#instead of being able to keep dissociating it away for future me to deal with is. not fun

[ereh-emanresu-tresni]

They don't warn you remotely enough how much getting better often feels like getting catastrophically worse

[phoenix-positivity]

22 april 2024 - have a feeling this will be venty

I have that feeling cause I just started dissociating as I opened this. Maybe I already did before. Am I forgetting why I wanted to make this post? It's getting harder to breathe? Why? What a strange feeling. Overwhelming. Fear in my arms again. Let me move my body around and come back to this. Maybe get a sour candy. Smell a scent stick.

It helped a bit. I have a little spiky ball and I grabbed a plushie to hug. The sour candy was nice. My head started hurting though. I'm still feeling triggered. I don't really know why.

I've not been able to write much on here cause I keep dissociating too much or feel too triggered. I don't remember what the last thing I wrote was..

It makes sense though. Even though I've been very lucky with lot's of rain and cloudy weather!! The plants still grow though, perhaps even more with all the water. Sometimes the rain makes them emit more scent. Like the earth itself will smell. I still don't know what the sources are for the scents that trigger me. It's likely a cocktail of many different things.

I find it hard to actually stand still and face the triggers instead of rushing and trying to get away faster. I've tried standing still and it just keeps building up and up and it makes me want to give up before it starts decreasing, though I did it today too and I focused really hard on grounding and it felt like I had at least taken the edge of. But yeah I am surely avoiding it, I guess I don't feel strong enough to bear the pain perhaps. Or well, it's normal to want to go away from pain. At least I still take my dog for walks and walk through the areas where the scents are bad.

I also said to my therapist last week I felt the trauma I wanted to process that session wasn't bad enough to warrant processing. She replied saying that if that were the case we could start the processing and if we discovered it was no big deal for me then I would be feeling fine and we could just do something else. Obviously it was a big deal for me. I did partly process some triggers during the EMDR as well.

It also makes sense because a big triggering holiday is coming up this week. I've been sensing it's approach for some weeks now. I will do exposure during it. Actually.. it might be good to process that in my next therapy session too. Let me look something up in my trauma diary.. (not the best idea, I admit)

I ended up reading the whole diary. It makes me see how far I have come in my healing. Comparing my current situation to back then. That is hopeful.

Someday, a future me will be reading these journal entries. And they will think what I think now: "wow, I've improved so much compared to the past"

Hope.

This is but a moment in time. A painful journey to travel.

On a brighter side. I purchased VIP tickets to go see a concert and get my album signed and meet the artists. This year is a good concert year for sure. Going to concerts by myself opens up a lot of fun experiences.

I have also been working on my sleeping schedule as much as I've been able to hold myself accountable. Which is why right now I need to turn off my pc and get into bed. I've purchased a white noise machine and I've been using multiple different sound options to fall asleep. It really does make me feel safer in bed. It's a noticeable difference.

I can do this. Being triggered might make it feel like the world is standing still but this is just another day among many. The sun will set and rise again.

Dissociation doesn't last forever. It comes and goes. I will feel fully grounded again. I wont feel this way forever. I wont get 'stuck in this setting'.

Even if my dreams wont be good I will wake up and get to experience a new day and my dreams can be forgotten again.

I can recharge in bed with my plushie. It's okay to feel scared. But there is no danger in bed. The music box will be there for a comforting melody. It will be okay.

[redphlox]

Dabi's fear of feelings and connections

Dabi is a walking contradiction; he says he doesn't care about anyone, but his flames, which are linked to his emotions, demonstrate otherwise when Twice is killed. Dabi brushes off the news that Natsuo could have died because of him but still refers to him affectionately as Natsu-kun. Touya went around calling Endeavor out for neglecting his children but still trained to regain his approval and attention anyway. He lashed out at baby Shouto, admitted Shouto had done nothing wrong, and then attacked him again years later. He cries blood while thinking about his family but doesn't go home to them or change his actions which hurt them even more. Dabi wants to destroy hero society for a better future but it's obvious he doesn't plan to live long enough to see that future.

The gaps between his actions and his words are a result of dissociation and repression. It's not that Dabi is emotionless. Actually, he feels too much and he's afraid of his feelings because they've done nothing but hurt him emotionally and physically. He literally almost burned to death the one time he had a burst of emotion on Sekoto Peak and in order to prevent a repeat of that, he operates under the flawed notion that safety lies in repressing his feelings and pushing people away. He lies to himself and others and therefore cannot reconcile with his true self and can’t trust others.

In this meta I'll discuss how Dabi deals with his unprocessed feelings of betrayal and neglect by denying himself connections with both his inner wounded child and those around him. I'll also address a few misconceptions surrounding Dabi because dismantling them is key to understanding him. Contrary to popular belief, he does not want to kill his father, he never wanted to be a hero for his own sake, and he doesn't hate Shouto or his family. At its core, Touya's hurt stems from discovering that his relationship with his father wasn't based on unconditional love. This realization destroyed his sense of self so much it caused him to start fearing his own feelings and being close to others because of the link between his emotions and his self-destructive quirk.

To understand Dabi we have to understand Touya. In 291 we see through Endeavor's flashback that Touya was eager to train under him and carry his legacy. It's implied by the fact they’re working on ultimate moves that not only is Touya a willing, eager participant but that the two have been training together for quite some time. In 301 we learn that after Touya's quirk started hurting him Endeavor not only abandoned the training regime but also abandoned Touya both emotionally and physically. Instead of using the time he spent training Touya to help Touya find a new hobby or purpose in life, or just hanging out with his kid, Endeavor chooses to remove himself from Touya’s life. When Touya confronts him about the change of routine, Endeavor is seen putting on his jacket and leaving the home, his body turned away from his son.

Maybe Endeavor had errands to run, but my point is that he was in Touya’s life one minute and then gone the next. Touya says so himself: why did Endeavor change his mind all of a sudden? The abrupt change in attitude was jarring for a 4-5 year old to handle. To Touya, training = love, so he felt compelled to keep training and demonstrate his worthiness despite the fact that his quirk was hurting him. To Touya, the pain was worth it if it meant hanging out with his dad again.

But why? Well, Touya was Endeavor's #1 fan, genuinely so. His admiration and fondness for his father was genuine, and he didn't question the triumphant look on Endeavor's face when Touya said he wanted to learn the ultimate move. Before his quirk started burning him, Touya had no idea he was born for his father's ulterior motives. He had no reason to question his father's attention. Touya lived under the impression his bond with his dad was genuine and special, and he probably felt lucky that his father was willing to share something so important to him (heroism). Even after the training stops and Endeavor stops paying attention to Touya, Touya still wears his merch and vies for his attention. Most kids see their parents as larger than life and Touya was no exception. Keigo Takami admired Endeavor the hero, and Touya Todoroki admired his father who just so happened to be the hero Endeavor. Since being a hero was such a big deal for Endeavor, it was a big deal for Touya.

But that's where Touya's story becomes tragic. His father is a flawed, flawed man with many insecurities and fallacies that he pushes onto his family. I’ll get to those in a moment, but as intelligent and observant Touya is to catch on that Endeavor never set out to marry to become a father, he is too young to separate himself from his father’s expectations. Touya realizes he was born for a purpose and Touya will be damned if he doesn't fulfill that purpose even if he knows it's wrong. His father's ‘love’ meant that much to him. For Touya, it's not about becoming a hero for the glory. It was about his relationship with his father because, as I mentioned earlier, Touya was his #1 fan in the sense that he loved Enji just for being his dad. There were no conditions tied to that. “You are my dad, and I love you.”

But that wasn’t a sentiment that Touya felt in return, and that hurt Touya. He internalized he wasn't good enough, that something about him was inherently wrong. But more than that, his world came tumbling down - he felt betrayed and lied to: his father didn't love him like Touya needed him to, and this truth destroyed him. Their relationship was a lie, a farce, and it hurt so much Touya became obsessed with not hurting anymore because he couldn’t get away from it.

Touya’s motivation to become a hero didn't rise from being inspired by All Might like Shouto. Touya’s thought process wasn’t "I want to be a hero to help others or be like All Might" like Deku. No, Touya only wanted to be a hero because he wanted his father to be proud of him for surpassing All Might. Notice that Touya's obsession with beating All Might slowly diminishes from “I can surpass All Might” to “I can surpass All Might like Shouto, too” to just “look at me, Endeavor.” It was never about being a hero per say, but about his relationship with his father. Touya realized that Endeavor isn't his father first, but a hero, and he understands that he has to be a hero too to fit into his father's world. Even upon realizing that his father was using him, Touya still wanted to be part of his life, still wanted that bond. Touya, in his desperation to be loved and accepted again, could look past his father's selfishness as long as he regained that approval. Touya could pretend the relationship was real as long as he stopped feeling so unlovable.

This is unhealthy thinking, of course. Even if Touya somehow managed to regain Endeavor's approval, the relationship would still be one-sided and dissatisfying because he wouldn't be able to ignore the truth. But, this is how he rationalized his insistence to keep training in his 4-5 year old mind and this line of thought stuck with him as he grew up just as those feelings of inadequacy never left him.

This is precisely why Natsuo's drowsy "can't you go talk to our sister?" hurt so much. Touya was already emotionally fragile, and hearing that felt like being rejected all over again when it was actually Natsuo just trying to sleep. Touya was hypersensitive to any words or actions that could be interpreted as dismissive. His trauma wouldn't listen to logic that Natsuo was 8 and too young to understand, that he was tired - no, Touya's brain said, you're being rejected again! This is also why he also stormed away crying from Fuyumi after she expressed her concern for him.

In Touya’s mind, why couldn't anyone just agree with him that he was good enough? He heard "your dad's right and you're not good enough so why try" not "I care about you, your father is wrong, and I don't want you to keep getting hurt" whenever Rei tried to get him to stop training because that's the message he got from his father, too. Nevermind that it infuriated Touya that his mother could stand there and preach to him when, from his perspective, she couldn’t take her own advice. All Endeavor ever did was teach him to turn up the heat, so why should it matter that doing just so hurts him? Touya didn't understand NOT training his quirk because he had been taught that raising his firepower was ideal in all situations. Those two statements didn't make sense to a 4-5 year old, a 13 year old, and it still doesn’t make sense as a 24 year old.

To take Endeavor's lack of self awareness a step further, because it's important to understand Endeavor to fully understand Dabi, Endeavor has yet to realize his own inherent worth. He doesn't have to prove anything to his family, especially his kids. They love him unconditionally, without special reason aside from the fact that he's theirs and he's himself. However, Endeavor is so obsessed with proving himself that he doesn't realize he never had to, and he projects this onto his children. They must prove themselves by winning the genetic lottery, by being useful to his plans, by surpassing All Might.

The irony that to be a great father he doesn't have to be a hero at all is ugly because Endeavor has no identity outside of being a hero. Endeavor has said before he wants to be a good hero and father to make Shouto proud, but he fails to realize he already had this in Touya all those years ago and it still left him unsatisfied. The issue isn’t his role as a hero, it’s his inner self. In 301 Endeavor literally reaches out to Touya to talk him out of training and hurting himself, and Touya allows his father to touch his shoulders because he wants a bond with his father - any bond. Shouto, on the other hand, wouldn't allow Endeavor to touch him in 167 and slaps his hand away because he doesn’t want Endeavor’s approval. Endeavor doesn't realize Natsuo carries deep abandonment and neglect issues because he wanted to be accepted by his father too (light novel #5) but was ignored. Endeavor doesn't realize he was always good enough by default and that by projecting onto his kids and trying to be the top hero he’s doing the opposite of what he wants. He just keeps pushing away his family.

It’s important to point out Endeavor’s illogical thinking because Touya learned some of these same ideas. Touya repeatedly tries to prove himself without realizing that he was always good enough by default. The problem wasn’t his quirk or his body, but his father’s flawed thinking and self-worth issues. Now as an adult, Dabi is selfish because he's Endeavor's son and emobidies his most negative characteristics. Dabi thinks of his flames as Endeavor's, and he thinks of himself as an extension of Endeavor because that's how Endeavor set him up for life. Touya has no identity to fall back on after his father casts him aside. He was supposed to be Endeavor 2.0, but now that title is Shouto’s. Dabi doesn’t hate Shouto as a person, but he has tricked himself into believing Shouto is their father’s puppet. Shouto is a doll being used by their father with no self agency, and Dabi is going to break all of Endeavor’s toys. It’s nothing personal against Shouto, it’s just Shouto’s bad luck that he happens to be Endeavor’s masterpiece. This is why Dabi doesn’t hurt Shouto when they first meet at the training camp, and why Dabi stops attacking Shouto after Endeavor passes out - it’s not about Shouto. It’s about Endeavor, and breaking Endeavor. Touya is still there trying to be part of his father’s world, only this time not as a hero but as a villain who will end his own suffering. He doesn't want Endeavor to die, he just wants him to suffer, to ruin his dreams. Dabi thinks of it as justice.

But because Touya is still there, there is still that goodness in him, too. His connection to Fuyumi and Natsuo is still there, repressed and compartmentalized. It’s why he calls them affectionately as Fuyumi-chan and Natsu-kun. Touya’s pain is so great he has decided he’d rather end it than to carry on and look elsewhere. He's stuck, rightfully so. He recognizes his mother is a flawed person and ultimately doesn’t blame her for being a victim - she could have done more for her son, but he still sees her and his other siblings, even Shouto, as people who fell victim to Endeavor’s abuse who don't challenge their situation. Dabi sees himself as someone who does stand up to the abuse but doesn’t realize he still wants his father’s attention. He's always wanted it. That's why he went around at 13 condemning his father's treatment of his children but still trained to prove himself. This is part of the reason he became a villain.

Not to mention that Dabi literally can't cry. He has no way to release those emotions, so instead of trying to let them out, he pushes them down. But that doesn't work and is detrimental in the long run. In 290-294 we saw Dabi's flames burn so hot during his confrontation with Endeavor and revealing himself as Touya that his burns have spread. Dabi is afraid of his feelings because of their connection to his flames, but he also uses his feelings to his advantage. He wants to go out in an inferno along with Shouto just to hurt Endeavor and put an end to his own suffering and Endeavor's career. This is why Dabi doesn't bother calming himself down or denying that he never forgot how he was treated when he lived at home. Dabi became emotional in that battlefield, smiling maniacally instead of crying because he physically can't cry. In his mind, if his feelings are going to destroy him, he might as well use them to prove a point. After all, he has experience being used. It's why he was born.

I'm not saying any of these actions or thoughts are healthy or correct or condoned, by the way. Trauma responses don't make logical sense and usually aren't healthy. Knowing how the mind responds to trauma, it's understandable that Touya still wanted his father's attention even if it was abusive. In fact, this is how children often respond to abuse. Their caretaker/parent is all they know and they cling to these figures. Often times when authorities try to remove a child from their abusive parents, the child doesn't want to go because this parent is all they know and they do feel like they love their parent/caretaker. I’m not saying the authorities got involved in this case, because obviously they didn’t, but this same mentality of abused children can be applied to Touya. Touya, in his four year old mind, probably convinced himself that if he was good enough everything would go back to how it used to be.

So, to sum up Dabi’s character, of course he doesn't make any sense. He’s still that hurt 4-5 year old who is trying to protect himself from ever getting hurt like that again while still wanting his father’s validation. Of course he doesn’t want to get close to anyone, not even the League. He doesn't want to be vulnerable or let people in or form connections because the last time that happened he was let down, forsaken, and it hurt so much it literally made him lose control of his quirk to the point he almost died. When Twice is killed, Dabi consoles himself by saying he didn't care anyway, all to prevent another emotional fire. Dabi is a master of compartmentalizing and boxing away his feelings - this is probably why, 310 chapters into BNHA, we have yet to have a few chapters in his POV or his backstory. He's disconnected from himself. He knows his plot to get justice will hurt his siblings and mother and to live with himself and move forward he represses those feelings.

Because of his father not showing up on Sekoto peak, Dabi has to live with physical disabilities due to his scars and memories of burning alive. He doesn't want to go through that again so he lies to himself that he doesn't care about anyone or anything. He denies that he's still in pain while simultaneously seeking validation of his pain. He acts like he doesn't care about his family but still calls them affectionate names. He acts like he hates Endeavor and calls him by his name but still wants his attention. He decided long ago that he would die destroying Endeavor's career because that was the thing Endeavor cares about most of all in this life. It's a "you hurt me so I'll hurt you" mentality. He has tricked himself into thinking this is justice, failing to realize this won't make him feel better if he doesn't die by his own hand along the way.

Dabi is full of resentment and spite, both of which take root from feelings of abandonment, betrayal, and the loss of a purpose and the realization that he wasn't born to be loved for who he was but as a tool for his father. The first betrayal he suffered was in the form of realizing his father didn't love him genuinely, and this was identity-breaking for him. He never recovered from it. The second betrayal, the reinforcer, was his father not showing up to Sekoto Peak. Since then, Dabi is reliving his trauma over and over again the more he uses his quirk and the more he faces Endeavor. To be saved, Dabi needs to accept that he is loved unconditionally and needs to be validated that he was right to feel thrown aside and used.

[mercurial-madhouse]

Trigger Warning: Healing is painful, but there’s so much light on the other side if we’re strong enough to walk through the dark.

My hope in sharing my story is to help anyone who reads it find peace or healing, just as I always aim with my fiction. If it feels right to you to do so, I encourage you to reblog this. It is highly personal, but I choose to share it publicly.

************

This past Sunday, I received an email responding to my desire to withdraw from a fic fest. Instead of the simple “You have been removed from the fest” that I’d been expecting through an official channel from mods to a participant, this is the response I received. Please be aware, the following is painful.

***

We've removed you from the fest and will mark you down as not being welcome to participate in future fests. We show a great deal of compassion toward our writers, which is why we send reminders, answer any and all questions, and provide extensions when requested. There's a reason why our fest has one of the highest numbers of fics of any fest/challenge in the fandom - it's because we support our participating writers and do everything possible to assist them as they complete their fics.

However, once a writer has repeatedly failed to communicate and missed both a deadline and an extended deadline, it's clear that they do not have any respect for the fest, the mods, our time, or our own unique situations, as we don't have endless extra hours to track down participants in a fic fest. Several reminders on three different platforms, an extension, and requests for writers to simply let us know if they need more time does not demonstrate a lack of compassion in any capacity. We also showed a great deal of compassion by welcoming you with open arms into the [redacted] after you insulted the fest, insulted [redacted] fics, and made writers uncomfortable last year after signing up to beta their fics, all while pretending to support and uplift writers in the fandom just as you did in your email here.

Have a great week!

- [redacted] Mods

***

This email arrived right at the end of the night, just as I was lying down to sleep. I couldn’t read it all the way through. It elicited a trauma response in me. My heart started racing, my palms were sweaty, I was shaking, I felt sick to my stomach.

I went into fight/flight/freeze/fawn mode. My first response was to freeze. In order to escape the barrage of pain bombarding me, I simply dissociated and disconnected from my body. It allowed me to sleep, but barely. I deleted the email in a desperate attempt to pretend it didn’t exist.

The pain caught up with me twenty-four hours later. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs shrunk in around my heart. My whole body locked up. I couldn’t move. I knew that if I spoke, even to say ‘hello’ to someone, I’d start crying.

The moment I was alone in my room the tears came. The pain came, bursting through me. I sobbed uncontrollably, curled into myself on my bed, begging for the pain to stop, begging for a miracle, screaming internally for relief and to understand what I’d done to deserve this because I didn’t have the air for more than broken whispers.

I fell asleep whispering ‘I need a miracle’ over and over. The mantra blocked out all the disgusting thoughts that wanted to keep swirling through my head. This is it. This is the final proof that you don’t belong here. You never have. You never will. Run away, M. It’s over. You tried, you failed. You always do. You always will.

I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

Grief is intense. These are the moments where we don’t think we’ll survive what we’re feeling. My love, whoever you are, if you are reading this, hear from me. The agony passed. I needed to feel that agony, to allow it to move through me and to give myself the space to feel it. Without diving off the deep end into what hurts, I wouldn’t have been able to find the inner peace to keep healing, to start to understand.

The residual pain is still there, even as I write this post. But it no longer overwhelms my senses. And by Tuesday morning, I’d been given insight into what was happening.

I experienced a trauma response because it mirrored mistreatment I first received in childhood from family and classmates alike and continued into my adult life. In full view of others, it was acknowledged as cruel even by my mother, who struggles with her own guilt because she never stood up for me. No one did.

So I internalized the mistreatment. I must deserve it if everyone else around me is ok with me being singled out like this? At first I spoke up for myself. But in the end I stopped speaking up for myself too. I had never healed this pain and here it was, coming back around again, forcing me to face it, to heal it once and for all.

I still do not know what exactly I may have said to cause these accusations that you see in the email. **I do not and will not deny them.** Even if my words were taken in a way I did not consciously intend, to deny that I said anything that caused someone else pain is to deny my own power AND to deny that everyone’s emotions are valid and worth digging into.

I have the power to inflict pain, just as I have the power to spread and share love and joy.

Whatever I said came from a place of pain, of believing I did not belong in this community. That I am not good enough or worthy enough to be here. A series of unfortunate but necessary events when I first entered this fandom completely disintegrated my core beliefs in my abilities as a writer, something I have always kept so close to my heart, and my belief that I had a place in this fandom.

I expect, as I look into my past patterns, that what I did was try to logic why I wasn’t allowed to belong. At the time, this fest was the only subset of the fandom I knew, I was so brand new. So I looked through all the prompts in the fest. I brought a scientific method view to answering the question: “What is it about the fics people write in this fandom am I unable/incapable of doing?”

This process allowed me to generalize everything I saw that I perceived as ‘I can’t do that, this is why I don’t belong here’. Consumed in my own doubt that I could measure up and write something worth reading, I dropped from the fest last year too. If I can’t contribute writing that’s worth reading, I could at least stick with what I do best, which is helping others be their best selves. I had signed up to beta, and I chose to cling to the only grasp of belonging I had, which was through beta’ing. I ended up beta’ing four fics last year for the fest. And, of course, each of them were (and still are) incredible fics. At the time, it was further proof to me of exactly what I can’t accomplish.

In all likelihood, these generalizations, stemming from a place of pain and jealousy because I wanted to write good fics too, came out in a personal conversation with someone, which they translated as a personal attack. It is valid. Whoever you are, your emotions are valid. It does not matter how I meant whatever I said, pain is what you felt. This person did not feel comfortable sharing that pain with me, so instead they turned to others and shared. My moment of vulnerability and pain then spread more pain.

Pain only comes from pain.

The response was to shadow ban me. In fact, I was never meant to find out about any of this. The pain this person shared was simply taken at face value and that was that.

So on my end, this decision showed up in the physical world this way: Suddenly all my asks went unanswered, people I tagged to share snippets and last lines and get to know more through ‘about me’ posts or who had once talked to me through DMs simply stopped speaking to me in a way that is only noticeable to the person being ignored. I thought I was going crazy. But there it was, right in front of me: absolute proof that I wasn’t good enough to be a part of this fandom.

Is anyone else beginning to see the cycle of pain?

I expect I continued this cycle right back, because the pain turned to bitterness. I’d been doing everything I could to support every author the best way I knew how, and this was what I got? The exact opposite?

I found out about this shadow ban and actual blocking around June of this year. An ask sent in by a friend for me, inquiring why I couldn’t reblog a post that’d been sent to me by someone else, finally gave me the answer that I’d been banned for the accusations you saw above.

Horrified, hurt, and unable to comprehend any of this except to know that I support every author no matter what they write, I sent an apology to the mods, trying to end this cycle the best I could without knowing any of the details of what had happened. There was nothing more I could do.

They thanked me for the apology, though as you can see from the email, it was never accepted. I do not say that as a judgement call, but simply as a statement of what happened. Everyone is entitled to accept or not accept in their own time and their own ways.

I have been healing so much since everything that occurred last year. And the more I dig in to this cycle, the more my heart goes out to the drafters of this email, to the person I hurt with my words who then turned to share it out of context with others, and to the people who shadow banned me in connection with this situation.

We attract to us what resonates with us. Like attracts like. Which means just as I’ve attracted the greatest friends to me, I have also attracted this pain, and conversely, these mods and that person attracted me to them.

Deep down, on some level we share the same core wounds. And the person who can really understand just how painful those wounds can be is someone who feels them too.

So this is my message to the mods of the above email, to those who have shadow banned me and want nothing to do with me, and to the original person I hurt with my words:

I am sorry for my part in this pain. I am sorry for causing pain and I apologize for it. You are loved. You are enough. You are doing a fantastic job. Your feelings are valid. Your hurt is valid. I don’t know what occurred that hurt you before I entered the fandom, but after finding out from others that an email like the one you sent above is ‘Oh that’s just how they are’ tells me something else happened to hurt you before I even arrived.

Your hurt then is valid too. Allow yourself to feel it and process it. Don’t let it consume you. Don’t let that hurt and fear of it happening again or believing that that’s how everyone is push away from you people who in fact love just what you love. If someone has a different belief from yours, don’t let it invalidate what is true for you. Believing internalized lies about myself only caused me pain. And we spread and create what we believe to be true, whether we consciously realize it or not.

So here, now, is my truth:

I choose to perpetuate love. I choose to spread love. I choose to understand my pain and the pain of others, to transmute it, and to heal it, instead of passing that pain on.

I choose compassion. Compassion for myself in making these mistakes, and compassion for those who have hurt me. I do not condone the email that was sent to me. No one deserves to be treated that way. I choose to focus beneath the visceral anger and lashing out, to focus on the agony beneath the words, and stop this cycle of pain.

I choose to belong in this fandom. I choose to support every author in this fandom and ensure no one ever feels not good enough. I choose to own my past mistakes and learn from them.

I choose trust. To trust that those who I truly hope will see this, will see it. I have no expectations of responses or outcomes or reactions. My only hope is that whoever will benefit from seeing this post will see it.

This is not a matter of right or wrong, bad or good, just or unjust. It is a situation of two parties in pain, triggered by the same triggers.

Looking back on that email, I’ve come to realize that half of the pain I felt when I received it was not my own. I felt the pain of the attack, sure, but I also felt the immense pain beneath those words. And I wish I could hug you. I acknowledge your pain and I acknowledge how painful it is because I know that pain myself. I also know that this pain isn’t you and it isn’t who you are.

So I choose to remember the mods I first met around this same time last year in this same email chain. Mods who were so kind and offered advice to a brand new writer even when she sent an email that had nothing to do with the fest and was still struggling to find her place in the fandom. I choose to remember how beautiful that kindness felt. I choose to remember how I was so grateful for that kindness that I shared my gratitude for these same mods in an email with with another fandom friend at the time. I am still grateful for you.

You are so loved. You are loved for being exactly who you are. This fandom is built upon love. A shared love of five incredibly talented lads who have brought so much joy and light when each and every one of us has needed it the most. Shine your light through the dark and believe with all your heart that you are not alone. You have support. I support you. Shine on. Don’t let anyone dim it.

[bunchofstraydogs]

Dazai Osamu character breakdown as I understand him

Meaning that this might be inaccurate and your opinion and visage of him might differ from mine, which is just fine. We perceive the world and the people around us through our experiences and expectations. I'm curious to know how you guys see a complex character like Dazai, just please respect everyone's opinions.

Warning: Manga plot mentions, s2 spoilers, BEAST light novel spoilers, Dazai Osamu

Dazai Osamu was introduced into the scene of Bungou Stray Dogs at 14 when Mori found him.

Even at that young age, Dazai had suicidal tendencies and had been wrapped in bandages similarly as he is in the present. Already dealing with too much trauma for a child his age, the fire is fuelled as he was forced to bear witness to the death of the Port Mafia boss at the hands of Mori, the person that took him under his wing. To use him; which was becoming very apparent to Osamu if he hadn't been aware since the start. Now, I'm not saying that death of the previous boss left a particular scar on Samu, he even agrees with it and is something he himself would have done. But that that is the scene that bore fruit of the following quotes:

"Or could it be that you're afraid, Mori-san? That one day i will slit your throat and take over as the boss?"

followed by

"Everyone seems suspicious to those who have an axe to grind."

This tells us right away that he can tell what type of person you are just from the way you perceive your surroundings, which is logical, but not something many think too deep into.

Even less who have their evaluations of others on point like he does. And he has to, since Dazai's plan is always to understand his allies, his enemies, possible allies and possible enemies. He also takes into account important neutral parties that can still, in one way or another, affect the outcome of his plans or decide to align with one side out of common interest. After comes realising the main goals, along with side achievements (just in case some of those maim his allies or ruin the future plans he made) of every party. Taking in their morals and motivation, and being familiar with the ground the confrontation will happen on, he now has the view of the whole chess board and it's pieces in his head. He moves his allies in the right places, knowing how they'll react in the situation to come, and awaits the enemies with open fire arms. He was tought to think like that. At all times. Mori made sure of it. You know how specialists never really stop thinking in their areas of expertise, like doctors, for example, will naturally notice people's posture and look for scoliosis or whatever? How your foot hits the floor, if you're walking straight, your knees and shoulders, etc. Same for Dazai. His brain maps out person's expressions, reactions, choices, personality, etc. in great detail. I'm pretty sure he has eidetic memory, if his conversations in manga with Fyodor are anything to go by.

Another thing his brain does is think of worst possible outcomes.

Not in a fear of what if things go wrong, but as a possible route. He uses it to determine how big of a threat the opposing force is and what steps they'll have to take to achieve that. Knowing that, he'll know how to intercept them. Also, like everything else, it's not something he can control since we're talking about thought process here and that's just how his brain works. Can't magically turn that off. It's especially annoying to him when he's genuinely enjoying himself with, let's say, ADA members and then his brain goes brrr.

•"A lot happened recently and we're a torn in many people's eyes." *Tanizaki and Atsushi drinking punch* "There's a possibility, while a small one, about 8% at this very moment, but as time goes on will increase, that an organisation outside of Yokohama decided we're an unavoidable threat and poisoned the drinks. Don't drink that. Nothing will happen, they'll wake up tomorrow in pristine condition don't drink th-"

Yeah, i feel bad for him too.

He has PTSD and insomnia, besides the hectic brain,

so he's not getting proper amount of rest. Actually, he drinks almost every night by himself at home. Pretty sure it's canon as well, because if you search for a picture of him in his room, you'll see him surrounded by multiple bottles. Two of the PTSD symptoms are hallucinations and night terrors (no, that is not the same as a nightmare). What people usually do is use opium to cause hallucinations in a safe environment so that there's little chance of them happening uncontrolled. He's probably using alcohol to numb himself while he's reminiscing, since if he does still have hallucinations after years having passed by (which isn't impossible), they're probably few and far between. Not saying there's no chance he isn't using opium. He would know where to get what he needs, after all.

Osamu's haunted by his own actions as well, not just by trauma caused to him.

At an uncountable amount of occasions, he found himself looking into a mirror and not really comprehending his image. It was like dissociation. Looking through a fog at what's supposed to be your carbon copy, but not knowing all of your features perfectly, so whatever you're seeing could only be an impostor, yet you're not sure because that would take comprehending physical proof of your life to the fullest and how it works and he just... can't. He can but he doesn't want to. He already knows he's despicable and broken, doesn't really feel the need to see just how much. He can't, for all his perfect memory, remember the faces of the people he has killed. He hadn't even seen all of them, but he was responsible for their demise. Causing havoc and misfortune in general through other crimes besides murder as well. We've seen his expression when he listened in on Atsushi talking to Kyouka over the earpiece how the 35 deaths don't matter anymore. He knows they do and he knows that the change of heart won't justify what he's they've done. Ango thought him to value each life. But he also knows that even murderers can change and become good. Oda did that. It's also what's keeping him in the agency.

When Oda died, his last words mentioned that Dazai doesn't care about good or bad and that was correct for Dazai Osamu back then. I genuinely think that his present self does mind the difference.

He believes in necessary evil and will do dark shit to get the good outcome he's envisioned.

He doesn't separate outlaws and lawful people, however.

He knows that generally speaking, the line is thin and easy to cross and that many were born or forced into the situations they are. Those that fight the life thrown at them are an exception, not a rule. That's also why he likes Atsushi, probably the main reason. The boy has every right to hate the world and yet. Dazai is envious, he doesn't really have the same capacity.

I want now to talk about why does Dazai Osamu do what Dazai Osamu does.

The reason he attempts suicide, joined the mafia, made friends at all, is because for all his intelligence and observations, ability to understand others, he doesn't really understand himself.

He doesn't understand his worth. He doesn't understand his purpose. In all of that confusion, he finds no reason to live. He laughs but can't get the high, he bruises but can't fully heal. In all of the things people find happiness in he can't feel joy from. He is emotionally stunted. He thinks too logically. He doesn't understand actions out of emotions because to him, it doesn't make sense. Emotions cloud your mind and when you're not thinking straight, you make mistakes. Plain and simple. He just accepts it, that most people simply cannot control themselves and prefer lashing out instead of methodical approach. All the better for him, he has leverage. Even when he does act on impulse, which is incredibly rare and not as explosive and dramatic, his brain rationalises it as to why his actions were a good way to go. And if his reaction was one that bore fruit, than it was a tactical one.

"If you place yourself somewhere close to raw emotions, where you're exposed to raw violence and death, instinct and desire, you can brush against man's true nature. I though that way i could find a reason to live somehow."

From this, i can tell that he was hoping that, in a situation where he's pushed far enough, he'd realise what's important to him, what he wants to protect or destroy, what's one thing he wouldn't want to leave unsettled before dying. What is that one thing he'd regret dying before achieving? What should he fight death for. What is worth living on for? To him, it doesn't matter if that something is good or evil as long as he gets to keep it in his life.

It seems he hadn't found it exactly, but is satisfied with what he has for now, in the agency, to just keep going. But he still tries to commit suicide, hoping that one day, when the clear picture of the world around him is fading away, when he's becoming light headed from the lack of oxygen, when he's loosing control over his body and thoughts don't seem to flow well, there will be one thing, anyone, screaming at him to fight it. New day new chances. It didn't happen today, better luck tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomo-.

Now, like Mori, Dazai feels the need to, at all times, be in control of the situation. Including people.

That means no one, but perhaps Ranpo due to his own abnormal intellect, is aware of their own role. They know their mission, but they're not expecting to be given that particular one because they'll come across an obstacle they would react to in a way that would satisfy Osamu's plans.

Dazai Osamu is more of a chemist, than a chess player, if you ask me.

Throwing different people into the mix, under different conditions at different times and is noting down their reactions in safe surrounding if possible, so that when the time calls for it, he'll be able to make a perfect concoction for the predicament. A chemist and his substances; A chess player and his pawns; A puppeteer and his puppets. Now, Dazai is meticulous and never rash, but like everyone else (except effin Lovecraft what is he even) he's only human and he bleeds when he falls down and humans aren't perfect. He isn't always right. That means he makes mistakes. The issue with big shot players that control the board is that, when they fall down, everyone on their side crashes and burns as well. So the day Dazai fucks up everyone else will follow because of lack of insight on their part that's completely out of their control. All it takes is for him to underestimate or overestimate one person and chaos ensues. There is no such thing as happy little accidents small mistakes for someone like him. I have crippling anxiety and a sole thought that one hiccup could blow up in everyone's face... damn. I would try committing suicide myself. But it's his fault, he brought upon himself an obligation and pressure like that. To be fair, it was Mori that drilled that type of thinking where no one should know what you plan because they can't ruin what they don't know If they turn against you, they can't stop you.

For his own sake, and everyone else's, Dazai needs to learn how to show his cards and share the burden.

Again, going back to the emotionally stunted guy that has commitment issues (where he either can't commit or can't let go) trope.

He never outright does something good for someone where people would acknowledge it, he uses his underhanded tactics here as well.

He casually makes himself look like a bad guy, an asshole, to conveniently move attention from the inner turmoil a person is struggling with to a present problem at hand that they can fix and let their frustrations out on. But he hopes that, one day, someone just might notice his intentions for what they are and do the unspeakable- see through him.

"I'm a very private person. You don't ask, i don't tell."

Yes, and your whole existence is just a huge cry for help. He wants to be asked. He's begging for attention. A specific type of attention. One that will see him without making him feel imposed on. One that will understand his sins without making a big deal out of it. Accept him as a person he is, makes him feel like one as well. Makes him feel alive. Makes him feel... period.

The day he finds that thing is the day he completely turns his life around and fully dedicates to it. It's where the part of not being able to let go commitment issue ensues.

Since Oda's death he's been secretly keeping an eye out on possible ways to bring him back. If you've read Beast AU you know that when Dazai gets his hands on the book, he'll create a universe where Oda doesn't die. Should he find an ability user that can bring back the dead, just tell him what it will take, he's ready to destroy his own soul for it and if that isn't enough, well, he'll have no hesitation ruining theirs. After all, BEAST!Dazai Osamu never actually met Odasaku, he just had the memories he'd gotten from his canon self and that was enough for him to do everything he did.

He's incredibly selfish and has a weird come in but the door is a wall dynamic he rolls with in his self imposed solitude.

It's like the walls of the space in my brain are ugly and terrifying, so i closed off the entrance to keep myself in. I'm doing you a favour but please break the wall down and tell me it's okay to come out i don't want to be here-

Happy little thoughts woah woah yeah~

That's what i got from what I've seen of him. I may have missed some things, some things might prove to be wrong as the series progress further, but yeah.

There is, however, one more thing i want to put out here. Since Dazai was already like this before Mori found him, that begs to question as to why? What happened to him?

Now, since the characters are based on real people, is it crazy to say that Dazai Osamu has had a horrible childhood because of his father? Real life Dazai was terrified of his dad and was very intimidated by him. He always tried to stay in his good graces out of fear of punishment. Neither of his parents felt like a parent to him, actually. His father didn't care and his mother was often ill, but did care for him when she could. Both of them died eventually.

This could be the plot Kafka based Dazai's background on, but we'll have to wait and see.

[dahniwitchoflight]

Homesquared Chapter 14 part b

Alright time for more reactions to Homesqaured- oh jeezus

the last one of these I did was from october last year, hoo boy alright brain time to get back on the time train things are happening fast

we last left off with me thinking they just fucking hilled Harry but I remembered the wrong house so Harrys fine, John not so much

Yeah, John sad but ooh Karkat shows up!

They seem to have a mutual conversation about lost youth and stuff, really makes these characters feel oold

“JOHN: jeez, i'm sorry karkat.

JOHN: i had no idea how much time had passed.

JOHN: i must have gotten a bit distracted by my house being blown up.“

Oh man, John thats a whole ass MOOD

lol at sburb allocated blow job

yeah Karkats right tho, John does kind of need a kick in the pants to see how he might have been useful here, but Johns still stuck in this rut of not seeing anything around him as Real real, so hes blind to all of the consequences of inaction

John its called derealization and depersonalization, you can get help for that yknow

But I mean, cant really blame him, hes being smothered by the fires of Doom all around him

Its interesting to see that Karkat, a Blood player, is more comfortable navigating through things that constrain them and tie them down, since constraint is something Blood and Doom have in common, Chains and Barriers and Laws and etc

Whereas John the Breath player, just gets bogged down, hes totally out of his element

so it ends up being like John: “Id like to cling to some funny moments of my youth pls and try to lighten the situation up a bit because I cant do anything when so heavy”

versus Karkat being like: “BUCKLE UP FUCK TITS THIS SHIT IS YOUR LIFE NOW GETS USED TO WADING KNEE DEEP IN THE SHIT LIKE THE REST OF US GROWN ASS ADULTS”

John: ):

Hmm, both Vriskas have been captured, but Annie basically rescued herself, knowing Vriska Prime she probably has a plan or an idea about that, see well see how that goes

“KARKAT: JANE'S PLAN FOR THIS CONFLICT HAS THUS FAR CONSISTED ALMOST ENTIRELY OF KIDNAPPING VARIOUS HIGH PROFILE CHILDREN.

KARKAT: IT'S BIZARRE.

KARKAT: AS THOUGH WE ARE FIGHTING A WAR OF ATTRITION, WHERE THE MAIN RESOURCE BEING UTILIZED IS THE OFFSPRING OF THE MOST POWERFUL PEOPLE ON THE PLANET.KARKAT: IF IT WASN'T ONE OF THE CORE TENETS OF HER FASCISTIC PHILOSOPHY, I'D BE TEMPTED TO SAY THAT CURBING REPRODUCTION MIGHT HAVE BEEN A GOOD IDEA, IF ONLY TO PREVENT THIS KIND OF FUCKSHIT NONSENSE FROM HAPPENING.

Oh. Well I guess that was Dirk’s “plans” for Jane all along. Obviously he was using Jane as a vehicle to gather “players” for his eventually next session, interesting

But who has Jane kidnapped in total thus far?

Does Tavros count? he was certainly trapped with her for some amount of his life, but I dont know if that counts as a kidnapping, John certainly tried to kidnap HIM though from the epilogues

Annie certainly counts as being kidnapped

Vrissy has JUST been captured so that counts, and Harry so far is still fine

Which bodes so well for Harry’s future Im sure

Yeah, Vriska should have been able to not outwit any capture attempts, but my guess is either Vrissy got capture and Vriska dove in, OR, Vriska’s doing an inside job so to speak and got caught on purpose, dragging Vrissy along as well

I guess we’ll see when we see their “prison”

Anyway John, don’t get so down on yourself, you’re just ignorant to everythiong around you! thats why nothing makes sense and you can’t connect to anything, easy fix! Just try to learn more and care more about stuff lol

Man does this feel like a strong metaphor between people who are into/care about politics and people who feel like they can’t get into it though

Crossing that hurdle from one side to the other is rough

“KARKAT: BUT NOTICING THE PROBLEM AND MAKING MEANINGFUL PROGRESS TOWARDS SOLVING IT ARE TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS.”

yup

man, this is all feeling startlingly relevant to the current times, I should have read this sooner

“ KARKAT: PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME YOU JUST HAD ANOTHER EMOTION THAT WE NEED TO DROP EVERYTHING IN ORDER TO DISSECT. “

hah, oh wow, Karkat when you phrase it like that, it’s almost as if you’ve become self aware of your tendencies to Moirail people out of their problems

Not really that out of character for a Blood player to end up being the Therapy Friend though lol

Just don’t burn yourself out on that though

JOHN: karkat, we still haven't spoken about *you*!

KARKAT: ABOUT ME?

JOHN: yes.

KARKAT: ABOUT *ME*?

JOHN: about you.

KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK ABOUT ME.

JOHN: well...

JOHN: you know, how you feel!

KARKAT: HOW I FEEL.

I know Karkat has probably matured past misunderstandings like this now given he’s really come into a great understanding of his Blood aspect, but by golly do I wish Karkat would misunderstand this as John’s attempts to be Moirail-reciprocal sdkjfhwlijebr

What a perfect way to continue their relationship, on top of more misconstrued romance quadrants XD

Spades is old Hat, Diamonds are in now babey

Oh

this started out funny, but Karkat’s emotional rant just ended up being depressing not funny ):

I have to say though, it is REALLY interesting to see John’s depression manifesting in a very breathy sort of way

Karkat in these panels was more closer together, connected, but as John gets more and more depressed over the course of Karkat’s rant when he realizes Karkat doesn’t know dave died, the panels get seperated by lines of blue, and slowly drift off away from John and from eachother

but thats basically been hows its been manifesting all along

the more John feels Disconnected and Seperate from the reality he finds himself in, the more he finds his will untethered, the more depressed and unable to act he gets

and right now its so much so that even a fuller fledged Blood player is having trouble grounding him back down

I don’t know, I always viewed the depression metaphor as a dark watery void to sink into and feels heavy and encapsulating (but probably thats just my Light-y interpretation of it)

so its interesting to see the depression metaphor as this floating disconnection instead, so much that it leans towards derelaization/depersonalistion/dissociation as well

I wonder if John will start dealing with bouts of actual full blown dissociation as this gets worse?

I mean, Breath aspect has given the literal ability to ghost around wherever he pleases in all other ways, why not literally and physcologically as well?

So John seems to be fully overembracing his aspect here, to a very unhealthy degree here, which I see you asking “aha Dahni, but hes doesn’t have overblown self esteem here, quite the opposite, is this not an inverted state instead? or something else because hes acting like hes inverting to Breath?”

and I say not so! reader, for overembracing is the idea that through your aspect, your will is overwriting the wills of others, and in someone like Vriska, this manifests in a very selfish and over self esteemed way

but is not John’s will overwriting Karkat’s here? Through Breath? And isnt John also being a little selfish here? Considering how he feels about things, more important than how anyone else feels? How Karkat feels?

John is too dissociated to understand that this reality is Real and has Consequences he needs to care about, and Karkat is trying to fight against that, trying to instill his belief that no, this shit is real and it Matters Why Don’t You Care, trying to ground him, trying to give him that dose of Blood he needs

but John’s overembracing Breath is just, blowing that all away, its becoming too strong

Roxy in the epilogues dealt with this as well, when John was really in the shits with it and started to believe Roxy’s whole personality was somehow fake and his own construction, because he convinced himself Roxy would never choose to do the things she did, but Roxy was able to snap him out of it and make him understand and respect it was her own choices that led down his path, not the idea that John’s choices are somehow overriding everyones

But man, John sure is riding that Breath train way too hard, and he keeps snapping back into it as well

Further and Further

[deuce-duce]

Am I...?? (Inwardly GASPS)!! Which Part...??

Today is March 2nd 2021 and I got my puter back and went to look at what I had last written on December 16th 2020. When I opened the file, it had been changed… dates had been obscured and certain things had been reworded… So… I have decided to go back through all of my previous posts to ensure the integrity of what I am writing stays that way! During this process I will be putting together a collection of my favorite quotes and post fragments. Which I will dub Rock and Roll’s Greatest Hits, if you live near me go buy airhorns Ill tell you why, When the greatest hits album comes out. What your about to read is primarily from Dec. 16th with a few changes or should I say… restorations?? Probably a little of both to be honest. Everything is still as it happened, I just add better descriptive words and fine tune the analogies so that they are easier to digest… My English teacher always told me that was what I was good at! Along with many others… who have said the same… not only do I understand it… I’m able to explain it in a way that others understand as well. ENJOY

On the seventh of December I woke up not too sure if something had occurred that night or not… as I have mentioned before they use a numbing agent that basically masks the pain until it wears off approximately 12 hours later… When I a woke on this day I was having moments of clarity and for some reason just couldn’t keep them to myself. talking to one of the staff members of the homeless shelter I expressed my destiny that I actually had one, that was going to bring me to greatness… then out of nowhere I just blurted out there is going to be a power shift!!!! And at that very moment I couldn’t believe what it was that had just come out of my mouth. I didn’t even believe it at first because the guy at the desk was like IDK… about… that… but when I went back into my room, the look on my roommate’s face said it all!! It seems as though those who pull strings and orchestrate a lot of this… put all of their eggs into one basket. I don’t know exactly what the terms of thee bet were but I’m assuming it had/has something to do with me not being able to control my compulsivity associated with my dissociation. Unfortunately for them I made a deal with God. It was while I was on quarantine and even though I was in a basement all by myself people kept F$%^&*!> with me. This is when I prayed stating that I would not falter, for my body his temple his craft and his glory. that I need to take care of myself and my destiny, for it is in his hands and I won’t let my selfishness or imperfections stop him from fulfilling his plan. Over and over again I have cried and cried about how fundamental and powerful this is all going to be. EFFIN CRAZY!! And now that I know without anyone telling me and it literally being given to me somehow is what is freaking everybody out. How do I know or how the hell did I figure it out!! I really couldn’t tell you and the only thing that is possible is that our Creator endowed me with such responsibility. Crazy!! (this was before I considered the probability of God being a woman, A mother, A Lover)

Low and behold one of my favorite artists Mr. Kid, Maniac, Rager, Wizard, Pursuer of Happiness Cudi dropped a new album entitled Man on the MOON Three. Ill have to say it’s a wonderfully made album! The album delves deep into who Scott is… I know the Fans are going to love it.

Rewind a little bit sorry for my hiatus just needed to stay focused and well as your aware have been led here not by accident and had some things that I needed to take care of before I started writing again. Not to mention I have been dealing with a lot only to know that I am who I am for a reason Rockstar Knights off MOTM3 has a lot to say concerning who I am and what I have realized as a result to my struggle. The Song is a collab with Trippie Redd and really encapsulates so much, that its hard to describe in words.

I had a very interesting conversation with my mother the other day and came to a pretty profound thought. 1st I was telling her how I was being told that I am too….!!! Smart!! Like WTF!! REALLY!! Is that even a thing?? But I didn’t let it get to me too much as it probably is the reason I face so much adversity, No matter the community I enter into. This is how I have explained it to her and a couple other people in the community as well as the Rasta Man in the PNW. The best analogy I could present is if a plant with a fire burning so big and so hot on one side of the plant, a fire so big and hot that it probably would kill most other plants, but not this plant. This plant had sooooo much drive and will to live that instead of giving up it grew in the opposite direction of the blaze. While the roots could withstand the blazing inferno becoming one with the heat and pain Upon the journey away from the fire (society) the plant developed different characteristics colors and attributes that no other plant had. Essentially that journey completely changed that plants physiology Psychology and possible its genetic makeup altogether. Now that the plant has grown so far from the fire (Society) that its all alone. Now theres a different kind of fire where he once thought was safe. But as he grows back towards the fire to escape the new blaze (tyranny) he realizes he will never be able to be the same as the fire he grew so far away from. Now the only option the plant has with death being imminent is to grow as big and bright as quickly as possible before it is engulfed on all sides.

All this taken into account along with factoring in the two major belief structures in the world one Being Creation or Evolution (The Big BANG) this plant which has defied all odds still shines brightly displaying its colors and unique characteristics no matter how dark the room may be it still continues to bloom! Is this a Divine will and plan or are we experiencing the next step of Evolution??? My honest opinion is its both! For the mere ability to adapt and change and prevail in situations others couldn’t dream of or even have nightmares about is truly remarkable and in my eyes is an act of GOD! Just as any evolutionary step would be. The crazier part is… he has no handle!! Nothing to grab on to leaving no way for anyone to grab hold and control! AYE….

I thought this all might just be me being stubborn or simply an idiot until for some reason I opened up my meme App. Something I never open or even look at and the first thing that popped up was a picture and quote saying that many told Marilyn Monroe that she was only beautiful because of the clothes and dresses she wore. It then concluded Marilyn Monroe did a photoshoot in nothing but a burlap potato sack. The photos and the message she sent were completely opposite of that which was being said by spectators. Now!! As scrolled to the second meme I was expecting something funny!! That wasn’t the case what I saw next was the upcoming alignment of the two largest planets in the solar system Jupiter and Saturn. Not only does their alignment happen only every 20 years but the proximity of this occurrence to the earth as well as the proximity to each other hasn’t been the same for close to 800 years… What does it all mean… IDK but The Christmas Star is what their calling the alignment and if your familiar with the bible is the star that the kings, from other lands followed  to bring gifts to baby JESUS! Who knows what this alignment could usher in.?

So profound thought comes to me on a daily basis now it’s so strange the way that it comes it will just be momentary thoughts that will pass through my conscience and as they go by I latch on to it delve a little deeper and experience an overwhelming amount of… IDK what to call it but it feels very powerful so much so that it brings me to tears… I don’t know exactly what the future holds but I think that is what makes this so great! I just keep my mind open Like apple IOS Systems letting everything come and go as it pleases when something goes by that strikes me, I latch on and don’t let go. Its weird how it all happens.

Steve Jobs once said that if he had never had an acid trip that he would have never of come up with the operating system for Apple and after explaining to you what I do as a spiritual and destiny seeking process I believe was his thought process as well. This in of itself is what I think they mean when they say to keep an open mind. Just so you know I didn’t come up with that little bit about the late Mr. Jobs by plan it just came to me when thinking about how to have, use and keep an open mind.

The reason I explained this to you was because this is how I Pray! After I pray I sit still with an open mind allowing multiple ideas thoughts and perspectives to pass through my brain… until like an IOS operating system, something speaks to me… when I latch on to it, focus on what it means and what it will mean… “I Get Those Goosebumps Everytime” (Goosebumps, Travis Scott, feat. Kendrick Lamar, Birds in the Trap Sing Mcknight, 2016). This is how you know! A little extra for ya, when I went to look up the info for my first Hip Hop citation it was 11:11 lol there they go again… its really a cool feeling!

Can someone tell me if that APA or MLA…?? Ya know what!! Eff IT!! None of my writing is orthodox, besides I kinda like the way I did it haha

Kid Cudi’s new video just dropped and I couldn’t be more amazed with all of the hidden messages that are in there. He is officially the man on the moon. Passion pain and demon slaying like a maniac on the pursuit of happiness. Love that DUDE!!

That’s all I got for 12-16-2020 Five More Days…

LOVE & PEACE

Songs

Heaven On Earth – Kid Cudi

Goosebumps – Travis Scott, feat. Kendrick Lamar

Dirty Heads – Sound Of Change

 Just so you know the only thing I added this time other the cleaning up what I had already written was the praying part. Although I originally remember that being the purpose as to why I wrote what I did looking at it today March 2nd 2021 it wasn’t there… have a great day everyone. Ill post this on 3/3/2021

I've added parts to the story on my business cards and will leave then random places, what you do with them is up to you but I think It would be cool for those who want to stop me to have to work extra hard just like they make me!!  

LOVE

[rutilation]

Listen, they’re not evil. They just lack empathy, and go into a dissociative state and commit atrocities.

As much as it pains me to do so, I’m going to start off by talking about the bastard himself.  I must say, believing that rage and misery is the inevitable endpoint of a person’s life is an awfully convenient belief for Aechmea to hold when his plan would end all sentient life as collateral damage. If all your victims are better off dead anyway, then your actions don’t warrant any guilt!

There’s a little moment in chapter 67 that has always stuck out to me as being representative of Aechmea’s character, and I think it’s especially relevant to this chapter. It’s the part in which Cairngorm is trying to argue that it’s in Aechmea’s best interest to keep Phos as mentally stable as possible since they’re his staunchest ally amongst the gems. My reaction upon reading that line was that their appraisal of Aechmea’s intentions was very naïve.  To the contrary, the more unstable Phos becomes, the easier it is for Aechmea to manipulate them.  At this point in the narrative, Phos is no longer carefully treading through negotiations with Aechmea, as they were in volume eight and the beginning of volume nine; they’re now doing exactly what he wants, with gusto, and no thought to the long term consequences.  This is entirely deliberate on Aechmea’s part, and indeed, in the very same chapter that Cairngorm brought this up, Aechmea pulled the same trick on them.  He made Cairn feel cornered and desperate, presented himself as the sole solution to their problem, and thus Cairn went from being deeply suspicious of Aechmea to…still being deeply suspicious of Aechmea, tbh, but burying it under an ironclad sense of denial.  This chapter even contains a callback to chapter 67:  Both here and there, Phos/Cairn is broken and despondent, Aechmea is looming over them, and they reach out to weakly cling to his hand.

He asks Barbata to “handle” Phos’s memories of the past two hundred years.  That’s an ambiguous line if I’ve ever heard one.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but Phos shouldn’t have memories of the past two hundred years, right?  I’m not sure if this is implying that he wants Barbata to implant false memories within Phos of the past two hundred twenty years, or—heaven forbid—if he’s implying that Phos actually has memories of the timeskip, and that he wants Barbata to make sure Phos doesn’t lose any of them.  If it’s the latter, that would suggest that Phos has, somehow, been conscious this whole time (holy shit,) and that Aechmea doesn’t want Phos to be able to move past those memories.  Regardless of what he’s referring to though, the sentiment behind his cryptic order is clear: now that he’s molded Phos into something he can easily control, he’s taking pains to ensure that they’re stuck in their current incarnation, so that they don’t evolve ever again.  It brings to my mind this scene in chapter 54, in which Aechmea all but fetishizes Phos’s capacity for change.  It was already pretty creepy, but knowing that this is what he intended for Phos to change into adds another layer of wrongness to that exchange.

It’s interesting that just a couple chapters ago, Phos was screaming at Kongou “If only you weren’t here!”   But here, the sentiment has completely inverted, and Phos is weeping as they say that Kongou is the only one who still cares for them, and that it’s the gems who shouldn’t be here.  In only a few short hours, they’ve gone from directing all their hatred at Kongou, to directing it at everyone except him.  Their rage is unformed and all over the place.  Good thing Aechmea’s here to refine it to his own ends!

Aechmea says that he’ll answer Cairngorm’s question “when this is all over.”  That could imply a couple of different things, depending on what he means by that.  If he means he’ll tell Cairn after he’s finished dealing with Phos for this chapter, then that’s one thing.  But, if by ‘all over’ he means that he’s not going to say anything until Kongou successfully prays, and his victory is assured--as with the previous secret he was keeping from Cairngorm, then that implies that whatever he was alluding to when he said he had loved Cairngorm since before they came to the moon, it’s probably something awful.

If you’ve been following my essays for a while, you’ll know that I’ve long suspected that some sort of Cairn-related plot twist will rear its ugly head at some point in the near future, and that mind-control eyeballs were perhaps only the tip of the iceberg.  Well, after nearly a year of deliberation, I’ve settled on my personal theory of what this plot twist could be, but it’s far outside the scope of an essay focused on a single chapter, so I’m going to post my thoughts on that in another essay sometime in the coming weeks.  Keep an eye out for it if you want to see me go fully and embarrassingly tinfoil hat.  (With my luck, chapter 83 is going to reveal what Aechmea meant by his cryptic statement before I get that essay done, and it’s going to be something banal, thus ruining my precious conspiracy theory.)

But enough about cornmeal and acne man, let’s talk about the trajectory Phos seems to be on, and also about Cinnabar.

For quite a while now, it’s been a pretty popular theory that Cinnabar will eventually kill Phos with their mercury, and it does feel like things could head in that direction.  Phos is so far gone that they’re willing to kill anyone in their path, and in so much pain that their death could be construed as a mercy.  And since they can best Bort in a fight, it would seem that Cinnabar’s mercury is the only thing that could actually stop them, especially since it could chemically bind to their alloy and poison Phos from the inside out.  To be perfectly honest though, something about this potential course of events has always rubbed me the wrong way, but until this chapter, I hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what it was I didn’t like.  

The whole story was started because Phos thought Cinnabar deserved better than their miserable lot in life.  At no point did Phos, or the narrative for that matter, ever suggest that it would be for the best if Cinnabar were simply put out of their misery.  Their plight warranted not just a release from pain, but a better life to replace it.  And as they are now, Cinnabar probably doesn’t want to die anymore, and I imagine they’re glad they didn’t go through with their passive attempt at suicide.  (Come to think of it, I think they’re the sole character who’s moved away from being suicidally depressed over the course of the story, instead of gradually succumbing to it.)  So, now that the shoe is thoroughly on the other foot, and Phos is the one at rock bottom, it would leave a really bad taste in my mouth if Cinnabar’s response to Phos’s pain ends up being: “Yeah, you should die.”  

So, although the plot is probably going maneuver Cinnabar into a situation in which they have to decide whether or not to kill Phos, I hope that it’s ultimately in service of that not coming to pass.  

Speaking of Cinnabar, I really hope we finally get more insight into them in these coming chapters. Broadly speaking, more stuff has happened with them the past twenty or so chapters than most of the rest of the series.  Their whole life was upended, they (seemingly) made a friend in Bort, and they’re finally making choices that affect the plot, which hasn’t really happened since volume two.  But, despite all this, we don’t really know what they’re actually thinking, of what emotions they’ve been going through.  You can make some inferences, but that’s not really as affecting as experiencing their perspective firsthand, and I think that’s why people get the impression that they’ve been made irrelevant to the story, despite the fact that they’ve been contributing to the plot lately.  So, hopefully we’ll finally get some further elaboration on them in the near future; I think it would remedy the issue quite a bit.

I’ve been thinking lately that what Cinnabar did to Phos in this arc is kind of a grim mirror of how Phos’s desire to help Cinnabar became muddied over the course of the story.  I don’t believe that Cinnabar was acting out of malice in chapter 78 when they suggested burying Phos in pieces.  If they genuinely wanted Phos dead, they could have encouraged the earth gems to go along with Rutile’s murderous impulses, instead of coming up with a plan in which Phos might come back eventually—certainly no one else in that scene, sans Euclase, voiced any objection to Rutile’s idea, and if Cinnabar hadn’t spoken up, they all might have gone along with it.  I think it’s quite possible that they were attempting to protect Phos by trying to appease the other gems’ enmity in a way that wouldn’t bring Phos permanent harm.  

But, just like how Phos’s ever-shifting goalposts pushed Cinnabar to the back of their mind over the course of the story, it’s possible that their new life among the gems had the same effect on Cinnabar.  Thus, in their mind, Phos was relegated to an important but altogether distant obligation that they’d deal with later, when the time was right.  But since these are gems we’re talking about, the time is never right, and complicated problems like these never get dealt with.  And just like how it was cruel and thoughtless when Phos put Cinnabar on the backburner, it’s cruel here too—especially if, as I speculated earlier, Phos was somehow awake this whole time.

Because I am a sentimental sap who still has a little bit of hope for a bittersweet ending instead of a complete tragedy, I think that Cinnabar might actually be a wild card in this situation, one who has the potential to save Phos from themselves.  (I’m sorry.  I can’t help myself.  My mind is stuck in power-of-friendship mode, and it’ll probably stay there until Ichikawa beats the idealism out of me, just like she beat it out of Phos.)  Keeping in mind what things Aechmea has been able to deduce either through direct observation through Phos’s eye, or what might have been reported to him from any Lunarians returning from an attack on earth, he doesn’t have enough information to figure out that Phos had a strong connection to Cinnabar.  Although he’s confident now that Phos has no ties to anything they once loved, and is wholly dependent on him, the previous chapter shows that Cinnabar still means something to Phos, even in this state.  Since all of this exists in a blind spot for Aechmea, I think it has the potential to muck up his plans—if Ichikawa deigns it to be so, of course.

Now let’s talk about symbolism, because there’s a lot of it.  First off, I want to talk about a pattern I noticed regarding Phos’s changes, one which I discussed in the very first meta I wrote for the series.  At the time, I speculated that the title of the art book, Pseudomorph of Love, was hinting at this pattern, but when the artbook was translated later courtesy of @red-dia, it turns out that said title was alluding to something totally different. Nevertheless, I think I may have inadvertently stumbled onto a method regarding Phos’s changes that seems too consistent to not be deliberate, and I’ll reiterate it here:  With the very notable exception of the pearl eye, down to even the most minor of losses, every permanent loss and addition to Phos’s body has been tied to an attempted act of kindness.  Specifically, Phos loses parts when trying to do something altruistic, and they are given new parts out of kindness on another characters part.

They had to have contaminated parts of their body scraped away after trying to save Cinnabar from falling.

They lost their legs while trying to help Ventricosus return home, and gained the new legs because of an act of kindness on her part.

Although the ice flows initially tried tempting Phos into giving up their arms by reflecting their self-loathing, it was only when they frightened Phos with the idea that Cinnabar might kill themselves if Phos doesn’t change quickly enough that they accidentally-on-purpose lost their arms.  While Antarc initially dismissed the gold they ended up giving to Phos as useless, they changed their tune when they noticed Phos projecting their own low self-esteem onto the gold.  To me, it seems like the act of giving Phos the gold was their way of telling Phos that they’re not worthless.

They lost a bunch of small pieces while trying to save Antarcticite

They lost their head while trying to save Cairn’s arm.  And then Cairn... uh…  Let’s put a pin in that for now, and come back to it when their character arc has progressed a bit further.  The element of mind control eyeballs that may or may not even be real makes the situation a bit more fraught than I care to get into right this very second.

They lost Lapis’s hair while shielding Morga and Goshe from the Lunarians.

They gave away a piece of their leg so the Admirabilis would know they weren’t holding a grudge against Ventricosus

With that established, let’s talk about the pearl eye.  The moment they received it was practically an inverse of the established pattern. It was a transformation motivated by spite on Phos’s part, and for Aechmea, it was an opportunity to exert control over them.  Even the act of receiving the pearl eye made them sick, mysterious human particles notwithstanding.  The ensuing chapters after they received the pearl eye are, as I’m sure you’re all aware, a whole lot darker and meaner than what the story had been up to that point. If I had to draw a dividing line between the part of hnk that is simply melancholy, and the part that makes the reader feel like a frog in boiling water, I’d use Phos’s first trip to the moon to demarcate these two tones—and the symbol that heralded this descent into hell was the introduction of an unkind addition to Phos’s body.  

That brings us to the matter of their most recent loss.  Since it’s now apparent that they won’t be getting their other parts back, we can look back on the moment they lost those parts for good and see if it fits the previous pattern, and in my opinion, it does.  The reason Phos was in that situation was because they were making a last ditch effort to do right by everyone else, and take responsibility for their mistakes.  It was at this point that they mustered up the last bit of kindness and courage they still had in their heart.

But the loss of a given part is only one half of the equation, which begs the question: with what sentiment will Barbata give Phos their replacements?  Barbata has subtly given off the impression that he feels guilty about his role in the various atrocities the Lunarians have undertaken, and is disillusioned with Aechmea, but is as of yet unwilling to actually go against him.  If there’s ever going to be a point in the story in which he decides to do the right thing instead of just following orders, it’s now or never.  I’m counting on you, pasta man.  Follow your conscience for once!  Either way, whether Phos’s reconstruction ends up being an act of kindness on Barbata’s part, or simply another expression of Aechmea’s corruption is, in my opinion, a crucial distinction that will have ramifications for the future of Phos’s character arc.  Speaking of which, it now seems like Red Diamond is the most likely candidate for a replacement, since Padparadscha is busy being asleep on earth.

I’ve talked about how a character’s eyeballs and where they got them from symbolizes their worldview, broadly speaking.  This chapter seems to be a continuation of that.  Kongou shaped the gems’ worldview, which is symbolized by him giving them their eyes, Cairngorm’s devotion to Aechmea is accompanied by them adopting eyes that Aechmea made for them, during the time that Phos was trying to balance the needs of both the gems and the Lunarians, they had an eye from both Kongou and Aechmea, and now that Phos only has the single pearl eye left, they’re thinking with a one-track mind from a distinctly Lunarian perspective: that everything that gets in the way of their salvation needs to die.

I also find it interesting that Phos’s original material is mostly intact, and what they’ve lost are chunks of their legs and head.  It probably symbolizes something, but my brain is starting to leak out of my ears at this point, so I’m just going to remember it for later and see if the meaning becomes clearer in retrospect.

Regarding Phos’s alloy shaping itself into a lotus’s seedpod, my first reaction was that it was a rather ambivalent symbol to use in the context of Phos’s downfall.  On one hand, the seedpod only appears when the highly symbolic flower dies, but on the other hand, while the flower is the part of the plant to which a number of cultures have ascribed auspicious meanings like purity and renewal, it is the humble, unsightly seedpod that goes about the actual business of rebirth.  

But, as @rinboz pointed out in a post on the subject, it appears to be specifically evoking the image of an empty seedpod.  If that’s what Ichikawa is going for, then the meaning is unambiguously ominous, to put it mildly.

Lastly, I brought up in my previous essay that it was highly convenient that Phos happened to trip off the table at the last possible second, and in a manner so noisy that it woke the other gems, no less.  In this chapter, Phos lays the blame for their failure on the earth gems interfering… but that only happened because Phos made a racket.  I speculated that they may have subconsciously sabotaged themselves—it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.  I don’t know how likely that possibility is, but I think it’s one worth keeping in mind.

Well, that was heavy. But on a lighter note, I think it may be time for me to update the only good meta I’ve ever written, birdseki no kuni.  What should Phos 4.0 be?  I think this feral demigod of vengeance ought to be represented by a real apeshit bird, like an Australian magpie, or something.  This will require further deliberation.

[gemder]

a bubbline wip, featuring a dissociative episode by our fave punk rock vamp. set shortly after Stakes.

She doesn't know how long she's been hovering over the couch like this, with her gaze trained on the bumps and dips on the ceiling and her bass planted in her arms. How many times has she sung that old song, so old and resilient it survived the death and rebirth of the world (and the both of hers twice over, now) just by hiding in the corner of her mind she doesn't like to visit? She can't see the sun or moon rise through the entrance to her hideaway from this part of the house, and the cave-imposed darkness tells her nothing of the time or how much of it has passed.

She doesn't dare budge from her spot. She's been turned twice now; she knows from experience that any sudden action, anything to startle her base thought process, could spark that bloodlust from last time. That was some ugly biz, if she remembers correctly. It's been a while, but something like an uncontrollable urge to drain the lifeforce of every living creature within 30 miles sticks to you. She's just going to have to wait it out, until the itch in the back of her throat dies down and she doesn't worry it'll become an insatiable burning for hot blood, no matter how long it takes.

Marceline has had an excessive amount of time to learn how to be alone; 1003 years, in fact. So why does it never get any easier? Why does being left never hurt any less? Why does she seem to be so completely destined for eternal loneliness? What asshat decided she deserved to spend the entirety of her neverending life without a single constant presence?

Mom went out with promises of keeping safe and finding food and I love you so much, sweetie, that alone is strong enough to bring me back to you. It took two weeks before little Marcy came to the conclusion that her mom wasn't coming back with food or supplies, or even returning empty handed. Simon let a stupid magical crown take over every single cell of his brain and wrote a bunch of scattered letters about it while it happened instead of, you know, telling the frightened 7 year old she was going to be left soon. Dad just up and left to go back to running the Nightosphere after a few weeks, with nary a parting word nor any notice. Her post-apocalyptic comrades had no choice but to flee from an otherwise inevitable extinction. Bonnie had to go and grow up, and in the process decide that her 900-something year old girlfriend wasn't mature enough.

(She checked that old, busted up camper as often as she could over the following months. There was never another life in that thing after she hopped down the little steps and let the screen door slam back with the carelessness of a 6 year old.)

(She found a decomposed corpse months later that just happened to be wearing some torn up rags that looked like her mom’s old sweater and jeans. It must have just been a coincidence, though; there were a lot of recently dead back then, and even more moth-eaten sweaters in the world.)

(“I’m trying to save you, but who's going to save me?” ‘I don't know, old man, maybe you could have saved yourself? You could have not purposely used the magical relic that was making you go bananas?’ If a 7 year old could make it through the apocalypse without magic then so could a fully grown man.)

(He left her to survive on her own in the name of being executive manager of hell and he still wonders why she wants nothing to do with him, why she used to have such a hard time so much as calling him “dad” when he’s never been anything like what she was lead to believe dads were supposed to be like.)

(She’s 1000 years old, how in the name of the nightosphere could she not be mature enough?)

(Over the years she’s replaced the world “hell” with “Nightosphere” the same way the being once referred to as “God,” back when even she was young, is now called by their proper name of Glob. The Nightosphere really is hell, so it fits.)

(Sometimes she takes the time to think about how she's the heir apparent to the actual, literal, real life hell, and how she's one of the oldest beings around these days, maybe the oldest to still really be sane, but still a messed up teen.)

(She doesn't know how old she was when she was turned; years and months and all that are hard to keep track of when the species that invented it is all but extinct. Is she old enough to drive? Probably. She does and can regardless, because screw the old ways. Old enough to drink, smoke, vote? Debatable. The point is that she’s 1000 years old but actually, like, 18. What the fuck.)

She drifts, both mentally and physically. She's had plenty of time and isolation to ponder the Big Things about life and the world and why and how things happened the way they did, and what it means. She will have an abundance of opportunities in the future to think about these things, too. Some day she'll reflect on this part of her life in the far away, nostalgia-filtered sepia tones she currently thinks of her childhood and adolescence. She'll remember when Finn and Jake were the heroes of Ooo, when Simon used to chase after princesses who will have long since passed, when she couldn't get over her ex-girlfriend who happened to be sentient candy. It will be distant and she will miss it terribly, the same way she misses her mother, and Simon when he was Simon, and fries in a long-abandoned diner. But it will be a wound long since closed and numbed, like the deep scar she got on her calf sometime in her early teens that still exists today, preserved in her immortality and a sentimentality that prevented her from insta-healing it away, sting and blood long gone.

She has forever to reminisce, but only right now to live in the present. She makes mental patterns in the bumps on the ceiling, and slowly loses grip on her body. She is a million miles upwards, where the sky holds no oxygen and the stars are still pinpricks in a sea of indigo construction paper. Like a kid poking holes in the top of a jar of lightning bugs, equipped with a fork and enthusiasm at being able to destroy something for the sake of encapturing something else. She is, at the same time, hovering above her uncomfortably hard couch. One of her hands slips from its place atop her bass, and Shwabl licks it from his spot next to her on the dusty carpet.

She doesn't hear the knock at the door. She is right there, but she is centuries back and in a different part of the continent entirely. She doesn't hear Bonnie getting increasingly agitated, trying and failing not to raise her voice at her through the door. She doesn't notice when Bonnie lets herself in regardless of Marceline’s lack of response, or when Shwabl jumps up to attention at the guest.

It's the “Marceline, what -” that breaks her dissociative spell. That tone of exasperation in that particular voice is a very familiar one, especially within the last decade. She comes to to find that there are fresh tears in the corner of one eye and the words to a song as old as her youth on her lips.

“Oh, hey Bombòn. How goes it girl?” Marceline has had a millennium to convince the world that she's chill and totally not a big mess, and it shows in the lilt to her voice that screams ‘I'm just chillin’’ and not ‘I've been dissociating and crying and probably singing for who-knows-how-long and I'm really messed up’. She still doesn't dare move from her spot, because moving around could still trigger what she's trying to wait out.

“It's been three weeks, Marcy. Three weeks, and all that heavy biz, and no one's heard from you since. Doesn't that seem even a little bit irresponsible to you? Didn't you think people would worry? Or even wonder ‘hey, what happened to that girl who saved all our butts and got revampified?’”

“Dude, I've just been chilling. You know how it is; jams, games, pets, it keeps a girl busy. It’s cool. Ice cold, in fact.”

Bonnie sighs. Marceline has heard that sigh a million and three times over by now, and she's learned to like that particular sound from the pink girl; it's the one thing about herself that she can't manage to sweeten to the point of oversaturation, until it (like the rest of her) is practically dripping sugar. Marceline likes to deal with the authentic rather than the idealized versions of people, because the latter rarely ever means anything good is coming her way.

(She rationalizes that the Ice King component of Simon, while not idealized, is not authentic in the least; the products of full humans getting mixed up with magic seldom are. The authentic Simon Petrikov is the one who found a 6 year old girl in the ruins of a suburban New Mexico town and still had enough selflessness in the aftermath of the apocalypse to comfort her and take care of her.)

The sigh doesn't lead to the reprimanding the vampire expects. Instead, she watches as Bonnie leans down in her peripheral vision to pet Shwabl, expression focused intently on the dog. She's doing that same schooled neutrality shit she used to do during those globawful trade meetings - the ones Marcy used to steal her away from the go gallivanting through the rock candy mines.

“What kind of sweet tunes have you whipped up, then? Lay it on me girl.”

Marceline lets her face adopt a smirk - the expression has become a reflexive habit after centuries of being a bitter undead loner - even as something in her stomach drops. Bonnie rarely asks about her music because she knows so much of it is personal, and that which isn't is vulgar or morbid and prone to being shared regardless, not to mention the fact that Bonnie’s interests definitely don't lie in the arts, or punk rock music, or most of the uglier parts of Marceline.

“You know my latest album is the epitome of personal mush, Bons. It's so personal I'd have to kill you if you heard any of it. But, I do have a new demo about a fisherman.”

Bonnibel definitely wants something out of her; she has that smile she reserves for Cinnamon Bun and Finn when he's going on about dumb 13 year old boy things, the one that's polite and reservedly encouraging, the one that Marcy has always found to be condescending although it always looks as sweet as its wearer who is literally made out of candy, almost as sweet as the girl’s public persona.

The thing about being 1000 years old and also a teenage girl is that you spend forever being a socially-minded person on some level or another, because back in the day that's how girls were socialized to be - social-driven creatures who cared more about what Allyson wore on Tuesday or what Theresa said about Serena in math class than anything practical. So Marceline has had a long time to notice the tells and ticks of the select few she surrounds herself with often enough to care about. PB smiles like her kindergarten teacher used to on particularly trying days when she thinks the people she's with are idiots but can't call them out for it. Her eyebrows droop when she's so tired that sheer willpower will no longer keep them up. She plays with her hands when she's nervous. She used to chew on her hair when she was younger and in the process of creating her kingdom, when stress was a new feeling she hadn't yet made a feedback loop out of.

This is totally, completely because of the sexist socialization of the old world, and nothing else. Totally not because they dated for a good chunk of time, or because one or the other might, maybe be having rose-coloured thoughts about the other again.

“Everyone and their granny has heard that one, Marcy. If you've had all this time to do nothing but groove and game then I wanna hear some tunes! Don't be a butt about it.” She's trying to gode the older girl, but Marceline is itching to get out of this particular conversation. Somewhere in her cursed, mostly re-dried blood she knows this is a test.

“I don't bust into your lab and start interrogating you about your experiments - can you just lay off, man?” she says it more harshly than she had meant to, but being yanked back to reality and immediately questioned over every move will do that to a person. “Tell me what's been going on in Candyland. You finally get all the earwax off of your junk?”

“You know if you did ask about my science experiments I would be happy to tell you all about them - well, the ones that aren't classified. It's called caring, Marce, it's a thing that friends do.”

A tense silence follows as Marceline thinks of something biting (but not petty!) to throw back at her.

“And yeah, actually, I did. The dingus left a huge mess but there's nothing my purple cleaner can't get rid of.”

Bonnie can't leave a single box unticked, can she?

“Glob, that stuff is nasty. The fumes make me gag, and I don't even need to breathe!”

The princess raises a brow at her. The queen furrows both of hers in frustration and fixes her gaze back on the bumps on the ceiling. When she was younger she used to make images out of the dips and dots in the kindergarten room ceiling; the RV’s was smoothed and didn't allow that particular part of her imagination to play around.

“And I think the expression you're looking for is sharing is caring, Bubs. It's a thing they used to say waaaaaaaay back in the day whenever the old people got tired of little kids fighting over toys.”

*******

this was gonna be a longfic feat. mutual pining by our fave disaster gays and more references to marcy’s life pre- and during the apocalypse bc i have a lot of feelings about Stakes. might come back to it, who knows!!!

[wingshead]

headcanon / meta post based around de-constructing the thematic qualities in the five-part series man out of time by mark waid.

Bucky: What about you, “Rembrandt?” You oughta start makin’ plans. Steve: If my country wants me to keep serving, I’ll serve. But they might not. Seriously, what purpose does Captain America serve outside of combat? I wouldn’t be surprised if they took the suit and shield and sent me home with every other soldier. Bucky: Ha! They’re gonna have you be the first man to break the sound barrier! First man to climb Mount Everest! Heck, you’re gonna be the first man on the moon! Steve: You think? Bucky: That’s my two cents. So I ask you back: Is that what you want? Steve: I’ll do whatever needs doing. Bucky: That’s not an answer. My brother, you have been running a mile a minute since they shot you up with the super-soldier serum. There is not an American alive who doesn’t owe you (and me) a thousand times over. So, what? Do? You? Want? Steve: Honestly? I just want to sleep.

So right off the bat in the first few pages, it’s pretty clear from the beginning of this mini series that we’re getting a look at a side of Steve that we don’t see very often in the comics, and it directly deals with Steve’s exhaustion & uncertainty. For all his boosting the morale and fighting on the front lines, Steve has an exhaustion with the war and the fact that he for as long as he fought in it, he never stopped working, fighting, and obeying orders the entire time. He has never once complained, other than when he was frustrated in the beginning at not doing more. Minus obeying orders (seeing how for a good portion of his run with the Avengers he’s been the de facto leader/ co-leader of the team), Steve continues on the same way now in the future. He’s strong, he’s fast, he’s got enhanced stamina and agility and an eidetic memory. He’s dedicated to the cause : both as a man wanting to do the right thing, and as a soldier wanting to serve his country.

And Steve is very much a soldier, he may have only fought in World War II for a number of years, but he’s fought in many other wars afterwards, and fought alongside other men as well - both as Steve Rogers and Captain America.

But unlike the other GIs and men out in the battlefield that had something or someone to come back to, Steve didn’t. Even back then. He didn’t have family left to go home to : didn’t have a girl. Didn’t really have any friends either. He’s fully immersed in Captain America: the man has become the symbol, and without the symbol, Steve’s not sure who the man is. The question Bucky asks him, ‘what do you want?’, is a difficult one to answer for Steve, because for all that Stevewants peace in the world and the war to end, he doesn’t know what he’ll do in the absence of having a war to fight. A purpose. Despite the fact that it was a pretty god-awful movie, the line ‘God’s righteous man, pretending he can live without war’ in regards to Steve is a pretty accurate one. Steve is constantly at war : with the world, and with himself. He hasn’t known life without a battle or a fight for most his life. The idea of peace and normalcy is a tempting one, and it’s Steve’s goal, but he doesn’t know what his role would be in a life where he’s no longer needed to be Captain America anymore.

Throughout the five part series, Steve’s thoughts are shown in a recurring type-face in the form of a mission report. It shows his distrust with the people and the world around him, and the fact that even in completely new terrain, Steve’s first instinct is to think like a soldier still in a war, & act like he’s behind enemy lines. The last thing Steve remembers is being thrown from a plane armed with a bomb that Zemo had set, and now he’s waking up to strangers in strange costumes. He fought with the Invaders, and super-beings are not new news to Steve : he’s fought with them, and against them. Considering the last thing Steve remembered was being in enemy terrain, he’s suspicious still of the Avengers at first, and Steve tries to maintain a cover that no longer exists. That never existed. He’s still reporting to his higher up. Steve is using his inner reconnaissance report as a crutch : trying to hold onto something familiar, even though it’s not real.

And then there’s the whole issue around his hallucinations, the people and fantasy that he makes up in his head to cope with the reality he’s faced with. This one…kind of speaks for itself. The fact that Steve on the outside looks very composed and calm with the situation, when the panels seen through his eyes show a very different and more disturbing story. His cavalier attitude freaks a lot of people out, both Rick and the medical staff that Steve sees after being shot, but despite the fact that Steve ACTS like he’s fine waking up in the distant future, the fact that we can see that he’s replacing people in the present with people from his past shows that he’s really, really not dealing with what’s happening to him. it’s obvious that waking up and being faced with a time that’s not his own isn’t something that Steve can readily or easily accept, and it’s traumatized him to the point where he’s had to make up an entire world around him to compensate.

But it’s not only limited to the hallucinations. A few times in the comics Steve has what’s known as the thousand yard stare. A blank, long and limp look that isn’t directed at anything. The thousand yard stare was coined in WWII to correspond with war veterans where the intense trauma they faced had left them haunted, and not all there. It’s reflected in their gaze. The dissociation. And dissociation is exactly what Steve is going through right now. He couldn’t possibly be in a more dissociate state at the moment, with everything and everyone he knows gone from his life forever.

Dr. Dysart: Hang on. You can’t just leave! There’s paperwork and payment and – Steve: Alright, I’ll play along. Call this number. This man will clear everything. Dr. Dysart: There’s only six digits … Wait. President Roosevelt … ? Steve: Tell him I said hello. Dr. Dysart: Son, stop! What did you mean when you said “even here”? Where do you think you are? Steve: Huh.

The issue, and the tail - end to Steve’s conversation with Doctor Dysart really hits home the extent of Steve delusions here, and its only expanded on when he meets Rick on the streets of New York. Steve has deluded himself into believing he’s in a dream, because it’s easier for him to accept the future and the changes if he thinks his mind is making it up and he’ll wake up from it soon. But despite this, he still keeps up appearances, showing that while he’s trying to convince himself all of this isn’t real, a part of him deep down can understand that it isn’t, and he can’t freely give away classified information.

Another one of Steve’s hallucinations, and another way for him to compensate for his loss and not face the reality of it all. He sees Rick, a young kid & a friend of the Avengers, and his mind immediately turns him into Bucky. Bucky, who last he’d seen, had been on top of a plane that had blown up. Bucky, who Steve had asked about when he’d 'woken up’, and didn’t get an answer for. ‘Bucky’ looks the same age as he did when Steve last saw him in 1944, despite the fact that in this 'dream’ of Steve’s they’re decades in the future. “It’s good to see you, partner. I was worried about you.” he tells Rick-Bucky.

The guilt and the fear of admitting that the possibility of Bucky being dead is not something that Steve, at that moment, was equipped to handle.

He chooses instead to use a coping mechanism, replacing Rick’s presence with the image of Bucky’s. But during the entire conversation with Rick, despite Steve seeing him as Bucky, he can hear what Rick is saying and understand clearly how it doesn’t fit in with what Bucky would say. Steve understands this, but he chooses to ignore it. He tries to keep playing along with his little game, and keep up the illusion as long as he can. Desperation, maybe, to see when the 'dream’ will end, how far he has to play along before he can wake up.

And yet.

Yet, despite the fact that Steve believes he’s in a dream, he still remains ultimately unchanged in one of his biggest character traits:

The first thing Steve did when stepping back into New York was rush to the aid of a young woman getting robbed. Despite Rick calling him crazy, and Steve believing he’s in a dream - therefore whatever he does should logically have no real consequence - he decides to help Rick in finding the Avengers.

The illusion doesn’t break in the face of everything that his 'brain’ keeps coming up with – the internet, females as Doctors, foreign languages, modern slang, etc etc – until he’s faced with FDR’s death. It’s what makes the illusion snap inside of Steve’s mind and it breaks him out of his trauma induced delusion forcibly. He ends up leaving Rick and going after the man they’re after himself.

And when Steve finds out it’s an alien, when he’s faced with yet ANOTHER oddity that he couldn’t possibly come up with, faced with the reality that he’s really in the future and Bucky’s not here, faced with his world crumbling around him – all Steve can do is laugh. He laughs. Like it’s funny, because it’s the only thing he can really do. The only other option is cry and grieve and face the fact that he’s lost EVERYTHING.

Despite snapping out of the hallucinations and coming to terms with the reality of things, Steve remains vehemently determined to find his way back home. Despite being impressed and overjoyed w/ the future’s accomplishments, he wants to go home. but despite his stubbornness to go home, he listens to the President’s orders above all else. Bitterness possibly at Tony, for exposing him to all this information, knowing he wouldn’t be able to go home afterwards because of it. Steve’s silent breakdown by the foot of Lincoln’s statue, a small figure in comparison to the cold marble, all by himself with his head in his hands, cuts a very solemn and tragic figure. The juxtaposition between both Steve’s current attitude now - solemn, sad, beaten down - to how his attitude was just earlier in the issue - awed, inspired and impressed - as well as Steve sat hunched in front of the Lincoln Statue, which sits tall and proud, is pretty remarkable.

Steve was impressed by the future but from an outsider’s point of view : like sitting in a class, watching a documentary play. What you see astounds you, but it’s a documentary and it ends, and you go back to your own life. Steve expected that. He expected to go back to his life. The future held many remarkable things but it wasn’t, in his opinion, his time. It wasn’t his world, no matter how much better things seemed. Then you have Steve sitting in front of Lincoln’s statue : two larger than life figures that dedicated themselves to their country. Both etched in time, both someone many people know of. Only Steve’s not standing still in time : he’s just out of it. He’s out of place.

It’s in the fourth issue that you really start seeing the shift in Steve’s attitude. He’s downtrodden : he feels beaten down, lost, and at a crossroads with no clue where to go. Thor’s words, while probably meant in a good natured way, didn’t help. The next few pages show even more examples of the juxtaposition that Steve embodies : he fights alongside the Avengers and accepts his duty, given to him by his President and country, but he doesn’t stop searching for links to his past either. He tries to find evidence of Bucky and Peggy’s existences, and eventually visits his commanding officer, General Jacob Simon. A man from his past, who opens Steve’s eyes to all the corruption and cruelty of the world, when Steve had been shown only the good and the progress by Tony, a man from the future. There’s a clear divide shown, between Steve fighting for peace, justice, and good both on his own against what General Simon tells him about as well as with the Avengers, and Steve being crushed by the weight of all the evil, the injustice, and the cruelty of the modern day world. Being exposed to the horrors.

He feels even less, and less like he belongs, despite having a spot on the Avengers, and while he shows his disgust and disappointment with General Simon, he hides his feelings well from his teammates. He’s distant to them, as seen when Iron Man tells Hank Pym that he barely ever sees Cap anymore. Steve is silently grieving: for his life, and for what he’s woken up into, something he fought to protect and create that’s not as great or beautiful as he thought it would be.

The entire issue is very much reference to the opening conversation between Bucky and Steve at the start of the series: Steve, being tired and wanting to sleep but doing what he’s asked to do, being where he’s needed. Only now Steve has a home he needs to get back to, but the war he’s fighting is more internal and impossible that it’s one he’ll never really come back from, one he hasn’t come back from even in today’s comics.

When Steve is finally, finally transported back to his own time by way of Kang, at first he’s shocked. But shock gives way to relief. Not joy ; not excitement ; relief. Steve is relieved to be back home. But throughout the issue, his expressions mainly seem too serious, too somber to match the eagerness and impatience he’d displayed earlier in the series about getting home. A man even asks him, “How’s it feel to be back home? Pretty terrific, I bet!” 

and Steve pauses for a bit before answering with a ‘it’s good’. But Steve’s not smiling, despite having said he’d missed this just a few seconds earlier, Steve is showing anything but happiness. He’s finally back in his own time, and catching up on things, but – his perspective has changed. Most telling of this fact, is that slowly over the course of the first seven pages, the color fades. It fades so that everyone in the background is in black and white, but Steve stays in color. It’s a total juxtaposition to the first two issues, where Steve hallucinated and imagined everyone in the future / present to be someone from his past. The only difference now is that the people in black and white are the people from his past. The only people in color are the images of his teammates he sees on a circus poster, in place of the actual carnies. The people in the 40s are the ones that Steve knows. Except now Steve knows more. He’s experienced something extraordinary and new : and he’s changed because of it.

Steve has, for all his emotional displacement in the future, adapted mentally to the cultural and societal shifts that it offered and gave. It causes a rift between him and the 1940s, where things are different from what he’d seen in the future, where progress hasn’t yet been made, despite all the issues and problems that had been created in the future, something important happens in this final issue.

Steve realizes that even when he’s home he has no one, nothing to stay for or come back to. It’s shown in his worry and constant thoughts for the Avengers, because they are in the future and they are something he has to go back for. Bucky is not there. Steve feels he can do for the Avengers what he couldn’t for Bucky : Save them. And he does.

Steve: It’s odd. All I wanted was to be back home, Noonan, and now that I am…I don’t feel ready to put down roots. Why is that? Noonan: Eh. We all gotta get readjusted, am I right? Don’t be sad, be proud! We fought the good fight, and the job is done! Steve: It’s not that simple for me. I have…I had these friends…And the last time I was with them, they were in trouble. I couldn’t help Bucky…And now I’ve failed them, too. Noonan: I don’t know what you mean by “failed 'em”, but if it’s that important…there’s nothing you can do? You know what Captain America says, Rogers: “there’s always a way.”

Steve realizes how he doesn’t belong ; not to the future, and not to the past anymore either. Most people when they think of Steve, and hear the words “man out of time”, tend to only associate it with him being a man of the past in the future. And that is true. But that’s only half of it. Steve is a man out of time in all regards. He says it himself in several different medias, in the movies, in the comics, in different eras : he never fit in, even in his own personal life. He always stood out. He didn’t want to, but he did. But the past is what Steve knew: it held his life, and his potential for a normal one after the war. Now Steve is enlightened, he’s seen the future. He’s lived in it. This issue is showing that even when he DID go back to his own time, and had every opportunity to stay, he couldn’t. He didn’t fit in. It didn’t fit him. Steve lives in a future where it’s very much the same, but he actually serves a purpose.

This goes back to the fact that Steve is a man who fights for peace but is at constant war – and is made for it. However much he dreams of a normal life, it’s not in his cards. We can come full circle here, and draw back on Bucky and Steve’s conversation in the beginning: Steve doesn’t know what he wants to do after the war is over. Captain America is what Steve knows best. Fighting the good fight. Living in the 40s, after the war is over and peace reigns is certainly a tempting thought for Steve, but it’s not a realistic option for him. Not anymore. Not with everything he’s learned, and not with how he is. He goes back to help the Avengers because that’s what he’s always done: help. The Avengers gave him a PURPOSE. Steve may not fit in, and he feels a lot of disassociation with the world and the people, the current culture, but he’ll protect it.

[only-embers-remain]

For those of you who don’t know, June is Pride Month. A supposed celebration of everything Queer. And maybe it was that once. Yet I sit here as the month dawns wondering where I fit in a world where such huge things as the Pride Parades exist in every major city in the US. Once it was an act of Defiance against a world that did everything in its power to erase us. To kill us. To ruin us. And for that day that walk in the sun we were invincible for not matter what the world did we still were. No one could take the memories of us away even as they took our lives away.

Now don’t mistake me I know things are better than they once were. I am not going to get arrested today for wearing women’s clothes. I an reasonably expect to not be beat by those more privilege than I well at least in broad daylight. I can tell someone that I am trans and not have them look at me like I just spoke Russian. So in many ways we have much to be proud of. It makes sense in a twisted way that Pride month has become instead of a riot a celebration. That hey look world we are here still. Nice try though. Yet that isn’t the picture. For one month a year I am allowed to be me with out question. I get to be proud of my existence for one month a year. I can expect in more progressive stores and cities things sold catering to my particular demographic or well at least those of us who like rainbows. There isn’t any sign of the pink blue and white flags that represent my specific queerness. Yes let us not go to far after all. For one month of the year I can see books about my people or well those of us who are queer but have little else that hinders them from receiving all the privilege the world is willing to give. Sure you see lesbians, though only ever white ones, and gay couples. You might get to see the lone trans woman and glory in how courageous she is that she wears a dress. Oh my so courageous. It strikes me that Cis People don’t know the meaning of Courageous. They probably don’t after all when have they been so very beaten like we are.

So in this month of pride it is the month to remind me that it is only really this month in which I get to be seen. Though only as a courage piece. As a story for others to consume. Never for my own being. I still will struggle to get my medication that keeps me from ending it all. I will still never be able to find clothes designed to fit a woman who has had the horrific experience of having a testosterone based puberty. I will still get misgendered by even the people who have known me for a year. As if they can’t for some reason see me as the woman I am and not the man that society still tells them I should be. I still have to put in the performance of womanhood to be taken seriously though to be fair so do cis women but at least they only have their credibility on the line not their womanhood. Oh and let us not forget that for this month I get to see how the only way I am allowed to be is if I am white, well to do, preferably male, neurotypical, and quiet about my non-Christian ways. Sure all of those qualifications are specific to the United States but that is really only an addition to shut up the nay sayers. There is one book at the book store that is about non-white experience of queerness, none by those of us on the autistic spectrum, surely no look into how so many of us have PTSD especially in the trans community, no look to how wealth greatly effects this all. I when I say Trans woman there are probably only two names that come to your mind, Caitlyn Jenner, and Laverne Cox. I am proud that a black woman gets to be up there but can you name a single trans man who is famous. I didn’t think so. So yeah let us rename pride for what it really is. Gay White Pride, where the only queer that matters is homosexuals of the cis variety with a sprinkling of trans and crossdressers to add that little spadazzle that makes it feel like a real pride parade. Because crossdressers are totally the same thing as a trans woman, if not better because they make a show of it, make it fun and nothing like reality of the pain of our lives. No of course not. Why aren’t you smiling? You should be smiling.

And you may ask well isn’t any representation good but I want to tell you something, only just. Yes look at all the pretty queers how they sparkle so filled with hot air as to almost be nonexistent. No let us look at what my life is like and why I don’t feel like smiling anymore. Why I want to go back to the riot that was Pride before. See I live in the conflux of a number of underprivileged identifies. Thank god I am white or this would be all the harder. I am homeless and have to deal with the fact that because of my inability to be productive by societal standards I am unwelcome at the calm coffee shops of Seattle. I have to always be tethered to the places that give out low quality food to the teeming masses of us homeless. I haven’t eaten a properly cooked vegetable in over a year. No just carbs and protein for those starving homeless. Moving on from there let us remember that I am a few swayed votes away from loosing my insurance. With it would go my medications, of which I take five different ones on a daily basis. I have over a thousand dollars in pills needed a month to keep me sane. And by sane I mean keep me from cutting up my skin with the knife I have or popping all the pills I can get my hands on in the vain hope that I can go to sleep and never wake up. Depression is not pretty. Oh let us not forget that I also take pills that help me feel human, that let me feel right in my own mind. I run on estrogen and yet my body doesn’t produce it in quantities high enough to be at all functional. Imagine watching a video of some stranger that you have never known and yet they are doing things that you do and things you remember yet they aren’t you. But everything says they should be you. The peep next to you says hey look at this memory of you and I. But it isn’t you and it really never was. Never could be. I really can’t explain dissociation to those who have never felt it and as it effects everyone differently I don’t think there is a close approximation to be had. But remember to smile and be proud. Yeah I feel so accomplished this month in which society tells me oh don’t you worry everything is great now isn’t it. Oh and give us your nonexistent money. Thank you very little.

Yes let us be proud this month. Not outraged that in forty nine states the Trans Panic defense will get you off with murdering a trans woman. All you have to do is say she, or well lets be honest you will say he, didn’t tell you. That you were just so revolted that you had no control over your actions and had to kill her. To beat her. Into a bloody pulp. Oh yeah and that is legal in my state of Washington. It happened this year already in Texas. So yeah. Be proud and happy. Or that I live in one of the ‘gayest’ cities in the US that has a wonderfully gay neighborhood that comes with rainbow crosswalks. So gay. Yeah a neighborhood where trans women can’t be out after dark for fear of being beaten to death. I personally know of six incidents in the first five months of twenty eighteen. All on people I know and I wouldn’t hear of them otherwise. Let’s not look into the violence against trans people of all stripes on the quote gayest neighborhood in the gayest of cities. That is when the violence isn’t being done by the police of course. Not that that happens. Never. Remember smile and be proud. It is our month to exist. But only when we smile of course. Can you see the cracks yet?

Let us not forget history. Every moment of queer liberation has come at the sweat and blood of trans women, often women of color. Stonewall that great moment of rioting. Oh oops I forgot we leave off the riot part. Or that the police were rounding up everyone no mater what they had done. We can make movies of it. Just not with the trans woman who threw the first brick. Who kept the fight going long after the streets had been cleaned and the windows fixed. Yes Marsha P. Johnson is not needed in our gay history. Or of the countless queer people of color who showed up to those first pride parades which were little more than an excuse to pick a fight with the system that hated us. Let us not forget what time we celebrate and why. To honor that first riot, well first recored riot. Same month and to many same day or close to it. Or how trans people have been pushing for every legal reform. Who pushed the 2003 case that got to the supreme court and denounces sodomy laws in all states. Oh little one here several states still have those laws on the books. Oops. Or of Marriage equality. Fuck that we don’t have that. We have federal recognition of a piece of paper. Are our children protected from being torn from us? No. Are we allowed the same medical rights to our loved ones as a straight couple? No. Sure some states are better than others. But not till all are on the same page should we celebrate. I remember being told we had won the fight after that. Ha. By a Drag Queen at a pride parade. A crossdresser who does so for show. I bet you won’t misgender her when she is in costume. Of course not? But what are my pronouns? Yeah I know. So hard to remember. But that fight isn’t over and there are others more important. Conversation therapy. As if you can abuse away the queer. And Abuse it is. Legal in over three quarters of the states. Despite the fact that it tends to kill those it seeks to ‘cure’. But remember we are smiling. Oh and buying. Let us not forget that.

See Pride in Seattle has a long line. Where are the trans people? The fighters of justice? The youth who are our future? At the back behind the likes of Amazon’s wonderful float filled with cis Drag Queens, half of whom are straight while we are at it. Then comes Target, and Microsoft. What the fuck has Microsoft ever done for queer rights? Nothing. Not a damn thing. But they get to be up front so they can advertise, I mean smile and be proud. Sure at least target protects their queer employees. Has desegregated its toy section. Oh my gosh a toy is a toy not specific to gender. What ever will we do? Right. Smile and be proud. For we come after profits. After payments. After the straights. After the pretty shiny ones. Funny isn’t this a queer parade or is it?

So in this month of pride is it any wonder I am left wondering if I should be proud at all. That I wonder why instead of making me want to smile it just brings up more pain and tears. But obviously Pride month has never been for me. Maybe it is for the cis white gay men. Maybe. But I am still here and I will still fight. I won’t be squished by that ever present society. Or well at least I try not to be. There are cracks in the mask and maybe that is where you might find pride. Where the germs gather. Because we aren’t pretty. We aren’t white. We aren’t smiling. But we our proud.

[jakesanxietydiary]

12/26/20

11:06 AM

Im losing steam on being able to deal with this.  I dont know what to say anymore.  I dont know how to leave this behind and just be myself again.  Christmas day was 1/2 okay 1/2 terrible, but its almost worse to be close to okay but still dealing with these pangs of what feels like delusion, uncertainty, foreign feelings, and knowing something is still very wrong.  Im so worried about the future and I feel like time is ticking away.  I want more help.  I feel like I dont care about anything anymore.  I have no plans for today and I dont want to do anything.  Its as if I just cant be 100% available and invested in anything I do because of this sensation that takes me away from it.  Im so outside of a regular flow.  

Also I feel like there are so many pieces out of place like.  I feel very distant from my friends, like I can’t relate to them.  With my sexuality feeling so weird and my femininity pretty much absent like, I feel like I have nothing to talk to them about anymore, but thats one of the driving factors in interest like, you kind of get interested in things your friends are interested in.  But John is really into surreal things which trigger me now and like, I know what surreal things are trying to do but its like I dont “get it” anymore.  Horror triggers me and femininity is gone so I feel distant from Daniel and Leighann.  

Eating is hard for me, UGH I NEED THIS TO END.  I cant figure out what exactly is wrong though, I just know I’m uncomfortable pretty much %100 of the time and I hate waking up in the morning.  Maybe I’m just lacking confidence in my sense of self.

anxiety: 4

disconnection: 5

flatness: 6

__________________________

8:02

I think I figured out why I went flat and can't feel anything. When I allow myself to feel I get pangs of anxiety and dissociation instead of any feeling anything. So my body is making me not feel things as a defense mechanism.

Today has been terrible. I didn't see the point in doing anything. I started to notice I was forgetting things. My mom took me for a drive and we talked, I had moments of feeling familiar that quickly went away when I tried to think if I was better again. We talked about family stories and what I'm going through. Now we're home and I'm not doing well. I'm trying to play a board game with mom and Allie but it feels like nothing matters... I keep fading in and out. I want to laugh and feel familiar and be happy but I can't. I feel hopeless that my brain and sense of self will ever be in flow again, be in sync with life again.

Anxiety: 5

Disconnection: 7

Flatness: 3 I'm feeling things but they're all bad

______________________________________

10:56

Why does everything I used to like trigger me now?  I tried to watch one of my favorite cartoons, its also full of songs that are some of my favorites that I really used to connect with, and instead of feeling good I just felt weird and dissociated.  Also my ear keeps feeling clogged.  I can hear my breathing behind my eardrum.  The board game went okay.. I dont feel normal but I got through it and maybe had a little fun. Im trying to remind myself that all of this will pass and I’ll be me again one day.  I still worried I wont even remember what normal is.  After what I’ve been through.. I have so many doubts like.. if my personality can just disappear and I have so much trouble recalling it, was it really my personality at all?  After the world feels so unreal, will it ever feel real again?  What if I forget how to draw? What if I forget my name, what if I forget everything.

I think Im going to try and stay offline as much as I can minus writing these entries.  Its just a constant reminder of how different I am to not laugh at things I would have laughed at, to not feel like Im part of the world anymore, that I can’t relate to anything.

Anxiety: 3

Disconnection: 5

Flatness: ??

[pixelatedlenses]

Thanksgiving Thoughts

This year has been a year of extreme growth.

More than any other time in my life, I feel that I’m fully myself. I’ve gotten even more comfortable with going out alone, and regularly take myself on dates to enjoy me. I love enjoying myself, love taking care of me, and each day, I get a little bit better at it. I’m still a work in progress, but we all are: I think it’d be silly to expect one year of radical change to cement my future for a few years.

 So today, while Thanksgiving has passed in Japan but is still alive and well in the States, let me share four things I’m thankful for with you, and what they’ve done for me. It’s a long read, but something I want to share. Check below the cut for that good, good insight.

 1. Growth   I am thankful for changing myself and for growing. For becoming who I want to be regardless of what others think.  

As I said above, it has been an extreme year of growth. When I came to Japan, I was still stuck in a dream of not belonging. I regularly questioned if I should be here, and when shit hit the fan regularly, thought that I definitely should go home asap. I called my mom crying a lot in those first two months because it was just really, really hard.

It is so hard to return to a feeling of childhood: to need hands to hold, to be illiterate, to be unable to do. It felt like I was being reduced, if that makes sense. I felt so limited, both physically and emotionally: my ability to travel was contingent on timetables. While I had a more stable salary, I felt the sting of bills and remembering due dates and balancing a budget. Now, of course, I’m well accustomed and rather like my nice, neat Excel budget sheets. But last year, all of that felt like a lot of Adulting that hit all at once.

I’m certainly not literate in Japan yet, but I inch closer each day. Certainly I’m still learning how to adult too. Yet each day, life settles and I learn how to handle things better. 

As my base school’s art teacher says: “One day, one thing, one step.”

Wise words from an Art Teacher, y’all, and essential for making a good life anywhere.

 2. My family, blood and chosen

I am thankful for the people in my life, and for the love I feel while living abroad.

There’s something to be said about distance, both good and bad. The good: I connect more meaningfully and try to be better at responding to messages and being mindful of my own time. When I give, it feels good, and when I receive, it feels good in return.

 The bad: it sucks. 

Sometimes.

The time difference. The pure distance. The scheduling. Missing out on things. Excluding others from my life by accident. Not being there when I’m needed.

It can cause a fair bit of grief at times. But even in that sometimes suck, there’s a light: there’s the joy of someone who is happy to hear from me, the comfort of knowing that others are proud of me, the bliss of receiving a message on LINE or a card in the mail. Little by little it’s the little things that show me flashes of love that I have come to treasure.

It’s also knowing that I’m still necessary too.

When I left, I really struggled with feeling like everyone would move away without me. Japan still felt like I’d be in a bubble in time, a rift where I’d exist for 3-5 years, return home, and feel incredibly different because my friends would all be grown up.

The reality, of course, is that I made a choice to grow just like they do, did, and will do. That’s just life.

I don’t regret being far away from my loved ones. I don’t regret making an incredible choice for myself, and I think to think that they’ll forget me forgoes the huge amount of love I am surrounded with. Instead of thinking of what if’s, I am actively trying to live in that love and let it grow in me so that wherever I go next, I can return it tenfold and give to others.

Most of all, I want to say that I’m thankful for my mother. She is someone who pushed me to come here, and while she’s incredibly human and at times, has made me angry even in Japan, I think that at 25, I respect her and see her as a hero for very different reasons.

She’s human, and I can see that. I see that her “super-heroine strength” is not a product of wanting to be that way, but of saying, “Hell no, I’m not going to give up on life even when I really want to because I want to live and see something better because I know there’s something better.” That kind of radical kindness in the face of a lot of ugliness in her life -I’ll probably never know more than a small percent of her past, and honestly... I think that’s better for me- is really... powerful. Perhaps because I witness her continuously giving the middle finger to life, I feel similar feelings in how I deal with continuously fighting for my happiness.

She’s not perfect and I can say, with all the respect in the world, wasn’t a perfect parent, but she did in the face of despair, and as an adult, I really am thankful for her taking the brunt of life to give me a chance at hope and the chance to pass on kindness. She gave a lot for me to be able to do that. I honestly am not sure I have that in me.

I’ll never ask for perfection from anyone but myself -and even that’s fading because it’s just exhausting- but I’ll tell y’all I have a really good mother. I just hope that the kindness she poured into the world and others is given back. Certainly, as I learn how to monitor and tame how much of myself is given and taken, I’m learning not to pour or be an oasis for everyone. I want to preserve myself because I witnessed her give a lot. I think she would tell me the same: keep myself to me and give when I can, but don’t exhaust myself.

Gosh, I feel so loved right now.

Thanks fam, digital and IRL, for grounding me in that.

3. My body   I am thankful for being able to become healthier and for finding the ability to have self-love every day. I am thankful for the compliments I give my big, jiggling stomach, for the lotions and soaps I buy for my skin, and for the ability to buy clothes that make me feel even more beautiful, voluptuous, and handsome than I already believe I am.

 Weight loss aside, I have really come to love my body again. Yes, losing nearly 45 pounds certainly helped, but only because it got rid of the physical stress I had been carrying. It made me feel so bad, made living incredibly hard, and at my worst, made my body ache even when I sat. Shedding that weight was really healthy for me, and has made me feel so, so much better.

My wardrobe has increased a lot because I’ve started taking care and caring for how I look. I regularly dip into scales, buying pants that flatter my strong thighs, shirts that actually fit, and things to affirm my gender and identity. It feels good too: I come to love myself more and more each day.

I also have felt more Black being in Japan, which definitely has its ups and downs. Somedays, it’s Black in the sense of Other, but most days, it’s Black in the sense of Magical, Beautiful, Wonderous, and Free. A part of me worries how to carry this back to the States: a part of me knows, though, that I can and will maintain that pride in my sense of self.

Truly, that’s a gift.

 4. My partner, Noel   I am thankful for the love of a friend and for the love of a girlfriend. I am thankful for the value of platonic love and the value of romantic love. I am thankful for her smile, for her kindness, and for her desire to see me achieve my goals alongside her. I am thankful that our victories are celebrated by each other, and not a competition at any level of our relationship.

 Noel is a bit of a… wild card. Was, really: had I have known years ago that she was in love with me, life would have been different. In the now, it’s hard not to have the tiniest bit of regret over past relationships. I wish I would have dated her then because I think it would have been nice.

Maybe.

Honestly, not dating one of my closest friends has regret now, but a few years ago, I would have broken us up from anxiety and worry. I wouldn’t have been a good partner: I just wasn’t at that place for myself. I would have made friendship very hard because of a lot of inner turmoil, severe depression, and general spitefulness. I wasn’t in a good place two years back: I was a good person, trying to be a good person, but not a good person inside. My mental health was poor during grad school, and stress hard worn me into a hole of overeating fast food, crying often, and being a partial shut-in.

Not good at all, y’all.

I’m still dealing with a lot of stuff: I still stress to extremes, have trouble monitoring proper reactions emotionally, and dissociate from my problems at poor times. I’m also a really kind person, actively try to give hope and love, and think I am worth love, whether or not my self-love is always actualized. Yet in that, I’m dealing: I’m striving for myself and also, because there’s someone I love and that I want to kiss with the knowledge that that love is mutual. 

(Screw the notion that you must love yourself first. Sometimes, people in our lives give the love we need to start that process. Take care of you first, but let yourself receive and accept love. It’s great on any level.)

Noel loves me. She loves me. She loves my curly, natural hair. She loves my bigger body. She loves me eyes and my nose, loves the way I think, loves my writing and drawing, and love that I am me. That’s been the constant in our relationship: seven years of friendship that has been built on trying. It helps that she’s seen my ugly sides: seen me snap from stress, seen me on the ground when my father passed -bless his soul- seen me unshowered for weeks, seen me with a broken leg and many broken hearts.

That someone can accept a lot of my ugly and still tell me I’m beautiful and loved perhaps shouldn’t feel so shocking, but for me, it feels like the moment clouds pull away and my face is struck by the sun.

It’s hard to wrap her up in a few words, but I’ll say this: Noel is one of the most brilliant people I have ever fell in love with. She matches my wit, doesn’t let me half-ass things, and pushes me in the right places with my express permission. She listens to me and doesn’t mind me venting, is my shoulder when mine are laden with too much, finds me genuinely funny with my supply of puns, dad jokes, and historic fun facts, and has never made me feel like I’m a burden.

Certainly, Noel is a stunner: she has lips that looks so soft, a nose that I absolutely want to nip, eyes that sparkle a certain way when she’s up to trickery or trouble, shoulders that get all freckled up in the summer, front teeth that make my pulse jump, legs from Hokkaido to Kyuushu even though we’re roughly the same height, and hips that look like my arms were made to rest on them while she’s cooking. But Noel’s heart, her mind, her extroverted nature... that’s most what I’m in love with. 

Those are the best things to me.

I’m just thankful that it turns out she liked me exactly the same too!

So here are my gratitudes, my thanks, my blessings. I hope that anyone who reads this is just as blessed too. I hope you all have someones and somethings in your life that make you feel so important and special. We all deserve to feel that regularly in out lives. The world is too hard and mean at times: give love, accept love, and love yourself just for you without giving. Happy Thanksgiving.

[jam2289]

Lack of Consistent Goal Pursuit

I'm going to try to understand my own lack of consistent goal pursuit in this article. We must start by realizing that the odds that I will be very insightful or successful in this endeavor are low. I will approach it from two perspectives. I will lay out the ideas first and then see how they apply to my story.

First, a unique view that's no longer in favor from phenomenology and existentialism. The idea is that there is no unconscious. There is no repression. Instead, there are just things that we are not conscious of. There are things that we don't know. Instead of the idea that there are things that we were aware that were too painful, this idea says that we never really examined them in the first place.

Let's use an analogy. Imagine you're standing in the middle of a room looking towards one wall. Let's call that wall your conscious awareness. You can't see the wall behind you. With the more traditional idea of the unconscious and repression you aren't aware of the wall behind you because in your past you examined it and found that you didn't like it. Maybe it has black mold on it and you don't want to deal with the problem because it's such a big scary problem. Fair enough.

In the less traditional view the problem is that you haven't examined the wall yet. Maybe you haven't looked at it at all. Maybe you haven't looked at it in a long time. Maybe you passed by it but weren't really paying attention because you were focused on other things. It's not that you've repressed this problem into your unconscious, it's that it never really was in your conscious awareness.

This process of not paying attention to something could be reinforced by a light awareness. Let's say you turn around a bit and take a glance at the wall. It doesn't look that great. Well, you don't need to examine it right now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. Maybe next week. Maybe next month. Maybe next year. You still haven't examined it enough to really know the extent of the problem. You're not repressing it, you're just moving your attention away from it because it's uncomfortable. You have other things in life to deal with anyway.

If you do that enough then this pattern will become automatic. The process is even called automaticity. Your brain neurons fire in a certain sequence. Things called glial cells are floating around in your brain. They detect this firing and wrap themselves around the neuron. The glial cells harden into myelin. It's like insulation. The creation of this myelin sheath is how you develop habits, patterns, and skills of all sorts. The ends of your neurons also reach out with dendrites and axon terminals and make stronger and more complex connections to reinforce these pathways. Once you've built this pathway it's very hard to break it down. That's part of why habits are so hard to break and part of how addiction works. The myelin sheath will break down if you don't fire it for a long time, or in special circumstances like multiple sclerosis. But, that neural highway wants to be fired. It tries to get you to fire it. If it's something that makes you feel good, if it's something that releases dopamine into your system, then it's really going to pester you to fire it and it's going to be almost impossible to stop.

So, if over your life you deny truly examining and focusing on what you truly want to do then neural circuits will be made that move your awareness away from that option. It will become an automatic habit for you to not focus on what you actually want. You don't have to repress it, you never really examined it.

If you've built that neural circuitry then maybe you won't even be able to answer the question of what you really want.

You could do the same thing with valuing. You repeatedly choose one value over another, for whatever reason. You do this for months, years, decades. What are the odds that you're going to be able to rewire all of these neural pathways wrapped in all of these huge myelin sheaths in your brain? How long would it take? You're stuck.

What would happen if you had this automaticity built in where you didn't pay attention to what you really wanted because you were doing something else right now, and you consistently chose one type of value over another? Depending on what those choices were you might have built neural circuitry that stops you in your tracks.

The second view that I am going to look at is dissociation. It actually goes with what we've been talking about nicely. It doesn't really have to be separate, they can be combined, I think.

We view ourselves in different ways. I defined myself as an intelligent adventurer at one time. I had this symbolic image of a quite resourceful person in my head. I also held several images of myself in the future as what I might become.

The thing is, these ideas the self and the future conceptions were destroyed and left an unfilled vacuum. It wasn't a fast process. It's not so much a traumatic problem as a long, slow, painful destruction.

I had a misadventure in Kenya a few years ago. It was bad, I was told I was going to die, I thought I was going to die, I was locked inside of a room from the outside with bars on the window, with no money because mine had been stolen, vomiting blood and hallucinating, after being poisoned and having a bacterial infection. I ended up getting out alive. That's a chaotic story. But the real problem was what came after.

It took six months and three antibiotic treatments to kill the bacteria. I still didn't get better and found out I have four major spinal deformities. One bone in particular was pressing against my brainstem, which was why I was losing my short and long term memory, had a really high heart rate, an insane migraine for many, many months, and other unfun things.

Over the next couple of years as I struggled forward my ideas about myself and my future slowly died. Failure by failure, my future possibilities were erased. This decreasing ability was devasting. I got a job, couldn't do it. Did it again. And again. And again. I had never had to quite a job because I couldn't do it before. My memory had been above average, I watched it decrease, and decrease, and decrease, until it was well below average. I had had near perfect reading comprehension. Then, I watched myself struggle to understand what I was reading more and more.

I had already chosen to pursue more experiential values over my life and leave creative values until later in life. Now it was only logical to choose quick experiential values. When you don't know if you're going to have a future there is no point in planning for one. Not that that happened right away. I made plans, then realized that it was probably pointless to be making future plans when I did something that made me realize my quite limited abilities and health. Then I would repeat the process. How many repetitions do you need before you just stop thinking about building the future?

Over the last couple of years I've started to rebuild my health. My mind, memory, and reading comprehension are strong. My body is fairly strong. But I'm having a hard time focusing on and doing things that would really build my future.

It's not that I'm not doing anything. I'm editing an international flash fiction horror anthology with my Russian friend Oleg. I contributed a story and we're publishing it later this year. I'm officiating my cousin's wedding next month. I teach English online to kids in China every morning. I'm giving speeches at a Harry Potter festival this summer. I'm writing a comic book with an illustrator. I write articles analyzing lyrics for 88.9 Hey Radio. I have other things in the works. But that's not good enough. It's not good enough by a long shot.

What should I really be doing? I'm not sure. What should I really be pursuing? I'm not sure. What should I really be making? I'm not sure. That's an issue. I'm not sure what I want to make, create, or build to make money. That's a major issue. I still have some limitations physically, so I can't go lift boxes all day, and I need weekly chiropractic adjustments. I also haven't structured my life to have a bunch of third party credentials, i.e. degrees. That means I can't do nothing and fall back on what I've got and coast, because nothing's there to fall back on and there's no momentum to coast on.

I have to be active, and I am active, but I'm still mostly active in the collecting of interesting life experiences rather than the pursuit of a longer term creation. That needs to change, and I know it needs to change, and nevertheless I've been having a hard time doing anything about it for the last 6 months.

One of the problems is inconsistent goal determination. A business owner named Grant Cardone recommends writing down your goals every morning and every night. Other successful people do this too. You start with a fresh sheet. One of the issues that I encountered with this is that my goals switch around a lot. You would think this would resolve itself over some time, but with me it does not. That falls right in line with my personality traits, but I need to transcend those to overcome this barrier to further advancement.

Another thing that is coming into play here is that there are two types of trying. You can try to achieve some specific thing. Or, you can try something out. That's the difference between a static state value and a process value. Some people exercise because they want to be a certain weight or have a certain amount of strength. Other people exercise because they like to exercise. I mostly do things because I like the doing, I like the experience, I mostly have process values. Maybe that's an issue. I'm not fully sure.

Over all of these years of choosing process values and experiential values maybe I've built the neural circuitry that moves my awareness away from state values and creative values. Maybe that keeps me from making things and finishing them. I think that's true. These circuits need to be rewired and rebuilt.

Over the last few years I've lost the projection of myself into the future. Maybe that's part of why my values about things in the future don't stabilize. I think that's true. I think it's also a natural tendency because of my personality traits. That combination is devasting to consistent goal pursuit and accomplishment.

What to do? I have several ideas. I'll cover just a couple here. One, I've designed a system for tracking values across multiple time periods and categories. It seems to have some utility. Also, I've been incorporating some of the parts of my personality that I seem to have symbolically dissociated in my past. That definitely has utility. Now, I need to use a similar technique oriented towards my future.

I think it's possible that these things can be part of rebuilding what I need to find consistent goal pursuit and incorporate it into my life. Time will tell.

________________________________________________

You can find more of what I'm doing at http://www.JeffreyAlexanderMartin.com

[themaryiestsuetoeversue]

cut because long, animal abuse, animal death, general horrific trauma reactions

[”We...should probably talk.”] Usually Noir used technopathy to give text to speech as much emotional nuance as possible. This time she left it cold and robotic. 

Poppy put down the latest vampire trash novel, turned off the tv, and even pushed everything on the table aside, scooting over to make room. She jittered a little but kept her breathing steady - even if she hit the nail on the head in what this might be about, it probably had to be said. Noir wouldn’t suggest things like this for fun.

Noir fiddled as well, poking at the PDA with her fingers in an attempt to stall for time. But eventually, she just had to bite the bullet and say it:

[”Before I met you...life...was not as pleasant.”]

Poppy waited for more, but it never came, so she answered, “Oh, that. I...I had a suspicion about that, but I didn’t wanna push - you can tell me when you’re ready, y’know? I mean, I’m always ready to hear anything you have to say, but even now, if you don’t think you are...”

[”If I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it.”] 

Okay, fair point, but then why the -

[”It makes it easier to do this in words, not pictures. Even if it requires translating into words in the first place.”]

“Okay.” 

Even with that support, words were slow to come out, and that was fine. She’d called over Nightmare, and Munmun, at certain points, to see if they could make the process a tad bit easier. The rest of the team let them be, Skullz keeping the less sapient team members occupied and distracted. It wasn’t the rush of words mixed with tears Poppy had come to expect with her own difficult retellings, but detached, clinical, like a lab report. Noir didn’t seem entirely present at some points but Poppy wasn’t about to stop her, even if she felt some details could wait.

At certain points, she feigned needing to take a break herself, to give Noir a temporary reprieve and Noir was so into it by then, she probably believed her half-lie. It stung to tell it, but she’d rather sort out her own mixed feelings first - not pure anger, not pure fear or pure anything - a confusing and frustrating blend of lack of surprise, disappointment, and disgust, all aimed at Rocket’s top brass and the cultural values that let something like this happen to begin with.

Poppy had never really known what she looked like during one of her own dissociative episodes but it was perfectly clear that Noir was no longer tethered to this time and place. Her eyes were way too vacant for it to be a vision of a future, too. 

She held out a tentative hand and immediately shrunk back as Noir squished herself into the corner of the couch, fangs bared and unleashing sonic terror. Munmun threw up Barrier before the bulk of the sound waves could make contact and Poppy shrugged off any damage anyway, wondering if she should make a leap for some Benadryl. [”I think she’s using Growl - in the memory she’s stuck in...”]

“And it’s coming out as Disarming Voice here.” Coping wise, that was a good strategy - Disarming Voice would chase off an assailant much better than Growl would. Pity it kicked in at this time and place. “Fuck, how long has she been bottling this up?” Too long if this was how it displayed when she finally took the top off. 

But attacks couldn’t last forever and eventually she ran out of steam. Poppy was already at the edge of the barrier and she almost fell over when Munmun dissipated it without warning. Finally, there was a shred of life in Noir’s eyes and Nightmare circled her like Regina did with her own carrion. 

The pda had been silent for a long time before it now sparked back to existence. [”Dead...”] It whispered at the lowest volume. [”Dead and left - no food, no...”] A whimper that came from Noir over the piece of tech. 

“You’re not there anymore.” Poppy gently reminded. “You’re here, with me, and Nightmare, and Munmun, and the others. They -” Can’t wasn’t the right word. “Won’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let them.” Noir rushed into her arms and for the first time, after hours of this, there were tears. Poppy kept her own eyes dry, channeling that emotional tide into being comforting instead. “You don’t have to talk about what you saw just now - am I right that it wasn’t a vision?” She felt Noir nod against her shoulder. “It’s okay to not be ready to process this yet, even if it’s been a long time. Recovery doesn’t have a time limit.” 

[”But I can’t just push it aside...anymore...”] The pda was starting to fizzle. 

“That’s true, and coming to me was a great first step. I am so proud of you for being able to come to me with this, and I’m sorry that it took so long for us to even reach this point.”

[”Not your fault. Mine.”]

“Blame doesn’t matter now, okay? It’s enough that this is out in the open now. And we’re gonna find a way to deal with it, promise.” Noir just gripped her tighter. Silence for another fifteen minutes and then...

“I can’t believe my parents saw those conditions and didn’t do anything to stop it.”

[”It doesn’t matter. The ones that didn’t or couldn’t sell were culled anyway, and all of us would have been destroyed before authorities could get there in time anyway. Buying and releasing would just support the system.”] She started to emote a minute amount but determining what it was exactly was beyond everybody’s brainpower right now.

She broke away to look Noir in the eye. “You’re not merchandise, you get that, right? No matter what the law says, you aren’t a thing to be owned. Ugh, I am so sorry that this happened - I never expected it to be anything this bad - and if there was a way to go back and prevent it, I’d do it in a heartbeat, you know I would.” 

[”It was only 99% bad. It let me meet you.”] Poppy’s eyes lit up as mathmatic terms slipped into Noir’s vernacular. A good sign - they could get through this, together. As a team, all seven of them. 

“Yeah...listen, you’re clearly beat. Maybe take a nap - Munmun can handle any nightmares, right?” The tapir nodded. “Yes, okay, any you can’t stomach, spit out somewhere, it’s cool. I’ll handle dinner and...maybe look through CSI stuff to see if they’ve got company therapists that specialize in trauma for Pokemon that DON’T have a focus on obedience...if you want me to, that is. It’s just an option.”

Noir gave a shrug - she wasn’t confident in that type of person even existing, but if they did, John Doe was probably the one who’d want them in his company so CSI was the best place to start looking. 

“Great, it’ll be something easy, pastina probably, I’ll get you up later for any leftovers, okay?” At Noir’s affirmation she got up and headed towards the kitchen as Munmun closed in, filling her spot. When she reached the doorway, a rush of gratitude not her own whooshed through her head for a second, but when she spared a look back, Noir was already a victim to Munmun’s top rate hypnosis. 

She turned back towards the kitchen with renewed determination and a drive to tackle all of the phone calls and paperwork. 

[domaindomaindomain]

your son

an open letter to my mother.

You have never acknowledged the fact that you were abusive to me because I am transgender. It is painfully obvious that you will continue to deny and whitewash that part of your parenting, that you will respond with sarcasm or self-deprecation each time I mention it, that you will invalidate the experience that I had at your own hands.

You say that if I begin to speak about a truth you’ve never had the strength to acknowledge, you’ll hang up the phone.

Fine. I never needed to hear the click on the other end of the line when the call dropped because I can barely wait to hit the end button myself, cycling self-hate hovering the thumb over the red light. You don't hear how I scream in anger, how bitter you have made me, when you set your phone down on the kitchen table.

I felt so sick this Mother’s Day.

Your words.

“

I am a horrible mother. I bet you hate me. You’re right, I’m the worst person in the world. What else do you want, my blood?

“

But you already have mine, years of it, on your conscience, that you refuse to admit even to yourself.

Material goods are not love.

I am your son. Are you my mother?

No matter how you viewed me.

I was your son when I was six and I felt out of step with the girls in my Kindergarten group, missing preschool where the boys didn’t push me out and where masculinity is unthought of and unknown.

I was your son in that unsmiling California portrait photo, me sitting in the tree in Del Mar, when I was nine years old. I look at it every time we eat dinner, and I think of how I wish I could have known then. How much easier it would be for me now.

I was your son when you bought me my first bikini. I looked at the fat around my thighs and hips and contemplated killing myself. How much easier it would have been, than to deal with the future.

I was your son those days you picked me up from school in eighth grade and you could tell I had a crush on a French boy that I would never explicitly tell you about.

I was your son when you made me wear a dress at my Communion.

I was your son when you made me wear a dress and heeled sandals at my Confirmation.

I was your son when I decided to leave the Church. I have never regretted leaving your beliefs behind me.

When I was eleven years old, looking at my shoulders in the mirror and wondering why they did not broaden like the other boys’ in my class.

When I stopped wearing dresses in the Ninth grade.

When I vomited in the bathroom, every day, after each meal, careful not to let any drops hit the floor, six years long.

When I was fourteen and Dad threw me across the room. It doesn’t matter how you think it happened - it matters that I felt this happen, that I know it did. I hit the floor more softly than I expected. I was more scared than I expected. You stood by him, every step of the way. He was wrong. You were wrong. I could never trust you again.

When I hit the floor. I was your son when I stopped brushing and washing my hair that winter, stopped grooming my eyebrows, stopped telling you all my problems.

In Tenth grade, when my queer best friend and I decided that our potential was not worth the pain of continued existence, not worth the comments from our peers or the silence from our parents. We walked to the bridge, then out to the middle. We could see the Hudson Valley for miles, that grey-green mix of sea- and fresh-water swirling below us, unstoppable. This was not the first attempt. It would not be the last.

I was your son when I cried every morning in the back seat of our car on the way to school.

I was your son when I threw up in the bathroom during math class, when I brought three grape tomatoes, half a stalk of celery, and five broccoli florets with a liter of water for lunch.

I was your son when I told you I was, when I told you I had an eating disorder, when I told you I wanted to kill myself, all in one night during Winter Break of Ninth Grade at a school you paid far too much for, for a kid who isn’t worth it.

I was your son, each time you left and said you weren’t coming back.

I was your son, every time you accused me of faking my mental illness for attention, every time you withheld my anxiety medication because I needed to ‘sit and calm down’ instead, because it wasn’t bad enough, didn’t meet your imaginary criteria for ‘panic attack', every time you opened your mouth to scream at the dinner table, every time you refused to comfort me, though you were my only source.

Each time you say my former name. Each time you say ‘she’. Each time you say ‘he’ by accident, and swiftly correct yourself. Every single time you brought me into the women’s department, every time you told me I would always be your daughter, never your son, every time you left me alone, ignored me, while you could hear me sobbing, dissociating in my room, choking on my own self-hatred.

I was your son when I learned that I owed you nothing, now that you had let this happen to me.

You are trying. I recognize that. But what can trying do, in the face of years and years of trauma that you will never assume responsibility for? The above, a thousand times over? Years upon years of psychic battery, emotional abuse that completely altered my worldview and left me unable to trust even those closest to me to have my best interests in mind?

Assume responsibility for your actions. This is the rest of my life.

I’m sick of pretending you did nothing. I’m sick of you hanging up on me when I mention the fact that you and Dad caused me years of suffering, suicide attempts in the double digits, lifelong trauma, chronic disordered eating, abandonment issues, complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, chronic depression, social and generalized anxiety, and various connected health and academic issues.

I’m sick of you removing my ability to choose, reducing my agency in every arena. I get to choose who I would like to speak to. I am not, and have never been, obligated to speak with you on your schedule. I am not, and should never be, obligated to share information that I would like to keep private.

My grades suffer because my health suffers. My health suffers because my mind is knee deep in the mire of six years of being trans, being somebody’s son they never asked for, having my identity pushed to the wayside for your benefit, suffering for your comfort, because you can’t stand to know my chosen name, only ‘Lee’, because anything else is too far away from a name that I will never be able to shrug off.

Every time you say “my daughter” instead of “my son” to your friends, it gives me another reason not to answer the phone.

Every time you use a name that isn’t mine to describe me, I have another reason not to text back.

The responsibility for this does not lie with me, but with you.

I have every right to want to limit our conversations after my experiences.

A parent’s duty is to support their child. An adoptive parent’s duty can be much more deliberate, much more deeply considered and chosen than a biological parent. You chose me; rain or shine, better or worse, girl, boy, or anything else I may be, I’m your child. You worked hard to adopt me. Please don’t lose me.