#...i think more people ought to embrace that it doesn't matter what OTHERS think of who you ARE. that's shit you can't change...

[orphee-aux-enfers]

I. Don’t understand how being against homophobia and misogyny and informational suppression is cultural relativism? Yeah I have a #USAmerican raised Christian bias but I think not being bioessentialist and anti-intellectual is. Normal???? Genuinely don’t understand

Okay so. My guess from how this was written is that you are either a child or just into your 20s. I'd expect much different wording and approach if you were older. So. I'm going to try and be as gentle and clear cut as possible.

1) Orthodox Judaism is actually quite diverse and also different from Christianity, even fundamentalist Christianity .

2) What you're witnessing is not necessarily indicative of the actual community values; you are interpreting without insider perspective, or seemingly any actual knowledge. You're also ascribing motive to actions that may or may not be there.

3) many orthodox Jews, myself included, are queer and trans and embraced by our community. Every person of authority I've spoken to on the matter says that my incredibly queer, t4t marriage that gets read as gay no matter what, still gets the mitzvah of sex on erev Shabbos, and that includes my main community of Chabad.

4) many books are screened before being given to children by all people everywhere for a variety of reasons. Just because you don't fully understand the reasons as you are not yourself Orthodox Jewish doesn't mean that they are automatically something to be hated due to your preconceived notions.

5) Assuming a group is inherently homophobic, misogynistic, etc. Simply because you don't understand them as you are not part of their community is in fact a bad behaviour, yes. Don't do that. Most of the time, in most communities people are at worst confused.

6) As for misogyny... It's important to know the ways in which Judaism actually structures it's sex roles. No one has different sex roles because they're lesser, which misogyny implies. And every SINGLE person I have ever met observes mitzvos based on sex due to actually desire, not coercion. But for example, married women cover their hair as a way of making their marriage even more holy. Men meanwhile are told to cover their head at all times so they are mindful of G-d at all times. What does this imply at first glance? Why, that women are capable of remembering G-d at all times and the men are silly and must forget G-d if not reminded! Do we think this is all to the interpretation?

So. Before you judge our community so harshly... Perhaps also consider the last century of human history alone. We are being killed and hurt at alarming rates again, especially in the USA. Is it any wonder we don't stop in the streets to justify our existence to you?

Lastly, an oversharing of my personal details because as I am currently safe and well at home, I feel I ought to give you opportunity to understand that you aren't seeing/understanding the complexity of sex roles in Judaism

7) so, yes, orthodox Judaism has gender/sex based roles. It also is, in my experience, pretty flexible to meet individuals. I was coercively assigned female at birth. I was however by Jewish law, tumtum. In English terms, I had ambiguous genitals which could be surgically changed. My sister wanted a baby sister. And so, I was surgically "corrected" and raised female, until puberty and onset of hormonal problems that indicated that it wasn't just a genital mutation. I felt disconnected from binary gender, and at time, in part of my community having a label for me while the hospital I was born at had simply labeled me "incorrect", I came to embrace a masculine social standing. Because I was unable to be sexed as an infant, have masculine levels of testosterone and a lack of menses for years at a time, I have to adhere to both male and female sex based mitzvos. Religiously, I am operating with the strictest possible adherence, but this is all written and debated, as are all of the other sexes in Judaism. I am, however, allowed to exist as intersex in a Jewish community in a way that I am NEVER allowed to exist as intersex without a fight in the secular world, to the point that if it's not relevant I identify only as trans, because otherwise it becomes too complicated in the secular world. And this is genuinely because there is actually a space for me to exist in, as there are six Talmudic sexes.

Being trans and intersex is "allowed". Being queer is "allowed". Some communities differ, but I've lived in seven, and all of them have been more accepting of me being queer, trans, and intersex, than any secular space, including liberal and leftist spaces. At WORST, I am met with curiosity because I am new to the community. I think, perhaps, too many people in this world mistake curiosity with hatred.

[kuroshika]

time for more kalypso babbles. @lesbian-hannibal as requested.

to understand this scene, we gotta get deep into will's character.

will graham is a university teacher and special agent for the fbi. he has a heightened empathic response, which hannibal refers to as pure empathy. he can draw off of the emotions of a killer at a crime scene and piece together how the victim was killed and what the motive was behind it. but he also wears a sort of second skin. he's putting forth a persona so that he'll fit in and not be seen as odd for what he actually is. he wears a person suit. so the persona of will we see (teacher, profiler, fisherman) is a cover of the man will believes he should be rather than who he actually is. he's split himself into two, and repressed part of himself in fear of being rejected. underneath this projection of will is what will really wants, what he craves and attracts. that's why he's so drawn to killing, i.e. "i liked killing hobbs. it felt just." he's convinced himself that what he felt in killing hobbs and adopting abigail into his life is a sense of just, what will's suit strives for. now that he's fed this side of himself, and now that hannibal is pushing him, he finds it harder to hide behind his person suit.

that brings you to hannibal. hannibal also wears a person suit. will cannot pull off of any emotions in hannibal, because his person suit conceals them. beneath hannibal's person suit is the chesapeake ripper. he's a murderer, he likes playing god. but in all actuality, the ripper is merely a worshipper, and now that hannibal has tasted it, the man beneath will's mask is the god he follows. there are times, as hannibal is showing will to cast off his person suit, that his own strains - will can pick up on the ripper's emotions, and the man underneath his projection reacts to them, going so far as to unconsciously mirror him and bare his weaknesses to the man.

little by little, as the show goes on, hannibal tears through will's persona and allows him to embrace the darkest parts of himself, the man beneath the mask, the killer behind the persona. will can be seen, throughout the show, to more easily and readily accept the parts of himself that he hid away. He hid it for alana, for jack and beverly, for the people his persona was supposed to care for - as is customary for any rational person to do. he's afraid of not being accepted, for having himself seen and being too much for the people that he believes he ought to surround himself with. but hannibal is slowly showing him that the darkest parts of himself are accepted by the people that matter most (i.e. him and their surrogate pseudodaughter) because they see that part of him, acknowledge it, and meet it in time with the darkest parts of themselves. will is fighting his own becoming because he's hid behind his mask too long to allow himself to fully shed the person he created to make a place for himself in the world. hannibal bared himself to will because he saw what will was trying to stifle, that was in turn killing him.

"i let you see me." - "you wanted to be seen." - "by you." this is where will begins to accept that he cannot hide anymore, as hannibal forcibly brings his persona to his attention. this is hannibal's rare gift.

and this is will giving that rare gift back.

will connects with others by stepping into their head, wearing their mindsets and emotions to understand them. he knows them from the inside out, he steps into them. by telling hannibal that he doesn't want to think about him, that he doesn't want to worry about him, he is taking his empathy away from him and therefore shutting hannibal out of his life. he is telling hannibal that you are no longer interesting. you are not someone that i find interesting. you are not welcome in my life anymore.

he's telling hannibal that he sees him. knows him. and wants nothing to do with him.

[spiderfreedom]

unfortunately we cannot ignore the circumstances of our birth

Catherine MacKinnon has this quote, which I've been pondering for a minute:

Much of the current debate has centered on (endlessly obsessed over, actually) whether trans women are women. Honestly, seeing “women” as a turf to be defended, as opposed to a set of imperatives and limitations to be criticized, challenged, changed, or transcended, has been pretty startling. One might think that trans women—assigned male at birth, leaving masculinity behind, drawn to and embracing womanhood for themselves—would be welcomed. 

I don't see "woman" as a "turf" to be defended. It is a word that has been used up until now to refer to a group of human beings that are female, and within feminism it is especially important because it turns out being female has a massive impact on your quality of life. 'female' is a biological descriptor, just like having astigmatism, or hyperflexible joints, or having the DNA of homo sapiens. Were it not for the oppression female humans face, it would be merely a trivia about my own life, only relevant for medical treatment, sexual activity, and reproduction. Instead, medical treatment for my sex is underresearched, and our sexual activity and reproductive capacities are coerced for the pleasure and use of society, among other indignities we suffer. For this reason, many women have banded together under the label of feminism to try to change things for this group that has been so globally and historically oppressed because of our bodies.

Some people are dysphoric about their bodies and try to change them to alleviate their psychological pain. Some people feel very strongly that they identify with a gender role. Some people have explanations of gender that make no sense to me but seem to motivate them very strongly. Some people spend years trying to change how they look to the extent that they are confused for another sex on a daily basis. None of these experiences are inherently harmful. And we can, to an extent, accommodate these people in our language, because these people shouldn't be mocked or denigrated for having unusual gender experiences. But just as I, unfortunately, cannot escape the circumstances of my birth, neither can them. And trans women occupy a particular dynamic in moving from a more powerful social category ("man") to a lower social category ("woman"). MacKinnon believes this is proof of good intentions and so they ought to be welcomed, no further questions.

Let's explore that topic. We'll cover three themes - race, class, and nationality.

race

Should we apply the same flexibility and welcome to Rachel Dolezal, a white woman who left her white identity behind, changed her name, learned to work with Black hair and is now a hairdresser for primarily Black women, who joined the NAACP? A woman who lost everything when her whiteness was outed? Who continues to try to integrate into the Black community? Should she be welcomed as a Black woman, because she passes as Black to some people and because she's part of a Black community and views herself as Black? Does the fact that she has raised Black children make a difference?

Most of us would say no, because the fact of the matter is she has no recent African ancestry in the slightest, and within the US that is the way we define "Black". But some Black people on her instagram think that what she's doing is OK - after all, she's worked so hard to appreciate and be a part of Black culture.

One could make the argument that being Black is not just about having relatively recent African heritage, but about participating in and identifying with Black culture, just as some people argue being a woman is about identifying with norms of womanhood, right? Yet most Black people find Dolezal's actions offensive and her integration irrelevant, because if she wanted to tomorrow, she could always go back to living as a white woman. Whether she wants to or not is irrelevant. Clearly she doesn't want to! But she has the option, always, to return to whiteness, and that is an option denied to Black people.

class

Let's try another example: why do people hate rich people who 'slum' so much? I mean, a rich person can literally lose their money and become poor! Or choose to live in a trailer park, and experience the same shitty amenities the locals experience. Despite this, merely being raised in the upper class, even if you don't have money anymore, or are choosing to live alongside working class people, gets you looked at askance by many (not all). Why... because being born into poverty isn't something you can replicate. Even though there is no question that you can objectively go from having money to not having money, it turns out the circumstances of your birth are, in fact, very relevant!

and if you were raised middle or upper class, you also probably have knowledge about class, finance, networking, etc. that can help you get out of that situation faster than your comrade who weren't raised like that. even if two situations appear to be the same (we both don't have money and live in the same part of town!), the past continues to influence the present.

nationality

Finally, we'll consider nationality, which like transition, also has a legal process that allows you to change which category you are legally viewed as. You can be an American born in the US who gives up your American citizenship to live in Indonesia and become involved in Indonesian politics and fight for the local people. Maybe your former American neighbors will consider you a traitor. American ex-pats may think you're a menace.

But some people in your country will never consider you integrated, because of where you came from. You had the choice to leave your American birth behind, they do not have the choice to leave their birth behind. Once again, you can objectively become an Indonesian citizen as an American, live there for ten years, give up American citizenship, and have internationally recognized Indonesian citizenship. But your birth will always distinguish you from the people born there.

in conclusion

Are these all examples of 'turf defending' or gatekeeping? Are working class people 'gatekeeping' poverty from upper-middle class people who live in a trailer? Are Indonesians 'gatekeeping' being Indonesian from Americans? Are Black people 'gatekeeping' Black culture from Rachel Dolezal? Does it matter that not all people agree within these groups about what the correct gate to keep is? (this will be explored in a future post - groups are not homogenous in who they accept as members)

To return to MacKinnon's question, now that we've looked at comparisons with race, nationality, and poverty (the latter two being things that you can objectively change), do you understand why some people believe that the circumstances of one's birth when moving from a position of more power to a position of less power do remain relevant? Do you understand why people may be suspicious when this happens? Do you understand why some people may welcome you, but still not consider you and them to be the same thing?

Do you understand that this is not an attack on the other person's very 'existence', not a 'turf war', but merely a group that has been oppressed on a specific axis from birth wanting to retain that distinction because it is relevant and important?

Do you recognize that it is possible to change your life, as the American and the rich person did, but also possible to acknowledge the difference between the people you're trying to integrate with and yourself? You are not the enemy, but neither is the oppressed group you are trying to integrate with. Recognizing and navigating this tension is important. Without recognizing and resolving the tension between those of us forced by birth into this class and those who try to enter this class due to dysphoria or identification or psychology, feminism will continue to circle this drain and no progress will be made for either of us.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 21st November

Is 21t November the earliest we've seen Christmas music, so far? I think it might be - and you thought that the ever-earlier Christmas radio creep was a modern phenomenon! I have to say, there's something very odd about listening to Christmas tunes in August. And it doesn't exactly get less odd with our second song.

Mary's Boy Child - Harry Belafonte (peaked at Number 1)

This is a funny one, because this is quite a well-known Christmas song, but listening to it, I've realised that I mostly know the Boney M version. It's not that I didn't know that this was the original, and it's not like I've never heard this version, but I can absolutely see why this version gets less airplay - because it turns out, stripped of the distractions of a driving beat and some disco sensibilities, you're actually left with something that's kind of weird.

I think part of it's the delivery. Because this song is so soft and gentle. Harry's voice is usually quite mellow, but he goes above and beyond here - fittingly, for a song about Jesus, he just sings with a sort of reverent wonder, never going all out or showboating. And the music itself fits with this, with its smooth strings and minimal guitar part that's honestly kind of reminiscent of Silent Night. The whole thing feels a bit Silent Night, actually, and I do wonder if it was a conscious decision.

Even if it wasn't, there's something decidedly carol-like about the song. If it hadn't come out in 1956 by a popular recording artist, I think we would call this a carol. But by dint of being modern, and by dint of there being a disco version, this gets counted in the category of "Christmas song" rather than "Christmas carol". Which is really odd, because at least in my mind, Christmas songs are secular things, all about the traditions and feelings around Christmas. But here comes one that turns up and proclaims that Long time ago in Bethlehem / So the Holy Bible say / Mary's boy child, Jesus Christ / Was born on Christmas day. You don't get much more Biblical than that!

Heck, in the chorus we even get into matters of salvation, and about how man will live forever more / because of Christmas day, which just feels wild to have in a popular Christmas song. Like, that's not even the comfortably familiar school-play territory of the nativity story, that's full-on gospel. Personally, I love that it's there, but it strikes me as decidedly odd that this has been embraced as a standard "Christmas playlist" addition. (Incidentally, the Boney M version, which is even more popular, adds a bridge that goes even further in this direction, so go figure...)

Anyway, all this is odd, and that's before we get to the calypso stylings. It's not odd that calypso carols exist - people are Christian in the Caribbean, it makes sense that they might right Caribbean-sounding carols - but it does feel wild to me that such a carol is making it to number one in the UK charts, particularly given the strong patois elements you get here. Because have maybe been little bits of Jamaican-inflected English in Harry's other hits this year, but this song really goes in on the patois. It's striking even today, so I can only imagine what people thought in 1957, upon hearing lines about how them find no place to borne she child. Clearly it didn't put anybody off buying the song, but I'll bet it turned heads.

I should be clear that I really do like the song. But yeah, the more I listen to this one, the weirder it feels, occupying a decidedly uneasy place in the Christmas playlist canon. Good, but odd.

I Love You Baby - Paul Anka (3)

And fresh off one oddity, time for another. This one, though, doesn't feel like it ought to be odd. The title, "I Love You Baby", is bland almost to the point of parody, and Paul Anka's one of those early pop artists who does standard-issue pop tracks. He generally does them quite competently - the other songs of his that I've heard, I have quite liked - but I wasn't expecting anything too crazy, here, going in.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I clicked play and got a straight-up traditional jazz track that I feel like could have been a hit back in 1927. I think a lot of this is in the instruments, honestly - from the get go, the track's heavy on the clarinet, alto sax and trombone, and you've got that thing going on periodically where the different instruments go off on little independent side-quests and tangents, completely divorced from whatever Paul's doing. It's a fun, carefree sort of sound, and I like it a lot.

The lyrics, when they come in, are equally carefree and cute, all about being in love. Some lines could easily feel bland - like the one about how I need you honey, I'll never ever let you go - or could just come off as too twee to take seriously - like the line about how I see little bluebirds making love while I pass - except Paul's careful to balance the sappier, lovey-dovey lines with more specific, concrete details that serve to ground the track a bit more. Mostly these are just different things he sees while walking around town, from the sea-shore grass he's walking through at the start of the track, to the tree that him and his love used to carve their names into, to the nostalgic music drifting from the candy store. Everything around Paul reminds him of his love, it's a cute concept.

I think it also helps that Paul sings with a confidence and a gloss that's tangible. He sings like a man in love, full convinced of his own invincibility, and it's really quite charming. He comes off as earnest, but never smarmy, lighthearted, but not silly, secure in his love, but not cocky about it. And then you get a few fun little moments towards the end where he just makes these noises, a little rrrrrrrrah at the start of a line, or a chuckle at the end of one, a little whoah! It's all very charming and cute, and really keeps the energy up. I'm a fan.

I'm also a fan of the bells that periodically turn up. They're not overused, and they're solidly unexpected when they do turn up. They almost but don't quite give the song a Christmassy feel, and at one point they introduce a key change, which, you know, awesome. All key changes should be heralded with bells.

Throughout my first listen-through, I was also struck by the feeling that this song felt familiar, and I've realised since that it's also giving me some major Randy Newman vibes. Like, this is giving Toy Story or Monsters Inc, for sure. I like both of those films, so this is absolutely not a problem for me. Just interesting.

Well, those songs were delightfully weird. Good job, 21st November. Both of them unexpected, both of them songs that I liked more and more, the more I listened to them. The Paul Anka song, in particular, feels worth a listen, just because it's a fun, happy tune with a lot going on, all of it very competently handled. Highly recommended.

Favourite song of the bunch: I Love You, Baby

[leonbloder]

The True Path To Wholeness

One of the many things humans long for (even if we don't know how to articulate it) is to live in wholeness.  

We long to live as whole people---the kind of people who know what it means to have peace within, to do work that we love, to live out of abundance rather than scarcity, and to be fully known by others. 

You might think, "I can name at least ten people I know who don't seem to have that longing."  It could be that these people on your list appear to be angry, dissatisfied, morose, destructive, and perhaps even toxic.  

But I would argue that the fear of never realizing our longing for wholeness drives us to become the sort of people who seem to pursue anything other than wholeness. 

And more often than not, that fear is grounded in the mistaken notion that wholeness somehow means perfection.  

It is hard to accept the idea that our lives will never be perfect. In fact, it's so hard that most of us tend to look outside ourselves for someone or something to blame as to why it isn't so. 

We might blame the people in our lives for keeping us from that perfect life we believe we ought to have to be whole.  Or we might find a scapegoat in our culture to shoulder the responsibility.  

Sometimes, we are manipulated by outside sources to reinforce our notions of where blame needs to be placed.  

Political parties are adept at this, and there are always willing servants like social media, cable news, and the like to help them perpetuate our fears and exacerbate them. 

So are religious leaders and religious institutions, for that matter.  I see it happen all of the time. Anxious leaders within the church, who fear they and the institutions they serve will never be whole, seem to be spreading outrage and scapegoating rather than the Gospel.  

We all engage in this to some extent.  But we have no reason to let our fears overwhelm us when fulfilling our longing for wholeness.  

Author and theologian Parker J. Palmer has written about this very thing and had a lot to say about how wholeness does not mean perfection and what that means for us. 

Palmer asserts that even when the storms of life have left us feeling hollow and devastated, we can still find wholeness if we let go of our need for perfection.  

Wholeness does not mean perfection: it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life. Knowing this gives me hope that human wholeness—mine, yours, ours—need not be a utopian dream, if we can use devastation as a seedbed for new life. 

I like to imagine what this kind of truth might offer when it comes to healing the deep divisions between ourselves and those with whom we disagree.  

Imagine more and more people letting go of the fear of never having a perfect life and simply living every day with the overarching belief that God doesn't desire perfection; God desires surrender. 

Imagine what it would look like if we allowed the hard things in life to become both our teacher and guide toward the wholeness we seek.  

Imagine if we stopped looking to place blame on others for our lack of perfection and simply sought to embrace the wholeness that comes when we accept our brokenness as part of our journey and believe God can and will restore us to new life. 

This might seem like "a utopian dream," but it's well within our grasp. 

And it starts with you and me. It starts with us.  We have the light of life within us.  We have been shown the path to wholeness by Jesus himself, who taught his followers to "Seek first the shalom or peace of God" and let everything else fall into place. 

May it be so for us all.  And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us now and forever.  Amen.  

[lordofthestrix]

Personal question: Do you stick your nose into other people's business as a hobby or to distract you from the fact that you're a total loser?

From @hayleylabonairmarshall

Ask my muse personal questions! Time to pry into their life. "What a thrilling, new experience you are providing. A total loser. And what was your first interpretation of me back when we first met? A bully, was it not? The education for nobles mostly involved personal tutors back in my human days. Tell me, my dear. Are your adorable scoffs always at the level of some insecure ten year old girl making her way around the playground?" Tristan consulted with an unperturbed shade of amicable, dark diversion. "An invitation for inquiries was offered. I simply indulged it. Surely there is no need for you to get so defensively feral over it. These are matters that no doubt already crossed your mind. Dulcet promises of always and forever and whatnot are perfectly alluring until you glimpse at the reality behind them. Imprisoning family members in the embrace of dark coffins for entire decades if not centuries has been the norm for them. I don't think so little of you as to presume you never considered the implications of raising a child next to a father infamous for massacring any suitor that approaches his favorite sister. How is our charming Rebekah this century? Has she found immeasurable amounts of joy and contentment as one of them throughout the ages?" The consultation appeared in open insinuation of sunless mockery. "Or is it that you genuinely see yourself as one of them by now? I wouldn't dare to take for granted you might be so naive. Or that growing without a family of your own left you so utterly needy to the point of blindness. Marcel was raised by them since he was a young boy. He was, for years, closer to them than you could possibly comprehend. And yet you witness how easily they turn their backs on him in suspicion. Elijah's interesting infatuation with a married woman and your status as the one who gave them Hope won't change the progression of one more passing novelty that doesn't share their blood, I'm afraid." A guess that arrived with the shadow of a smirk. "Perhaps you ought to start listening to those who meddle in your affairs. Because the way that you are now? You won't last even a meagre century. And you will find your end at the hands of one of them."

@hayleylabonairmarshall

[uncanny-tranny]

Trans people, please don't rely on other people to tell you if your experiences or identity is valid.

It is a very human thing to seek understanding and validation (humans are social creatures and whatnot), but seeking people to tell you that who you are is valid places a ton of power in others. What happens when somebody tells you that they don't think you're valid?

And at the end of the day, it doesn't matter if your identity is "valid" or not to other people. What matters is if your identity suits you. You aren't a robot who lives at the behest of others, who can change the core of your being at the drop of a hat. You will continue to exist as you are with or without validation and with or without permission.

[innranrae]

🌈 Under the Colorful Sky

A/N: a rewrite of yoimiya's story quest ending and the ending sakujirou and keisuke deserved (ノ_<。) i got so emotionally involved with these two, the ending was so heartbreaking i just wanted to see them together (sob)

￫ pairing(s): Sakujirou/Keisuke

￫ word count: 1.2k

￫ cw: pining! regret! tears!

￫ ao3

🎆

Having beaten the officers from the Tenryou Commission that blocked the way to Keisuke and Sakujirou, the traveler, Paimon, and Yoimyia ran towards the men before it was too late.

"But your return says that you finally came around to my point of view, doesn't it?"

An unknown voice sounded, but it could only belong to the Imatani couple's son, Keisuke.

With the little hope Yoimiya had left, she decided to hide behind a rock that blocked them from view. Aether and Paimon followed her judgment and peaked their heads to look at them.

Half of Sakujirou's body laid on the sandy shore, one hand supporting his weight and the other holding his chest, visibly injured from dueling his old friend.

"Whatever you say," Sakujirou said defeated, staring at the ground.

"You will return with me to the Tenryou Commission to await your sentencing," Keisuke sounded confident.

However, his actions betrayed his words. He only stood there for some time with his arms crossed instead of apprehending the man. Aether sensed that something wasn’t right.

He stopped Yoimiya from barging into the scene, and raised a finger to his lips, urging her to stay quiet.

Reminiscing of the times he had lived with his childhood friend, Keisuke's memories overwhelmed him. He wanted to say what was on his mind but something kept him from doing so, and he didn’t know what exactly to say either.

His body moved on its own, crouching awkwardly before Sakujirou, who looked at him in surprise.

Keisuke kept his eyes low, afraid of making eye contact. But he finally let out the simple words that he had already failed to say once,

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Yet, he wanted to say another phrase. A phrase he had never considered telling anyone in his life before and even after meeting Sakujirou.

He wanted to declare “I love you”.

Keisuke doubted the depth of his feelings for his friend for a very long time. He didn’t want to acknowledge them, but seeing him in that state, defeated and hopeless, stripped of his freedom, he finally gave in to those neglected emotions.

He couldn’t watch the man he loved suffer.

But couldn’t watch him slip through his fingers either, not again.

The thought of feeling the same anguish and regret of those earlier days terrified Keisuke.

Helping Sakujirou into a sitting position, Keisuke couldn’t hold in his tears anymore. Chewing on the words, his lips opened and closed many times.

"Keisuke..." Sakujirou was taken aback, conflicted if he should start speaking despite his reluctance.

He cupped Keisuke's face, wiping the few escaping tears, "My return to Inazuma doesn't mean that I changed my beliefs. Seeing the vast lands and experiencing the diverse cultures the world had to offer was an experience I'll forever cherish, and I do not regret it. I came back because... I felt empty without you. At that time when we had that argument, I ran away instead of confronting my real feelings for you and I'm still afraid of your response."

Keisuke finally raised his eyes to meet Sakujirou's. He wasn't the only one crying.

A wild thought popped into Keisuke's head, maybe what he meant was exactly what he thought he meant. Maybe Sakujirou was saying he loved him as well, but that was too good to be true, right?

"What I am trying to say is that I can't live without you. I want you by my side..." Sakujirou's cheeks reddened as he averted his gaze bashfully. Still, if it weren't to be said now, he wouldn't have another chance to do so, "I'm in love with you."

A few feet from there, Aether nodded knowingly. On the flip side, Paimon and Yoimiya were shocked at the outcome, mouth wide open.

"Guys, I don't think we should be watching, this seems too personal," Aether felt a sudden wave of embarrassment.

"No, no, no. What if- What if he doesn't let Sakujirou go?!" Yoimiya countered, trying her best to sound convincing, but truth be told, she was just extremely invested in the couple's story.

Keisuke's tears now freely dropped. However, not from sadness, but relief.

The years after his beloved set off were filled with sorrow and dismay. But now, all the burden that weighed down on him had been lifted.

He scrupulously embraced Sakujirou, finally feeling the warmth of the person he longed for the most. "I love you too, Sakujirou. I feel the same way as you! When I heard of your return, I didn't know what to do with myself. I wanted to see you so badly I sent officers to every corner of Inazuma to find you, I'm so sorry for the pain I caused you..."

"It's okay now," Sakujirou said between sobs, "I can't put to words the joy I feel at this moment..."

Keisuke parted from the embrace and straightened his face, suddenly recalling something, "Sakujirou, not only for that I am sorry, but for not understanding and dismissing your beliefs. I do worship the Raiden Shogun and I joined the Tenryou Commission to serve her. But now, my role is to forcefully take people's visions, seize people who break the decree, bringing immeasurable pain to the people... I don't want to do that, not anymore."

"Keisuke..." Sakujirou felt his heart break.

"The seasons may change and the years pass, but if I am with you, these factors don't mean anything. The Shogun desires eternity, and so do I. YOU are my eternity, Sakujirou. It doesn't matter where you go from here, I just ask that you allow me to be with you."

It was Sakujirou's turn to jump into the other's arms. Joy felt like it was flowing through his veins, the empty feeling inside his heart was now foreign to him.

With both of their smiles gleaming under the moonlight, the trio that watched the whole scene unfold from afar finally decided to leave, getting ready to watch the fireworks.

Yoimiya was more than excited to set off the fireworks Sakujirou had commissioned her to make previously, trying her best not to think how she ought to be the one to, not only explain to the Tenryou Commission about Keisuke's whereabouts, but also his parents.

When Sakujirou first asked for those specific fireworks, he wouldn't even dream of his wish of watching those fireworks with Keisuke that night coming true. Yet, the situation was even better.

Setting the boat afloat, the two men got on it, rowing the boat a few times before coming to a stop upon the loud noise behind them.

The murky skies of the land of eternity had been let up, the fireworks show started. Colorful beams of light filled the sky one after the other, leaving falling sparks as they ascended and exploded.

Sakujirou and Keisuke watched them rise, their eyes sparkling at the same rate as the sky. Side by side, fingers intertwined, resting on the wooden bench of the small boat. That instant, they felt the urge to see each other's faces on that timeless passing moment.

The coldness of the night and sea was compressed by the warmth they felt as the distance between them closed little by little.

Under the fireworks that night, Keisuke and Sakujirou proved their love for one another, sealing it with their first kiss.

The first of many to come.

—

After the fireworks show, Paimon spoke about the meanings of fireworks to people. As for Kouchi who built the boat, it was friendship and for Keisuke's parents, their engagement.

"And for Keisuke and Sakujirou, they were commemorating, hmm..."

Aether pondered with Paimon, but after some thought, he gave a simple answer.

"Love."

[bumbershots]

LOVEFOOL

Author’s note: HELLO! This is my part for the Valentine’s Day challenge that @1dffchallenges put together. Make sure to keep an eye out for any other pieces published by other authors. Enjoy! And happy Valentine’s weekend! (:

Summary: Harry agrees to go on a blind date set up by his friends in hopes that it will help him move on from an unrequited love.

Word count: 3K

Challenge prompt and dialogue: blind date set up by friends. “I don’t want this to end...”

There’s a first for everything. Harry’s had his fair share of them at the age of twenty-seven. First time on an aeroplane at the tender age of six for a family holiday in Rome. First kiss on his home town’s park with someone he deeply cared about. First time in a recording studio. First time going on tour. The first night spent alone in his new and barely furnished home. The first morning he laid eyes on the girl next door. The ugly heartbreak after she got married, certainly felt worse than his first one.

Life is full of firsts, Harry knows that, and he wishes to have been the first to sneak his way into Jane’s heart, all those years ago.

"You love her" it almost sounds like an accusation coming from Jeff, though the last thing he wants is to make Harry feel guilty. The musician doesn't reply, he shrugs, eyes never leaving her no matter how deep into the ocean she seems to be. "Does she know?" Harry shakes his head in denial. "Did you bring her along just so you could tell her?"

"I enjoy writing music with her, that's why she's here," his tone leaves no room for more questions, the manager knows and sighs defeated. Harry stands from his spot on the beach and heads back inside the house, alone.

Is he being that obvious?

He reviews the past few days and wonders where he slipped, nothing rings any bell. Harry completely and conveniently forgets how he doesn't nag her for having a smoke after dinner, instead he just opens the window and stands close to it, or how he's been making her a cuppa everyday at noon. But it was the time when Jane asked him to help her French plait her hair when something clicked in Jeff's brain, the way Harry beamed at such a simple request left no room for questioning. Yet he asked him, because there was that tiny chance of it all being part of the manager's imagination, but when he looked back on it, the little things now made more sense to him and in a way he always knew.

They've been in Port Antonio for two weeks now and everything was going just dandy, Harry was writing more than ever, the first week he had a new song every day, he even polished the old ones and had a tune for his favourites, thanks to Mitch's help. When Jeff Azoff got there earlier this week, he spent a good two hours talking to Jeff Bhasker about how much of a good idea the trip was.

"Harry is on a writing spree." He complimented Azoff's client, it was nothing but the truth. However the reason for it all, was now heading back to the house to join the others after a good surfing session.

Jane went straight to take a shower, ready to rinse all the ocean's saltiness from her body, thinking how wonderful it would've been if her own worries could be washed away with her tangerine shampoo. In contrast to Harry's good spirits and excellent mood, her own cloud of trouble seemed to follow her all the way from London. She still hadn't heard from her husband, so it is safe to say he was still upset about her going away to work in Harry's album. It was impossible for her to forget the argument they had, at first thinking it was a joke on his side, insinuating that they were ‘shagging behind his back’.

After her shower, wearing comfortable clothes, Jane joins the others for supper but keeps to herself, still with the dichotomy about calling Alex or letting him be. He will eventually come to his senses and apologise. 

What if he doesn't? 

The thought alone of her clothes being packed in boxes by the time she gets back home almost makes her cry, perhaps she can call or text him just to test the waters. It is ridiculous how she seems to be more mature about this than him.

"Penny for them?" Harry's voice brings her back to the now empty dining room, the voices from the rest of their party can be heard from the living room.

"God I'm sorry H, lost myself out there for a moment," she is embarrassed, with him, the others and herself for letting this situation get under her skin. And she's also avoiding talking about it, with Harry or anyone. "I was just thinking about the tempo for Sweet Creature."

"Liar," he hates to be shut down by her more than anything. "Is it because I didn't let you eat the last peanut drop the other day?" It would've been easier for her to say it was, than to address the actual reason. But Harry hasn't lied to her, ever.

"No love, although I was a bit hurt because of that, it's actually this thing with Alex we are, I don't know, he was upset with me and said some things," Jane couldn't finish, her speech was cut short by a quiet sob and Harry was quick to pull her from the chair onto his lap and hold her tight. His own heart speeding at the sight of her distressed.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"Two weeks ago." Her voice barely whispers on his chest, "he's being a wanker to be honest, just because he's not going on tour with any of his bands I'm supposed to be a stay at home wife!"

"Why don't you explain this to me, from the beginning, please?" He asks rubbing her back soothingly, and she spills it all, the having kids now or never argument, to her wanting to have a proper wedding party and finally the latest fight where Alex suggested an affair going on between her and Harry, the latter had to do his best not to put the option on the table, since her husband so kindly suggested it. Might as well, he thought. "It all sounds like a big misunderstanding, I know you're a great communicator sunshine, so it baffles me that you've let this go on for so long." He's got a point.

"You're right, but I feel like it's his turn, you know?" Jane's done weeping, but remained on her friend's lap and arms, head resting on his shoulder. "He's always forward, mature, a proper thirty year old except when it comes to arguments where we ought to reach an agreement," she plays a bit with the cross hanging from his neck, a scowl on her pretty face. "Like with the children thing, we only stopped arguing when I said that maybe in two more years we could have one instead of, you know, my early thirties." It's good that she can't see how upset Harry is.

"You gave into that one, he should do the same but it's his choice," Harry sighs and can't believe what he's about to say. "Take the day off tomorrow, call him or FaceTime, Skype whatever you choose, but have a proper conversation with him." She wants to argue and say it's not necessary to be absent the whole day, she can spare a few hours. But she will need time to think about what to say, make her point clear so they are on good terms until she goes back to London.

"Fine, but if he is still acting like a dickhead afterwards, I'm not going to let it into my head anymore, we will continue to bask in this great work environment going on here." Jane states, pulling away from his embrace just enough to give him that stern look she uses when trying to make a point, and Harry nods with a warm smile, the one she never gets tired of seeing. "I'll call it a night now, gonna be asleep in seconds now that I've got that out of my chest." She stands from his lap, missing his warmth instantly. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime honey pie." Harry says before leaving a kiss on her left hand that burns her skin from then till morning.

Jeff joins the musician in the dining room right after the girl walks away to her room, he takes a seat across from him and scrutinises the look of adoration his friend still sports once she is out of the room.

"She'll never know, if you never tell her." Jeff is right, but the thought alone of going through that again scares him to death. Or so he says, because there's a part of him that is fond of the thrill it makes him feel.

"It's not like I haven't tried, just last year I told her," Harry remembers that night vividly, how pretty she looked even with her makeup all smudged under her eyes. "I'm not sure if she heard, it was too loud like where we were at the time." He was also pissed out of his mind.

"H, there's nothing wrong with being in love."

"I'm not saying it is, but even if she did love me I– I would find a way to hurt her. Anyway. she's happily married now, it's too late." Saying it out loud doesn't hurt him any less like he thought it would. Harry sighs in defeat before rising from the chair, "she's everything to me, I wouldn't mess with her head by confessing my feelings, deep down I always knew she deserved better and now she has it and that's good enough for me." The musician disappears through the corridor where his everlasting love did just a few minutes ago, he paused for a moment outside her room, pondering whether to barge in and just follow his instincts, kiss her like he should've done after winning that award back in 2014.

Harry shakes his head and goes straight to his room, he reminds himself that it was time to let her go. It's for the best. He is not good enough for her, he can't even write a song for her, about her. He mustn't love her that much then.

What Harry doesn't know is that he can't write a song about her because he loves her too much, the poor lad can't even figure out where to start. But he's about to get rid of that curse in a day or two, he just needs to be patient.

The reward for it came, all of a sudden Harry wrote too many songs about her until she inevitably became aware of the situation they were in. Harry vowed to stay away from Jane’s life after recording the album. He dated people that didn’t remind him of her, and even moved temporarily to Japan. But despite all his efforts, four years later Harry still finds himself thinking about her, everything seems to be tainted by her. The music he adores, the new dinner recipes he cooks, the books he chooses to read.

Completely out of options he agreed to this blind date his friends set up for him.

He arrives at the modest restaurant they so kindly chose for the occasion. “All you have to do is wear something nice and show up.” Alexa reminded him over the phone last week.

This is a new first for him, it is also exciting, to take a seat at a table for two conveniently placed at the back, pretend to pay attention to the menu but let his green eyes avert to whoever approaches. Harry is having a great time, he knows that soon his date will arrive. He wonders what they’ll be like.

According to Alexa and Pixie, the person arriving is the perfect match for their young friend. Harry can only hope they like Vietnamese cuisine because that’s apparently this place’s special offer this week. If he’s lucky enough the date will agree to share a starter and perhaps two main courses, that way he doesn’t have to choose between one or the other.

“Here’s your table.” Harry hears the waiter speak and his gaze meets a very familiar figure standing beside him. It can’t be.

“Excuse me, there must be a mistake, I’m waiting for someone else.” Harry protests.

The waiter shakes his head and shows him the notepad with some specifications written down. “Nothing wrong, got specific instructions from Miss Chung, a lady will come in to say is here for Geldolf’s blind date, you are sitting at the table they reserved. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.” He is quick to explain and disappear.

Jane sits because there is no way she can stand any longer, her legs are about to give out from the commotion. This was not the blind date she was expecting either. It’s been at least four years since she last saw Harry. The night after he finally admitted being in love with her, waiting for a reaction, anything from her, after what seemed like hours but was only ten minutes later, he walked out of her house and entire life, leaving her confused and upset.

“How’ve you been?” she asked after confirming that Harry wasn’t going to up and leave.

“Pretty fantastic, until you arrived.” He’s never spoken to her like that before, with so much affliction in his tone. “What are you doing here?”

“I was set up on a blind date by Pixie—

He interrupts her. “That’s fucking convenient, did you all went to this much trouble, just to mock me? I thought they were my friends, you know, that even after everything, they cared about me.” Harry stops, his voice breaks, he’s so angry, hurt and confused by the situation. “Did your husband come along, to witness my humiliation too?” He looks around, trying to find the man of Jane’s dreams.

“I wouldn’t know if he’s here, haven’t seen him since we got divorced three years ago.” She snaps before hiding behind the menu from a gobsmacked Harry.

The words he’d been waiting to hear were finally out of her mouth. Unlike the million times he dreamt about this happening, Harry is not sweeping her off her feet and running away into the sunset holding her hand. Instead he reaches out to touch her arm, testing the waters. He waits for her to lower the menu and surprisingly there are no tears in her eyes. Perhaps only a bit of sorrow that is quickly replaced with confusion, at how fast her heart raced after Harry’s touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is back to oozing the tenderness he reserves just for her. Jane nods.

“But can we share a rice bowl and Pho noodle soup?” 

“Yes, and dessert too!” Even after four years Harry’s sweet tooth hasn’t changed, Jane sighs before the waiter is back to take their order.

Keeping a conversation between the two of them is not hard at all, even if it is an awkward topic —her not so recent divorce. “We didn’t have anything in common anymore, there were so many fights every single day. When I finally suggested the separation, he seemed relieved and I felt like a complete fool.” Jane remembers the sigh of comfort that came out of the man she once loved with all her heart before that rainy afternoon, when she finally decided that she’d had enough. “He left that night, hadn’t seen him since, his lawyer took care of everything,” a sour laugh escapes her lips, Harry’s eyes are full of sympathy for her. “I’m sorry for ruining your blind date, I know you’ve never been to one before.” Of course she did, she knows him better than anyone.

“This has to be the greatest date I’ve ever been to.” He speaks without a second thought. 

All those years Harry spent away from Jane were not going to be in vain. He was not going to neglect the feelings he still had for her. That affection he felt for her, only her. Harry shifts in his seat, this is not at all how he planned it, in a restaurant full of people on fucking Valentine’s day. It almost seemed like a tacky move.

But after all this time of pining for her, hating her and himself at times. Harry was brave enough, it was now or never, he didn’t want to wait any longer, not after his friends schemed and executed this soppy plan to bring the two soulmates together. Before she could take the final bite of dessert that Harry kindly left for her. The world stopped.

“I don’t want this to end...” Harry says with a dimpled smile she can’t look away from. “I’d like to take you out on a second date, a third, fourth, fifth. Believe me when I tell you, I have planned up to a thousand of them.” He takes her hand in his and can feel her pulse race along his own. The smile splits his face again, because he knows, he feels, he sees it in her beautiful eyes. “Janey, you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. I know there is a name for this emotion, I’ve written songs about it, but now I don’t think it’s a word big enough for us.”

She squeezes his hand and breaths out a laugh, tears of joy brimming out of her eyes. “Let’s call it love, until we come up with a better name for it.” Harry agrees and just then, Jane brings up his hand to her lips. 

His skin tingles where she kisses him for the first time and he beams at her.

There’s a first for everything, and although it feels like it for Jane and Harry, this isn’t by any means the first time they confess their love for each other. It was always there, in every laugh they shared, every song they wrote together, every touch. It was on Harry’s unwavering devotion, on his impatience and selfless actions throughout the years.

They were bound to be together, their story didn’t begin on that initial blind date, it did years ago after he caught a glimpse of her shiny black hair on the morning she moved into the house across the street.

Harry drives her back to her new flat on the other side of the city, enjoying every minute of the long ride, happy to hear her ramble about her newest obsession with romantic novels and burst out laughing after Jane confesses that sometimes she doesn’t finish reading books she likes, just to pretend the story keeps going. With a quick kiss to the back of her hand he completely agrees.

No tale is more compelling than one that never ends.

[azulafangligo]

I know it's a bit late, but I wanted to share another story for @azulaweek . It's for day 4. I was happy to be part of Azula week for the first time and I'm looking forward to participating next year. Stay flamin :))

A mother's love

This story takes place about a week before the flashbacks in Zuko Alone

Everyone in the Royal Palace was sleeping at this late hour, except Ursa. She couldn't sleep a wink. She tried really hard to fall asleep, but to no avail.

It was a warm night in the Fire Nation. The moon shone high on a cloudless, black sky.

The princess left her bedroom with a candle in her hand, walking through the empty, dark corridors of the palace toward the kitchen to drink a cup of water. She could have ordered a servant to bring to bring her some water, but she didn't want to wake anyone up and start a commotion. Besides, she didn't like ordering others around. Ursa respected the people who served her and her family, but she didn't like relying on them for every little thing and exploit them, even though most would argue it was their job. It just didn't seem right and she wasn't comfortable with it.

As Ursa got closer to the kitchen, she entered the corridor with Azula's and Zuko's rooms. She passed by Zuko's room quietly, but when she was a few meters away from Azula's, she heard a creaking sound as the door was slowly opened. She stopped as she saw her daughter walking out of her room while rubbing her eyes and closing the door behind her. Azula spun around to see her mother after she noticed the candle light. She looked startled, but also tired, having small dark circles under her eyes which had been half open until she saw her mother. She was now facing Ursa wide-eyed.

"I was just going back to my room," Azula said after a few seconds, putting her hand back on the door handle.

Ursa looked at her, worried.

"Are you alright, Azula?" she asked.

"Yes. I just wanted to drink some water," she said, annoyed. Even though she was obviously tired, she seemed in a rush to get away from her mother. This saddened Ursa. She really loved her and cared about her, but she knew she wasn't always doing the best job of showing her that. She tried hard to be a good mother for both Azula and Zuko, but her husband made that very difficult.

She stepped closer to Azula and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Come on, tell me what's wrong," she said gently. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, I already told you, mom. I was thirsty. Now I'll go back to sleep," Azula said coldly. She looked away from Ursa and folded her arms. "Since when do you care about me anyway? Don't you have to worry about Zuko? Or you're here just because he doesn't need you right now and you want to make sure I don't get into trouble?" Azula said acidly.

"Azula, I love you and I care about you. I know I don't show it to you enough, but I'm doing my best for you and your brother. I want to help you if something's bothering you. You don't have to keep it to yourself. You can tell me. " Ursa smiled encouragingly at her, urging her to say what was on her mind.

Her mother didn't usually speak like this to her. She was always so busy giving Zuko all the attention that she neglected her.

Azula stood there for a second. She couldn't sleep all night. It was really frustrating and she wasn't sure what to do. She thought maybe a breath of fresh air and a few minutes in the gardens would help, but her mom came out of nowhere and she had to go back to her room now. Azula didn't have anything to say to her and just wanted to go to bed and be left alone. She'd be fine just by herself and she'd fall asleep eventually. It's horrible. I just want to sleep, but I can't. I hate this and I don't need her. I never did and I never will. She was about to go back to her room, but she thought how she'll stay in her bed for hours, struggling to catch some sleep, all alone. As much as Azula wanted to avoid her mother, she admitted trying again to sleep would be really hard and unpleasant. Maybe even more unpleasant than spending time with the woman that, no matter what Azula did, wouldn't appreciate her and would only criticize her and complain how she was mean to her favourite child. Azula didn't know why her mother pretended to care now and there was nothing she could do to help anyway, but it was better to tell her the truth instead of being all alone. This is probably a bad decision and I might end up regretting it, but here we go.

"I can't fall asleep. I've been trying for hours, but I can't," Azula told Ursa.

"It happens sometimes. I can't sleep either. Would you like us to go to the garden for a while?" Ursa said.

Azula looked away again. She still wasn't sure she wanted to be in her presence. It wasn't nice to be mom's least favourite child, but she had no trouble with that. Azula didn't need anyone. She did great just by herself. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to go for a walk outside, since she wanted to do that anyway. However, even though at first she would have preferred to be alone, perhaps it'd be good to have some company.

"Alright," she said.

Ursa smiled at her again.

"Come on," the princess said, a hint of joyfulness in her voice.

As they entered the garden, Azula felt the gentle wind on her skin. It was warm and pleasant outside. The bright stars were sparkling on the dark sky. She looked at the scenery overhead for a few moments.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Ursa asked.

"I guess," Azula replied in a neutral voice.

They walked a few meters to the pond and set down. Minutes passed without either of them saying anything. Azula looked at her reflection in the water. In the darkness, she barely saw the dark circles under her eyes, but they were there. She frowned. I ought to get some sleep, but the problem is I don't feel tired at all. She looked tired though, because she struggled to sleep and she could see it in her face.

After sometime, Ursa finally began speaking.

"I'm sorry I haven't been a good mother. I haven't given you enough attention and I haven't told you how much I love you enough times. It's just… It's hard to raise two kids at the same time-"

"Yes, because I'm so mean and horrible and Zuko is so great," Azula cut her off.

"Azula, I never said that."

"But you mean it," her daughter replied, looking her in the eye.

"I don't. I know I left you the impression I prefer him over you, but that's not true. You're both amazing children and I love you equally. I admit I spent more time with him, but that's because your father isn't giving him any attention."

"Don't blame father," Azula said infuriated. "If Zuko would be good enough to deserve his love he'd get it. He doesn't deserve your love either."

Ursa was surprised and outraged that Azula spoke like that about her brother. She opened her mouth to tell her how awful it was to treat Zuko that way, but stopped, feeling her anger dissipate. It was mean to say something like that, but Azula only thought these things because she didn't feel loved enough. That was why she wanted to be better than Zuko at everything-so she'd be appreciated by her parents. Ozai had a very bad influence on her. He turned her against Zuko and made her see him and everyone who wasn't perfect as a failure. Azula was a wonderful child and the only thing her father did was give her bad examples, cultivate negative thoughts and feelings inside her and turn her into a competitive and hateful person. He had too many expectations and put too much pressure on her and, to be honest, he didn't even love her. It hurt Ursa to admit this, but it was true. Ozai loved neither of his kids nor anyone else in his family. He didn't even love Ursa. They had an arranged marriage just so he and Azulon could be in control of Avatar Roku's bloodline. But this wasn't about her. It was about Azula. She needed to know her mother cared about her and was proud of her.

"Azula, I'm sorry your father has so many expectations and induces you to feel so much anger and hate. I know it's very frustrating, but I'm here for you."

"What are you talking about? Dad's great and he teaches me to be the best. How is that bad?" Azula said, but a hint of doubt made its way into her mind. She hated to admit it, but sometimes she got tired and it became hard to catch her breath struggling to be the perfect child. I am perfect, I shouldn't listen to her. Dad wants what's best for me. He wouldn't have so many expectations if he didn't think I am up to the challenge. It's his way of showing how capable he thinks I am to do anything I have to. Azula wanted to believe these things, she really did, but she couldn't dismiss the thought that her mother was right. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself mom just wanted her to be nice to Zuko, she couldn't. Something in her voice, in her eyes told Azula she actually… cared. She was angry to think this stuff about dad, but, deep down, she knew it to be true. This made her really angry and also sad.

"I shouldn't have let him influence you like this. I know you're suffering and it's exhausting to try to be flawless everyday. I let you down, Azula, but I'll make it up to you," Ursa said, putting her hand on Azula's.

Azula didn't want to say anything bad about her father. She loved him and he loved her, but, for the first time in her life, she felt the need to say what was on her mind. She just couldn't hold back her thoughts, regardless of how much she tried. She felt weak and miserable and she despised it. I… I've never seen mom like this. It's the first time she actually wants to talk to me and know how I feel. She actually seems to be honest…

Azula slid her hand from under Ursa's. Then, she put her head in her hands, staring blankly at the pond.

"Sometimes it's… really hard. I do my best to please dad, but it's never enough," Azula said.

Ursa than unexpectedly hugged her tightly. Azula stared in surprise for a couple of seconds before she embraced her mother as well.

"I think you're great the way you are. You don't need to prove anything to me. I love you so much and I'll prove that to you more often," Ursa promised.

"Thanks, mom," Azula whispered.

They let go and just sat there in silence. Azula didn't know how much time they spent at the pond. It might have been minutes or hours, she had no idea. However, as time passed by, Azula gradually lost awareness of her surroundings. She was unable to concentrate on anything as the sight before her eyes became blurry. Soon, it was very hard to keep her eyes open. Her eyelashes slowly closed, everything turning black as she finally drifted off to sleep. Azula propped her body against her mother's arm.

Ursa gently put her hands around her daughter's waist and placed her on her lap.

In the few remaining seconds of consciousness before Azula fell asleep, she felt her mother gently caress her on the top of her head. This brought a smile on her face as she felt really calm and relaxed, but also happy.

Mom loves me after all… she thought.

[lordmushroomkat]

Lately I've been kinda questioning my gender and was wondering if you had any advice. Up until recently I've identified as a cis female but have been thinking about iding as nb. How did you realize, if you don't mind sharing.

Okay so originally, I thought I was genderfluid, I met a person selling queer merch at an anime convention and they had these cool pretty pillow things. So I ended up asking about it and I thought... huh, yeah, that kinda sounds like me. I already knew gender neutral people existed by that point, I had just never considered it as a possibility for me. And then next few months I just kinda thought on it a bit. Eventually, I figured out that my gender doesn't shift near as drastically to be genderfluid. So that’s when I decided I was definitely nb of some variety but it wasn’t necessary to figure out yet.

That’s the story aspect. As for the actual inner journey? Well, it’s no secret that I’m a very strange person, growing up I always felt like there was something distinctly wrong with me. As it turned out, that was just layers of trauma and mental stuff (depression, PTSD, autism). 

But as I started to think about gender and my previous experiences with this disconnect with the other kids my age, I started to realized that while some of that could easily be explained by the autism, some things really couldn't. 

Like my experience in third grade at the lunch table (this was when cooties became a thing to my classmates) all the girls sat on the right side of the table and all the boys sat to the left, and I remembered looking to either side of the table and thinking I didn't belong with either group, so I sat in the middle.

Or my 13-15 years, when I decided I hated the very concept of being girly, I hated femininity as a concept because it felt like this trap, this way for society to sort us into a lesser, weaker category. And as I realized that I did ‘girly’ things sometimes, I struggled to sort myself into the labels I knew of and I started called myself a ‘partial tomboy’ because it was the only language I had to describe my situation. At some point, I just scrapped the whole thing and decided that I lived as I lived; that there was no point feeling shame in ‘girly’ things, that I ought to just be me and not give a damn what society thinks.

The fact of the matter is that over the years I’ve been faced with the binary choices and I always chose a third option. I’ve chosen to embrace the non-binary life at every turn, even without the context or language.

And maybe your story is different, but what’s really important here is feeling comfortable in your own skin. At peace with yourself. 

So if neutral pronouns would make you feel more respected as yourself, then go for it. 

Being non-binary isn’t a choice, not really, the choice here is choosing to embrace it.

And if you decide you’re nb and then later realize you were incorrect (or if it shifts), then there is no harm in that, because what’s important is what’s right for you right now. 

And if being nb is what’s right for you right now, then seize it with both hands. Because ‘now’ only lasts so long.