#i mean obviously ive tried my best not to translate those thoughts into action so its mostly fine so far | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theories-just-for-funzies · 4 years

Text

“What’s the very worst thing you can do to your very best friends? Tell them your darkest secret, because if you tell them, and they decide they’d rather not know... You can’t take it back. You can’t unsay it. Once you’ve opened your heart, you can’t close it again.”

This is the second post I’m making about BBC Sherlock S4 (or anything about any fandom, really). You can find the first one here, the topic is almost the same. I’m really slow in writing down my theories in a way that is comprehensible by others, so I’m sorry if i don’t have a lot for the moment. Read this with the knowledge that I firmly believe in TJLC as explained by Rebekah on YouTube, and that S4 is not real as we see it, but is telling us what we need to know before they release S5 (or the special if that’ll come first) through unusual ways, TJLC style.

I think here Culverton smith is mirroring the writers, and his friends are the viewers. During the whole scene we have TONS of mirrored shots in the windows, most of it infact. In all of the previous seasons mirrors and character shots in mirrors were there to signal “hey this character is currently mirroring this other thing”, so idk it might be even this time??

Faith when she’s still drugged and tries to remember something about the conference, the first shot of her that we see, she’s in a mirror, even the desk reflect her image. Wander which part of the audience Faith is mirroring? Yeah, you guessed it. The tjlc fandom. The ones that analyze things. The ones that are questioning.

And the nurses? Idk, I’ve never seen a nurse that’s just putting an IV wearing a mask (unless under special circumstances of course), it never happens even when you’re taking blood samples, it just doesn’t ring right to me. So, who are the nurses? They’re people working for Culverton, they know what’s happening, they know what the solution is and what it does, they know how to administrate it, but they leave the room in the moment of confession. The nurses are mirroring BBC Sherlock’s crew.

If you’ve never worked on a set let me tell you: nobody, apart from the smallest possible amount of selected people, knows the whole picture, they can’t risk it, usually it’s just the writers, the producers, and most f the times the main actor; everyone else just knows the smallest informations to do their single job of adjusting the lights or hair for that single scene just like it’s written in their schedule.

So the crew knows partially what they’re doing, but they can’t speak, because their mouth is covered.

I’m thinking this is exactly the reason of S4. S4 is the memory drug. Everything made sense till now, tjlc was more and more evident, it was extremely obvious to everyone that johnlock was an actual thing, i mean just look at the sign of three, MY MOM THOUGHT THEY WERE CANONICALLY IN LOVE BEFORE I EVEN DID (at the time the fandom wasn’t the greatest so I avoided pretty much anything that wasn’t fan fictions or fan art, and just thought it was queer bait). Everything was super clever and well made. And then S4 came. A cheap Hollywood movie where nothing made sense and with john and sherlock great platonic friendship. And it was the last season so how could you not except what they already gave you and still want more, right?

Wrong. S4 is either complete bullshit or a distortion of what actually happens.

Culverton say that he can’t say his darkest secret because he can’t take it back, yet he does tell, and he does take it back.

The show does say that sherlock and john love each other (and are still pining) but S4 takes that back. You want the distorted version? Ok. Sherlock does explicitly says the words “i love you” in S4 to Molly in a physical mirror, a character’s mirror for John, whose description of the coffin perfectly fits John. The show does say that the writers aren’t stupid and aren’t making a tv show that’s just a blockbuster action movie, with cheap Hollywood effects and made up physic laws. Yet S4 takes that back.

The whole thing they kept saying in earlier seasons about “making history of television” and “making unprecedented things”? What unprecedented things? That was extreamely cheap cinematic, with really poor writings and a rip off of James Bond and classic horror movies. Nothing about S4 was memorable or relevant.

They already said everything they had to say (for the moment) but then they couldn’t leave the public waiting for another 6 years before S5 with all that hope and knowledge. Especially considering the fandom suspected even the phone\heart metaphor before ASiB even aired. Leave those people with the tiniest hope and you’d find your plans stripped naked for everyone to see in less than half of that hiatus. That’s really not Moffat style, he needs to give you hope, rip your heart open, surprise you leaving you gasping, only then he can make another plot twist and make everything super beautiful again and making you crying because it’s too many emotions.

So they said their things before S4, the fans that were still not sold on johnlock or didn’t want it canon were the friends who would rather not know, they went on with the brain washing of S4, and said “ok, we’re done here, nothing else to see, the show is finished, good night”. But just as with Faith’s story you can reconstruct if not all, part of what happened; because i don’t know if you noticed, but S4 doesn’t have a lot of plot holes, it is one single gigantic plot hole.

But what happens if they kill everyone just like Culverton Smith said? What happens if they make S4 so bad and destroy everything they said up until now with the show itself? What happens if the same people that were able to decode everything suddenly lost any faith because they were let down so much they just let the fandom die, and there was no one left to analyze what they were actually saying?

Everyone would forget all about TJLC and about how clever of a show it was. They would erase the whole show from people’s memories, letting it pass by like any other show that’s there to fill your Sunday evening.

Also there’s another thing that doesn’t sit right with me, although i don’t have any proof backing this up and am not sure of what I’m saying, it’s basically just speculation, but still. TD12 package:

obviously this drug doesn’t exist, the only thing i came across with that name is a percussion sound module, you’re welcome to make your own theories with this informations since i know absolutely nothing about music technology and am not the smartest tool in the shed when it comes to music theories or clues.

I presume TD12 it’s something along the line of saline solution, since Sherlock made that replacement himself later in the episde, my research (because i also have no knowledge about medical stuff) told me that saline solution has en expiration time of roughly 2 years. On the package we see that the expiration’s date is October 2018, so counting back, assuming Culverton got the drug shortly before doing his speach, the scene takes place somewhere around October 2016. Wander what happened in October 2016?

On BBC Sherlock official YouTube channel they release just one video: Sherlock Series 4 release date. Now. You might say I’m looking a little to much into it, but if you go check the release dates of the other YouTube videos you would see that they usually don’t post just one video per month, that’s the only one around that time period. Idk if you ask me it’s a lot of strange coincidences.

Anyway, in the scene he then says “these drip feeds will keep the drug in your blood streams at exactly the right levels. Nothing that is happening to you now will stay with you for more than a few minutes. I’m afraid that some of the memories you’ve had up to this point might also be... corrupted.”.

So the victims starting now, will continue to take the drug for the next idk 30 minutes???? But apparently some of the events preceding that moment can be “corrupted”. Translated: everything starting from October 2016 is fucked up because of the drug, not only that, but also some things from before that. I’m guessing the “drips” would be the little occasional posts or news??

Might I add the information that in December 2018 the escape room Sherlock the game is now opened? Like, i know it’s not October, maybe I’m just looking where i want to look, but... I genuinely don’t know, that’s why I’m sharing things, so that people with a more objective point of view can come and say to me “hey you’re not making any sense, what the fuck are you talking about”.

And overall, I’m not native English speaker, but I don’t think you say “corrupted” when talking about human memories. It sounds more something used in the context of digital memories, usually it’s files that gets corrupted, not human brain memories.

23 notes · View notes

mw-moriearty · 4 years

Text

Superman III is an Anti-Capitalist Parable and Way Ahead of its Time

No seriously. Here’s the skinny.

Superman III came out in ‘83 and was directed by Richard Lester, who also directed the markedly inferior theatrical cut of Superman II three years earlier. Lester had a very different approach to the Superman series than his predecessor, Richard Donner: he insisted, ostensibly at the studio’s urging, on taking the series in a more camp comedy direction rather than the Old Hollywood epic movie tone Donner brought to the table. It makes sense, then, that audiences would push back against the goofier, lower-stakes tone of III. They were used to the (comparatively) operatic tone of the original Superman and, to a lesser extent, its sequel.

Superman III was a financial success, but it was negatively received by audiences and by critics, a negative reception that helped send the follow-ups Supergirl and Superman IV: A Quest for Peace to the bottom of the trash heap (not that they needed much help).

But, unlike those two installments, Superman III, when watched today with an unbiased eye, holds up much better than its reputation would suggest. The emphasized comedic undertones don’t stand out so much in this era of light, bantery Marvel films.

And, what’s more, Superman III is probably one of the most plainly anti-capitalist superhero movies of all time. Its maybe not “woke,” but its pretty damn close.

At the core of the film, and perhaps its most controversial element, is the comic relief character played by comedian Richard Pryor. Pryor’s character in Superman III may not be the most nuanced character of color in film, but he is also certainly not the Jar Jar Binks minstrel clown some make him out to be. What he is, is a naturally-gifted computer programmer so brilliant that he is able to hack into a government weather-controlling satellite while completely blitzed and effortlessly design a supercomputer so sophisticated it gains self-awareness. It is obvious the only reason that he lives on unemployment and can’t keep a job rather than being the next Bill Gates and giving the millionaire villain orders is the deep institutional racism upon which capitalism is founded.

The film is well aware of this racism, highlighting it in ways both big and small. Pryor is blackmailed into serving the rich white Trump-esque antagonist, played by Robert Vaughn, after being forced by his ridiculously small paycheck to commit embezzlement (the only victim of which being Vaughn himself, who is so dripping with surplus wealth that he has an artificial ski slope on the roof of his skyscraper). Their first interaction is full of condescending microaggressions on Vaughn’s part, such as cringe-inducingly calling Pryor “my man” in a manner that brings to mind the dad in Get Out.

When Pryor travels to Smallville, Kansas later in the film, he is visibly aghast at how eerily lily-white the whole place is, particularly staring in horror at a trio of porcelain-tinted mannequins in a store window. I’m sure his discomfort would be echoed by many black men taking their first step in rural southern America. Later, to infiltrate one of the businesses that he plans to hack in the small town, Pryor wears one of the awful suits worn by the aforementioned dummies and puts on an affected “white voice” to earn the trust of the drunken redneck that watches the place at night, a fitting commentary on how black men and women are expected to homogenize and “act white” to be above suspicion in white America.

And what happens when Pryor convinces Vaughn to give him the resources to construct his incredible supercomputer? Why, Vaughn and his sister appropriate it for themselves and put its unique capabilities to nefarious ends, shutting Pryor out of any control of his baby and leaving him out in the cold.

Pryor is much more than a victim through all of this, however. I already mentioned how he took the initiative to bolster his paltry computer programmer’s paycheck by using a clever scheme to embezzle from his greedy millionaire boss. He also doesn’t let said boss kick him around, either. Though his circumstances leave him with little choice but to be a cohort in Vaughn’s schemes, when push comes to shove, he stands up for himself. He refuses to allow Vaughn’s order for complete control of the oil tankers to be irreversible, he fights for his fair cut of the loot when Vaughn starts profiting off of his brilliance, and in the end he stands by Superman against his bourgeoisie bosses. He even saves Superman’s life on multiple occasions, using both his computer smarts and eventually a fire ax to come to the big guy’s rescue.

Given that Pryor has at least as much screen time as Supes throughout the picture, one is left wondering, who’s the real hero here? Why, its the guy running around in the frilly pink tablecloth, of course!

And Pryor’s not the only example of a downtrodden minority not being allowed to live to their full potential in a white supremacist patriarchal capitalist society. Perhaps the most interesting character in the film is the villain’s girlfriend, who is initially presented as a vapid, gold-digging bimbo until we learn that this is all an act on her part and she actually is a computer-wise, philosophy-reading secret genius herself. She only plays the part of the brainless trophy girl because life has left her few other options. It is a very fun subversion of the typical villain-moll dynamic, and it is a shame we don’t get more of this character, though she like Pryor is ultimately disturbed by Vaughn’s increasingly villainous actions and bails on him in the end.

But lets talk about Vaughn’s villain, and how he’s emblematic of the film’s ideas on rich white privilege as a whole. This is a guy who is so used to getting everything he wants that he sics a freaking hurricane on Colombia just because the country is competing with him in the coffee export industry. If that ain’t capitalism at its finest. He even repeats the tired adage “it is not enough that I succeed, others must fail,” misattributing it to Genghis Khan like an idiot. I mean seriously, who does this sound like?

This is the guy who gives us probably the most immortal line from the whole movie.

And that’s only the tip of the white entitlement iceberg. There’s also the running joke of the old white couple who win the Daily Planet’s vacation lottery and get sent off to Colombia, where we are treated to the wife saying things like, “look dear, a native wedding!” Cut to the most conventional looking church wedding ever. After this parody of cultural voyeurism, we have the couple later threatening to SUE Daily Planet Editor-in-Chief Perry White because A HURRICANE RUINED THEIR VACATION. What a couple of Karens.

The whole film is about the struggle between the working class and the rich. I’ll paraphrase one of the Smallville locals who, after seeing the chaos caused by the gasoline shortage brought about by Vaughn’s forced oil monopoly, says “I don’t know what’s going on, but I guarantee you, someone’s getting rich off of it. Someone’s always getting rich off of it.”

Oh yeah, and Superman is in this movie too a little. There’s a plot wherein Vaughn tries to synthesize an artificial kryptonite in an effort to kill Superman and prevent him from foiling his dastardly deeds. But, this being a kryptonite forged in the capitalist machine, its a lazy, half-assed copy that doesn’t even work right (leading to the above line).

That doesn’t mean that the kryptonite has no effect, though. Indeed, the symptoms of this knockoff kryptonite are fascinatingly similar to the effects of living under the crushing wheels of the capitalist regime.

We actually see Superman, through this physical manifestation of the exertion of capitalist oppression, deteriorate into a selfish, depressed, bitter shadow of his usual self. As this happens, the colors of his costume subtly grown more dark, drab, and dingy. Superman becomes concerned only with doing what is best for himself without regard to anyone else, giving up the whole “saving people” thing and even letting himself be coerced by the moll into ripping a giant hole into an oil tanker in exchange for a little nookie (the subsequent disturbing image of a massive oil spill creeping across the surface of the ocean is maybe the film showing its hand a little bit). Many socialist and anarchist thinkers have raised the thought that this exact selfish mindset is the natural effect of being socialized in a capitalist society.

Let’s be clear, this isn’t just “evil Superman”. This is Superman so crushed by self-loathing and the futility of his actions that at the lowest point in his decline we see him looking like this:

Indeed, this sad, alcoholic Superman very deliberately mirrors another character in the film: the aforementioned drunken yokel, who is also the former star quarterback of Clark Kent’s high school graduating class. This is a character who found, after graduating, that his celebrity status in school translated to nothing in the adult world, leaving him woefully unprepared for a real life where he is a functional nobody. Cue binge-drinking and pining for the glory days.

This all culminates in the movie’s most iconic scene, wherein Superman crash-lands in a junkyard and splits into two separate individuals: the above Superdick, and plain old Clark Kent. They then proceed to beat the shit out of each other.

Obviously, we aren’t meant to read this scene as literal; it isn’t actually, physically happening. It is a clever visualization of the internal struggle between the character’s two halves: Clark and Superman.

In fact, this very conflict is the heart of Superman’s story throughout the picture. This is examined in the form of Clark’s re-kindled relationship with childhood sweetheart Lana Lang. After the always tragic will-they-won’t-they of Superman and Lois, Clark and Lana’s romance is refreshingly positive and healthy. The obvious reason for this is that, unlike Lois, Lana isn’t just interested in the Superman persona. She loves Clark for Clark. He can be himself around her. Indeed, any romantic incursions between Superman in costume and Lana are portrayed as downright toxic, as in the unsettlingly realistic scene where Superman, first beginning to feel the effects of the faux kryptonite, makes several forceful, sexually aggressive advances on Lana in her own home. The obvious fear and discomfort on Lana’s face during this scene is incredibly telling. She isn’t interested in an inhumanly privileged, aggressive thug in spandex. She likes Clark Kent, the regular guy.

So it is no accident that in this climactic junkyard scene, Clark comes to represent the character’s “good side” and Superman the “bad”. Because this is not simply a struggle between Superman’s good and bad halves, it is a struggle between Clark Kent, the spectacularly unspectacular working man, and Superman, the ridiculously naturally privileged enforcer of statist status quo. Proletariat vs. bourgeoisie. And Clark Kent, the proletariat revolutionary fighting his way out of the bourgeois Superdick’s corruption, wins.

Not that Superman then becomes a perfect champion of the working class for the rest of the film. He does defeat Vaughnald Trump and blow up the evil computer, but he also remains something of a parody of typical movie “white savior” figures. This is mostly clearly shown in the denouement where Superman, obviously thinking he is providing some great act of charity, drops Richard Pryor’s character off at a dirty coal pit far from his home and recommends him for an entry-level computer job there. Pryor understandably decides he’d rather not slave in a coal mine in the middle of nowhere for the rest of his life, and chooses instead to walk the nine miles to the nearest bus station. There is also the final scene where Superman (who in evil mode had straightened the Leaning Tower of Pisa earlier in the film in an extreme act of pettiness) returns to Italy and “fixes” the tower, smiling and waving in smug self-satisfaction at the locals below, oblivious to the poor souvenir salesman who has just finished making his setting up his new display of now-straight replica towers.

tl;dr, I think that Superman III deserves reevaluation not as the moment where the Superman franchise began its descent into crappery, but instead as a flawed but biting satire on privilege and capitalist corruption in America.

That’s my two cents.

#superman #superman 3 #richard donner #richard lester #christoper reeve #capitalism #blm #fuck capitalism #Donald Trump #richard pryor #movie review #blog post #white privilege #socialism #anarchy #my two cents #tldr

5 notes · View notes

apocahipster · 6 years

Text

here’s just some author’s notes for the huge taz fic i finished today

you can read it here if you want

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13468608/chapters/30877473

Author’s notes,, i haven’t proofed these so, apologies ;000

Wow. Huge. This is literally the biggest thing ive ever written to completion. I had the whole fic planned before I uploaded the first chapter, and to accentuate the planning I had a 100+ page document of notes and also had an excel sheet which looked like this:

(the yellow on the left means summer, and blue when it was winter. The second column is day of the year, third important dates. On the right is the events which I highlighted yellow as I wrote them)

and like this

Its also the first fic I decided to upload as I wrote each chapter because I knew it would take about a year to complete. I wanted fan support (which I got and loved <3 ) and I didn’t want to sit on the whole thing and constantly re-write it and end up hating it and never publishing it.

So the way this fic began is I was listening to TAZ balance for the first time and as I different scenes or dialogue occurred I started taking notes on my phone for how they would translate to a high school setting. This whole thing started around the time I was at crystal kingdom and ironically, that’s were im up to in my relisten at the time of publishing the last chapter.

The other, very original, formative idea for the fic was this:

Magnus beats up kids who are homophobic to Taako as a way to cover for the fact that he is also bi // Thinks he’s straight and overly supportive of his gay friends

Similarly, in the original idea, it was going to be Julia who had died, not magnus’ dad. There was a really depressing scene where magnus spent the day with Julia’s parents.

Another formative idea was,

My name is Taako, you know, from Instagram.

And I suppose in the end this was the most impactful because I decided that I personally specialise in writing comedy based things. I wanted this to be a light-hearted fun fic.

In the original fiction, Travis and the other McElroys show regret that Magnus’ story is formed around the death of a woman (Julia). Similarly in sensitivity to the McElroy’s personal background I decided that this was not the right thing to write about. But I also wanted this story to be a magnus emotional journey. By choosing his dad as the character who had died I could keep many things planned such as magnus’ one year gap, Fischer as a therapy fish, Magnus’ aggression etc.

My favourite TAZ character is magnus, if that wasn’t obvious. But ironically, I feel like of all the characters his dialogue is the most OOC. While I tried to keep his thought-logic and actions to Magnus I don’t feel like magnus would say 99% of what my magnus did. Conversely Taako seemed like one of those characters who would be hard to pinpoint but I actually found him easiest to write.

Taako’s magic stone which ultimately ruined the play was introduced as I felt I was focusing too much on Taako’s appearance and not the fact he is incredibly smart and a brilliant wizard.

So I decided to make this fic mostly lighthearted. I wanted to squeeze as many highschool tropes in like the gigantic party, the school play, the football match. The last chapter has a scene in a class for every subject as I felt like I somewhat forgot to write them ever being in class for a large chunk of the middle section. But then again no one really want to read about school do they?

I almost always write my stories to a song, but in this case it was an album. Vance Joy’s Dream Your Life Away, and while I love the music I never want to hear it again for like at least a few months. I would play the whole album every time I sat down to write this thing. It set the summer-time mood for the fic. If you listen to the songs youll probably find places where each song inspired bits of the fic.

The first song Wind’s of Change begins with the like ‘I miss you more than you could know’ which began the driving idea of Magnus dealing with the loss of his father. The song ‘first time’ begins with a line about jumping in the neighbours pool which obviously… inspired magnus jumping into a pool. ‘The best that I can’ inspired Magnus and Mr Waxmen’s interaction. I love the idea of a teenage boy who keeps doing the wrong thing, feeling shame in himself and in his mentor and trying to get better.

The song ‘from afar’ was initially Taako’s song. This whole fic was going to be a Taako / Magnus / Kravitz fic where Taako convinces Magnus to take care of himself and Magnus realises Taako is in love with him and this helps him discover he’s bi and it was super dramatic. There was (an still is) some Magnus / Kravtiz scenes too mostly in the form of flirting.

As I stepped away from this being a ship heavy fic this song became Lucretia’s song. Lucretia’s unrequited love to Lup was mostly written from the heart, and I’m so sorry to Lucretia stans, she deserves all the GFs in the world. But I felt this was a very powerful thing to write in a teen story.

Taako’s fear of LDR is also taken from the heart. In a way this whole fic was a serious vent from my high school experience. Similarly as I am now 21, I didn’t feel comfortable nor did I even really conceptualise any NSFW scenes for this fic. It just didn’t seem to have a place. Besides, sex is in almost all other teen movies and books. I also wanted to keep weed out of this one bc I personally hate how drugs are in every teen story.

I actually had a planned acronym for the IPRE, the Insufferable Prick Resistance Ensemble, and a short backstory that Magnus Taako Lup and Merle formed the group in their youth to complain about annoying classmates.

Writing Lydia and Edward was the worst. I don’t know how to write cool and sassy kids. Me at me: don’t make me do it again.

Heres the entirety of my prepared barry notes:

Barry

-Oculus, opens portals?

-Likes pretty girl?!!?!?!

I had a planned thing for how each of their grand relics could play into the fic but it was far too much work.

I was also planning on writing wayyyy more Lucretia and wayyyy less Barry. Bc Lucretia was basically me as a teenager. But I started writing Barry as one of my friends and this helped me just write bundles and bundles of Barry content.

I really didn’t have anything planned for davenport. Even drawing his yearbook I was like whelp idk. The idea of him becoming a sports strategist kicked in right as I was writing the paragraph about killian being the new jock, simply bc the section needed to be longer and frankly, I love how his story turned out.

Part of scrapping the original, edgy tone of julia’s death and taako / magnus romance was wanting to continue the tradition where TAZ is a world separate of racism and homophobia. I scrapped original ideas of magnus being provoked by homophobic remarks and transphobic remarks about lup, wanting this to also be an escapist piece like TAZ is. Therefore coming up with other reasons for magnus to get into fights was hard and also I hate writing fights bc ive never been in a fight in my life.

The first half of this fic I was riding an enthusiasm high and just adding scenes and conversations as I thought of them and listened to the story. By about the end of semester 3 I still cared about the fic but I was basically writing everything I had pre-planned with little innovation.

All in all, this was extremely fun to write, and I think it made me a much, much, much better author. I love anyone who read the whole thing sm.

#my work #hhhhhhh

7 notes · View notes

identitycris1s · 3 years

Text

im back

hi just thought id pop in with a status update! maybe i’ll break this down into categories. feel like im doing an email update (ew!) but this rly is probs the best way to structure this post...

work / school (?)

work has been....aite. idk what to say. idk if i have unrealistic expectations of what work is supposed to be, but the idealist in me thinks its wrong to not even try and find something that seems meaningful / is deeply fulfilling. i think im mature enough to get that work isnt supposed to be fun / exciting every single day but bro this daily grind / sense of dread / utter disinterest / feeling of futility / frustration / disenchantment surely isnt the correct state of affairs.....at least let me try and find something that is a better fit, thats more stimulating, that feels more NATURAL to me? i just dont think im cut out to be a lawyer. sure i sometimes like arguing and making my point and i like that everyone i work with is smart and interesting and generally kind and reasonable and i like the prestige of the job and feeling like ppl respect me and i like the decent pay and the humane hours but.....i feel unmotivated to be a good lawyer. i think i find it difficult / disingenuous to always 100% get behind my client and advocate for their best interests. i tend to see things from a zoomed out perspective, like WHY are we fighting, WHY cant we just settle, WHY are the claimants pursuing this absolutely crap and unmeritorious claim and WHY do we have to defend it when its stupid and bound to fail (cos access2justice i guess but still, WHY), WHY cant we just hash things out in a meeting instead of sending emails here and there and wasting time, WHY do we have to answer stupid questions, WHY WHY WHY

and i think public policy is sort of an answer to that....i think theres more questioning of why we do things and why a policy will or will not work, in a macro sense - what is good for society at large. whereas in law (at least in litigation) its how can we just move this case forward and help the client, which is often not the most productive thing to do in a macro sense - very much a zero sum game. i get that shitty / unmeritorious claims still need to be defended against and someone has to do it and I GET IT but i just dont think i want to be that person defending these claims...or bringing them for that matter.....ultimately i cant fully / sincerely separate the overarching sense of futility from the duty to do a good job.

sigh. well at least ive kind of figured out this isnt for me. which is scary cos being a lawyer in this firm is pretty much a career for life - truly an iron rice bowl, i could probably make partner in maybe 4 or 5 years and live a comfortable upper middle class life...but i cant bring myself to do that. i cant bring myself to not give myself a shot at doing something i actually find interesting, stimulating and that i care about deeply. call me crazy! we’ll see where this brings me in 5 years’ time....:)

anyway most ppl at work (at least in my team) know that im most likely gonna leave soon. i rly only told 2 ppl (my boss cos he had to sign off on my testimonial and G cos she was quitting anyway)...but somehow ppl found out one way or another. i dont rly mind and ppl have been taking it pretty well and have been kind and encouraging (i guess why would they not take it well, im hardly indispensable) but i get a bit antsy thinking - what if i dont get in...then what? do i just put my head down and continue here (BUT IM SO SAD) or do i just quit without any prospects and try to find a policy-ish job??

idk. will have faith that God will put me where I need to be. he is in control of it all and I BELIEVE THIS !!! I am just a bit scared that his plan is different from what i think i want....but this is just my human instinct and i know in my head that there is no reason to be scared cos his plan is always the better one. head knowledge just needs to translate to heart understanding and real trust / faith.

ermmm relationships...???

i started using...cmb...idk why i find this so cringey. i guess about a year ago i couldnt imagine doing this and i kept thinking EW what if ppl i know see me and they think im a desperate saddo who cant find a bf irl and has to resort to an app EW shes so lame and ugly and gross. and i realised that is so stupid no one actually thinks that way and its very backward and dumb and insecure of me to be thinking that. and anyway as i get older i rly dont quite give a shit what ppl think of me (at least i tell myself that....)

i suppose i was also inspired by csm who has been quite actively using apps and meeting ppl and taking real..strides..(LOL) in her dating life. i used to tell myself hey God will provide u with a mans if he wants u to be with a mans. but also God can use an app to do that...and if i dont step out in faith that he will do something and i dont take any action at all, how is God gonna work?? should i sit at home and expect a man to fall into my lap??

for some ppl it has been way easier, e.g. my parents meeting in uni and falling i love. i always wanted that - the organic relationship, the meet-cute, the friends to lovers thing. (i guess i tried that last one before and it didnt work...) but i think theres no point in romanticising relationships anymore. thats a very modern thing to do and its not necessarily a good thing? like who’s to say a relationship that had organic beginnings is intrinsically better than one that started from an app?

anyway i havent had much luck haha i think its hard to find genuine GCBs (or maybe theyre just not attracted to me....) although recently ive been talking to this one guy B for a week or two and its been...ok i guess. hes rly nice and seemed cool at first - we talked about travelling and hamilton and the office, which was a good start. he is thoughtful and kind and doesnt seem to be put off by my very slow replies (he replies so fast......its stressful a bit) and he does the whole good morning text thing (which i frankly find a bit bizarre, we barely know each other..?? and ive never even met him irl.. but its sweet i guess :))

but DUDE his english seems to be not great - at least thats the impression i get from texting him. which is an issue for me. i dont want it to be BUT IT IS...first red flag was when he said some weird thing about not wanting to wear a mask at work (not a literal mask - like he didnt know if he could be his ‘true self’) and the wording was very strange. then he said “the weekends are almost here” ?? the weekend is not a plural though? then he used the wrong tense a few times and his apostrophe usage was wrong (”Gods’ love” - bro there is one God). he also uses way too many commas which irks me.

i mean i get that text is supposed to be an informal medium - come on look at this post, there r hardly any capital letters and plenty of short forms and hardly any apostrophes but u see its CONSISTENT and its obviously cos of laziness / convenience - but i think his problem is a bit different...u can sort of tell if someone doesnt have a 100% strong grasp of english. those r basic grammar mistakes man...i get that i sound petty and stupid and this isnt a huge deal but i feel like im settling by even talking to him cos this is not something i wld normally tolerate but hey maybe im getting desperate with age :(:(:( urgh

on the other hand maybe i just need to be more generous with ppl and l have an irrationally high standard for english cos i am a lawyer and my friends all speak well / text well?? maybe im just being too nitpicky?? honestly hes very nice and communicative and straightforward and seems mature and very God-fearing and idk why hes still talking to me cos ive been a bit cold and slow to respond. hes very patient which i dont rly deserve.....i myself have a million flaws that are probably way worse and egregious (ahem PRIDE...ahem ego....ie the source of this dilemma in the first place...) so maybe i should just close one eye abt the bad grammar.

i also realised how fked up i am - confirmed my suspicion that i am naturally attracted to emotionally unavailable ppl / ppl that just seem distant / out of reach (thats my avoidant attachment style right there). i think there was one day he didnt text me at all and omg...i couldnt stop thinking what i did wrong...like did i piss him off by being too cold for too long...did he get scared off cos i said i wanted to do a masters (idk this seemed like an irrational leap but i was being irrational)..then i started being nicer to him and replied more promptly hahaha turns out he was just rly bz at work that day. omg this pattern is real i think i did this with xj also - was eager to speak when he was in japan but after meeting irll i was just over it... (i am drawn to distance like a moth to a flame and i am repelled by availability like....a fire by a fire extinguisher (??)). yucks i rly hate myself sometimes but yknow what at least im self aware and im trying to fix this...kind of.. gonna hash this avoidant thing out with my therapist at the next sesh.

on the topic of xj i got a bit nostalgic and wondered why we stopped speaking (surprise surprise it was my fault, didnt reply then felt it had been left to long to pick it up again...) went back to look at our texts and aw we rly got along so well, i do miss him as a friend and im sorry about how poorly i treated him especially in dec 2018 / jan 2019 sigh.....i was a real bitch....

anyway im just gonna see how things go with B... if he asks me out i prob will go... just to give it a shot. update if / when that happens!

EDIT - he asked me out lol we shall see how it goes.

0 notes

inthisformiambadwolf · 7 years

Photo

Requested by @bloodofthepen

*Also, the Doctor makes a less than complimentary comment about France. It was meant to be a sort of foreshadowing reference to “The Girl in the Fireplace” and I mean no offense to actual France.

Part I - Part III - Part IV

The Doctor didn’t like to admit that his great big Time Lord brain forgot things, but the truth was that he forgot a lot of things. It was all still stored in his brain, but he just wasn’t constantly thinking about everything, and the things that he didn’t think about got shoved to the back of the storage closet of his mind.

Which was kind of a pain, because the closet was a mess and he couldn't sort through it all.

It was time to dust off some of the old memories, as well as a few books, and renew his mind on the subject of courting. Because, honestly, he hadn’t thought about that in a long time. When he was the Fifth, he had been rather charmed by one of his companions, but to think that it would actually lead anywhere hadn’t occurred to him, so he hadn't bothered with any thought of courting. With you, though, it was different. He wasn’t going to let you slip away because he couldn’t take action.

The issue was that he didn’t know how to take action. This body was better with actions than words (although he wasn’t half bad with words, when he really got his head around a concept), but he didn’t have a clue as to how to… well, romance you. He knew how to flirt, sure, but he didn’t want to flirt with you. He wanted you to love him, not think he was some dumb ape just thinking below the waist, no different from any human bloke. Flirting might be fun, but this was serious, and therefore, he had to go about things the serious way.

Lucky for him, nothing was more serious than a Gallifreyan.

He had done his best, so far. Some of it had been instinctual, like the touching, and the staring (he was still waiting for you to rat him out for that), and some things had been brilliant, like taking you to his yet-unnamed planet (he was thinking of letting you name it, since you loved it so much). But that had been going on for a while, and while he liked to think that you were noticing his affection, he wasn’t sure. Maybe you were completely clueless. Or, if he was very unlucky, you knew exactly what was going on and you were kindly ignoring it in order to spare him pain. Hopefully not. Either way, it seemed to Nine that he needed to put a little more oomph into the process. Gallifreyan courting, real Gallifreyan courting instead of this moseying-about he had been doing, had plenty of oomph.

Time to find out what he could do.

The book he found was in ancient Gallifreyan, but as far as he could tell, it wasn’t any different from the modern version he had read in the Academy. A bit less polished than what he had read, but the content was unchanged. Perfect.

“Alrigh’, let’s see wha’ we’ve got,” the Doctor muttered to himself, handling the old book with care. The thing was absolutely ancient, even to him.

He skimmed the first chapter of superfluous Time Lord fluff, technical babble meant to confuse, and a plethora of warnings against the courting process. It had been looked down on for generations. It was much more appropriate and approved of to simply go along and accept whatever marriage was arranged for you, and who needed courting when you knew that you had no choice in the matter? The Doctor remembered scoffing at courting as a child, and then yearning for it when he felt the stifling noose of an arranged, loveless, unbonded marriage. Now, the chance to actually use these old customs made him feel a little… excited? Nervous? His Eighth self had these things memorized, that romantic sap.

"No... no, that's not what I need, no…”

And then Nine's eyes caught a phrase that was, unfortunately, a good description of his situation.

'… if the woman being courted seems to be unaware or purposefully ignorant of your first advances…'

The Doctor groaned. Great. Just what he needed but not what he wanted to see. The idea that you were ignoring him hurt a little bit. Maybe you were doing it to be kind, but you would… well, you would just come right out and tell him you weren’t interested, right? You wouldn’t let him trip over himself trying to impress you when you weren’t interested, right? That would be- stop it. Just read the bloody book.

'If the woman being courted seems to be unaware or purposefully ignorant of your first advances, it would be in your best interest to take more formal steps.'

Well, obviously. That was why he was reading the book, yeah?

“Doctor?”

The Doctor jolted at the sound of your voice, reflexively splaying the book against his chest in order to hide what he was reading. He immediately relaxed when it occurred to him that your couldn’t read it even if you tried; the TARDIS didn’t translate Gallifreyan. Thank Rassilon.

“Er, yeah?” he called, satellite ears straining to hear any sound that might give away your position. He heard shuffling and the unique sound of vibrations through grating- you were in the hallway. “Ya need anythin’?”

“No,” you answered, so softly that if it weren’t for his Superior Time Lord-iness, he might not have heard you. “You were just gone for a long time. I thought maybe you weren’t even in the TARDIS. Out on your own adventure.”

Out on his own? Without you? Yeah, sure, the Doctor liked his space, but the idea of leaving his mate -potential mate, potential, because you weren’t his yet and you might never be- behind without establishing a telepathic link made him feel a little sick. It would be one thing if you were bonded- he would be able to check up on you from time to time, and he would know if you needed something (needed him), but that wasn’t the case. You weren’t bonded to him, and therefore, to leave you behind would be to leave you truly alone. His long-repressed instincts reared up from their sleep and rebelled against the idea of his almost-maybe-mate being left unprotected. The likelihood of something happening to you while the TARDIS was protecting you was low, nigh nonexistent, but it still didn’t feel right. He was the Doctor, and he was Gallifreyan. Protect was written into him, lasting through each regeneration without fail.

“No, no, o'course not!” the Doctor scrambled to answer, clutching the book tightly against his side. He heard you move; now you were just outside the door. “I didn’t realise how long it had been, is all. Vortex can play tricks on my Time Sense. I’ll be out in mo’.”

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” you protested, but the Doctor was having none of it.

“You’re not! You’re not. I’ve been workin’ on a thing, ya know things, for way too long. Lemme put this away and we- we’ll, uh, we’ll watch a film. I’ve got one from 2145 I’m sure you’ve never seen.”

The Doctor heard you stifle a giggle, and he smirked in victory. Making you laugh was bonus points for him, he believed. Laughing was good. Laughing made you happy, and if he was making you laugh, then he was making you happy. He hoped. He may have acted like he knew everything, but he didn't know how you processed his attempts of making himself... important to you. But laughter seemed like a safe goal.

“Sure,” you answered, and he listened as your footsteps faded away. He focused his attention back on his book, hoping to find at least one helpful thing before- ooh.

'The joining of the hands can be an activity of utmost importance to the courting process. It is a more physical form of bonding, and therefore inferior, but it has been found to be extremely effective. One must initiate contact of the hands, so that you and she whom you are courting clasp fingers and press palm-to-palm. Then situate the bodies close together, so that they are touching within appropriate limits. Hold this position for as long as both of you are comfortable. During palm-contact, it is possible to engage in a lower form of touch-telepathy the allows a pair to share or transmit not thoughts, but emotions. [Note: for those who are very strong empaths, this process can be either stabilizing or overwhelming. Discuss this possibility with your wooing partner so that you will both be prepared.] This minor telepathic joining is crucial to the pre-bonding, as is the physical expression of hand joining.'

The Doctor tried not to laugh, but of course he did laugh, because how could he not? An ancient Gallifreyan text had just told him to hold your hand, have a good cuddle, and play the telepathic equivalent of emotion-footsies. This wasn’t funny. It was bloody hilarious. And the funniest part was that he was going to do it. He was! He was going to put in that film, cuddle up with you on the couch, and hold your hand like a love-struck ninety-year-old. And then he was going to use this body’s rather weak telepathy to let you feel just a hint of how enamored he was. Oh. He scrubbed his palms over his short hair. This was ridiculous. He was about to go embarrass the Time Sense out of himself, and he was too focused on you to stop himself.

Well, he thought, time to go. There had to be a better way to say that.

Allons-y. No, that was let’s go, and it was French. He hated France. Never go to France. What about… geronimo? Huh. Geronimo. He liked that. He would have to use that one day. He opened his door and stepped into the hallway, smiling.

Geronimo, love.

#Ninth Doctor #Of Conduct and Procedure #doctor who imagine #nine x reader #doctor x reader #ninth doctor x reader #9 x reader #9th doctor x reader #gallifreyan courting #gallifreyan stuff #series #imagine the doctor #doctor who #ninth doctor imagine

374 notes · View notes

create-ninety · 5 years

Text

Wednesday 20th February, ’19. 10am.

There’s nothing quite like going to a gig at a small venue in a trendy part of town to make you feel like a geriatric.

While I was getting ready for the event, I was wondering if I was going too casual – I was wearing a plain t-shirt with black jeans and an oversized floral blazer. Turns out I should have gone in what I normally wear as pyjamas! There were kids (I say kids, because while there were definitely a few ‘older’ people in the crowd, the majority looked like they were born this side of the century) wearing what I can only describe as their dorky mum’s clothes from the seventies. It was bizarre. Lucie and I stood to the side in a somewhat demure fashion by comparison, me sipping on non-alcoholic beer, and Lucie overheating from a temperature brought on by a nasty cold.

We both agreed that, if we were born when they were, it’s this kind of crowd we probably would have found ourselves in. Perhaps it’s because they were wearing exactly what we were wearing, once upon a time. I can imagine this isn’t a unique experience for people who find themselves looking over their shoulder at the next generation and wonder what the hell is going on.

The show itself was great – the band were amazing. I’ve seen them three times now and each time they’ve got better. The audience loved the performance and it was actually quite inspiring to see people passionate about their art in action. And it was obviously the kind of crowd that didn’t bat an eyelid that I was draped over completely over Lucie, which is always a plus.

When we got home, we lay awake talking about it the performers. I wondered what the process is that gets a person to the point where they feel confident enough to get on stage and perform in front of others. Essentially saying, “I am confident enough that my work is good enough to not only subject you to, but I am compelling enough to perform it in front of others.”

That’s a pretty brave thing, for anyone to do. To be inviting open criticism and to stand up and project vulnerability. I do, genuinely, marvel at musicians and stage actors who have to suspend what can only be described as ‘normal reality’ to sing, move about, and create a large amount of sound – something that in any other situation would be wildly inappropriate and strange. And yet there we all were, gathered around a stage, making noise for individuals who were inhabiting that space of vulnerability. I’ve decided that, for me, it’s actually less about hearing the music of the artists when I see the live show, and more about watching and observing the emotions that they’re going through, as they do it. And you can see it on their faces. The nerves, the little shakes, the awkward chatter between songs when the polished performance of practiced routine is paused.

Lucie pointed out to me that writing a novel isn’t so different to that.

In some ways, perhaps not, but by and large I think there are some key differences.

I think that if you’re a creative person by nature, then creativity has the opportunity to express itself in several key ways: as an actor, a musician, a visual artist, or a writer. Each of those could be called spheres with smaller subsets breaking off (stage actors vs film actors, painters vs photographers, poets vs fiction writers, and so on). I suppose it just depends what vehicle you ultimately are drawn to and prefer as your mode of expression. Because ultimately, the point of anything creative is fundamentally the same: it’s just that, expression. You are expressing something emotive, experiential, a message, something others might relate to. And each of those spheres give you the option to do it, but with completely different methods of execution.

When I was growing up I played with all of the different spheres and I can see them all, now, as different sizes and at varying distances from me. At certain points in my life I’ve actually valued them and explored them in different orders. Some have increased in resolution and texture while others have stayed smaller and smoother.

The smallest of my creative spheres, the one most under-developed and child-like, is visual art. I’m not bad at basic sketching or copying something. And I can stare at a piece of art and try and pull out its meaning. But when I was young, the pleasure I’d get from mixing paint or translating an emotion onto a canvas or something else just wasn’t very high for me. So I didn’t spend time doing it. There were moments where I’d develop a surge in interest (this still happens) – I’d go and buy watercolours and start painting for fun, or I’d be obsessed with sketching raccoons or something. But it’s always fleeting, and ultimately, not really something that I have been able to use as the best means of my expression.

I found a lot of joy in stage acting and performing when I was young, right up to my teenage years. I would include public speaking in this. I found it exciting. I liked playing characters with interesting stories, and I liked to turn different emotions on and off to create scenes with others. I liked finding mirrors of myself in characters, and ‘becoming them’, for a short time, was a small reprieve from myself. But sometimes it was hard to occupy the emotions of a character when my own were trying to take centre stage, so to speak. In my last year of high school when I was arguably involved in the most theatre I’d ever done – I was the lead role in my drama class’ final show, I was in a speech finals competition, I was sitting a speech and drama exam that had multiple theatrical components, I was in our school production, and in an improv team – I was stressed as hell. I realised, ultimately, I didn’t like standing up in front of others to be scrutinised as a version of myself that wasn’t me. I didn’t like that there was a ‘right way’ to act, and a ‘wrong way’. Because, well, there’s a director telling you what to do and how to do it. And so when I left school, I stopped any form of acting. I thought about joining a theatre company but I didn’t. I almost studied Theatre at uni, but I didn’t. It just wasn’t the creative vehicle for expression for me and I dropped it all together. I think, as a result, that acting is now my least valued and explored sphere.

Music, on the other hand, was something I discovered in my late teens. I’d tried piano earlier but didn’t like it, because I was taught classical, which to me was basically mathematics with your fingers. I wasn’t good at translating the written music to something that requires you to be so profoundly dextrous. Years later I would discover tab, and learn the general principles of music accidentally. I realised that chords are the foundation of all music, and that chords translate across all string and wind instruments, including the piano. Once I understood that, and once I was able to master basic dexterity and rhythm, music became the most wonderful tool of expression. I was able to write lyrics, write melodies, and then later on, piece them all together to make a song on my computer. I must have made hundreds. I did struggle to ‘finish’ one, though, and my desire to perform them never became overwhelming enough to take it to the next level. For me, it really was just means to express something. I liked the personal nature of it. I liked the different emotions that could be conveyed through the different sounds and instruments. Sharing the songs with anyone was always a profoundly terrifying experience: the music was an extension of myself, as if I had translated my own identity and ‘suffering’ into sound – and for others to hear it, and to judge it, would be for them to judge me. And so the music sphere for me has grown large, but it has stayed at the same size for some years now. I pick up the guitar when I’m feeling emotional. Or when I want to put music to a poem. And when I see musicians perform, I see love for the vehicle. I often dream about writing an album to compliment a film. I suppose that now, there is actually the option to actually produce music without having to perform at all – you can do it all digitally. But I don’t think that I love it enough to put it out there. There is so much music available. I don’t think that what I create would be contributing to anything other than my own creative expression. And so, it’s for that reason, while it’s fun to dream, I think – unless I suddenly have unlimited free time and money – that it’s something I’ll never take further than just tinkering around when I fancy.

Writing, for me, is the perfect mode of expression. It’s a completely internal process. With music there is this external component, which I think is ultimately what turns me off about it, but with writing, it can be done completely behind a veil. When it is released into the world, it’s consumed by a reader internally. You are not the work. The work is as separate from you as possible (perhaps in many ways like visual art). This is what appeals to me so deeply. That I get to have a personal, raw, emotive and transformative experience writing something and exploring it in a depth that has so many layers of meaning. And when someone reads it, the work becomes a personal experience for them. You are just a a vehicle for the expression. My physical form, my personal likes and dislikes and expressions, are not relevant to the ideas being put out into the world. And I love this. Writing also carries with it the highest possibility for profound connection: books take a long time to be read, and upon each separate reading, new meaning can be found and uncovered. The same can be said for all the spheres, absolutely – I’ve certainly spent hours listening to the same song and attached various meanings to it, and felt connections to musicians I’ve never met – but there is something unique about a narrative with a character who goes on a journey. I would argue that in a book you can still experience all five senses, but in an abstract way.

I don’t like the thought of who I am as a person getting in the way of the message. I want to place the art and the ideas at the centre of the experience. When you involve yourself – in a way that musicians and actors have to do – then you become consumable. And that is a scary concept for me. One could argue that the person performing is actually, themselves, part of the art - I would imagine this to be true - but I think this is what differentiates the spheres.

And, more than anything, writing is as automatic and as essential to me as breathing. Or eating. It’s just something that’s part of my day and necessary for normal functioning. For people who master the other spheres, you can see that they have this feeling about their own medium. I saw it on the faces of the performers last night. They live and breathe music. Their instruments are extensions of their identities that they have to exorcise. When I scroll through the Instagram profiles of visual artists, their dedication to the craft is demonstrated through the picture after picture after picture of their creations.

And, finally, I am now – perhaps like the musicians – confident enough to think that my work is good enough. I also think it’s now good enough for others. So yes, maybe I am more like the musicians than I think.

#personal #createninety #journal #feb2019 #february2019 #thoughts #contemplation #writer #author

0 notes

kendrixtermina · 7 years

Text

Cold Hearted Girl Blues

The “Cold Hearted Girl Blues” Anthology, & associated story ideas.

Just to be safe, TRIGGER WARNING for Disturbing Content and unhealthy attitudes that are in no way representative of reality.

Depiction =/= endorsement.

(Final order may vary)

Part A: Avoidant Attachment Style

Indifferent Girl Playlist - “The expression ‘I don’t feel so well’ makes no gramatical sense. It should be ‘I don’t feel so good’, unless you mean to imply that your ability to feel is hampered.”

Cold Hearted Girl Blues - “One Day she won’t love you either.”

Barren Heart - “The hypocricy of writing about things you know nothing about.”

There Was Nothing In Gauf’s Room - “It’s not her fault, either. What you get is what you see. ”

Failure to Manifest - “Sometimes, this situation has her feeling like she doesn’t exist.”

Cold Hearted Girl Gothic - “Just this single, isolated Conciousness.”

LEERE IST EIN PRIVILEG - “#Introvert Pride.”

Dweeb Life - “Ah, the obscure Joys of bein a shut-in”

Heroin Chick - “Involving no actual heroin.”

You're in a laundry room - “There has been a bit of a failure to connect with this world.”

Biology / inertia - “Even her happiest relationship didn’t go over without being compared to a robot at least once. Balancing extreme introversion with a live-in boyfriend.”

Diffusion - “She has no idea what she looks like. It always surprisesher what people say about her.”

Cold Blooded - “It’s a style of communication, apparently.”

Crazy Headphones Girl - “What could he possibly see in her?”

Cold Hearted Girl Erotica - “Her Kink is compartementalization, but she also dabbles in questionanble sex on drugs threesomes with a hooker.”

Cold Hearted Girl Tumblr - “Preempting the Discourse(TM). I was done with the 2010s when they were a new thing.”

Cold Hearted Girl Musings - “She tries to avoid the common pitfalls, at least in theory.”

Cold Hearted Girl Adventures - “She realizes that she’s the sort of person who breaks people’s heart; She’s like this asshole boyfriend from all these lovesongs.”

Cold Hearted Girl's Lament - “She’s usually the one who has to take it upon herself to be be the rational one and tell you ‘No’.”

Cold Hearted Girl Challenges - “Even the Best of her relationships involved her being compared to a robot at least once.”

Life is Gross - “Including the bits of it that are commonly accepted to be loveable and cute.”

Indifference II: Emotionally unavailable morally ambiguous chick - “There are character flaws, ppl. Being an asshole is generally a bad thing.”

Cyborgery I (the becomming) - “Even when she’s right with you,she’s so far away”

The Minimalist's Wet Dream - “She leads her life with a bare minimum of human contact.”

Alphabet Girl - “It would be one thing if you were competing with the universe, but it’s really her ingrown, self-absorbed world you’re playing second fiddle to.”

Peel - “You thought you could find a normal person underneath, didn’t you?”

Part B: Maladaptive Daydreaming

Endzeitromantik - “No one wants to admit these days that they ever liked NuMetal but she sees no reason to do the same.”

Unapologetic - “She’s not romanticising what she thinks you think she’s romanticising. Or so she thinks.”

Luciferosis - “She’s in love with the Devil and is planning to leave in order to be with him. Of course, she will be missed, but of course, she doesn’t care about it. She’s the sort of asshole who’d fall in love with the Devil.”

Opheliac - “There are multiple ways to be in love with the void. The most relevant ones are not featured in this piece.”

Lone Diggin' - “Going to restaurants on her own.”

The Girl In The Tower - “To preserve something valuable in safe, protected garden... that is not what you did.”

Bizarro Self - “She’s put some thought into this, actually.”

Dreamer Things - “That’s what she calls them, anyway. ‘Dreamer’ may be an euphemism here.”

Make Me Wanna Die - “She just wants to be special, probably because she has no idea what real suffering is. Words mean things, you know?”

Favorite Love Songs - “Though her real life is barren and deprived, she has a rich inner life. Well, then again, how ‘rich’ can an ‘inner life’ be that only ruminates tiny indirect tidbits of information?”

There Is A Little Harley Quinn In All Of Us - “Unpacking the Whole Badboy Complex. It’s not what you think it is.”

Strange Little Girl - “You really should be going.”

Abstract Dreams - “She doesn’t think they mean anything but she’s willing to indulge the thoughts.”

Joy, Joy, Joy, the Melancholia Rolercoaster. - “She likes to think she has feelings.”

Immortelle - “Involving no Actual Immortals.”

I Feel Personally Victimized By Those 19th Century Romanticists - “Even I am not sure what she’s trying to rove here.”

My Fantasy - “Her kink is apparently freezing to death.”

Cyborgery II - “She envies people whose calloused hands show their dedication to their passion.”

Reality Death - “Silly Rabbit, of course the world keeps turning when you’re not there to observe it anymore.”

Dandelion - “The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all. But sometimes it’s better to be the Dandelion, which can take root anywhere and everywhere.”

Plunge - “If there’s some A grade deaster going on, she obviously won’t miss out on watching.”

Fairytale Ending - “My favorites were Sleeping Beauty and ‘The Salt Princess’. Go on and psychoanalyze me.”

Recontextualizing - “She has different words for it now.”

Peeping Tommie - “It’s at it’s purest where it belongs the least. Or perhaps she just grew the fuck up.”

Paper Flowers - “She’d like to think they mean something.”

Part C: Exercises in Counterdependency

The Butthurt Electra Playlist - “She’s got enough self-awareness to call it that, but not enough to realize it was a bad idea.”

She Will Have her Revenge - “She’ll come back as Fire/ To Burn All the Liars/ Leave a Blanket of Ash on the Ground.”

Hate Poems - “Or: Giving yourself Headaches over people who aren’t worth it”

Pavlov redux - “If you can’t understand like a human, you have to be beaten like a dog” - “Actually, Daddy Dearest, you’re not supposed to beat dogs, either.”

Im Real Good At Hating - “Honestly! I’ve got to have some talent somewhere. ”

Fuck You Specifically- “Her Lips: Fuck You. Her Hair: Fuck You. Her Clothes: Fuck You. Her crippling self-motivation issues: Fuck You.”

My whole existence for your amusement - “And that is why I’m here with you.”

Sick & Tired - “Yes I know what you think of me, you never shut up.”

Been A Son - “Why does she spend so much time searching for some kind of reason for what you did? Even if there was, it wouldn’t justify your actions.”

Make a list - “It’s supposed to be a therapeutic excercise.”

choice - “It’s the Morton’s Fork of emotions.”

gross girl - “FAART. FAART. She picks her note and eats it. ”

BratFactory - “She outright heard her mother say that she has no value to that man except as a mother to make children.”

AntiStar - “Back in the day, I became obsessed with the thought of a lightless Luminary, an existence that is the very opposite of light.”

Adaptation - “It’s amazing how much a human can twist themselves into a pretzel. It was a matter of survival at the time, you see.”

Emotional Abuse Checklist - “BINGO!”

Remember That We Suffered - “You have no idea what pain is.”

Cyborgery III: We can Rebuild Her - “Perhaps these vagrant years were simply the means to piece herself back together.”

Idetifikation mit dem Aggressor - “Apparently she looks just like him.”

Es Kocht Die Eifersucht - “A parent is supposed to protect a child from the bad experiences of their youth, not inflict some creepy reenactment of them upon you.”

Curmudgeon (Long Way Home) - “She’s that thing you go to when you want to have a cheap laugh.”

Visibility - “Your Father Loves you! why can’t you see that?”

Touchy - “You bet she is.”

Light - “She thinks she used to be Light once, but she can’t be sure.”

If I Die, I can be replaced - “I will leave you all behind, move to spain and adopt some children who actually deserve my time and money. Perhaps they will finally appreciate me, unlike you ungrateful wretches.”

My One Mistake Was That I Couldn't Let You Down - “Turns out she wasn’t quite Cold Hearted enough.”

PART D: USELESS, USELESS, USELESS CHILD

Fuckyeahmedicalgrossness - “In my humble opinion, the human brain is way too squishy.”

Something in The Way - “You can always find something.”

Unbirth - “Barely Functioning Lump of Human Flesh. Except no, that’s unfair to the people with real problems. I suppose ‘asshole’ will do.”

Donald Duck Volcano - “I’m not gonna sugarcoat her this time.”

My Wretched Soul Desires Violence - “It’s not pretty, but it’s true. It shouldn’t be but it is.”

Verbal Disclaimer - “I’m not claiming I’m perfect either.”

Useless Child - “How was she supposed to learn if you never let her do anything?”

Madwoman in the Attic - “And they always knew she would be the family spinster.”

Unfair Existence - “At the risk of sounding like a millionaire campaigning for a tax on poverty.”

The Mutant - “Way to make that 9 year old feel like a freak of nature... in the end it’s probably a kind of arrogance.”

Green Grunge - “It’s her jam, except not really. She sure can’t claim to be an expert.”

In Defense Of That Legendary Divorce - “The whole concept of ‘stay for the children’ is utter bullsh*t”

My Fantasy II - “I’m gonna kill all yo fuckers. That’s what quiet people who keep to themselves are supposed to do, right?”

Cyborgery IV – Plastic Death - “My Fetish: All the weak parts of the real me, cut away and dumped in a bucket of medical waste.”

Schreckschraube - “It occurs to her that she’s terribly gross to them.”

Nemo, or as my father lovingly calls me, "Chiquilla de Mierda" - “It’s Spanish for ‘Shit Brat’.”

Hasmereir - “Some of the cruelty is lost in translation, but it basically means ‘Make-Me-Laugh-Thing.’”

You Stink - “Bullies aren’t known for being very creative people.”

Sweet Sweet Reality - “She’s not completely out of touch with it.”

Is there More To Lose Than Gain - “Apparently yes, but she’s not sure how to get it anyways.”

Alraune - “Always with the legends and the soulless children. I think she has a type.”

Confession - “I plead guilty. Mostly to existing.”

Way Too Old For This And F****ing Bored Of It - “Even she is sick of all her emo bullsh*t.”

EPILOGUE: WHATS THE USE OF FEELING BLUE? - The next step, apparently, is crying.

#chgb #writing #baby tries to art #trigger warning

1 note · View note