the woman tried four times to open

A brand new ladder appeared in my yard.

Let me back up a little.

Look, I’m no storyteller, I’m just a high school kid living in literal hell on earth right now. I’m going to try to tell you my story exactly the way it happened, and I really, really hope some of you can help me.

I work in an AMC theater at the local mall. My parents got me the job since they know the owner. The mall itself is a shithole waiting to be turned either into a parking lot or a Costco. I mean, most of the stores are closed and our theater is the only business getting some traffic.

I started working at this AMC about 9 months ago. It pays shit, $11/hr, but I get to see all the movies and eat free stale popcorn, so it’s not totally bad. Unrelated, but one thing I found strange was that we were always closed on Thursdays. Nobody knew why, and my manager told me it’s always been like that, so I never questioned it.

So last week, we all get called into a team meeting where the manager tells us that someone has to work Thursday night. He said the orders came from the top and we had to be open that day. I look around and nobody’s volunteering. Shit, I could use the extra cash, so I raise my hand.

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Tell Me Everything |  A Remione Ficlet for @shayalonnie

Hermione was tired, petulant, sulky and in an all around bad mood.  She’d gotten into it with Ron again about her cat and his stupid rat.  She’d come from another class with Professor Lupin and felt the usual weird lurch in her stomach whenever he made eye contact with her, something he seemed to try not to do, and she wanted to talk to someone about it but, between her embarrassing crush on Gilderoy Lockhart the previous year and Ron and Harry’s general prattishness this year, she didn’t have anyone.   All this left her in a mood that had her eyeing her time turner as though it were somehow its fault.  

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Divergent Rape Scene

Article on someone’s experience watching Divergent. This is not an article by the-insane-writer. Source is at the bottom.

Warning for movie spoilers and potentially triggering discussion of rape and sexual assault.

After I settled into my seat to watch an opening night screening of Divergent, a funny thing happened.

The wrong movie began to play.

No, really. Due to what I can only assume was human error, I was treated, along with a theatre largely full of young teenage girls, to the first thirty seconds of 300: Rise of an Empire 3D.

Let me tell you what happens in those thirty seconds: a muscled, armoured man rides, astride a horse, over a pile of bodies. A topless woman is plucked from this pile by two other muscled, armoured men, who proceed, for no apparent reason, to shake her vigorously. Her breasts wobble. She screams.

Nothing puts me in the mood for murder quite like witnessing this kind of blatant, male gaze-y glorification of sexual assault.

Even after the screen cut to black, and the correct film began to play, I was pissed. Pissed that I had been forced to watch a sexual assault. Pissed that the young girls in the theatre with me had been forced to watch. Pissed that 300: Rise of an Empire 3D is expected to gross $40 million this weekend.

But then, another funny thing happened: I witnessed a ferocious, determined three hour-long middle finger to rape culture. A hearty antidote to those thirty seconds of 300. A subversion and deconstruction of every exploitative, sexist action blockbuster ever made.

Divergent, at its heart, is about enthusiastic consent. The premise is pretty simple: in post-apocalyptic Chicago, kids select a career path when they turn sixteen. There are five factions to choose from, each with its own values.

Our protagonist, Tris, is a plucky sixteen-year-old born in the Abnegation faction, where selflessness reigns supreme. Her coming-of-age aptitude test fails to slot her conclusively into one category — a terrifying, isolating prospect in this world — and she finds herself free to choose any faction.

She picks Dauntless: a crowd of fearless (and heavily tattooed) cavaliers tasked with defending the city. From there, it’s off to boot camp, and boot camp has one goal: to eradicate fear in Dauntless newbies.

Trainees are placed in a variety of frightening simulated scenarios, and tasked with finding resourceful ways to protect themselves. They are suspended from great heights, trapped in aquariums that rapidly fill to the brim with water, and thrown into great, open fields full of flame. Every trainee’s scenarios are different, depending on their unique fears.

Tris has one especially unique fear, and it’s an important one: fear of sexual assault.

Every woman knows Tris’s terror, knows the horror of walking home late at night, clutching keys like knives between her fingers. Every woman lives with the looming fear that her refusal, her no, won’t be taken seriously.

Now, Tris never suffers any ill treatment at the hands of Four, her Dauntless beau. After they kiss for the first time, she pulls back, whispering, “I don’t want to go too fast.”

He listens to her no. He respects it.

In a media culture where — well, where movies like 300: Rise of an Empire 3Dmake millions of dollars — this in and of itself is nothing short of revolutionary.

Teenage girls all around the world are going to witness Tris insisting on consent, and teenage boys are going to witness Four listening to her.

In a later scene, Tris is immersed in the fear simulator, and she finds herself in an artificial version of Four’s bedroom. An artificial Four appears. He kisses her. She kisses back. He touches her. She tries to push him away.

“No,” she says, plainly.

He lunges, pinning her to the mattress. Her sentences turn to screams, to shouted no, no, no’s, and her fists begin to fly. She is aggressive. She is fierce. She forces him off with one final, decisive kick, and lies back, gasping.

Then the dream ends, and she awakes to a crowd of exam proctors applauding her. Cheering her on. Patting her on the back. Telling her how brave and smart and strong she is. Telling her that she did exactly the right thing. That she’s a model for the other trainees.

Have you ever seen anything like this? Have you ever seen a teenage girl fight off a rapist on camera, let alone be congratulated for it?

I wept. Openly. Vocally. Because I had been there, in that bedroom, with someone I liked, and I had been too afraid to hit back. Too afraid to say no. Because my best friend once found herself in that bedroom, after a fun night out went horribly, terribly wrong. Because my mother spent her entire childhood in that bedroom, living in constant fear, and she still, to this day, has not reported her abuser.

There is another, earlier, pivotal scene, where a group of boys in Tris’s faction collude in an attempt to beat her up. Their plan is foiled before they can do any serious harm, and one of the boys approaches Tris the next morning, his face sombre, begging for forgiveness.

Tris clears her throat. She stands. Tears well in her eyes.

“If you ever touch me again,” she says, “I will kill you.”

Divergent marks the first time I have ever seen a teenage girl articulate, in no uncertain terms, that her body belongs to her. That she gets to decide who touches it, and how, and when. That her yes and her no are final, and unambiguous, and worthy of respect.

Divergent is important.



A/N: This is the fic that I was talking about, where I had to get permission from a couple of people before I could do it. It’s not gonna be hard to figure out why I needed that permission. It’ll make sense pretty quickly. I hope you enjoy this and that it elicits the emotions I’m trying for. For maximum effect, listen to Chester’s cover of Say Something on repeat while you read this, or an instrumental. Again, enjoy :D

“It’s almost ten am before they let her see Hannah. Mamrie took her phone hours ago and is fielding calls like a champ and Grace takes a moment to be grateful for how well Mamrie can keep her shit together in a crisis.

She almost can’t bear to walk into the room but finally she forces herself through the door to where Hannah is lying.”

Grace’s eyes scan the body in front of her. It’s Hannah, she knows that. But it doesn’t look like her, it doesn’t look like her Hannah.

This Hannah lying in this cold, unforgiving hospital bed has dark, threatening shadows beneath her eyes. There is a splash of pink in her cheeks, but it doesn’t mask the way her skin is starting to look grey. This Hannah does not have the bump in her stomach that held Amy just hours ago. Now, rather, the sheets lie flat across her midsection as she lie there, unmoving.

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“Sirius, no one has ever gotten off the Hogwarts express, let alone when it’s moving” said Peter, his voice slightly nervous.

“Aye Peter, why you always gotta be such a buzzkill?” said Lupin, following after Sirius.

Peter looked to James who shrugged and followed after the others.

Having no choice, Peter left the compartment.

The four boys walked down the hallway, students eyeing them from inside their compartments as they walked.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

“Ah, no thank you” said Lupin.

“What about a pumpkin pastie. They were made fresh this morning.”

“Maybe another time” said James.

The woman smiled and the four walked past her.

When no one was looking, they opened the back door and one by one climbed the ladder onto the roof.

Sirius tried to trip Remus, who in return pushed James.

“Watch it” he said.

“I was just kidding James. You didn’t think I was actually going to push you, now did you?”

James rolled his eyes.

“You are so over dramatic.”

The four of them took a seat in a circle and watched as the world went by around them.

“Sure is beautiful from up here, isn’t it?” said Sirius.

“Yes, it is” came an unfamiliar voice.

As if on cue, the four of them turned to see the trolley lady smiling at them, her pockets overflowing with pumpkin pasties.

They all jumped to their feet, but made sure to do it in a way so that they would not fall.

“No one ever has ever left the Hogwarts express.”

“We are aware, we were just getting some fresh air”

She laughed, “fresh air? That’s what windows are for.”

“Uhh, well we’ve had enough and were on our way back” said Peter.

They started walking back towards the ladder, but the trolley lady stopped them.

“You should have had a pumpkin pastie. As I said, they were made today by yours truly.”

She began emptying her pockets and throwing the contents at the boys.

“Thank you, but we really should be going.”

They tried once again to walk past her, but this time she laughed maliciously.

“Oh, you boys think I’ll let you off that easy?”

Suddenly, as though she was possessed, she began screaming and writhing and her hands transformed into spikes and with one last smile, she charged the boys.

Malora Week. Day 1

Rating: K+/T

word count: 2,816

A/N: student/teacher is my favorite thing. honestly, i wrote this for myself, but i hope another enjoys it. i drew more from elle/angelina than their characters, so if that bothers you, fair warning.

Aurora needed excuses to see her.

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In which Steven Moffat shows us how you do a memory wipe

Memory wipes are a trope that more often than not, fall into the category of lazy writing - along with anything that forces a character to not have to make a decision for themselves. It adds the heartbreak and disappointment of a storyline that was meaningless. Why do something that cheapens the story?

But Moffat? Hell no he ain’t gonna let that happen. Sure this was not the only path for these characters, but that path was superbly laid out. The relationship took its turn to the unhealthy addiction side of things, with more finality.

All of the questions were answered in that way of his, he’s not gonna shove the answers down your throat and waist time over-explaining. You got the answers or you didn’t, so let’s move on with the story.

Just beautifully crafted, wonderfully directed. Perfectly acted, and props to Wild West version of that theme making a comeback.

- I like that he teased us with that canon/not canon from the movie. Hehehe

- Another regen into a woman. Does he need to keep answering this same question?

- Scenes straight outta fanfic

- dat guitar

- Still hates pears

- They always knock four times

- Together (or not at all)

- Run you clever boy

- Timelady Clara - ok not officially, but come on.

The scifi pan to the fireplace. Yes at some point they should have snogged each other until they suffocated, but this leaves that open, ya know? It launches a 1000 fics, and tries to make all ages and all audiences happy.

That the block was made for humans and he’s humanoid, leaving him with a sense of the emotional bond. It’s not like he’s Donna. He has that sense of Clara. Leaving the emotional bond, a sense of adventures that happened, is a way to wipe the memory without cheapening the experience for the viewer. These things happened and he knows they did.

Standing ovation should go here.

So bravo, Steven Moffat. You found a way to do a memory wipe story, and make it legendary at that. With all the hate you get, know that most of us love you and everything you’ve done for this series.

Next up, bring on the Sexstorm!

Honestly, my favorite part of Avatar finales is watching just how far our heroes have come. Compare the gaang of book one to book three–it’s like you have different people. More confident in their abilities, self assured, mature. Aang is not the little kid he started out as in the Boy in the Iceberg, and Katara and Sokka are not just the bickering siblings trying to find their way in the world.

Same applies for Korra’s crew. Korra has grown so damn much and it makes me proud. She’s no longer the hot headed girl out to prove her worth as the Avatar, but a compassionate, level headed young woman who reaches out even to her most bitter of enemies. Book three started out with Korra calming a terrified man clinging to a bridge down, and I thought ‘wow, this kid’s grown so much in two seasons.’ And then book four gave us this. Extending a hand to someone who tried to kill her multiple times and understanding where she came from and why she did what she did. 

It’s pretty damn amazing, watching her development. Korra of book one and two would never have done this, and probably not even in book three. Book four was a huge eye opener to her and goddamn, this kid’s grown up.

Just Another Vampire Story

((Closed starter for @themany-muses-of-mybrain ))

A deep breath inhaled the cool night’s air into Sasuke’s lungs, perched on top of a roof as he relished that calm. He knew there was no way it could last long. Especially once he was on the hunt. “Blood, blood, everywhere but not a drop to drink.” Sasuke hummed to himself, watching people wander by below his perch. Prince Sasuke didn’t like to kill just any humans- he preferred to take out scum of the earth, people that world could do without.

It was the best he could do to ease his conscious. After a few hundred years, killing got old. He didn’t want to be responsible for killing the one who was going to find the cure for cancer or something, though. His dark red eyes always glowed a little brighter when he was starving for a meal to eat, and right now they were fixed about two blocks away on a blonde haired woman being shoved into an alleyway by four men. “Perfect,” he hummed, and in a flash, took off for the scene. Like a deadly predator in the night, he slipped across buildings until he was right about here those four men were cornering the young woman. 

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