#like i Know its the classism i Know it is but it truly is so frustrating all i want is a proshot of zimmermans metamorphoses and that sexy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twirlingsmilingwriting · 4 months

Text

Tolerate It pt. 3 || Young! Coriolanus Snow X reader

"Took this dagger in me and removed it, gained the weight of you then lose it... If its all in my head tell me now. Tell me I've got it wrong somehow, I know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it"

You don't need to read pt 1 to understand what is happening but if you want to ITS HERE

Part two is a little necessary but you'll prob catch on. Part two HERE

TLDR: Truly feeling like the luckiest person alive when your former classmate and short-term boyfriend asked you to marry him. Not even a year into the marriage and also a year into his presidency does the original love and admiration you felt for him start to dissipate. You can't help but feel trapped and tricked into a marriage in which he may have never loved you to begin with.

Warnings: Angst, Love-Bombing, marriage, gender ambiguous reader, typical snow tags (manipulation), alcohol, alluding to sexual acts but not described, kissing, unclear motives, crying, death, the reader being so delulu and manipulated omg, slight classism, self unaliving, blood

WORD COUNT: 7k

A/N: This is a dialogue-heavy one. Lots of yappin today y'all. Also a LOT and I mean a LOT darker than the others. I POSTED THIS LAST NIGHT BUT FORGOT TO PUT ANY TAGS SO I GOTTA REPOST IT

The morning light peered through the curtains of our bedroom ever so slightly, just enough that I could feel the warmth on my nose. I scrunched my face and squirmed under the covers. It wasn't until I felt the weight of his body move from beside me and get out of bed, that I reached my arm out for Coriolanus just to be greeted with nothing. I fluttered my eyes open and looked over. I watched intently while he threw on some clothes. God, he was gorgeous. Strikingly blond curls bouncing while he moved, his toned body with broad shoulders, a thin waist, those blue eyes and sharp jaw, he was so stunning. I love my husband so much. I whispered a quick 'good morning' to him and all he could do was hum in response. I sat up in the bed and used the sheet to cover myself up.

"Where are you going, Darling?"

"I have some business to attend to. You wouldn't understand, my beautiful empty head."

Aww. He called me beautiful. He gave me a quick glance before heading out and slamming the door behind him. I got out of bed and scoured the room for something decent to put on. Clothes from the night before had been scattered and I knew I'd have to add laundry to today's agenda. I picked up a white silk shirt from atop the dress and I threw the shirt over my head, I let out a soft sigh, looking over at myself in the tall gold mirror taking note of the smudged makeup and eyeliner that had dried in blackened streaks down my face from last night's tears. Tiny hickies decorated my neck and collarbones and I couldn't stop the smile that spread on my face from the joy I felt from Coriolanus claiming me as his. Gratitude is the best way I can describe the feeling. I am married to the most powerful man in Panem. What could I have done to deserve this?

Our relationship got rocky sometimes, yes, but he was just busy. I can't help but blame myself for how he was treating me after we got married. To be fair, he did just become president. I can't even imagine how stressful that must've been for him. It made sense why it felt like he had no time for me. Last night he admitted he never even knew I felt so neglected, it must've been my fault. Clearly, he loves me right?

Last night, I felt so loved, the way he kissed me and wrapped his arms around me, his aroma filled my senses. He loves me so much, if he didn't he wouldn't be showing me off to a whole nation of people right?

I kept asking myself for reassurance, but I had my answer, no one just marries someone they don't love.

Right?

Of course, he does. I remember when it started, it was real, so real. He's just been so tired these past few months. He has his reasons and I should understand that I can't be so selfish to be in his life taking up too much space and time. I am lucky for the sentences I will get in the story of a monumental man. Looking in the mirror of the vanity, I took a deep breath and smiled in contentment. My eyes continued to scan the display. The vanity was a white desk and drawer set with a large and extravagant mirror outlined with gold. I had hand-painted vines of ivy on the wood. The desk had makeup and my rose-scented perfume. Honestly, I always preferred fruity and sweet scents but Coryo loves it more when I smell like roses. My fingers tapped the delicate glass bottle before I placed it back down and walked to the window to look over the garden where we had the party last night.

Tables were still set up and cups littered the lawn. I giggled a little bit, remembering the fun people were having dancing around the area without a care in the world. There was always a certain type of peace that came after parties when everyone left. Similar to nostalgia where it's that strong sense of bliss but also a certain emptiness that comes from the drop from high emotions and energy to nothingness. Still, the memories of the fun of last night came back to me. A few men dressed in white peacekeeper uniforms started to file into the area and I cocked an eyebrow up in confusion. They must be coming to clean up the trash. My eyes followed them.

That's when I saw it.

The body of a tall man with ginger hair lay lifeless on his back on the stone pathway of the garden. It was the same man that I had talked with last night, Curtis. His eyes were rolled back into his head and speckles of blood could be seen on the corners of his mouth. A cup was held loosely in his hand. I gasped and my jaw hung low in shock. How could this have happened? Did he choke on something? Got into a fight? The peacekeepers started to harshly pick up his body and filed him out. Did Coryo know about this? The blood quickly left my face and I felt a sinking sense of doom in my stomach.

I had only known the man for a moment, but I felt like he was a good man. He didn't deserve whatever happened to him. The peacekeepers left the area and then moments later the maids came in to clean. Tears started to prick the corner of my eyes before I gulped heavily. Maybe he just drank too much last night. The red was just dried wine...

Yes

That made sense right...?

I had to think of something to ease my mind. Maybe I could ask Coryo about it later. More and more maids filed into the area, their black uniforms making the whole scene previously seem more grim. Red started appearing in my teary-eyed peripheral vision and I quickly shut the curtains. My chest heaved up and down as I struggled to catch my breath. I had to collect myself. I probably didn't understand the situation fully, Coriolanus knows what's going on, he always does. I won't worry about it until he comes home. I walked over the desk and wrote little notes for him on a few pieces of paper, scattering them around the bedroom. Then, I went to take a shower. I was going to have lunch with my mother today, I had to get ready.

The doorbell rang and I walked over to answer it. Instantly, my mother had wrapped her arms around me bringing me into a warm hug.

"Y/N! Sweetheart I missed you so much it's been so long," she spoke softly and I couldn't help the childish smile that dragged across my face.

"I haven't seen you since the wedding mom I missed you too," she loosened her grip on me and walked into the house.

"Wow... you truly are living in a life of luxury now sweetie look at this place... I see you put your little artistic flair on things haha," she joked and awed at the size of the house.

"Oh, the little paintings? I didn't think other people would notice them haha, after I dust I like to add the little things and details around. I've been hoping Coryo would notice but he's just a man, and he's so busy and tired all the time I can't blame him for not noticing. You should look at the plates when we eat today! I've been trying to add things to the table wear, which makes eating a lot more fun."

She continued to look around and I watched intently while her eyes followed the small roses, vines, clouds, and butterflies I had painted on the pillars and edges of the house. She then brought her attention back to me and pressed her lips into a thin smile, a glint of sadness was painted into her stormy eyes.

"Sweetheart, you look so thin, are you eating well? He doesn't have you on some crazy diet does he? With the amount of money you guys have I feel like you should be eating three-course meals for every meal..."

"Mom please~ I'm an adult, don't worry about me so much."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Come on let's go sit down at the table, foods' almost ready." I interlocked my arm with hers and started to guide her to the dining room. We sat facing each other. The chefs cooking could be heard faintly.

"How is the married life treating you?"

"Um... Well honestly mom, it's been rough. I felt like the original spark of our relationship had been extinguished the moment he put this ring on my finger, he had grown very cold and I swear there were days that went by where he didn't even look at me but last night we talked it out. He didn't even know I felt like that so I can't be mad at him"

"Sweetheart, I've been here for about 10 minutes and I can't help but continue to pick up these little details that are showing he isn't treating you the way you deserve. You are smarter than this Y/N I raised a strong fighting spirit, you survived a war with us and never let that darkness cloud the brightness that is your light but right now honey, you seem sad. I don't think your romantic spark is the only thing he's diminishing sweetheart, he's burning you out." Her hand reached out for mine and we interlocked fingers. She looked deeply into my eyes and I watched as the concern grew in hers.

"No mom it's not like that. He's just busy, you should know how hard he's working. I know my place is to sit and listen to him, he's so much wiser than I am. He's a great man and he loves me," I started to get a little defensive but tried to hold my temper. Her lips pursed and she gave my hand another squeeze. It was then the chefs came out and placed our plates in front of us. We sat in silence for a moment while we started to eat.

"You're stubborn I know. The more we tell you to run from him the further it pushes you away from us and closer to him. You should be celebrated, you do so much for this man and he gives you nothing. This... this just doesn't seem healthy."

"Mom. I'm fine. I'm breathing. My health is fine"

"But your soul isn't."

Her words spit venom into me and I froze in place and listened. "Truly, what kind of man doesn't let his spouse see their family more than once every few months. I had to beg him to be able to see you today. We all miss you at home. Hell, I miss you."

Shock ran through my body while I spoke. "He told me you never reached out for these past few months." A chuckle left her lips. "Does that man do anything but lie? I shouldn't be surprised... politicians will always say what you want to hear and what benefits them."

"Mom I- can we please talk about something else? I don't appreciate you disrespecting my husband. I shouldn't have ever said anything. This is why he doesn't want you around is you keep disrespecting him. I promise mom everything is okay. Just rocky sometimes and that's mostly my fault."

Her face scrunched up and she looked away to avoid eye contact. She frowned before taking another bite of the food.

"It just hurts to see you like this... I almost feel like I should've stopped it sooner-"

"Mom," I cut her off and slammed my fist on the table slightly. She quickly shut up again before her lips parted.

"How was the party last night?"

"Lovely, the capital parties are always a joy. Coryo even made a toast to me at the end of the night it was so heartwarming." I smiled, happy she changed the subject. I started to gush about how sweet Coryo was last night to try and defend himself from my mother. I don't understand why all of my loved ones just couldn't seem to like him.

"Did he talk to you?" She asked tilting her head up.

"Who?"

"Curtis."

My face went pale and my jaw dropped. Flashbacks to what I had seen that morning rushed into my mind and I sat there horrified. First was the shock then the confusion.

"He's a friend of your older brother. He's been living with us for awhile while his new house gets built. Your brother asked him personally to come to the party last night to try and talk to you. We weren't sure if we were going to be able to see you today so we were trying to find any way to talk to you and make sure you were okay."

"He um... yes I do believe I talked to him. He was very charming, sweet. He reminded me of someone I used to know but we only talked for a little last night..." I was in a daze while I spoke. I didn't want to talk about Coryo's jealous outburst or what I saw that morning.

"That's good to hear. Y/N how was he last night? He didn't come home last night though. Was he drunk when you left? We've been worried sick."

"He... no he seemed very sober though he did have the confidence of a drunk man." I tried to joke to distract from the adrenaline and fear that was pumping through my veins.

"Sweetheart I can tell when you're keeping things from me. Please, darling you can tell me anything, I'm your mother"

I avoid her eye contact like the plague and continued to eat my food, struggling to swallow.

"It's nothing really, I'm just a little tired today that's all. Mom, eat your food please, it's delicious. How's dad?"

Her suspicious mind was reflected in her suspicious eyes. She was not going to let this go so easily. I could see the same grim expression I had on my face from earlier start to spread on hers.

"The first thing I ever heard about your husband was that any person who got too close to him ended up dead, missing or disgraced. I truly hope you don't follow in those same steps."

"Mom, you guys told me that same line over and over again before we got married and it's not even true. Name one person who he's done that to"

She scoffed and spoke quietly.

"Lucy Gray."

I raised an eyebrow at her in confusion.

"Who?"

"I don't believe you watched The Hunger Games this year, you never liked the blood. There truly isn't any way to confirm this now but Coriolanus was in charge of mentoring a girl from District 12 named Lucy Gray. She was a songbird and I remember the first time I watched her sing on television, it was breathtaking. Rumors spread that your husband fell in love with her and planned to run off with her and then one day, she disappears. Not a single trace left but he returned. He returned to the capital and mysteriously got gifted a scholarship and an internship. That is a shady man."

"Respectfully mom I think you're telling folk tales right now. He told me I was his first love, the first one to make him feel so alive so that can't be true. I've never even heard of this girl. Wouldn't my classmates have said something?"

She shrugged. "I wouldn't say anything to upset the man suspected of such crimes." Suddenly, a peacekeeper walked into the dining room and another followed in. Doors slammed around us and one spoke in a booming voice. "By orders of President Snow, we have been assigned to escort you out of here ma'am" They got on either side of my mom and grabbed her arms.

"There must be some sort of mistake here, it's barely 2, he said I could be here till 3! Let me down!"

I stood there frozen and helpless, I had no clue what to do. I yelled at them to wait but they pulled her out of her seat then started to head out. She started kicking and tried to fight back. "Let me say goodbye! I need a hug! I am the mother here, it's my right to see my child! He sent you guys here huh? Can't stand my kid hearing the truth? All this that's happening to me is his fault!"

"Mama! Goodbye! I love you!"

"He did it Y/N! You know he did it! Don't let it happen to you my love! Fight, there must be a way out! You're better than this. I love you!"

She shouted while they escorted her out. Her voice echoed around the room whispering the words 'He did it'. As much as I shook my head I couldn't stop thinking about it. Sickening silence bounced against the walls while my head ran back everything that had just happened. I couldn't help but let warm tears fall from my eyes while I sat back down in my chair. I'm so confused. I just needed my husband right now. A maid walked in and cleaned up the table and I sat in the chair and cried.

I laid down in bed, sitting up staring at the ceiling. The bed was as comfortable as sleeping on a cloud but I couldn't sleep, nothing could calm the storm in my head. The door handle turned and I saw Coryo glace into the room. His blue eyes made eye contact with mine as he stepped into the room slowly. He shut the door behind him and started to loosen his tie.

"Darling, you're still up?"

"I can't sleep..." I admitted and watched as his plump lips parted to expel a sigh. He started to change into his pajamas.

"Why dear?" He started to crawl into bed and pulled me into him with his strong arms.

"Can I ask you a question?" I felt his grip on me tighten before he nodded and hummed a soft 'yes' into the air. A sigh left my lungs and I pressed my hand against my temples. Where do I even start?

"Coryo... have you ever killed anyone before?"

"W- what?"

I tipped my head up and looked deep into his blue eyes to search for any form of sincerity. "Please be honest with me... please..."

"Darling what could have ever put these sorts of ideas in your pretty little head?"

"Coryo that's not important now please answer me. I just want your honesty here, if you're honest I will not judge you, I- I'll still love you."

The only emotion I could see on his face was panic. He removed his arm from my body and I started to panic in response. He had just started being nice to me again and I was worried I pushed him away. My big mouth just couldn't stay shut.

"Y/N, of course I haven't. Who do you perceive me as? Some kind of monster? The only person I have ever killed is my past self and he had to die so I could be the man I am today, a man ready to love you the way you deserve."

He was rambling and his lack of eye contact made me feel uneasy. I wanted to believe him, I truly did but with the way he was acting, I couldn't wholeheartedly believe him and that made me feel sick. I should not be this distrustful of my husband. I started to zone off, lost in deep thought when his hand met my jaw and he positioned my head up to look at him. "Y/N you trust me don't you? I've done everything for you, you should trust me darling." He planted a quick kiss on my forehead. "I- I believe you Coryo." He smiled down and then pressed a kiss to my lips. I melted against his touch and placed my hands to cup his face. When we pulled away I still couldn't shake the questions that flooded my head. Remembering what my mother said, I couldn't help myself from the words spilling out of my mouth.

"Coryo... one last question, Who is Lucy Gray?"

His lips parted and his eyes frantically started to search my face. "How did you hear about her?"

"Coryo?"

Anger started to flood his eyes and his jaw clenched. Regret filled every part of my body and I sat up on the bed, keeping my hands on his face. "I'm sorry Coryo, is that a touchy subject I-" He was quiet for a moment as if planning what he was going to say.

"She... she was a nobody girl from District 12. I had to mentor her for The Hunger Games that year for my school project. I came out on top, Snow always lands on top."

He spoke through gritted teeth while he looked into my eyes, scanning my face for a reaction. What he told me so far aligned exactly with what my mom told me. This was even more worrying. There had to be more. He was keeping something from me. He could sense my distrust and started to speak again, more carefully.

"Darling, do you want the full truth?"

"Yes Coryo..."

He let out a heavy sigh. "She was my first girlfriend. We had a short fling and then she cheated on me." My jaw dropped. "Oh Coryo I'm so sorry..." I reached out and pulled him into a tight hug, tangling my fingers in his blond locks of hair. "It's okay darling, you didn't know. You don't know a lot of things." His hands started to rub my back up and down while I held him close.

"I never loved her anyways, I could never love someone so low class and trashy."

In an odd way I felt almost comforted by that statement. It meant he wasn't lying to me, I was his first love, right? He placed his hands on my stomach and pushed me away from the hug. My arms fell back down to my sides and I stared at him with deep remorse in my eyes. He smiled again, "It's okay Darling, is there anything else I can answer for you to put your troubled mind at ease?" Truthfully, I had a lot more questions but I felt bad and I didn't want to push him away more, not when our relationship was so delicate. I shook my head 'no' and he hummed before laying down on the bed. I followed suit and he turned his back to me.

"Goodnight"

"Goodnight..."

"I love you"

And then I was met with silence.

The next day passed and it was business as usual but I still couldn't get my mother's voice out of my head. My ears rang with every corner I turned. I saw Coryo's panicked face every time I closed my eyes after I asked him if he had killed anyone. It made me sick to my stomach but I didn't believe him. I do believe my mom was wrong about Lucy Gray though, he was genuinely hurt when I asked about her. I couldn't even imagine anyone wanting to cheat on him. Especially a girl from District 12, the opportunity to be with a capital man, especially one as charming, smart, and talented as Coryo should be a blessing. My poor husband probably had to deal with so much then.

When he came home he didn't talk to me that day. He couldn't even look me in the eye really. I felt wildly embarrassed and guilty. Of course, he was pulling away again, I pushed him. I should've just kept my pretty mouth shut like he had asked. My mom must have been mistaken. They don't know him like I do. It was nice to know how much they cared about me though.

Coriolanus slept in his office that night. I assume he had business to attend to so I just sat and tried to sleep alone in bed.

The next morning I woke up late and decided to try and make it up to Coryo by trying to leave more "I love you" notes around the house. I painted a portrait of a lake on one of his mugs, adding rose and ivy details to the handle. Stumbling down the hallway in the afternoon I walked by Coryo's office. I knew I wasn't allowed in there but damn it I was so curious. There were two maids in there talking and I silently eavesdropped.

"Careful when dusting that... This man has a lot of secrets and what's in those vials one I do not want to know about."

The other laughed and they continued to clean up.

"Isn't it odd we decided to have such a liar for a president?"

'Liar?' I thought. Why does everyone seem to think he's a liar?

"Yeah but he's great for the economy and the future of Panem."

Silence filled the room and then they both started laughing again.

"That doesn't seem to make it any better, then again, let's not bite the hand that feeds us."

They started to finish cleaning his office and once they left I snuck in. My hands traced around the walls of his office, it was small and packed with things. On his desk lay a little book filled with names and numbers, a pack of matches, a single white rose, and the vials the maids were talking about. Curiously, I reached for it. It was probably liquor or something. I picked it up carefully and examined it. It was clear and sealed shut. Cautiously, I started to unscrew the top and placed a drop of it on my finger. The liquid burned through my skin and I yelped loudly in pain. I grabbed a napkin and wiped it off my hand. I screamed in pain and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. Hot tears ran down my face as I removed the napkin and saw the damage that it left. My finger was red, hot, and my flesh was melted in the shape of a circle where the drop had been placed. Gasping desperately for breath, I tightly closed the lid of the vile and put it right back where I found it. I continued to cry from the searing pain, my finger throbbed and I whimpered desperately trying to keep quiet. I picked up my trash and made sure I left no trace of myself in there while I rushed to the kitchen, rinsing my finger under the water. Once the burning had gone away I slid down and laid my back against the kitchen cabinet.

"F- fuck fuck fuck- fucking poison. WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE HAVE POISON?"

I started to rock back and forth while I watched the skin around the burn turn purple. This must've been some sort of divine punishment to me for going into his office knowing I wasn't supposed to. One maid heard my wailing and hurried over to help me. She put an ointment on my finger before wrapping it up in a band-aid and above all, she didn't ask a question. I couldn't tell if that meant she was used to this kind of thing or if she was trained not to. I picked myself up off the floor and continued to go about my day and pretend that nothing happened.

Coryo didn't come to bed that night, I wasn't too sure if he had even come home honestly. I fell asleep alone again with nothing but my thoughts.

The next morning I was awakened by a rough hand shaking my shoulder. I yawned and opened my eyes to be met with Coryo's blue ones. They were deep and full of concern. He was sitting next to me on the bed still in his work clothes. I felt that pit of grief deep in my stomach again. Something was wrong, greatly wrong. "Coryo?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

"Y/N..."

"Coryo what's the matter?"

He sighed with deep remorse and said the worst news I had ever heard in my life. "Your parents... Y/N... your whole family they... um... their house burned down last night and the firefighters couldn't make it in time. When they arrived there, they searched the house but not a single survivor was found. They did find this though in your mothers room," He handed me a single stuffed doll. The doll was mine from when I was a child, it didn't have a single burn on it. I held it in my hands and sat staring at it in silence. They were gone. My whole family was gone. The tears threatened to spill but I felt so sick of crying lately. Why did my life feel like it was falling apart so fast? I just wanted a happy life as a newly wed and I have gotten nothing remotely close to that.

"Coryo... What's wrong with me? I'm like a bomb, anyone who cares about me either leaves me or dies... Am I cursed? I didn't even get to say goodbye. I didn't even get to hug them or- or- or see how big my little brother got or how smart my older brother is. I- I- I should've seen them more," I started weep, my tears starting to fall onto the doll below me, as if my tear were staining the innocence of the girl I used to be. Coriolanus grabbed me and held me close as I started to cry furiously into his chest. He planted a soft kiss on the top of my head and tried to whisper things to calm me down. His hands rubbed up and down my back.

"Darling, it's okay. You're going to be okay. You have me. I'll be here for you always. I make you happy, right? Your parents were always trying to keep you away from me... they didn't know you like I do. They don't know what you need darling but I do. We are going to get through this together, okay?'

I could barely process what he was saying through my tears. I just nodded into his chest and he continued to let me cry. I felt so safe in his arms in this moment. He was right, I do need him.

I couldn't get out of bed for days. The grief struck me overwhelmingly. I couldn't think straight. I just lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for hours at a time. When the foggy mist of the shock that had clouded my rationale finally faded I was left with the remaining thoughts. What was even real in this life anymore? I remember feeling so sad when almost none of my friends showed up to my wedding. I felt so alone and isolated but at least I knew I still had my family and my husband to be there for me and now, all I had was Coriolanus. I love him, I need him, but he's the type that gives love and then takes it away.

Maybe my mom was right... Maybe I do deserve better. This relationship isn't healthy. Has it ever been? Even when I was first falling for him, I always viewed him as better than me, which he is but shouldn't we be equal? Maybe... I'm too reliant on the love he gives me. I hate that. I hate how big of a hold he has on me. The way my happiness is always at the tip of his fingers, it makes me feel so weak. His hold on me is degrading. The worst part is, he knows how strong his power over me is. He knows me. He's learned me inside and out and he knows how to keep me under his palm.

My mom was right. The night of the party, he started yelling at me then when I threatened to leave him he switched. How could- how could I be so stupid? He switched because he didn't want me to leave him. He needed me to be there for him, to be his shining sparkling eye candy, to complete his perfect picture of domestic living, to be his waiting servant. And then when we made love that night, it must've not meant anything to him. He knows I believe everything people do has a purpose, he knows I don't ever want to exchange sex like a handshake. He slept with me to prove to me that he 'loves me' but that can't be true. I love him, his heart will never have space for me in it. No man treats someone he loves the way he treats me. I've been aware of this but every time I've gotten the courage to leave him he pulled me back in.

He's smart, he's manipulative. He's been doing it to me for months now. How could I be so stupid? Love is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. He found his wide-eyed dreamer and just needed to ruin me. Even recently, he used my parent's death to try and make me even more dependent on him and it worked. I can't live without him.

"He did it"

His desk, the poison, no sane and normal man keeps poison in his office. It's making me think. The boy... the one my parents sent. Did Coryo know he was going to be there? He must've, the party was invite-only, you don't just sneak into the capital parties. The last thing Curtis did before he left was pour himself another cup of the juice. When Coryo ushered me into the house, I heard a man coughing from the garden but I didn't look, I couldn't, I was pushed away. His body the next morning... He had blood on his mouth. I remember learning from the academy that some poisons often makes you cough up blood before you die. Coryo had the poison. Could it be... did Coryo murder him?

"He did it"

Before I looked away when I saw his body in the garden, a glint of red could be seen in my vision. Was that his red coat?

"He did it"

Oh my god, the matches. He told me my parents house burned down.

"He did it"

The book with the names and numbers... who's names were in that book? What were the numbers?

"He did it"

I got out of bed for the first time in ages and rushed down to his office. My bones ached from the lack of mobility. I reached his office and rushed in. His notebook was gone. I started opening his drawers frantically. Finally, I found it. I opened up the pages and that was the last bit of proof I needed. His journal had the names and addresses of the different capital citizens, one page dedicated to every member of my family.

"He did it"

The matches were missing fully. Not anywhere to be found.

"He did it"

The doll. My doll. The doll probably reminded him of me, just a pretty object he can play with whenever he wants something to hold. It didn't have a single burn mark on it at all, he must've gotten it before the fire. Either that means my family let him into the house before he burned it down or he's been keeping it for a while.

"He did it"

My mom did say she had been trying to reach out to me for ages but couldn't. He was stopping them. He wanted to keep me isolated. I really didn't know who I was marrying. I married a murderer.

"He did it"

I couldn't continue to live with him but I can't live without him. It made me feel sick how much love I still felt for him even knowing he had been trying to destroy me from the inside out. I can't let him take my light. My mom really was right. Everyone who gets close to him ends up dead, missing, or disgraced. It's my turn to pick which path I was going to be.

My heart raced as I ripped a page out of his notebook and wrote a note for him, leaving it on the desk. I reached over and grabbed that familiar vile of poison and unscrewed the top. The cold glass hit my lips and I drank the contents like a shot. My heart raced and I started coughing profusely, everything burned from the inside out. Blood started to flow out the corners of my mouth but for once, I wasn't crying. Mama, I'm coming.

"He did it"

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

Coriolanus Snows POV

I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry when I found Y/N dead on the floor of my office. Blood trickled down the side of their mouth and they were holding the tiny vial I had on my desk. Y/N knew not to go into my office and frankly, I was shocked to see that it happened in there. On my desk was a note that said: "Till death do us part". I screamed loudly and felt like my body wasn't my own as I feverishly picked up the body and walked to the nearest in-house medic. Tears poured down my face. How dare Y/N just decide to selfishly leave me like this? After everything I had done? All the trouble I went through? It was ridiculous. I remember thinking, "I had you."

When I first met Y/N I remember believing that they were the embodiment of everything good in the world and the embodiment of what I needed in a partner. Loyal, innocent, trusting, naive, controllable. Truly, there isn't any room in this world for such goodness. My darling needed to be tougher or the cold world would do nothing but ruin them. I tried to make them tougher but their unconditional love was annoying at times but I tolerated it. No matter what I did to push Y/N away, they insisted on loving me till the end, but why? And if they did love me so much why would they leave me like this?

The medic couldn't do anything. Y/N was long gone by the time I got there. So much wasted time and potential. I don't think I will marry again. Not for many years at least. Just when it is time for me to have heirs I will marry. Gives my future wife less time to escape. I have to marry someone cruel, someone whom I can never seem to care about, especially not love. Y/N's crippling kindness almost had me falling at the end and that was dangerous.

The funeral was lavish. My darling was beloved by the public. Many mourned for weeks. It was shocking. As much as I tried to not care, the energy of the house felt so different now. It was a wasteland of what once was. Dust collected in every nook and cranny. I stumbled into the house and stood still, letting the world spin around me for a moment when I tilted my head up and noticed something I hadn't seen before, paintings, hundreds of them. Y/N painted tons of things around the pillars and walls. They were beautiful. Ivy and roses, clouds and sunshine. I forgot how truly artistically talented Y/N was. My eyes followed how the ivy traveled around the pillars. Ivy was a great metaphor for Y/N, beautiful, and simple, but still a pest that will grow all over you if you aren't too careful.

"Sir, Welcome home. We have prepared dinner for you." the butler said, pulling me out of my trance.

"Thank you and can we get someone to repaint this room ASAP, I need some things removed.

The whole house ended up being repainted. I never noticed how many of those paintings were left. Even on the furniture, I couldn't escape any of my memories of Y/N anywhere. The notes were the absolute worst. Small pieces of paper everywhere with sweet nothings written on them. "Have a good day", "I love you", "Good morning to Panem's greatest leader" Nowhere was safe. Memories and images circled my brain constantly.

I sat at the table we used to eat at alone, drinking coffee from my mug while reading the newspaper. They still were on the front page. It's been a month since the incident. I sighed and folded the paper, placing it face down on the table. I reached for the mug when I saw it again. A painting of a lake with roses and ivy painted on the handle. The lake... the lake. The lake of District 12,

Lucy Gray

The roses,

My Mother

The Ivy...,

y/n

I shouted at the top of my lungs and threw the mug at the wall. When will I finally be free of the past pests that continue to haunt my life?

A/N: WHAT DID YOU GUYS THINK??? It is almost 5 AM and I stayed up all night writing this, I hope you guys liked it. let me know plz. Now accepting requests for new stories, perhaps with new characters :)))

180 notes · View notes

thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 8 months

Note

There’s a lot of grossly simplified, unsympathetic, or outright misinformation-filled media about the Yeerk war and the Animorphs in the years following the end of the war. Does anyone write something that is actually truly resonant with the survivors and victims?

Huh. I feel like this is a classic case of "tastes vary."

Sometimes a play can depict a real experience so well it leaves you sobbing cathartic tears — but it leaves your friend with the same experience checking their phone every 5 minutes. (True story.) Some people love dark humor about their own trauma. Some people will find dark humor about trauma disturbing and disrespectful. I dislike Glass Onion because its discussion of COVID and classism is about as substantive as cotton candy, but I have friends who felt it was exactly the cotton candy they needed after the horrible years of eating road salt.

I remember my grandmother getting upset when Twilight Zone played an air raid siren — she lived through real atom bomb drills, and said repeatedly it was "inappropriate" for a fictional show to use that noise. But then I've had a few close calls with tornadoes, and I've only ever felt a shiver of anticipation when storm sirens go off in movies. It varies by experience, it varies by person, it varies.

It's hard to say what will resonate with survivors after the Yeerk-Human War. The obvious answer would be anything written by a fellow survivor — Jake's memoir probably rings truer than some civilian's post-hoc biography would. Even then, historical inaccuracy can be deeply cathartic (R.F. Kuang's Babel). Or it can be disturbing enough to ruin a story (Our Flag Means Death). It's hard to say, and you only need look at Goodreads to know: one person's offensive schlock is another's favorite reflection of their own experiences.

#animorphs #animorphs spoilers #media #sci fi #catharsis #trauma #poo pooing on TWO (2) of tumblr's most beloved media properties in the same post?#guess i'm feeling reckless today #[dons tin foil hat] [retreats into bunker]

91 notes · View notes

thricedead · 4 days

Text

@uraynuke I am glad to see you bring this book up, because it's the very book I read excerpts from two days ago, and since I wanted to reply to you, I picked up where I left and finished it.

I really did approach it with the best of intentions - I was especially glad to see prof. Brake bring up gender and race right at the beginning of her study, for I truly held hope that the many amatonormativity preachers on tumblr may have simply misread the point of the concept which Brake may have envisioned the same way I did - as an intersection of preexisting axes of power. However, I found myself severely disappointed the moment I ran into this segment

I can see that Brake is, at the very least through reading, aware of patriarchal, racial amd colonial dynamics as well as statistics on LGBT discrimination. However, she insists on presenting the discrimination of non-partnering (and non-monogamous people, which is a separate can of worms but I began to find the amount of times she brings polyamory and urban tribes up tedious) individuals as an entity separate from misogyny, racism and classism and so on. The like race class and sex is incredibly jarring that she fails to see her precious "amatonormativity" where it rightfully stands within the causality of oppression. I found myself yawning as she went on for dozens of paragraphs explaining that marriage is a faulty, falsely celebrated and highly mystified institution that holds no inherent value - we know this! It becomes incredibly apparent here that Brake is a self-identified political liberal. Any leftist, no matter how mild, is clearly aware that marriage is as it is, and was essentially established in order to be so; a way to control women, a way to curry favor and wealth, a tool of control. It retains today many of the insidious characteristics it held at its conception. Brake does mention that there existed and still do exist non-white societies that viewed partnering vastly differently from the western lens, but in the typical way of a liberal philosopher she does not pause to consider that this is tied to how different societies perceived women, and the amount of colonial power they held. She does not pause to confess that the form of marriage prevalent in the world today is a white christian's marriage - naturally dyed in ugly patriarchal, racist, capitalist colors. She continues to write as though society's insistence on exclusive romantic coupling exists in a near-vacuum, even though she admits it does not. I essentially agree that marriage ought to be demoralized, deconstructed and potentially reconstructed. However, I don't particularly intend to fight for its reconstruction for the sake of throuples, urban tribes, asexuals and aromantics. I wish for its reconstruction to be centered primarily on the autonomy of women (because they continue to disproportionately suffer marital abuse), gay, bisexual and transgender people, people of color and especially Black people, mentally and physically disabled people (who still largely cannot afford to marry). When this is established, I assure you that one half of aromantics' and polyamorous people's issues will have already been alleviated, and should those people contribute to the fight of our society's most oppressed, they will surely have a voice in building a new model of partnering.

TLDR, a well-intentioned but very frivolous book. I find Brake to be a very moderate liberal who does not particularly look farther than her own discomfort...

I will reply to you in the same vein you did to me: though I didn't glean much, this was a fun read! Thank you.

19 notes · View notes

the-path-to-redemption · 4 months

Note

Just saw your Queendom post and this is why I will never forgive Weiss. I don't care if you grow up alone in your privilege home with a deadbeat dad and an alcoholic mother. You view Fanus as this evil race and saw them as nothing more than trash and when you told you sob story to Blake about how your family business was going down hill because a group of fanus attacked your fathers supplies. Oh I'm sorry but did you know that you father is using those same fanus who are being exploited in YOUR FATHER MINES?!?!? AND NOW ALL OF A SUDDEN THESE FANUS FIGHT BACK IT EFFECTING YOU PRIVILEGE LIFESTYLE?

And then you have the bitchudcity to make Blake of all people to feel guilty? When it is HER own people being oppressed and YOU are worried about your family company?!

And dont get me started on how they portrayed Flynt to be the rival of Weiss during the games. He has every right to be mad at your family because your family is monopoling every small business. I would to if my family business got ran up out because of your family. I don't want your shitty apologize for being a Schwarz! I want you to ACKNOWLEDGE that this is what your family has done to people and that they are victims. This is not about you feeling guilty because the truth of your family crimes makes you uncomfortable!

Fucking hell anon, you spitting.

Here's the thing with Weiss; while not an excuse for her bigotry, most of her racism and classism come from ignorance. Particularly, the ignorance of how her family, the company's ethics, and its overall legacy truly are. She didn't know the extent of Jacques' slave wage and exploitation of Faunus workers until Blake told her. She didn't know about the monopolization of her family over smaller businesses even in Atlas. What's important to realize is that her ignorance and bigotry are the versions that should be most aware of, because they can be present in any of us in the audience.

Let me be clear, I do agree with what you said. Weiss' constant victimhood has been a frustrating point in her character and has extended into the narrative surrounding the structure of the World of Remnant as a whole. No one wants to admit that Weiss has been wrong beyond the Beacon era, at least, not in any way that yields actual substance. She never apologized to Blake or any Faunus until V7, and even then, it's nothing more than a "sorry that my family sucks" and she refuses to actually do anything to change that societal dynamic of exploiting the Faunus. She didn't even show public support for Robyn, who was running against her asshole dad, or even show up to any political rally/event that could give her an opportunity to show her supposed support for Faunus, denouncing her past racism.

And with Flynt, she didn't even do shit for him in Atlas. You're right when you said that she didn't acknowledge the damage that her family has done to families like his so that she can have a much more luxurious, albeit abusive, home life. She is still marginally more privileged than another Atlesian, Flynt, and he's not even Faunus.

Her form of ignorant bigotry isn't outwardly malicious like Jacques' is, but it is still dangerous. Because it can be present in any one of us because of generational social norms built upon these bigoted beliefs, it's extremely disappointing that Weiss never truly got the chance to learn by herself. She always had to have someone tell her that she was a cock to them, and all she could give back was a flimsy ass "sorry". Nothing truly changes, Atlas was still a shit show, and Weiss barely put any effort into doing what she said she would do.

Actions speak louder than words.

#answered #anonymous #rwde #rwby critical #anti rooster teeth #weiss schnee critical

16 notes · View notes

soloorganaas · 2 years

Note

what are your thoughts about sirius black and gender and class and trauma and toxic relationships and british homophobia and mental illness and kill the gays tropes and the suffocation of hope and found family

ALRIGHT DANI LETS GO

exec summary: JKR’s class anxiety is a big part of her bigotry and her punishment of characters who run away from her. it shapes a specific set of rules, which Sirius breaks in more ways than most other characters, and it draws out a hatred from JKR that leads her to punish him through her writing in painfully particular ways. that includes inflicting brutal tragedy on the heavily implied/coded queer relationship he has with remus, in a kill your gays trope that is peak 90s/00s. and so Sirius’s storyline overall becomes a morality lesson for queer/enby/neurodivergent kids that teaches them whatever love or found family they have will inevitably be destroyed - and they deserve it

~ spicy meta essay below the cut ~

JKR and class anxiety

class divides people in the UK to such an extreme extent its bizarre for people outside to conceptualise. like most of Europe we had centuries of strict class hierarchies, but ours never got entirely broken down because we never got rid of the royal family and aristocracy. class is such a strong form of division that we truly 'other' people from another class to us and generally avoid the excruciating ordeal of mixing with someone from a class different to us. this isn’t always the case - i know people reading this will feel differently - but it is predominant in the middle class

middle class in the UK is entirely different to the US. it's not at all about income, it's about identity markers that signal you are better, more well to-do, more refined than people of a lower class than you. the majority of the UK are working class, so the middle class work hard at the idea they're better than everybody. except, obviously, the upper class, who they will never be as good as under these rules, so instead they aggressively enforce them to try and cling onto power over those below them. think white Republican women

the middle class enforce this generally through keeping everyone and everything in a nice and tidy box. a good education, a respectable job, a large (but not extravagant! that would be chavvy) house, nice (but not flashy! also chavvy) cars, modest and neat clothes that don't draw too much attention, excruciating and often fake politeness. the most important thing in being middle class is not drawing attention to yourself. if you're loud, if your appearance is out of the norm, if you're queer or trans, if you're disabled, if you're neurodivergent, then god help you. you will be abused and shunned (i'm not joking, this happened to me by my school). this interacts with race in a very complicated way which i am absolutely not qualified to speak on, and isn’t relevant to Sirius, so I won’t be attempting to talk about it - but I don’t want to erase the fact that it exists.

JKR grew up working class but gained so much wealth and notoriety in an educated profession that she shifted to middle class, which is unusual to the point of being forbidden. so when she wrote the later books especially, her need to firmly, clearly follow middle class rules in order to gain acceptance bleeds through her writing

JKR hates Sirius

Sirius breaks every single one of nice middle class rules. every single one. and offensively so. and she hates him for it. I don't think it's a coincidence she only made him a shunned aristocrat until she became famous and classism rose to the forefront - she wanted that power for herself, and she'd never have it, so she punished him for it

Sirius is loud. he's brash. he's talkative. he's argumentative. he's mentally ill. he's neurodivergent. he's gay. he doesn't give a fuck about gender roles. he's extreme, coded a thousand times over as manic depressive. he's unapologetic about all of it. and she can't stand it. no one is allowed to be like that - and especially not the madman side character she created just to provide some spicy background for Harry

so JKR does what every bigoted classist Brit does in this situation and silently, viciously, hatefully and passive aggressively punishes Sirius. she has every character shame him for all his rule-breaking traits by patronising him, looking down on him, criticising him, humiliating him, belittling him, all because he is apparently incapable of being trusted by normal society. Molly is literally JKR's mouthpiece for this, passively aggressively keeping Sirius in line, and getting away with it because she's so sweet and loveable no one ever sees her as a bigot. I have met one hundred thousand women like in her my lifetime. so has JKR. she knew exactly what she was doing

why would these characters turn on him like this, though? Sirius is highly competent, incredibly intelligence and very astute, as shown over the previous books, and both the characters and readers know that. so it has to be something else, something that overrides all of that

it's because of who he is, and that's what we absorb between the lines of the book. that who Sirius is is wrong, and people like him will inevitably be shunned by society around them

12GP, mental illness and Sirius's death

Sirius is (quite literally) characterised as mad, and it's used as a justification for punishing him. by OotP his rebelliousness is explained as a sign of instability. and by god - that instability is toxic. so he's locked in a madhouse for his own good (to keep him alive! to protect Harry!). he's then tortured as painfully as possible to drive him even madder, leading him to the inevitable conclusion of bringing about his own death through his irresponsibility. he has to die, because he has to face the consequences for rebelling

the way that JKR weaves his rule-breaking and depiction of "madness" together is intentional, and truly vile. it's evident in the sharp contrast of his characterisation in PoA/GoF and OotP. he's coded as mentally ill and neurodivergent from the first time we hear of him. he's portrayed as a man of manic depressive extremes (I wrote a bipolar meta here talking about this in more detail), and is clearly suffering from PTSD. we can assume this continues in GoF

alongside all of this, he is so smart, competent and compassionate he manages to keep himself alive and hidden from the ministry whilst living outdoors, basically figures out the entire GoF plot through newspapers and a few rushed conversations through the fire, and is single-mindedly dedicated to his godson

in OotP he is a fundamentally different person - not in a way that is caused by mental illness, but genuine changes in his core character, however it’s still characterised as mental illness. so it becomes justifiable to punish him, to restrict him, to criticise and curtail and humiliate him

and most of all the traits JKR hates about Sirius so much are part and parcel of being bipolar (and also having ADHD, which he's implied to have as well). bipolar people are capable of extraordinary feats when we're manic, which aren't always bad - like, for example, breaking out of a wizarding prison! being on the run for two years just for take care of your godson! we feel everything incredibly deeply - like, for example, devotion to the point of death for your friends, strong emotional reactions to them being mistreated! we have tendencies towards being incredibly creative, smart, and making intellectual leaps that are impossible for other people, all of which are traits Sirius has that make him such an extraordinary wizard, and person. he literally wouldn't be who he is without neurodivergence, and yet JKR portrays it as an entirely negative characterisation, a punishable offence

kill the gays - queer and mentally ill people will never be happy, and they don't deserve to be

Sirius and Remus's story is about two traumatised, scared, lonely kids doomed to be outcasts forever, until they find acceptance and love in found family, and each other. that is the story of every fucking queer kid growing up before like 2015, and everyone now who doesn't live in a liberal town. we look at that story and we know it, we feel it in our bones. i could will write an essay about this in itself but for now:

the way that that story should play out is Sirius and Remus getting to grow up and begin adulthood in a stable environment where they can slowly unlearn their trauma, toxic coping mechanisms and/or terrible relationship models, and form a healthy, mature and long-lasting relationship with each other. but they don't get the chance to do that, because of the First War, and instead their unstable and immature relationship is put under an existential pressure it could never have survived

okay. but then we should be able to see them slowly, if painfully, recover from and/or learn to live with the impacts of that war and eventually get to a stable place where they can deal with their formative trauma as well. except Sirius goes off to be tortured for 12 years, and Remus is sentenced to living as a lonely, isolated and unsupported outcast, who’s lost everything good that he gained in his life

okay... but then when they're finally released from this slice of hell frozen in time for 12 years, they should be able to spend the rest of their lives, guess what? fucking recovering from it all, and maybe, perhaps, being able to salvage a healthy relationship from it. instead they get thrust into another war, where every bit of trauma they've already gone through is magnified, and they have one (1) year together in absolutely awful circumstances before Sirius is killed

at every single turn in their story queer and/or ND people are taught that they will never find safety. they will never be given a reprieve and the chance of stability and happiness they see others have. it's not on the cards for them. it is simply not possible. JKR hams this home three fucking times. it’s brutal. it’s vicious. it’s beyond what anyone should ever have to go through. it’s entirely unnecessary for the plot. it is just punishing them for who they are

it’s a trope we all know well from that era, but the fact that it’s used as a punishment for so many other aspects of Sirius's character is what makes it so doubly awful

conc

nothing about what JKR did to Sirius was an accident. it was deliberate, it was targeted. and it has very, very real impacts on kids growing up reading those books

we should be learning that what makes us different is nothing to be ashamed of, that everyone is different in some way, that difference is all a matter of perspective, that you should be allowed to express every aspect of who you are without so much as a comment, let alone stigma. we should be learning that in a world which doesn't afford us that luxury, we can still build our own sanctuary where we can have that, full of found family and meaningful, lasting love. we should be seeing people like us unlearn the harmful ideas they absorbed growing up so we learn how to do that as well; we should be learning what people like us look like in relationships; we should be made to believe, in our very bones, that happiness is possible for us

instead we watch someone who we see ourselves in be tortured, humiliated, punished and denied every ounce of happiness until their premature death

Sirius deserved better, we all deserved better, and i'll never be quiet for a fucking moment about it lest this wrongdoing go ignored

#finally answering this #it required SO much thought #and it made me really sad #so it took a minute #but it's important #sirius black #wolfstar #harry potter #ty for the ask bb #ch: we choose who we really are #hp #hp meta #meta

223 notes · View notes

bohemian-nights · 6 months

Note

"Yet was fear of Vhagar the only reason Prince Daemon kept Nettles close to him? Mushroom would have us believe it was not. By the dwarf’s account, Daemon Targaryen had come to love the small brown bastard girl, and had taken her into his bed."

when was it said that Daemon loved Rhaenyra? or suggested in the book? every time they talk about them it's about lust, ambition, cruelty and emotional dependence on her part.

Daemon Targaryen was not a faithful consort to the queen, we know

It is literally written. Queen Maegor was never the only one for Daemon.

None of this constitutes proof that Daemon Targaryen had carnal knowledge of the bastard girl, but in light of what followed we must surely judge that more likely than most of Mushroom’s tales.

Here we have a skeptical old archismeistte believing in Mushroom's "nonsense", despite him debating that Nettles was not Daemon's "type" aka classism feat racism. That's because their goodbye was purposely made to be romantic and painful. Daemon's anguish at letting Nettles go was so great that Caraxes expressed it for him.As far as I can remember, the only other time it is mentioned that a dragon shares its master's strong emotions is coincidentally with Daemon's mirror: Aemond in two different occasions

By the time the stableboys finally arrived to pull apart the combatants, the prince was writhing on the ground, howling in pain, and Vhagar was roaring as well.

and this

Guardsmen walking the battlements of the castle’s mighty curtain walls clutched their spears in sudden terror when she woke with a roar that shook the very foundations of Durran’s Defiance. Even Arrax quailed before that sound, we are told, and Luke plied his whip freely as he forced him down.

She knew that Aemond hated Luke and reacted to it frighteningly threatening, just as Caraxes knew that Daemon truly loved Nettles and reacted to the pain of separation. GRRM isn't very good at writing great love stories, but he accidentally got it right here

The breakdown 🙌🏽

Great point about the love thing. F&B mentions Daemon loving two women, Laena then Nettles). The book also mentions Rhaenyra loving him, but never Daemon loving her(which is why he was cheating on her and ultimately abandoned her to save the actual woman he loved🤷🏽‍♀️).

If you look at how the entirety of their relationship is described Dettles is written like a romance,(right down to their parting scene) yet even the most blatant romantic tropes are ignored and discarded to prop up a ship that isn't supposed to be romantic.

#dettles #nettles #bnasks #bnask #daemon targaryen #nettles x daemon #daemon x nettles #daemon targaryen x nettles #netty

16 notes · View notes

squided · 14 days

Text

Has anyone else experienced their parents getting progressively more rude, intrusive, and hypocritical as they got older? Like my mom had me pretty late in life (she was 37) so I recognize I have an older mom than most. And yeah during my teenage years and stuff I thought she was annoying but she was genuinely a good and caring mom. But honestly I've noticed since she's hit her 60s and went through a bad second marriage, she lashes out a lot, expects me to be productive 7 days a week, essentially work all day long, spend 1 hour of relaxation, and then sleep. Anytime this gets me agitated, she goes on about how she needs to work two jobs and 7 days a week and SHE never gets rest and I don't see HER complaining (she is literally complaining about it all the time). Essentially since ive had to live with her again temporarily I've put up with it and have taken on the same workload as her and I've discovered.... there's no way to please her. Every day I should be studying so I can get certifications, I should be looking at new jobs because she doesn't approve of how my managers treat me at my minimum wage job (every job I've had so far), I need to clean the house and my room, I need to go to work, I need to look at universities, I need to make 10 phone calls that will keep me on hold for an hour at a time, I need to pull the weeds in the yard. If I fail a single task, it's met with disappointment and talking about how much work she does and how little I do. If I do all the tasks, then come a list of questions: how's my money doing? Have I been saving it or spending it recklessly? Have I tried quitting smoking yet? Have I cleaned some obscure thing she mentioned a month ago and I forgot about? This keeps going until I give an answer she doesn't like and then we are back at my generation being so lazy, how the younger people just don't work as well as her generation did.

And the thing is... she never used to talk like this. She was always far left, full equality, against classism and ageism. But then the "unbiased" news changed. It stopped covering certain things the US didn't want covered. Suddenly I'm explaining to her that in Israel, people will have parties while watching the bombs drop, there are "settlers" going into Gaza and just claiming other people's land. And she says that's not true, she didn't see it on the news, she looked it up online and the major news sites never covered it once since 2014. Every time I bring up some horrible thing that's definitely happening, she just says I've become a conspiracy theorist and MY thinking is really dangerous and she's worried about me (at which point I snapped a bit and told her that actually her willful ignorance is extremely dangerous and what leads to all these atrocities getting swept under the rug. She threatened to kick me out for being so incredibly disrespectful to her).

I don't know what the point of this post is anymore. Maybe I just wanna ramble about someone I truly respected slowly becoming someone I can barely stand to hold a conversation with. Maybe it has something to do with how people are told to only trust big news organizations for real news and then they censor it so all real news looks like conspiracy theorist trash. Or maybe it just has something to do with age, some sort of thing that naturally occurs as you approach a certain age, and the only way to prevent it is to be aware it's occurring and reject its falsehoods. Or I don't know dude... I've been stuck inside for a month... I think I just needed to fucking vent to the Great Void. If you're listening, hey there Great Void, I hope you're doing better than I am.

11 notes · View notes

streetlight-haver · 3 months

Text

Quick edit: Since I wrote this, I'd like to say that I think the dynamic I write about is more general as the oppressed and the oppressor, which of course correlates with the relationship between upper/lower class as the oppressed usually becomes the lower class by force. But the essay itself remains as it was 1.5 years ago

Classism Analogies in Shelley’s Frankenstein (from my English class a year and a half ago) (for our conversation @letmelickyoureyeballs)

The vast gap between the upper and lower classes of society is a tool used by the privileged to oppress those in poverty. By refusing to acknowledge the humanity of the masses, the wealthy few can maintain their status with little to no effect on their conscience. Victor follows the same thought process as he constantly rejects the Creature’s attempt at connection. While it tries to gain recognition and acceptance to fulfill its needs as a social being, Victor evades responsibility again and again, for if he can cling to the fading idea that it is pure evil despite increasing evidence to the contrary, then he can wash his hands of a large part of the guilt he feels for its actions. He can avoid dealing with complicated emotions or the prevalent shades of grey morals that arise from the situation. The complex emotions are more than he has ever experienced; processing them would require fortitude on his part. Victor has never had to truly struggle in his life before now, therefore impacting his ability and desire to empathize with the Creature that so desperately craves empathy. Shelley’s Frankenstein uses the complex identities of Victor and the Creature to build their relationship in order to criticize the unsubstantiated elitism of the upper class.

Victor Frankenstein is an allegory for the upper class of society. He represents the mannerisms of the upper class by refusing to accept responsibility for his actions. This is a result of his upbringing, in which he was never presented with conflict and lived a sheltered, privileged life. The Creature shares its life story with Victor and asks him to reflect on his actions, as the Creature has done for itself. Yet Victor says, “You have left me no power to consider whether I am just to you, or not. Begone! Relieve me from the sight of your detested form” (Shelley 82). Victor refuses this absolution, instead refusing to properly listen. He clings to old prejudice, for it is easier. Admitting that the monster is not totally, inherently evil would veer dangerously close to acknowledging that Victor played more of a part in the crimes it committed than simply “creating” it. Likewise, if the upper class were to admit that poor people were often forced into criminality based on survival needs, they would come ever closer to having to admit the part they play in their oppression. This victimhood is expressed well in Brontë’s poem, “The night is darkening round me”. In it, the speaker claims the inability to alter the situation they are in despite the unfavorable circumstances. Similarly, Victor refuses to alter the circumstances he put himself in. “I will not, cannot go” (line 12) reflects the inner truth of Victor’s helplessness: he refuses to be proactive, just as the wealthy upper class refuses to change the social issues of their communities. If they did, it would require them to recognize the reason the social issues are so persistent: themselves. Victor subconsciously chooses not to be proactive about his situation since his conscience knows it would require facing up to his own mistakes. He is privileged enough to choose not to experience discomfort for the sake of another by ducking his responsibility.

The Creature symbolizes the oppressed lower class. He has never received a formal education, instead scraping for knowledge from every encounter it has. His daily concerns revolve around access to shelter, food acquisition, and being at the mercy of the climate. He is forced to become familiar with hardship and says to Victor, “Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it” (Shelley 80). The Creature’s experiences have proven the value of a peaceable life, as he has never had one to take for granted. People place value on things perceived as difficult to come by. As such, the Creature values connection above all else, while Victor barely acknowledges its role in his life since he has never had to live without it. This symbolizes riches and financial security when comparing their relationship to that between the poor and the wealthy. The upper classes hardly take notice of the privileges that the poor only dream of. A man deep enough in poverty has to fight every day to stay alive. A wealthy man never has to fight at all, and life grows stale for him. This is what is happening to the Creature and Victor at this moment. One of them wallows in any perceived misery, slowly wasting away under guilt and avoidance of true issues. The other (the Creature) burns with purpose–to remain alive and find a better life and/or vengeance. The Creature further exemplifies the similarities of their relationship to that of the wealthy and poor when it says, “This passion is detrimental to me; for you do not reflect that you are the cause of its excess” (Shelley 121). When a lower class/the oppressed advocate for themselves, they must be exceedingly careful lest the wealthy decide their tone is too ‘hostile’ and that they pose a threat. Emotions are a privilege. The privileged will see an intense reaction to a negotiation from someone oppressed and refuse to acknowledge its cause; only its potential danger. Desperation is willfully misinterpreted as hostility, because this creates an easier narrative to deal with. This selfishness is reflected in Victor’s perception and treatment of the Creature. The Creature’s forced exclusion from society allowed it the obvious opportunity to realize the faults in social structure. Wordsworth’s “Lines Written in Early Spring” sums up this sentiment in its final lines, “Have I not reason to lament/What man has made of man?” The Creature knows the bias towards itself is a production of prejudice. The ability to fully realize societal inadequacies is a clear side effect of living among the oppressed. The Creature, like the lower classes, has to deal with societal failures daily, and this forced perspective gives it new clarity on the darker side of humanity.

Put together, Victor and the Creature reflect the power dynamics between the upper and lower classes. When the Creature approaches him in a quest for connection, Victor rejects it again by saying, “Devil!...Do you dare approach me? And do you not fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?” (Shelley 79). Victor attempts to wield power against his creation, backed only by the misplaced (and waning) confidence he has received from his social standing. Yet he phrases his threats as questions, undermining his own façade and revealing his innate fear. As much as Victor is in a higher social position than the Creature due to his family’s status in politics and wealth, they are now on equal footing in nature (interesting use of Romanticism). The Creature has more power in this situation due to its strength (as the lower class do in numbers, strength from daily labor). Victor knows this but clings to what little authority he has left. The phrasing of the threats as questions (“do you dare…do you not fear…”) illuminates his subtle curiosity. Victor has rarely, if ever, been stood up to in his life. This is a new situation for him, and as a human being, he wants to understand. There is a genuine question hiding below his blustering as he subconsciously wonders who has the true power in this exchange, and what that might entail regarding his status and immediate safety. The answer does not seem to be to his liking. Similarly, the upper class questions the audacity of the lower class when they demand human rights and a better quality of life. They can threaten and demean all they like, but the lower class has physical prowess due to daily labor, power in numbers, and their ability to give and take their labor from the economy. They can riot and protest, enable the skills that have kept them alive, and enable the grit that keeps them going daily. The wealthy are afraid of this power shift and afraid of the lower class fully realizing how powerful they can be.

Victor and the Creature share a complex relationship, an imbalance of power that, by the end of the book, turns around and imbalances in the other direction. Victor, the wealthy, refuses to accept responsibility to care for his Creature, the oppressed. In the end, the Creature takes his revenge on Victor by driving him to madness. Their experiences and treatment of one another reflect the relations between the privileged and underprivileged. Shelley’s Frankenstein utilizes Frankenstein and the Creature’s relationship as an allegory for the class conflicts during the early eighteen hundreds. and remains relevant in today’s world as the privileged continue to keep their heads in the sand while the greater world suffers for their arrogant, thoughtless, and selfish actions.

Works Cited

Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft, et al. Frankenstein or, the Modern Prometheus: Annotated for Scientists, Engineers, and Creators of All Kinds. The MIT Press, 2017.

“The night is darkening round me” Brontë, Emily. Source: Poets of the English Language (Viking Press, 1950).

“Lines Written in Early Spring” William Wordsworth Source: The Longman Anthology of Poetry (Pearson, 2006).

#disclaimers: I say she uses them as an allegory but I dunno how intentional it was #Mostly I love English class because I can create all kinds of stories and interpretations #from good literature as long as I've got the evidence #frankenstein #mary shelley #essay #analysis #character analysis

10 notes · View notes

entropy-sea-system · 4 months

Note

A lot of people online have been saying that narcs can and should recover. I know that that statement is ableist towards pwNPD, but I wanted to ask someone with the disorder why it’s untrue from personal experience.

(Sorry for bad wording, English is not my first language)

Well I would say recovery is not possible for everyone, if someone wants to recover from npd they can attempt it if therapy is accessible for them though, thats not really ableist. It is ableist to act like thats possible for everyone though, or to act like therapy is always accessible to everyone. This also overlaps with classism and other forms of bigotry because there are barriers to accessing therapy.

Also I do think it is kind of weird they refer to pwNPD as 'narcs' with that phrasing. Some of us do reclaim the term but if egotypicals just use it like that its a little weird and implies they see us as bad since they often use 'narc'/narcissist in a derogatory manner to refer to basically anyone they armchair diagnose as having NPD bc theyre an abuser or somehow just 'unlikeable'.

Even if people with npd do go to therapy, there are unfortunately many professionals who are very ableist towards people with npd and see us as a 'lost cause' or even believe that 'narc abuse' exists - more professionals in psychiatry and psychology should really learn to respect people with npd and should know how to work with us if we decide to go to therapy for it.

Some people with npd may want to recover if they dont feel able to function well at all and they arent able to cope well with their symptoms, and thats okay. Some people may just fundamentally want to be egotypical even if their NPD doesnt necessarily harm themself a lot. It shouldn't be something we are forced to do though, and we can obviously have npd while still respecting others. Some may also not get a choice as people are coerced into undergoing therapy or institutionalised, which is another problem.

One thing I dislike about the whole idea that we should go to therapy and that therapy will magically get rid of our NPD, is that egotypicals (people without npd) tend to ask that we do this for THEIR sake. They can't handle people with npd even existing and don't want to deal with us. They assume we are all doomed to be abusers. They don't seem to give a shit about how WE are negatively impacted by having npd when they say this. It sounds as if they just want npd to somehow be erased from the world.

Either way, peoples autonomy and rights should be respected regarding therapy, and one can go to therapy if they wish. But there is no guarantee therapy will get rid of a personality disorder, and one may need to see a few therapists or counsellors to find one that truly helps them, and there is a safety risk to seeking psychiatric care for many people.

Recovery is not impossible, but people should go about it at their own pace if they seek it and take precautions as professionals in mental health may harm them, and sometimes it means more that you learn ways of coping with your personality disorder (such as skills taught in Dialectical Behaviour therapy) than exactly that it will disappear entirely. We have not gone to any therapy that helped us so far, but if we do, when its safe to for us, we would be cautious about it and gather a lot of information on who we consider as potential therapists or counsellors.

NPD itself cannot exactly be prevented, on another note, some factors that can influence someone developing it, like genetics, environment one grows up in, and trauma, etc. just are not very preventable. Maybe if societal power structures such as the family unit were not given as much power, abuse rates would reduce and there would be less incidence of trauma, but this would not exactly prevent it entirely and would be difficult to actually enact. And Im not sure if the people who want to prevent it just want people with NPD gone in an ableist way, or if they actually give a fuck about our suffering.

I have known of other pwNPD who do go to a counsellor or therapist. I was in a space with other pwNPD and some of them were genuinely helped by therapy - but those people still had NPD, therapy just helped them cope with it. There are probably people who recovered from NPD after therapy, I havent personally met any such people, but I have seen one person claim they used to have NPD then just didn't anymore without even any therapy, not sure how exactly that worked but yeah.

Anyways, the point is, NPD or any other personality disorder is variable like this and it cannot be said for sure that therapy always exactly gets rid of the disorder entirely or is safe for us. And this is often applicable to other mental illnesses and neurodivergence too. Its not ableist to say people can pursue recovery if they want it, but enforcing it as mandatory can err towards ableism, especially if its along with false beliefs about what therapy can do.

#NPD #npd #actually npd #sysmeds dni #endo safe #actually narcissistic #narcissistic personality disorder #ableism #anti psych #sanism #psychiatric abuse #recovery #cluster b #cluster b safe #actually cluster b #npd safe #anti psychiatry

7 notes · View notes

whilereadingandwalking · 6 months

Text

Thin Skin: Essays by Jenn Shapland is an excellent collection about what it means to be sensitive, to be "thin-skinned," to open your eyes to the reality of just how permeable everything truly is. From the chemicals that seep into our bodies due to negligence to the false boundaries of white suburbia ad its "safety" to the struggle of trying to get work done, especially creative work, when the world is barraging us on all sides, Shapland digs into the places where boundaries dissolve and ask what is wrong with her that she has to expose uncomfortable truths, call things out, that she can't shake off things, has to spread it, has to deal with the pain of knowing.

Shapland's essays turn in on themselves, shift and curve. She takes us on what seems like a digression but that turns into the same question, the same fear. The strongest essay by far is "Thin Skin" itself and its argument that being "tough" is being obtuse, that we have to stop pretending, that we have to look the truth in the eye despite the fears it will cause. "Strangers on a Train" and "The Toomuchness" both unpack false senses of safety, of impregnability, of what we should be sacred of, of what we can survive.

The final two essays were slightly less strong. "Crystal Vortex" was a good but scattered discussion of being creative in a world so rooted in productivity and final products. "The Meaning of Life" unpacks how women are told the true purpose of life is motherhood, and how little she wants to have children. I thought this was the shallowest essay, not because it didn't get there in the end, but because I think much of the analysis was things I've heard before disguised as new analysis (ex. "It doesn't get a lot of airtime, but the witch hunts were one of the foundational events in the construction of the society in which we live"—it gets a lot of airtime, particularly on feminist signs and t-shirts).

Overall, I recommend this beautiful essay collection. Even the essays that weren't as good were still thought-provoking, interesting, and compelling. I'll return to these essays again.

Content warnings for death/grief, institutionalized racism/classism, rape culture, suicide.

#thin skin #jenn shapland #essay collection #book review #nonfiction books #creative nonfiction #my book reviews

14 notes · View notes

boyfridged · 1 year

Note

Do you agree that Jason, as written by Winnick in UTRH and Lost Days, acts out of character post-resurrection if we take into account his post-crisis robin days? If yes, how would you have him act/react to stuff after he comes back from the dead?

tldr: i definitely agree. moreover, classism plays a huge role in it, and i don’t think that at this point the storyline could lose these implications, which makes trying to conceive what an “in character” (for robin jay) version of these events would be quite difficult.

let’s just start from saying that i don't think it's a secret that i don't really like winick in general. despite his work being mad interesting on a conceptual level (and style-wise, genuinely well written!), he has no love for the characters he writes about.

imo utrh shouldn't even ever make it into the mainstream batman timeline. i am aware that this is a radical opinion, but my take is that it would do best as an elseworld story (and in this version too it would need some tweaks here and there), because it made damage both to the mythos of batman and jason's legacy that can never be undone. the very premise of the story is so deeply disconnected from jay's original place in the narrative, and so classist at its roots, that there's not much room to truly fix it.

(i want to say, preemptively, that i am aware that there are people who read utrh as a story of a revolutionary and a victim – and they have the right to do so, but ngl, my view has always been that it was never written as that. utrh reinforces so many stereotypes that it overshadows the revenge tragedy spirit of it all.)

another disclaimer is that, to be honest, jay doesn't have a very consistent characterization even in his 80s run, and it also has some classist implications that ideally should be either erased or addressed in the text (that winick instead exaggerated and put at the very front of his storytelling.) starlin's writing is, at the end of the day and very much ironically, more sympathetic and gentler in evaluating jay (simply because at the time he would not get away with changes too blatant) but details such as jay saying that "all life is game" and his random nonchalant behaviour that has its origin in the very beginning of starlin’s run are already signs of it. some readers will trace jason's arrogance prevalent in his red hood era to these issues and say that his actions post-res are therefore a logical extension of his robin days, but i don't buy it. even if you want to lean into starlin-esque characterisation, if you consider the core problem of the garzonas plotline – which is power, jay shouldn’t look into the solution of anything in climbing to the top. and if he did, it would have to be written as a “becoming what you feared/hated most” kind of story, which i can see a certain appeal in (and which would at least acknowledge that it was not his initial personality), but which would go back to its classist assumption of cycles of violence and doomed fates.

so – how to make his post-res era more accurate to his post-crisis robin days (and least classist in the process)?

if we were to follow my fav iterations of his characterisation (barr’s detective comics and the ntt appearances) tbh I don’t think a lot would happen, because his personality is quite mild, and just so hopeful there that i wouldn’t expect any extreme actions from him – but then again, the circumstances that he finds himself in post-res, the trauma, and his sensitivity do warrant grief that should become a driving force in his life from now on. the question is, what to do with this grief as a plot device?

i know that plenty of jason fans hate this take but I actually think the concept of jason trying to be detached and cruel but being bad at it might be one of the least offensive to his 80s characterisation. it’s def not accurate to pre-52 canon (apart from countdown perhaps) but imo for jay to be authentic and nuanced he should be conflicted about his own actions. his overconfident behaviour should be a pose – just as his frantic acts in his origin story as robin were. (again, something that many readers don't take notice of – but reading the rest of collins' writing wherein jay quickly settles into being easy-going and even a bit shy is proof of it.)

these two points lead to the “no good deed” narrative that I often talk about - the reading that jason saw his intuitive and self-sacrificial kind tendencies as something that brought him pain and that never was quite efficient, and that post-res he intentionally tried training himself out of. there are some flashes of it here and there throughout the years of the red hood publishing history, but it never got a true spotlight. and if i were to write lost days, jason flinching at his own violence would be a focal point of the story.

moving on to utrh; i have spoken about it at length before but I think if he were written 1. with more political sensitivity 2. to have retained the same maturity re: the social order 3. to have the same idea of morality, he should have followed more of actual revolutionary tracks and the whole “drug lord” authoritarian figure schtick along with the idiotic idea of “controlling crime” would have to be thrown out of the window.

and, later on, forgiveness should play a big role in his story. he's so quick to forgive and justify everyone in his robin run – this is also why i reckon his team up with harvey in tfz was a wasted opportunity.

so, in conclusion – perhaps not that much would have to change re: his actions but definitely a lot should change regarding his emotional journey and his position. i would def throw out a lot of mindless violence and power posturing out of it though. and perhaps make him a bit more polite just for the sake of more consistency (this is not me taking a moral stance btw nor tone policing a fictional character. i just think it would be more faithful to his 80s writing unless you want to make him explicitly scared. and it would be funnier tbh.)

#i think i have written some about it on my old blog #but i'm too lazy to look it up and also i got a lot of hate because of that #i also had a longer post talking about how it can be fixed *now*#anyway i want to say.#i do enjoy jason acting feral i do.#and i do want to allow people to enjoy whatever they do #but you simply can't look at jason's characterisation post-res and lie and say it's not a classist caricature #so maybe i am judging people who don't see any problem with it a bit <3 #and despite my love for cyclic narratives #i do want better for him. and i do want him softer and more mild-mannered #not because i am tone policing people nor because i think anger is not warranted #but because i think it's clear that the source of it in his writing #is not anything revolutionary. it's the opposite #like idk make helena more full of rage or whatever #this was not jay's original place in the narrative.#it was the opposite actually. and i miss him so bad dear god i do:(#anyway i think it's hard to think of him post-res in character also because when i think of what is in-character #i also consider what (as i said) the place in the wider narrative was #and jay's death already ruined it mostly #for it to be regained he would have to start anew as a civilian OR as better batman in crime alley i think #sorry for so many tags.#this is such a delightful ask thank you <3 #dc #jason todd #jay.zip #jay.txt #outbox

27 notes · View notes

jasmineslonghair · 5 months

Text

Spoilers ahead!

Okay I finally got to watch the movie on Saturday and I've had time to process.

The brutality of the deaths really showed how horrific it was for both the Capitol and the Districts at the time. And slowly sensationalizing the games was portrayed really well. Lucky Flickerman was the forefront of the desensitization within the Capitol.

Hunter Schafer was amazing as Tigress, she was truly eye-catching and her last line in the move was...rough to say the least. I was genuinely heartbroken for her, after all her efforts to make sure Coriolanus didn't go down the dark path, it's the utter defeat when she said the line.

Rachel and Tom have amazing chemistry, just like the books, I was rooting for them until the second portion of the 3rd act. Would definitely petition for them to star in a RomCom or something just happier.

Josh gave the most wonderfully heart-breaking performance as Sejanus, I have no notes.

The songs are a bop, and next time I read the book again, 100% reading it with them in mind.

The foreshadowing of Katniss throughout the movie was awesome to see. Also Snow being left with his thoughts for two seconds and having a complete meltdown is so on brand.

The fashion of the Capitol was so wild to see, as they were dressed so "normal" like you would instantly be like "I would wear that," in contrast to the original trilogy shows how vapid and vile the Capitol became x2. Cause the classism and elitist mentality is already there.

Things I wish were added:

The first kiss the night before the games, I think for me it was both a emotional point, as these two have been bonding and falling for each other slowly, they might never see each other and I feel like it should've stayed.

Just more Clemmie in general.

I don't know why I jus really would've like to see Snow and the Covey interacting. Especially him and Maude Ivory more.

But overall this movie was amazing, and I felt a wave of nostalgia hit when I was watching it. Being immersed back into this world, and its complexities. And today my sister and I watched the first hunger games movies again, and I was just thinking about all the parallels, genuinely so cool and well done.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x lucy gray #district 12 #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #coriolanus x sejanus #tigris snow #panem #10th hunger games #can't catch me now #the hanging tree #tbosbas #tbosas #katniss everdeen #the hunger games katniss #the hunger games trilogy

15 notes · View notes

pretentious-librarian · 1 year

Text

re-defining femcel/girlblogger/etc

Let's be real. As teen girl in a patriarchal society, I absolutely understand and even find comfort in femcel/girlblogger culture. Surviving mental illness through delusion, romanticizing femininity in a world that hates it, feeling insane, lost, and pressured to fit into a mold in this world are all aspects of this subculture. This space has helped me accept my flaws and find community with other women. I like being in a community that discusses how being a woman in a patriarchal, capitalist society can drive you insane and give you mental problems. I am comforted engaging in femcel media where my struggles are seen and/or I can express my anger through watching various characters spiral and/or take control of their life while doing so--or even feel seen and heard as I watch girls loose control of their lives. And sometimes, it's just an aesthetic: lip gloss, lacy clothes, wearing pink, cigarettes, lana del rey, etc. Sometimes I like belonging, it's a basic human need.

I would confidently say I am femcel, personally. I believe the patriarchy is extremely harmful and many of the men my age that are single do not at all meet my high (feminist) standards. Thus, despite the fact that I am mostly conventionally attractive and an average amount of guys "like" me at any given point in time, I am celibate. The men around me almost always lack compassion, empathy, and are willfully ignorant. Femcel culture doesn't have to be bad.

However, anything can become toxic. Even femcel culture, a culture centered around women, has become affected by the patriarchy. Transphobia, eating disorders, classism, racism, and more have all been perpetuated through this culture, particularly with the problematic coquette aesthetic. Being a woman is being a compassionate good person. Being a woman is realizing that while you can live your delusional, mentally ill, tortured, main character, manic pixie dream girl, life out online, there is more to life than just yourself, even if you are in survival mode/dealing with trauma. There are girls who don't fit the cis, thin, white, rich, coquette "standard" that are just as valid as those who do because at the end of the day, if you are a femcel/woman, you are experiencing the same patriarchal problems in society as everyone else. Attaching an aesthetic to an ideology is lovely when it has not been poisoned by the patriarchy. Being a femcel is about rejecting the patriarchy (possibly because it rejected you first, but I digress), not accepting its twisted, white supremacist, transphobic, misogynist values in an all women space. As girlbloggers, we need to do better. We need to educate ourselves and have compassion for others, no matter how truly tortured we may be feeling, that is no excuse to use a community to harm others. The community has far too much good in it to truly be deemed evil to its core, but it certainly has major issues that need to be dealt with.

My interpretation of femcel is rooted in feminism. Acknowledging flaws in yourself and the system, allowing yourself to express your true feelings in this community when the rest of world wants you to shut up and be silent eye candy. Femcel culture should not be rooted in self-hatred, but in gentle love and growth, and fierce advocacy for the equality of women, the height of our standards, and the dismantling of the patriarchy. Sometimes, that means reading silly posts and validating how much you like a certain actor that men might make fun of you for liking, or it's a mournful Lana Del Ray song about the pain of living. Then it's about being better. Doing better. Setting an example for others while using media to point out problems in our society (like Girl, Interrupted).

For me, being a femcel is being a feminist. Being able to call out men (and everyone else) when they are upholding the patriarchy/being toxic, knowing that it will make men dislike/lose interest in me. Being a femcel to me is consuming media that makes me feel seen, media that comments on society, the patriarchy, the way women, teens, and teen girls are viewed. Being "delusional" for me means that I accept myself for who I am and love it (in world that wants me to hate myself), and being "toxic" is having the strength (girlboss energy) to fiercely stand up for myself, others, and society to make the world a better place, regardless of what others may think of me for doing so.

At least, that's how I perceive the community.

#femcel #girlblogging #girlblogger #girlboss #girl interrupted syndrome #female hysteria #female manipulator #girl blog #the feminine urge #femenism #femenist #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #lana del slay #lana del ray aesthetic #coquette #lily rose depp #girlblogger aesthetic

61 notes · View notes

booksandwords · 6 months

Text

100 Tales from Australia’s Most Haunted Places by Ben Pobjie

Read time: 4 Days Rating: 5/5 Stars

The quote: For as long as human beings have been dying, they have been turning into ghosts. Or maybe they haven't. That's the great thing about ghosts: nobody knows if they're real, so they are endlessly entertaining, like Bigfoot or Elon Musk. — Introduction

Warnings: We are talking ghosts here and it often takes bad stuff to create a ghost. So some warnings: death, murder, suicide, torture, racism, classism and ableism. Among possibly other things.

Okay, I should probably start with where I stand on ghosts real or not. My stance on ghosts basically comes down to a quote from a book "I'm not sure whether I believe in ghosts, but two centuries worth of suffering has to leave a mark." (Billy, The Little Wartime Library). In Australia's case, it's not two centuries our Anglo-Saxon history doesn't go back that far but the point stands. Essentially I'm not above believing in ghosts because of human suffering.

I'm very glad I read this. Ben Pobjie has a fantastic sense of humour (he is a comedian, so massive shock that), and that sense of humour lands in all the right places to keep the mood where it should be. Some of these tales are truly dark, the humour is necessary to lighten to mood. Though I did find myself wondering what was with the (joking) hate on Tassie, and to a lesser degree South Australia. Don't get me wrong I laughed but I found myself curious. I found this to be quite informative in its own way. I have an interest in anthropology and this scratches that itch. It tells stories of everyday people and even ghosts are a part of that field. Some warnings for content death and murder are possibly to be expected in a book about ghosts, it takes death to create a ghost and suicide and torture are others that may be unsurprising. Other warnings that might be less obvious include racism (because you know Australia), classism (because British Empire) and ableism (because 19th century everything). Ben Pobjie is not an author I'd read before, though I do want to read more.

I appreciate the introduction it sets the tone and engages the reader. Pobjie gives his potential reasons for the belief in ghosts. They're pretty on point. The first entry is important, it is the one that grabs the reader and sets the tone. Nurse Kerry, about Aradale Lunatic Asylum, is the right choice. She is perfectly distressing. Not that her patients are sunshine and rainbows. The Bushranger Hotel feels like an odd choice to end on. But it does reference something Australia is known for, Bushrangers (in specific Ben Hall and Jack Dunn) and leaves the reader with a friendly and helpful ghost in the Quirks. The two of them are the right kind of entries to bookend the book. They balance well asylums and pubs are both common in the book, even more so when you look at them as a place of incarceration vs a place of rest and relaxation. I did find it to be quite well organised. The places that had multiple entries were spread out, the types of ghosts are varied and not repetitive in their order. Each chapter is two or three pages long with a relevant title, either the ghosts name, the location or a joke, under that is the geographic location by town and state. If the location isn't in the title it is usually in one of the first two paragraphs. It all just works so well.

Some quotes and comments. It's not for all of them but there are quite a few.

• Frederick Carr was hanged in 1929 at Adelaide Gaol. He's an oddly jovial ghost despite the injustices against him. He was hanged for the murder of his wife Maud. He's presentation has changed over time. Going from faceless to having a face and no one knows why. I just like that he's not angry.

• There is an intriguing dichotomy to the young ladies of Young & Jackson's the nameless ghost and Chloé. One is highly celebrated and prized while the other is nameless, lost and alone.

• The former denizens of the old convict settlement close in around you, insistent and suffocating, as soon as you arrive. If you can't hear them, you can feel them: the souls of thousands of the tortured, the abused and the murdered. The very air is weighted and perfumed with the pain and anger and sadness of a place built specifically to inflict those things. — I love this quote okay it's just so visceral. I like the way Port Arthur is managed. There are only a couple of brief examples. It feels like a yeah of course there are bloody ghosts here. It was a place of death and misery. (p.11, Ghosts of Port Arthur). Much the same thing is done with The North Head Quarantine Station, though there the story of the Gravedigger's cottage.

• There is something highly amusing about Pobjie not rant exactly but a paragraph that could have gone there about darkrooms being extremely spooky. I had never thought of it.

• Late one night, early in his residence, Bishop Trower awoke to find his bedroom awash with an unearthly light. The illumination emanated from a man who had, rather impolitely, entered his bedchamber without so much as a by-your-leave. — In the same chapter but a different point. There is something highly amusing about a pearl, The Rosinate Pearl, having vaguely homicidal tendencies. That (perhaps fictional) pearl has quite a high body count. (p.17, The Pearl Buyer of Broome)

• The Liftman is written in an interesting way. It's the only one written from a dual perspective and I like it.

• Under the laws of the time, suicide, or felo-de-se ('felon of himself' in Latin) was a crime equivalent to murder, — I knew this law existed but I never knew the Latin for it. What I found more interesting was that being found guilty of felo-de-se allowed the state to seize your assets. Francis Grote also has a pretty good ghost. (p.26, The Huntsman of Rostrevor)

• Catherine Spense broke my heart but she is exactly the kind of woman you aspire for your daughters to be.

• And to this day, every November, Campbelltown celebrates the Fisher's Ghost Festival, an event which brings together the whole town to celebrate community and ghosts. — This celebration is kinda weird to me, and I'm guessing a lot of others. Fisher has only had one appearance, unfinished business and all that. He's a bit different among this collection. (p.35, Fisher's Ghost)

• It could be that the sandhills themselves are simply replaying their own memory of the nightmare that descended upon them that chilly autumn night. — The feel of the unknown in the sandhills. It's different, and I like the imagery. (p.38, The Murdering Sandhills)

• I adore Albert Ogilvie so much as a ghost. He was a legend as a man too.

• Even in the olden days, when hanging people was more a fun family day out than a law-enforcement technique, slipping the noose around a female neck was something not done lightly. — This is about Martha Rendell and my response was essentially Jesus Christ you what? (p.43, The Stepmother from Hell)

• Marybank's protective ghosts are great. Allowing themselves to be heard but not seen by the occupants of the house, the descendants of the first family, the Fox's. But more than willing to reveal themselves to guests. It's a bit of a quirk among the entries.

• the Miracle House of Guildford in Western Sydney is fascinating. If you believe the story (and this one I am sceptical of) Mike Tannerous fulfilled his life goal to help people. I had to laugh when I read this entry though. Just days ago my mother and I were talking about canonisation in the Catholic church.

• The fact that Old Tailem Town was constructed Frankenstein-style, from historic buildings from elsewhere, means that it occupies a unique place among ghostly locations. Rather than being haunted by those who died on the spot, spirits have been trucked in from myriad other spots to rub shoulders on the pioneer village. — They are some pretty unique ghosts though. I do like the idea of a Frankenstein-style construction of a town. (p.75-6, Terror of Tailem Town)

• I am absolutely unsurprised that the Old Melbourne Goal is in here. The ghost of choice is Cell 17, a notorious and extremely physical ghost. I do quite appreciate Ned Kelly's silence on spectral matters.

• Quinn's Light is fascinating. But questions... I have questions.

• Indeed, as there are plenty of other spirits haunting the North Kapunda Hotel — hence its 'most haunted' appellation — the Man in Black likes to keep busy menacing them as well. It's a rare and particularly obnoxious ghost who devotes his time to spooking other spooks, but that's the Man in Black all over: a total jerk. — The North Kapunda Hotel is the place with the most entries. Dr Blood (no seriously his real name), The Man in Black, Sarah and Emily and her sister. They are all different and I like that are all here. The Man in Black is a total jerk and I kinda like it. (p.102, The Man in Black)

• But seriously: if you want to know how terrifying an old maternity hospital can be, just think about babies. Lots of babies. Crying. Screaming, sobbing, wailing. In the night. — Nope, nope, nope. How about nope. (p.104, The Evil Matron)

• I'd heard of George Grover, convict and all-round toss pot. But I didn't know he went ghost.

• Adelaide Arcade has more than a few ghosts, but us was the family case that got me.

• I'm honestly not surprised Mad Dan Morgan has a ghost and a nasty one at that. And that is two headless horsemen in Australia. What does surprise me is the lack of bushrangers with ghosts in general. It kinda gives a beaten by the better men or death wish to their life choices/ actions.

• George Ferguson Bowen had a well travelled and illustrious career. That his ghost settled in Brisbane makes me wonder... why?

• I appreciate the inclusion of the modern ghosts in The Road to Capalaba. I wish we knew their story. But in a way not having it is even better. Because they could be everyone.

• There are three chapters on The spooks of Monte Christo, with Monte Christo being a Homestead in Junee, New South Wales. They are all very different ghosts. The maid that found herself in a delicate condition was completely unsurprising fukn men in power. But it is Harold, Harold that broke me. Instead, going by the most cutting-edge medical and psychological advice available at the time, they decided to help Harold to live a rich and fulfilling life by chaining him to a wall. (p.140, ) Hahaha... NO. He was chained to a wall for 40 years. 🤬 No wonder he became a ghost. It was horrifying. The only shock is that he's a friendly ghost. As in he just was to make friends 😢.

• Melbourne's Princess Theatre opened in December 1886 and has been haunted since March 1888. That's impressive. I didn't know about the vacant seat tradition. Though it is hardly the only theatre with that kind of tradition.

• How have I never heard Elizabeth Scott's story before now (Poor Elizabeth Scott)? Hanged at the Old Melbourne Goal in 1863 for conspiring to kill her husband. She was married off to her husband at 13 (a little young even for the time) and of course, he was an abusive pos. The shotgun blast to his head fixed that malady (good). And because I can't resist.

• But there's something sweet and hopeful about the sight of Blanche and Dave wandering St Mark's together, because that's exactly what they are: together. Being a ghost seems like a lonely lifestyle, and all the moreso for a child. If these two youngsters, talked by tragedy and separated by six decades, have in afterlife found each other, their friendship might b cause for uplift in that grim and sombre place. —(p.178, The Cemetery Children)

• Sometimes the presentation of the ghost feels like true indication of the rest of their story. Like the milliner mourning her own death in the fashions of the day and in the art (trade if you must) that was her life.

• All countries have ghost stories, but only one turned a ghost story into its most popular patriotic song. Of course, 'Waltzing Matilda' isn't just a ghost story: it's also a cheerful tale of suicide and depending on your point of view an account of either justice or injustice done. —I really like all the falsehoods in the song but that original story should not be forgotten. (p188, And His Ghost My Be Heard...)

• I'm pleased there are ghost animals in here. Animals may be more disconcerting than humans.

• The hangings at the Old Windmill (Brisbane) in July 1841 were horrifying. If you want to hang someone hang them, not whatever that was.

• The current proprietors of the Albany Convict Gaol have, in the interests of giving their customers value for money in the frights department, adorned the rooms of the old building with a variety of dummies of frankly nightmarish aspect. They set them in chairs to stare at you so that when you turn to go into a room, you jump out of your skin and let out an embarrassingly high-pitched nose because there's some kind of deformed evil gypsy watching you with one bulging eye. —The book actually contains an image of one of the mannequins and they scare me more than any ghost in that place could I think. (p.242, The Black Hole) There are baby cries... baby cries in a convict gaol? I think not thank you. It's just so very wrong. The title The Black Hole is a sensory deprivation cell. Again no thank you. And I'm pretty sure they are still used.

• Oh man, the ghosts in Steiglitz outnumber the people... by quite a way.

• I did not know that Australia even had a monastic town, let alone that it had its own guardian ghost. New Norcia in W.A. was settled by Spanish Benedictine Monks in 1847. The ghost, known as The Blue Nun, is that of Sister Maria Harispe.

• The best known and most seen of Gaiety's cast of spirits is Ava, the theatre's proud addition to the pantheon of little-girl ghosts. — Honestly Ava sounds kinda adorable. She just kinda ignores people and goes about her business. (p.261, Ghosts of the Gaiety) There really in a pantheon little-girl ghosts. I'm just going to put a couple of them here. The little girl at Larundel Asylum is so heartbreaking, her music box would be disturbing though. The young girls at Spook Cemetery are horrifying. As much as more of these places would be great to visit not his one. You need nice hands. The last little-girl ghost we meet is at the Coach & Horses, she just wants friends, appearing mostly to children.

• Determinig whether the Royal Derwent Hospital, popularly known as Willow Court is haunted is a relatively simple process. Just ask the question, 'Is Willow Court Australia's oldest mental health facility?' If the answer is 'yes,' then OF COURSE, IT'S HAUNTED, YOU IDIOT. I mean, surely we know by know: if it's old and it once housed the mentally ill, there will be ghosts fizzing about inside it. — There is so much going on at this place nearly all of it bad. 'Asylum's abortion chair' is just three words that do not belong together here, unsurprisingly that chair has its own ghost. (p.263, Winston of Ward 5)

• It's interesting The Poinciana Woman echoes a few female folk tales globally. A huge injustice was committed against her I'm glad that the tale exists. Like so many of her sister tales she has become both a caregiver and an angel of vengeance.

• And they stare at you with their lifeless eyes, as if you say, 'As soon as you turn your back is turned, we are going to jump you and sink our mannequin fangs into your tender flesh like those statues from Doctor Who.' — I really did not expect a Faraway Tree. Yeah, they are pretty damn odd. Oh and we get this Doctor Who reference in the same entry as a treat. What other Doctor Who monster are we going to reference other than Weeping Angels. (p. 93, The Grouch Major)

#100 tales from australia's most haunted places #ghosts #read australian #ben pobjie #book review #ktreviews #read 2022 #booklr #haunting #non fiction #tw death #tw murder #tw suicide #tw torture #tw racism #tw classism #tw ablism

3 notes · View notes