splinteredstar: (Sebastian)
this is re: something I just reblogged and some general culture.  as always, not at anyone on here in particular

cut for abuse mention )
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but no, Shera. I don't even remember how old I was then - 12 or 13, I think. She was a YGO OC, who I paired up with Yami no Malik.  Yeah, the stabby one, with the hedgehog hair.  She was an assassin and a sadist and her - I think it was her face? - was burned and scarred from abuse. ...It might have been her back, I'm not sure. I don't think those files exist anywhere - if they were ever typed to begin with.

She was violent and soiciopathic and angry and she enjoyed blood and when Yami no Malik started developing goopy feelings at her she was deeply uncomfortable, because she did not sign up for /softness/, okay. 

....Every now and then, I look back at my younger self and think "...kaaaaay."  Like, I can see where she /came/ from, both culturally and in my brain, but. Still.


That part of my brain is one that I - still struggle with making peace with, sometimes. The part that glories in blood and violence and wreckless desctruction - the part that wants to burn the world, that wants to /break/. Rage, and anger, and pride, and control. Other people - don't matter, aren't really important. Break them if you want, it doesn't matter. It's a hunk of my psyche that - honestly frightens me, sometimes. But it's compelling, in the way monsters are.

(Also, it occurs to me that my taste in favorite characters - the terrible ones that I don't normally admit in public - makes a /lot/ more sense now. Give the monster a face, muzzle it by making it fictional - it can't hurt anyone, so it's safe to be fascinated.)
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I was rambling in the comments of someone's post on tumblr about fandom, and I think it's relevant to some of the things i've said here as well, so, pseudo cross post.


imo, fandom is one of those fundamental human needs - well, Stories are. Responding to stories and making them our own - claiming them in a way.

fandom, in one form or another, has been around for as long as we can look back. It's one of those basic /human/ things - defining ourselves through the Stories that we love.


(Pratchett, may his soul be held by any god who could find it, called it Narritivum, that building block of reality that says "this is how things go.")


stories are how we learn how to be people, and how to be a person.

and fandom, I think, is a means of taking control of that - of saying, "No, this is how things /should/ go." Of taking the stories that define you and reclaiming them for yourself - making them a part of you, rather than just something /around/ you

.....tl;dr I have a lot of emotions about fandom
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I need things that are mine, and mine alone. There is an exhilaration in shared experience, but it is something between, something that only exists in the shared and not in any one person. It can be greater than any of them, water poured into a shared well, and yet, and yet.

Stories are me. I am a collection of tales bound up in flesh, little story factories tucked away inside of bone and muscle and nerve tissue. Stories from me, stories about me - I don't know how to exist except as narrative distilled. (Maybe I'm broken, but that's for another day.)

But if all of my stories are us or them; if everything is shared and between - do I still exist at all? If I'm just the place where all of those shared experiences overlap, am I still real? (Is anyone?) If that particular combination of different us-stories and we-stories is unique, does that make a difference?

I don't know. I just know that i don't like it. I feel hollow. Everywhere my mind turns there's someone else there, tugged in by that story-that-is-us, and I have to deal with us when I want to deal with me. There are invaders in my head, strings attached to other pople strung everywhere. It's like walking into a room I thought was empty and finding it full of people.

So I need things that are mine. I need stories that I own, that are mine and no one else's. (Or at least stories that feel that way.) I need - spaces in my head where I can go and find no one else waiting for me there, where I know that if all of those shared experiences drop away, there will still be a /me/ left over.

Maybe it's privacy, a place where I don't feel the weight of shared experiences on my back, without the ghosts of other people surrounding me. Maybe it's security, the knowledge that if -when - people leave, they won't drag everything I love and care about with them. Maybe it's an anchor, being able to say this is me, this is from me and to me, weaving the stories into myself instead of spreading them outwards. Maybe it's all of them.

But I think it's something I need. A room of my own, as it were. So maybe that's okay? Psychological me-time, I suppose. (Do other people need this? Does that matter, if I need it?)

Hmm.

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