did, and the ones who have a problem with that joke maybe get on your platforms and discuss why people in the industry do shitty things, like these corporations don’t design it this way, but we can’t prove any of that right? I just had layered thoughts of this whole situation, and people will accuse me of not being for free speech of comedy. I believe comedians should be able to tell their jokes etc. It would not even shock me some of the people threatening to dox and kill this female comedian, weren’t also some right wing types making it seem far more dangerous than what it was. I could be wrong but I question everything and everyone. Everyone has a fucking agenda. These same people who defend Louie, also act like people going after Louie are the ones who have the agenda, but acting like your defense of him is just for the art of comedy, not like you are being given incentive to defend him. It is also funny that the people who were embracing him when he was more socially conscious, never once mentioned how Louie came from being a well off privileged dude, and was not this everyday working man, it is funny how that happens to come out after all of this, kind of like it is like wrestling and it was time to turn Louie heel now. Just my thoughts.

#Hanzi 2019 Howard Stern Show Illuminati Wrewstling WWE AEW Dave Meltzer Comedy Louie XXX XXXtentacion government propaganda self reflection #alt right leftist weak minded organized thoughts initiations miserable nihilism trolls harassment suicidal

[alamante]

Twelve years since he won the Open, 10 years since he last won a major, five since he won any tournament.

And with a body repeatedly put back together, for now holding up as he launches a very real bid to add to his haul of 14 majors.

Woods briefly shared the lead on a pulsating third day of the Open at Carnoustie before ending four shots back in the slipstream of defending champion Jordan Spieth, his Carnoustie housemate Kevin Kisner and fellow American Xander Schauffele.

“I’ve got a chance in this,” Woods said, beaming that ice-white smile.

“Given what happened the last few years I didn’t know if that would ever happen again, but here I am with a chance Sunday in a major championship.”

READ: Could US “frat house” provide key to Claret Jug?

READ: Tiger mania back in full swing at Carnoustie

‘Dream come true’

Spieth can make history of his own — a second straight Open title would make him only the second player after Woods to win four majors before his 25th birthday. Next month he bids to complete the career grand slam of all four major titles in the US PGA.

He would also become the first player to win back-to-back Opens since Padraig Harrington, who began with a maiden Claret Jug here at Carnoustie in 2007.

“It’s very cool looking at it from a big-picture point of view but my head will be down,” said Spieth.

And beating a resurgent Woods to achieve it is something the Texan is relishing.

“I’ve always wanted to battle it out in a major with Tiger — who hasn’t?” said Spieth, who was 14 when Woods won his last major.

“It’s kind of a dream come true just to have the opportunity.”

INTERACTIVE: The numbers behind the Open

PHOTO GALLERY: The best golf courses in Scotland

The joint was jumping

If Sunday is anything like Saturday it will be a blast.

Everywhere you looked there were fireworks.

They don’t call it Moving Day for nothing and this one was seismic.

First, Justin Rose set the tone with a stunning 64. Then Spieth drove the first green and made an eagle to leap into contention.

Making his own mark, Woods drained a long birdie putt on the ninth and made a tap-in birdie on 10 to rocket onto the giant yellow leaderboards around the course for the first time.

The joint was jumping and the leaders hadn’t set out yet.

For those watching on TV it was like a crazy arcade shoot-’em up, with action everywhere. For those at Carnoustie with F.O.M.O (Fear of Missing Out) it must have been torture as roars sprang up from everywhere, like geysers erupting at random.

Moving Day is when the pack gets shuffled for Sunday’s final hand, but this one was like throwing the deck into a stiff Scottish breeze.

When the cards settled, Spieth took up his familiar position at the head of the Open, 12 months after that remarkable victory — sparked by an unlikely escape via the practice ground — at Royal Birkdale.

The 24-year-old fired a 65 to push the lead to nine under and was joined late on by his countrymen.

Another American Kevin Chappell was two back on seven under with Italian Francesco Molinari on six and a group of seven, including Woods and Rory McIlroy, at five under.

‘Stay within reach’

Fleetingly, Woods grabbed a share of the lead with a birdie at the 15th, but dropped back again at 16.

The three-time champion got a massive break on the 18th, pulling his drive left and missing the water hazard by a couple of yards. He’d dodged a bullet and took advantage by laying up in front of the Barry Burn and then firing a dart to a few feet to save his par.

“I didn’t want to be too far back if the guys got to 10 under par. I had to stay within reach,” he said.

READ: From fractured skull to Open debut — cerebral palsy sufferer’s remarkable tale

READ: ‘He’s gone gaga’ — was this sport’s greatest meltdown?

READ: Vegas gets helicopter lift to make Open tee time

READ: Crown of Trump’s golf empire left out in cold

Delighted

Woods’ last major victory — the US Open at Torrey Pines — was almost supernatural, given the number of times he chipped in or holed long putts while playing with the pain of what turned out to be a fractured leg.

Arguably, it was more stunning than his iconic Pebble Beach US Open win of 2000 when he won by a record 15 shots.

Asked where victory at Carnoustie would rank, he flashed that radiant smile again.

“We’re not there yet,” he chided the reporter in jest. “I know what you’re trying to say in asking but let me try to get there first. Then ask me again.” He may not have answered the question but his glowing face said it all. He was delighted to have been asked.

Woods has been close in majors since 2008 — in the following five years he had nine top-six finishes, including a playoff defeat by South Korea’s YE Yang in the 2009 US PGA at Hazeltine.

Scandal in his private life broke later that year, tipping his whole compass off-axis.

Ace in the pack

Since 2013 he has been hampered by the back issue that required four major operations, including spine fusion surgery last April.

It took him to a dark place where he feared he may not be able to play actively with his kids again, let alone play professional golf to a high level.

So given the backstory, the thrill of the competition lit Woods up like a beacon Saturday.

“It’s been a few years since I’ve felt like this,” he said.

Questions have long since dried up about whether Woods thinks he can pass Nicklaus’ record of 18 major titles, but they will certainly resurface should he triumph Sunday.

Spieth will draw on his experience and “expect the unexpected” after his drama at Birkdale and his infamous Masters collapse in 2016, but he says he has nothing to prove to anyone but himself now.

All of the field will be mindful of what happened at Carnoustie in 1999, when Jean van de Velde’s dream drowned in the Barry Burn and Paul Lawrie came from 10 shots back on the final day to win.

With 19 players within five shots of the lead, and healthy winds forecast for Sunday, it’s anyone’s guess where the ace is in the pack.

Visit CNN.com/golf for more news, features and videos

“It’s going to be fun,” said Woods.

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[junker-town]

WWE Royal Rumble 2017: The full rundown and why you should care

The Road to WrestleMania begins in San Antonio at the Royal Rumble.

It’s that time of year, y’all! The Royal Rumble is where even the most casual of wrestling fans start to pay attention, because it’s the start of the Road to WrestleMania. And how can you blame them? The Royal Rumble is great even when it’s subpar, and this year’s promises to be far better than that.

We don’t know who is going to win! And I don’t mean that in the typical “hey, maybe the expected thing won’t happen and we’ll all be surprised” way that has been the case during the last few Rumbles. No, we legitimately don’t know what’s going to happen, and neither do you! But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Let’s get right to it.

The Royal Rumble begins at 7 p.m. ET, with the kickoff program starting at 6 p.m. on the WWE Network. Three matches will go down on the pre-show: Nia Jax and Sasha Banks will face off, the RAW Tag Team Championships will be defended by Sheamus and Cesaro against Karl Anderson and Luke Gallows, and there is a six-woman tag match featuring Nikki Bella, Naomi, and Becky Lynch against Natalya, Mickie James, and SmackDown Women’s Champion Alexa Bliss.

That’s three matches you’ll likely want to watch, especially the women’s tag match, which should help set the table for SmackDown’s next exclusive pay-per-view, Elimination Chamber. The Rumble is going on from 7 p.m. to (at least) 11 p.m., though, so if you need to tune in a little later, no one will hold it against you. Well, Nia Jax might, and she is capable of putting the hurt on you, so, you know, skip at your own peril.

And now, why you should care about the 2017 Royal Rumble.

WWE Cruiserweight Championship Match: Neville vs. Rich Swann (c)

What am I looking at here? Neville is the one with the abs. Like, all of them. Swann loves dancing and having fun and also flips and winning matches. He is good at all of those things, and he has a tragic backstory WWE is sure to fill you in on. Don’t take that as any form of sarcasm — it is tragic, and WWE should tell you about it, because damn, dude, how can you not root for Swann after hearing it?

The Cruiserweight Division (and 205 Live) are taking some time to find their footing in WWE programming, but that isn’t really the case with either Rich Swann or Neville. Swann is the current Cruiserweight champ, and he deserved that designation, as he was clearly the top of the entire division. Notice the past tense there? It’s because Neville is the King of the Cruiserweights, and he’s looking to get his crown this Sunday.

Why you should care: Since declaring himself King, Neville has gotten really, really violent. Like, destroying the entire division by himself to prove he’s the one and only wrestler worthy of being Cruiserweight champion. Like maybe WWE takes a cue from Lucha Underground and has Neville construct a throne out of the bones of his fallen enemies violent. We can dream, right?

Swann would very much like to avoid becoming part of this hypothetical Bone Throne, but something tells me there isn’t someone in the current Cruiserweight crop who can stop Neville.

RAW Women’s Championship Match: Bayley vs. Charlotte Flair (c)

What am I looking at here? Bayley has pigtails and hugs! She’s been a WWE fan forever and looked up to wrestlers as a little girl, and Charlotte thinks that’s f’n stupid and that Bayley is a nerd. Charlotte’s whole thing is about being born into greatness — yes, she’s that kind of Flair, the daughter of Ric. The thing is, Charlotte is great: she’s not just saying it, and given she has never lost on a pay-per-view, it’s hard to argue with her point of view.

The best heels are the ones who are right but are also just kind of mean about it

Why you should care: Bayley is totally a wrestlenerd! But that’s okay: it’s why we love her. And why the crowd is going to be in her corner. This could end up being a preview for what WrestleMania has in store for us on the RAW side of WWE’s women’s division, because it’s hard to believe Bayley is going to win right now. Then we’d be deprived of two more months of Charlotte calling her names and us feeling sorry for our hero who is being made fun of for her love of her heroes.

WWE Universal Championship No Disqualification Match And Also Chris Jericho Is Suspended Above The Ring In A Shark Cage: Roman Reigns vs. Kevin Owens (c)

What am I looking at here? lol

Oh, sorry, it seemed pretty self-explanatory. So, to keep Chris Jericho from interfering in another Roman Reigns vs. Kevin Owens match, he is being put into a shark cage that will be suspended above the ring. The weird (not in a bad way) thing is that the match then became no disqualification as well, so, like, if Jericho escapes from the cage somehow, or drops a wrench or a chain or a bazooka or whatever down below for his bff Kevin Owens to use, then Owens can use it on Reigns and not feel bad about it in the slightest or suffer any kind of punishment from the ref.

WWE.com

Jericho is absolutely going to drop weapons from the cage. There is no question. Whether he comes down or not is the thing we should be asking, and also how does he get down, and also how does he not wreck himself when falling from the cage?

Why you should care: Okay so also Roman Reigns is friends with former Shield member Seth Rollins again because The Authority turned on their golden boy and made him realize that, hey, teaming with Reigns wasn’t so bad, sure he’s impervious to damage and people boo him sometimes but at least you can trust him. Rollins can interfere in this match on Reigns’ behalf just like Jericho can slash and interfere on Owens’ behalf, but if that happens, we might also get Triple H interfering to help out KO, just like he did to get the Universal Championship on Owens in the first place ... which was also the move that showed The Authority had turned on Seth in favor of someone new.

Got all that? In short, this could be bananas, and you do not want to miss the possibility of bananas.

WWE World Championship Match: John Cena vs. AJ Styles

What am I looking at here? AJ Styles used to have a haircut fellow wrestlers would refer to as being soccer mom-ish, but he’s since grown it out and now it’s pretty luxurious and I’m curious about what kind of product he’s using. John Cena is, of course, John Cena, whom you have seen on The Today Show and in movies and hosting the ESPYs and also those 15 times he won the WWE Championship in the past. That’s not a record, but he’ll tie the record if he beats AJ Styles at the Rumble.

Why you should care: Styles vs. Cena produced two of the best matches of 2016. They are two of the best wrestlers in the world, if not the two best. They’re fighting for the top title in wrestling, and the winner of this match might very well be at WrestleMania defending the title. “Might very well” and not “for sure definitely,” because the winner actually has to defend the championship at Elimination Chamber in a couple of weeks. Still, we can wait on that whole thing, because in the meantime, we have AJ GD Styles facing off against John F’n Cena and if Cena wins, you could easily envision it being the best WWE title win he’s ever had.

And you can trust me on that since I did just rank all 15 of them, some far more painful than others. Hey, John has come a real long way.

The 2017 Royal Rumble Match

WWE.com

What am I looking at here? 30 entrants. You’re eliminated by being thrown over the top rope and having both of your feet touch the floor, a stipulation you will hear explained many times. Unlike a Battle Royal, where all the wrestlers are in the ring at the start, the Royal Rumble lets entrants in one at a time with short breaks in between, and your entry number plus who is in the ring when you get there can play a huge role in how long you last.

Many of you know that already! Most of you, even. But there could be a newbie in the room, you know.

Why you should care: We have no idea who is going to win, as mentioned back at the beginning of this preview. There’s no major star coming back who is getting a clear push for the Rumble and Mania, a la Batista in 2014. Triple H isn’t in the match, like he was a year ago. John Cena and Roman Reigns, who won the other two of the last four Rumbles, are already in title matches and could be champions before this match even goes down.

What we do have is intrigue! The Undertaker is here — does that mean he’s going to win and challenge for the WWE World Championship one more time? Is Samoa Joe going to debut and tear through both RAW and SmackDown wrestlers to win the right to main event WrestleMania before he even has been signed to a specific show? Will Finn Balor return from injury and win the right to challenge for the Universal Championship he couldn’t even hold onto for 24 hours thanks to his shoulder? Is Bray Wyatt going to come out of nowhere and surprise us all with a Rumble victory? So many options, and we haven’t covered even half of the legitimate possibilities.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the Rumble. The winner might end up being someone exciting and new. It could be someone overdue. Or it could be someone who’s been around forever but is without a Rumble victory to this point. The possibilities are numerous, since WrestleMania 33 is going to be full of so many big-money marquee matches already that WWE can take some risks with their top title scene during the same show. And the Rumble match might be the better for it.