#but yeah i think the emotional invalidation that i grew up with fucked me up like that LMAO

[callilouv]

idk if i rlly am unable to feel intense hate for something or i conditioned myself into thinking that hating soemthing makes me even more of a bad person so i refuse to feel such things HMMM

[jjwantsme]

the happiest girl in the world

- v.h

pairing: vinnie hacker x grumpy!girlfriend!reader

summary: in which you think he finally became fed up of you

Warnings: angst, sad vinnie, absolute fluff, pet names, crying, mentions of trauma, reader grew up in foster care

authors note: yall this is my first time posting on tumblr so please be kind😭😭 although constructive criticism is very much appreciated

masterlist

Much to your parents disbelief, you weren’t a complete idiot. You knew how to read body language and tone, knew how to tell if you weren’t wanted at the moment. You just never expected it from your own boyfriend.

Okay, let's admit, that's a little dramatic. Streaming on twitch is part of his job, it shouldn't be surprising, or insulting, when he takes multiple hours devoting his time to it; yet, sometimes it feels like the most invalidating thing in the world. It was becoming his excuse for everything, every date he missed or quality time he randomly walked out on. To be fair, you weren't exactly a little ray of sunshine. Your personality was definitely more on the brutal side- which wasn't your fault! Having trauma at the age of a toddler, growing up in foster care...it's no surprise that you're a little rough around the edges.

Most people didn't know how to handle it. They'd get flustered with your short temper, get angered at your rude comments, or even yell at you when you have trouble feeling emotions. Nobody even gave you a chance.

Vinnie changed that, though.

He was patient with you, and never tried to abandon you even when you asked him to. He understood why you act the way you do, and even helped you cope with it. He helped you become happy. For the first time in your goddamn life, you were happy. And now it’s all crashing down, because you fucked it up.

You don’t know how, when, or why- but you fucked it up. Why else would he be distant?

Vinnie was never the type to be distant. He’s always been clingy- emotionally and physically. He always had to have his hand in yours, or an arm around your shoulders. He always felt the need to verbally show you his affection, and expected the same in return. You, on the other hand, completely opposite- but that’s exactly why you two worked so well. You were contrasted to perfection, you balanced each other out in the best way, and kept each other seen.

So, then, why does it suddenly feel like you’re being avoided?

You sighed as all these thoughts pounded in your head, laying in vinnie’s bed as he was streaming in just the other room.

Or, you thought he was streaming, until he walked in his room to get a bottled water, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at his phone.

Your mouth moved faster than your brain as you sat up, “vin?”

His eyes widened a little as they snapped to look at you, a little startled by the sound of your voice, “yea?”

“Can we talk?”

That was the sentence vinnie had been dreading for days now. his avoidance finally caught up to him. He could have just lied and said he was busy, but it’s too hard to neglect a voice as sweet as yours. “Of course, my love.” He sighed quietly before stepping towards the king-sized bed, sitting across from you so he could see your face.

“I, uh…i don’t really know how to say this,” you sucked in a breath as you tried to remember how to express your emotions.

Vinnie looked away from your eyes and played with his fingers. He knew this day would come, regardless of him praying that it wouldn’t.

“Are you breaking up with me?” The two of them asked at the same time, making their eyes pop out of their heads.

“You’re breaking up with me?!” Vinnie exclaimed, looking into her eyes again in a moment of panic. “No, you shithead, i thought you were breaking up with me!”

“Why would i be breaking up with you?!”

“Because you’re avoiding me!”

“I was avoiding you because i thought you were gonna break up with me!”

“Huh?” Your voice lowered as your frown deepened, realizing how miscommunicated their relationship has become.

“Yeah…” vinnie’s face went red as he realized he had no choice but to confront the growing tension, “lately you seemed a little more annoyed than usual. I tried to tell myself it was probably because of Uni, or something that didn’t involve us, but…it quickly became clear that i’m what’s wrong. I always knew i wasn’t enough for you, but i guess it just hurts to finally be acting on it.”

His words broke your heart.

This whole time, you were overthinking his annoyance of you, thinking that he was fed up. When, in reality, he was thinking the same thing all along.

“Baby,” you placed your cold hand on his warm cheek, watching as his brown eyes sparkled with admiration, “I’m so sorry for making you think that was true, and i’m even more sorry for not knowing you felt this way. Yeah, finals have been tough this semester, but i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m such an asshole.”

He smiled a bit, “yeah, but a really cute one.”

You let out a small laugh and shoved his shoulder lightly, making him giggle.

“Kidding, kidding. But, seriously, i think we need to work on our communication. This situation definitely wasn’t handled the right way. I hate knowing my baby thought i was leaving her.”

You blushed deeply and smiled wide, shaking your head. You hated pet names, and he knew that. Well, in complete honesty, you loved them. You just hated how happy and giddy they made you- Vincent doesn’t have to know that part, though.

Vinnie leaned in and pecked your lips before mumbling, “i love you, so much more than you can imagine.”

“I may be an asshole, but you make me the happiest girl in the world. I love you too, vin.”

And you sealed that promise with a kiss, a kiss that lasted until the sunrise of the next morning.

[studiojeon]

bitterness in goodbye | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. sadly, you can't read this as a stand alone (meaning: feel free to check the previous parts ♡)

| summary | - You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

warnings: none (?) i mean chaeryeong insults jungkook which is an atrocity in itself but-

contents: we diving into the angst my friends. jungkook is an innocent, kind hearted soul, i promise. oc's got the feels (out oct. 1) for jk. idol!jungkook × student!reader.

author's note: I EDITTED THIS FROM MY PHONE DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING ANNOYING THAT IS? also, thank u for the amount of support i've been receiving lately, i appreciate everyone lots. feel free to ask away or suggest anything btw, i would love to write for any prompts you guys come up with. 💞💗💖💘💓💕

words: 1.57k

playlist: honey by halsey

Four weeks later, the receptionist of your apartment complex hands you over a cardboard box with the hoodie Jungkook and you had talked about that day on the Han River. Jungkook kept pestering you to please please please send him your address for confidential purposes, which you knew had to do with his determination to literally provide anything that catches your eye right away. You assumed it was a sensitive topic for the boy whether people had purposefully taken advantage of his money before, so you didn’t dare to say anything when the man asked you for your size literally two hours after he dropped you off, scared to either reject his solidare intentions or piss him off for bringing unwanted memories back. In  your defense, your personality type keeps oscillating between INFP and INFJ so it’s only natural that you take extra care to make sure those around you have as much peace of mind as possible in your presence. 

As pretty and comfortable the piece of soft clothing is, an important factor is missing, something that you can’t recreate buying two of the same size and color, and that is Jungkook's escence and how good it looks on him in comparison to anyone else in the world. Meaning, you didn’t like it as much as you thought initially would. And it absolutely did not have to do with the fact that your short stature made you look like a toddler who stole their dad’s jacket.

Still, in order to show Jungkook how much you appreciate his gift, you bring it to work the next day, and the rest of the days after that, with the excuse that with winter rolling around you needed something to keep you warm in the office. Jungkook doesn’t miss the opportunity to confirm your assumptions regarding your appearance whenever he barges into your office randomly throughout the week, arguing that ”you look so adorable” and doesn’t stop for two weeks more, until he gets used to seeing you wearing something you shared with him. Which doesn’t help ease your growing romantic feelings for him whatsoever.

Because yeah, you liked Jeon Jungkook, just like every human being with eyes and sexual desires, except, you didn’t just like him in a superficial way, and that’s where the problem with him resides. Though you are sure everyone has fallen in love with the endearing boy at some point - especially the excluded and invalidated women of society - you can’t help but place some blame on you for allowing yourself to be swooned so goddamn easily. Your mom had said to you at some point to be wary of the way some men would talk to you when you grew up, their intention usually being getting inside your pants, which has happened to you more times than you'd like to admit. And with the argument that she knew you better than anyone, she claimed you would comply right the second someone talked sweet to you; you despised the fact that was the case with Jungkook (and Jungkook only), although he had never shown any sexual innuendos. What your feelings could do to your relationship with Jungkook and your rather chill lifestyle scared you to death, shiver me timbers and all that shit, having romantic feelings for someone else is embarrassing, especially when your chance with them has been scratched out the second you laid eyes on them.

Jungkook sits on your couch, legs spread on your thighs as you two pretend to watch some series on netflix. “I don’t buy for a second the act you’re putting on right now.” he speaks randomly after staring at your deep-in-thought state for a few minutes and laughs when you snap at him for not letting you overthink in peace. “What’s going on?”

Truth is, you don’t fucking know. A few hours before he arrived at your place (you had to pick him up at the dorm and sneak the both of you through the subterranean parking lot, because god forbid someone saw Jungkook arriving at some chick’s dorm on a saturday afternoon) you swore you would be able to conceal whatever emotional turmoil you had going inside of you without compromising your regular behaviour around the man, but when push comes to shove, it’s impossible to keep yourself from wondering how far you could go before that special someone found out what was going on inside of your head.

Jungkook’s phone rings in his pocket with some annoying tone he had downloaded illegally from youtube the same day the company had handed over the device as a gift for him (you still were a little bitter over how they neglected the rest of the staff but you also knew it was kind of impossible for the human kind to just gift a-thousand-dollar-phones to almost five hundred people out of solidarity). “Hyung?” he picks up, still wary of your unusual behaviour, concerned eyes looking at you. “No, uh- i’m with Yugyeom right now.” and your heart shatters into a million pieces.

You have been suspecting for a while that Jungkook is being hesitant to introduce you to his social circle. Although, you’ve tried your best not to take it personal, it is getting harder to resist the urge to ask him what the fuck is up with that. The fact that Jungkook had to lie about the person he was hanging out with broke your ego; he could’ve just said he was with a friend, right? You suddenly feel like you’re fifteen again, when the guy you liked would love you in the dark but pretend he didn’t know you in the light. 

Holding your tears back, you gently push him off and make your way towards the bathroom in the most nonchalant way you could. This is your fault for falling for the nice popular guy in the first place, you remind the reflection staring back at you. Still, as bad as it hurt, there was no way you were going to cry over a stupid boy, let alone when he was literally sat on the next room. He can go fuck himself if he thinks he can just toss this behind as if nothing ever happened.

You text Chaeryeong instead.

“chaery bom bom: i swear to god i gonna throw hands the next time i see the bitch.

chaery bom bom: like who the hell does he think he is? fucking squidward looking asshole.

chaery bom bom: he ain’t even that cute bub, you’ll get over him. i know jinyoung wouldn’t treat you like this”

You sigh. Chaeryeong has been enamored with the idea of you and his former company colleague from GOT7 since the day she met the guy (which was somewhere around ten years ago), and although he was all that, you didn’t like his quiet and cold aura, it intimidated the fuck out of you (Jungkook was the entire opposite of that).

You spray on some perfume just to have an excuse as to why you randomly ran to the bathroom when Jungkook’s inquiring eyes stare as you sit back on the couch, which is exactly what he does. “You done with your call?” you ask, bitter.

Jungkook frowns, a bit taken aback by the sudden question but still unaware of the way his words had made you feel, not even sensing the hostile change in your mood. “Yes, it was one of our managers. He was wondering if I could come back to reshoot some...-thing.”

Okay, now you kind of understand as to why he lied in the first place and to say you feel guilty is an understatement. “I supposed he backed down once you mentioned you were hanging out with Yugyeom.” playfulness makes its appearance on your tone and Jungkook rolls his eyes at you, tongue poking on the inside of his slightly red cheeks.

“Sorry for that” he moves closer and cuddles your arm, like a sad guilty puppy. “It’s just- I don’t want them asking questions''.

You understand. He is a very reserved and private person after all. It took you a bit to crack him open yourself. Plus, you kind of share that trait with him, you’d hate it too if people were constantly on your nerves for the people you decide to hang out with. 

And that’s all it takes to forgive him. Not very cash money of you.

“You better not pull that shit again, though” you shift in his hold and he looks up at you. One look into your eyes and he knows what you mean. “I’ll kick you out.”

After nodding, Jungkook resumes his concentration on the series you picked out for him. Due to your short attention span, you are very picky about what you invest your time in, especifically with audiovisual pieces of media, so Jungkook trusts you whenever you recommend something on very rare occasions. As a matter of fact, Jungkook was busy attacking your kitchen counters for snacks (which you didn’t have) when you mentioned Money Heist. “Munch on some grapes instead” you suggested to soothe his disappointment.

You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

[mermaidsirennikita]

I think one of the issues is a lot of the fandom are young people.. that have no boundaries 🤣. But also, I’ve lurked on another fandom before that was the same, and seen comments on other fandoms, I don’t understand where fandom morality, which is so strong, comes from. My faves have to do everything right, things that they deem morally wrong can’t happen, not even as a plot device to advance story and character development. Where’s the fun in that? And why does everything need to happen now?

No shade to Gen Z, I have many beloved Gen Zers in my life and I don’t buy into the millennial v Gen Z thing, but I do think there’s like…. A level of performative morality in Gen Zers and younger millennials re: fandom. Like I don’t want to be seen endorsing a toxic character or plotline, so therefore I must condemn it as if I am a politician being asked to condemn a radical group. And to be fair? People do try to gotcha on fandom shit as if that reflects what you support and think of in real life. I remember some Bridgerton asshats trying to gotcha~ me because I shipped Darklina lol. Because that made me an *abuse apologist*, apparently, and therefore all other opinions I had on literally any other subject were invalid.

The thing is that it’s fucking fiction. I grew up on daytime soaps. Everyone cheated on everyone. People stole each other’s babies and then got together. The intention was never to tell a moral story first, but to tell an entertaining story first. If you focus on story quality versus morality, you will almost always get a better, deeper product. Because hurt people really do hurt people, so if you’re writing about a character who has depth in their past, they should probably be an imperfect person and do bad things at least from time to time. Look at Succession—the leads have amazingly rich backstories and emotional depth, and those backstories have made them into *assholes*. Being able to play with the unpredictable things the characters do and their emotional turmoil has given the show major success commercially and critically, because you honestly never know what will happen. Nothing is morally off the table.

And when it comes to Bridgerton…. Anthony had his tragic backstory of his father dying and him becoming a father figure at 18 and believing that he’d die by 38. So yeah…. He’s kind of a dick about it sometimes. That’s a much lighter series, but even then that tragic backstory that everyone loved mean that he became a bit pricklier as a character.

I guess I just really enjoy not being able to predict everything and not worrying about whether or not characters’ actions reflect my own personal values and morals. It’s so much more fun.

[newhologram]

I've been doing some thinking and realizing just how far back this all goes. Those of you who know me and my family IRL may have a hard time believing the emotional abuse and gaslighting because whenever you've met them, they seemed fine. They may have even bragged about me to you which made you think that they thought very highly of me. They also may have neglected to inform you that I have been disabled by chronic illness the past 10 years (many of my other family members had no idea until they spoke to me personally. It's... really fucking weird? To just not tell anyone that your offspring is in bed all day in horrible pain and constantly at the doctor/ER?). Unfortunately this is also part of the gaslighting, putting on a persona of parental perfection so that no one believes me when I try to talk about it. Instead people, even within my family, make excuses for the abuse and say that I should just be grateful. Behind closed doors it's always been very different. In the event that me processing this in private spaces gets out to them (which WILL endanger me): This isn't about *~exposing~* or *~revenge~* or *~punishment~*, it's about putting the pieces together and saying, yeah, I'm right to finally put my foot down about the way I have been treated. This is my experience. This is my trauma. I'm finally claiming that after a lifetime of being told that these experiences and my pain around them are apparently "not real" (gaslighting). By talking about this, I am not victimizing myself, but empowering myself. Because none of this treatment was ever my fault. None of it was ever deserved. And none of this is to be blamed on my "response" to abuse. I hope that by talking about this I can paint a picture of the dynamic and inspire investigation into the health of your own family dynamics too. "But they're family" is literally what enables this kind of abuse to continue. And I'm done. My health and survival is more important than upholding a toxic family system. They're learning that the hard way, finally. I don't think my family members are bad people. I truly do love and care for them. They have some amazing qualities. They love animals and they've come a long way to now being LGBTQ+ allies even if they don't always use the right words. But they have a lot of flaws that most likely come from their own trauma... But these aren't just self-contained flaws. Because I am the one who will be undoing the damage for the rest of my life. I don't know if they will ever go to therapy themselves, but I certainly won't be waiting around for them to work on themselves if it means I'm going to continue to be mistreated and re-traumatized. - It's always been this way but things definitely got worse in my home when I became disabled (possibly bc it triggered insecurities in them?). Both parents ignored me to my face all my life. I'd say or ask something, and there'd be no response most of the time. If I said, "hey, I'm talking to you, that's rude" they would blow up at me about "WHAT. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY. I HAVE THINGS ON MY MIND OKAY I HAVE MY OWN LIFE". This happened even when I was a literal child. I grew up believing that nothing I had to say was worth hearing and that if they ignored me that it was because I was unimportant and annoying. But if I ignore them or take too long to respond because I'm thinking, they scold me me about being rude, that they are my parents and I need to respect them. My emotions and pain have been invalidated since I was a child too. I would get picked up from afterschool care, or my bully's house, and of course I'd be crying from enduring a day of bullying. I would say, "I didn't do anything to them, it's not fair." And my dad's response was always, "WELL GUESS WHAT LIFE'S NOT FAIR. WAIT UNTIL YOU'RE AN ADULT IN THE REAL WORLD." He has continued to say this to me on a regular basis whenever I am struggling, either with work, friends, relationships, a death, or my chronic illnesses. I wonder why he has never considered my world to be real? Why is my reality not real to him? What

makes that even more painful is that I was still sent day after day to the school where I was bullied, to afterschool care with my bullies, and to my bullies' homes. No matter how much I was always crying when they picked me up, they just kept sending me back. And then a few of my dad's girlfriend's had children who bullied me too. I literally could never escape it. If it wasn't that, his response to me crying about something would be, "YOU HAVE NOTHING TO CRY ABOUT. YOU'RE LIVING THE LIFE OF LUXURY HERE, YOU DON'T PAY RENT! JUST WAIT UNTIL YOU'RE OUT THERE HAVING REAL PROBLEMS!" Again, he said this to me when I was a 24 year old who was suddenly in the span of a year so disabled that I could barely work. I was scared for my future, because I had taken the time to educate myself about my illnesses, and I knew that things were going to be hard for me. What I needed was support, not "tough love" and emotional invalidation. I was also scared of the situation I am in now. I was scared that I was going to be too sick to afford to move out and that by age 30 I would still be stuck at home with a parent who did not see my reality, my pain, as real. I am living that and it's not fun. Whenever I tried to talk to him about this invalidation, it just turned into a fight, because he refuses to admit the things that he said, and says things like "That's a You Problem" which he has said since I was a child in response to him hurting my feelings. I have always thought it was worth the effort to communicate to my loved ones this sort of issue, because that's what I was taught at school. If there's an issue, you talk about it. But my family doesn't believe that I guess. - When I first got sick, I was throwing up a lot. It had built up over several years since I was 19 but then after I was officially diagnosed with my Big 4 (colitis/fibro/ME/narcolepsy) I started having really dangerous vomiting attacks. The first attack I had lasted 6 days. I lost 12lbs. I overheard my dad complaining on the phone to a friend that I was keeping him up all night throwing up. I felt so bad for bothering him, I had learned to value his comfort over mine. But after the third day of nonstop vomiting, I told my dad I needed to go to the ER, that something was wrong. He sighed and rolled his eyes and said I didn't need to go. He was so annoyed with me for being sick. I was completely pale. I hadn't eaten anything. I could barely keep water down. I argued but he wouldn't listen. I went back to throwing up, at this point just dry-heaving. A while later I said, "I'm taking myself to the ER." I grabbed my car keys and my dad stopped me. He said, "That's ridiculous, you aren't driving yourself to the ER, I'll do it." But he still wouldn't take me for some reason. I don't know if he just didn't want to pay the copay or what. But I was literally trapped. I tried to fight it and said, "If you're going to take me, then take me. If not, let me take myself." I kept throwing up for three more days before he finally agreed to take me. The ER was packed so I ended up going to urgent care, where the nurse scolded me. She said I really should've gone to the ER after the third day of vomiting. She said that if I had gone a 7th day I could have collapsed. I didn't know how to tell her that I had tried. She asked where my family was and I said my dad had to go to work so he had just dropped me off. She had tears in her eyes and she held my hand. She said, "he should be here with you." THAT is how sick I was. That year, I went to the ER three more times. Each time I would be sobbing and ashamed of myself just for bothering my dad and for him having to pay the copay since I was too sick to earn the money myself. Again, that's how little I had learned to value myself and my health. By my birthday that year, I was suicidal from this shame. A few months later, in the new year, I started having vomiting attacks again. My dad stood over me while I was hunched over the toilet gagging and he said something I will never be able to forget, "You need to snap out of it

because I can't go through this again." He was the victim of my illness. He was the victim of my pain. This year was when my dad told me that he and his gf had been "talking" and that they had decided it was "time for me to be independent". He said they'd even help me find an apartment. I cried and said, "Dad, I'm sick. I've been so sick the past year. How am I supposed to afford even splitting rent with a roommate when I'm in bed in a neckbrace all day long?" and his response was, "But your dad needs his bachelor pad." I couldn't even identify what I was feeling. I was so shocked. Did he really think having the apartment to himself so he could have girls over was more important? But he was always telling me that I was the most important person in his life. I was so confused.

He gave me a time frame to move out and I was terrified. I thought my life was over. But most of all, I thought, "it's not fair to my dad that I'm sick." I thought so little of myself and my pain because that is what I learned as a kid. I blamed myself for not being "strong enough" to power through these debilitating illnesses. I blamed myself for my dad's money troubles. I literally could not live with myself knowing that my dad had to support me. I was so ashamed that I learned to vomit quietly so that he wouldn't notice. I was in a constant state of suicidality for several years after this. And it's no wonder, because year after year my dad has barged into my room to harass me about "it's time to be a Real Adult! It's time for you to Contribute to the household! You need to Make Money! I'm HEMORRHAGING money supporting you! I'm having to use my savings!" and because I was too sick to do this, I felt like a complete failure who did not deserve to live. I was self-harming constantly because I hated myself for "doing this" to my father. He had convinced me that I was the villain. I would start freaking out about money, forcing myself to work even if it meant vomiting literally on set (and almost being sent home bc of it, but I insisted I was fine to work). But I still couldn't make enough to afford my medical expenses. So I would shame-spiral and be suicidal again and then suddenly the story would change. My dad did a complete 180 and said, "Why are you even worried about money? We're doing fine. Even if I didn't have to support you, it wouldn't make that big of a difference in the money that I spend on this household. Don't worry about it." And then as soon as bills were due, he was back to telling me that I needed to make money. Back to saying we spent too much money on food despite me not eating that much. Back to refusing to try shopping somewhere cheaper when I suggested ways to save money. When I brought this up to my therapist back then, she said, "He's giving you mixed messages. Maybe you should bring this up to him so he realizes he's doing it." But when I did bring it up, of course my dad denied doing this and called me ungrateful even as I worked two jobs. When I eventually got a third job (fucking up my health more) to pay off my medical debt, my dad patted my back and told me how proud he was. When I told my therapist that he denied it, she suggested I bring him in so she could help us communicate. When I asked him to come with me to therapy, he got angry and said, "I am NOT going to therapy with you, that is ridiculous." But even with those 3 jobs it still wasn't enough and I was constantly being pulled between "YOU HAVE TO MAKE MONEY RIGHT NOW END OF THE WORLD" and "uhh why are you even worried about money, you need to work your mindset..." When bugged about money I would ask, "What else do you want me to do? I'm working 3 jobs. I'm not hiding money from you. I'm sending you everything that is leftover after I pay my own bills. I've even been buying a lot of my own food, I've been living off ramen and cans of ravioli." And he never had an answer except "just make more money." -- Now to the dynamic I'm currently living in. My dad moved his gf and her dog in without talking to me about it to see if it was going to impact my health. She was only supposed to stay here for maybe 4-5 days while she figured out a new home situation. But when I asked my dad about it in the days leading up to her arrival, suddenly the answer was "oh, she's staying indefinitely." I had no say in it. But we had a talk about what I needed to make this work. I said to my dad that the most important thing was that I have some scheduled quiet time. If I'm recording content or editing audio, I'm going to need quiet that morning so I can get my work done. If I'm resting, I need there to not be shouting or slamming doors happening in the house. He assured me that this was fine and that it'd all be easy for the three of us. The first weekend she was moved in, I let my dad know that I was editing audio that morning and needed

some quiet. He was cheerful and said, "No problem!" I thought wow, this is different. This is nice! This is going to be great for my productivity and health. As soon as I started editing, his gf was blasting music in the kitchen (right next to my room) and they were both laughing and talking loudly just a few steps away from my door. I thought, okay, we talked about this. But I'll just power through. When I was done, I went to my dad and said in a calm manner, "Hey, so this morning I let you know ahead of time that I was editing audio but there was still a ton of music and stuff in the kitchen, so it made it take a lot longer for me." His eyes immediately went dark. He put on an angry parent voice and said, "Okay, I am about to pop. I have enough going on without worrying about making too much noise for you." I said, calmly still, "We talked about this, though, and you assured me it wasn't a problem that I needed this quiet time for editing. So I'm not sure what to do. I'm just letting you know that there was still loud music right next to my room even though we had talked about it." He responded, "Then you need to be more specific because I don't know what you're doing in there." I corrected, "But I told you this morning that I was going to be editing audio and you said it was no problem to have some quiet in the kitchen while I did so." He got more aggressive, "No, you need to be more specific." Again, "I was specific. I told you the time frame that I was going to be editing audio in. You said you understood. I don't know what else to do to fix this other than by openly communicating to you about it." I started crying because--I mean, uhh?? This is gaslighting. I couldn't believe that mere hours after I had specifically told my dad that I was editing audio and that he had assured me it was no problem to have some quiet, that he was accusing me of not telling him what I needed, and that he had not agreed to it or something. Like wtf. He got nastier and blamed me for his stress. But me crying triggered his guilt so he tried to soothe himself by hugging me like he does and I pulled away. I tried to emphasize to him that I'm not just making content for fun. I'm literally trying to make money and contribute to the household like he has told me I need to do for the past 8 years. And when he disrupts my editing process, it just makes it take longer, and it makes it harder for me to earn extra money. His gf was also super rude to me when I tried to be friendly and have a conversation with her. I was telling her about how great it felt to have my sister initiate a conversation about my gender identity and she interrupted me (like she does constantly) to say, "YOU KNOW YOUR SISTER DOESN'T ACTUALLY GIVE A SHIT, RIGHT?" (wtf...) After this, I didn't speak to them for three days. I was feeling the urge to self-harm that whole weekend and all I could do was stay in bed crying after that. I knew if I spoke to them I would just get triggered so I was protecting myself. My dad felt guilty and tried to talk to me in my room. I tried to explain how triggering this whole situation is for me and he said he would do anything to make it easier for me. I had told him what I needed but that he had gaslighted me about it. - This next and last part is going to illustrate the priorities in this household. A few years ago, I started having problems with hives. I spent almost a whole year having very painful breakouts all over my body. It kept me up all night and caused me so much discomfort during the day. I kept telling my dad about it (no response, or annoyed responses), I went to the doctor several times about it (useless ointments), and suffered month after month. I tried so many things, I thought maybe it was bugs, spiders, etc. My asthma was also acting up and I remembered that an ex-neighbor had been suspicious of mold because of their health issues getting better the second they moved out. They had told me back then that we should test for mold. I brought it up to my dad that I had been suffering from this for

long enough and that we should do something about it (mold also makes fibromyalgia and ME way worse). He angrily snapped, "What do you want me to do about it?" I suggested we ask the landlord to mold test the apartment. He refused bc he doesn't like to bother the landlord. I said that I would just order a mold kit myself and he said, "No, let me do it, I'll pick the right one." But he wouldn't even after I kept reminding him. Even after I sent him links to mold kits that we could order. After I got rid of my mattress, my hives got a lot better but I still have issues every now and then. For years I have just lived with this because I couldn't get him to even care about the fact that I was spotted with these big pink hives. When his gf moved in, we had a random rainy day, which seems to have activated the mold. His gf got one tiny little hive and the sniffles. She said to him once, "Hey, I think you have mold in this house." Want to guess what happened after that? You're right. He immediately ordered several mold test kits. I said to my therapist, "How am I supposed to feel about that? Is it really unreasonable, am I really in the wrong to feel hurt by that?" My therapist said, "I mean, I would feel completely invalidated and like I didn't matter." This isn't the first time empathy has been withheld from me obviously (above examples during my flare ups), but sometimes even when it's right in front of him he just can't bring himself to care for some reason. One time a big piece of glass was in my thumb. I said, "Ahhh, glass, help! Glass!" He was eating snacks in the kitchen and just glanced at me, didn't move or say anything. I realized he wasn't going to help, so shaking and bleeding, I managed to pull the glass out with tweezers very painfully. It bled so much and I stood over the sink trying to stop it. My dad just kept eating his snacks, not asking if I was okay or anything, he didn't even look at me. After 5 minutes I still couldn't get the blood to stop and asked my dad if he could help, maybe get me some gauze. He put food in his mouth and sighed, "Just put pressure on it" and walked away. It feels like he's just disgusted with me. I know that he does love me and that he's trying the best he can with all of his mental/emotional/personality flaws but he thinks that just because he puts a roof over my head that he can treat me however he wants and not work on his issues, that it's my fault for being hurt. He thinks that his issues are all on me to learn to endure and it's not right. I know that he resents me for getting in the way of him having a relationship because that's the only message I have gotten since childhood, with every woman he's brought into my home. But in the end his relationships always fall apart because the woman ends up realizing, and stating to him, that he is "emotionally absent". And every time, I comfort my dad through the break up. When he has tried to blame his ex I said once to him that therapy can really help him with his emotional issues and relationships. But he refuses, so. That's on him. But I refuse to believe that I am in the wrong here for saying enough is enough. But he's going to keep trying to make me believe that the problem is just me and my feelings, not his behavior. Nope. Boundary is up. I just have to keep to myself and do what I need to do to stay safe until I can move out. Because I guarantee you he's going to realize he doesn't get enough validation from his gf and then come running back to me as always and then be angry that I'm still holding my boundary strong. I know that this will hurt less as I get distance from it, but I don't like the idea of my pain being my fault when I grew up with this toxic stuff. I'm working so hard to make it hurt less but I can't heal if it keeps happening, so all I can do is back away from what is hurting me instead of being surprised when I'm hurt again. THAT is on me 100%. Hopefully he doesn't grab my desk and slam it against the wall again like in 2014 when I first tried to set this boundary. And of course when he

"apologized" he accused me of "punishing him" by not spending time with him. Jee-zus, dude. Get therapy. I can't be the only one in this family bearing this weight and working on my shit.

[another-emotional-wreck]

My Only Sunshine-- chapter 2

Warnings: Language

Word count: 3k

Authors note: Sorry this one took so long yall, I'll try to have the next chapter out a little sooner. This past week was a lot and I wanted to make sure this chapter was done right. Thanks so much to everyone who's reading it and invested in the story. Yall mean so much to me <33 (If there's ever any confusion, don't be afraid to ask about it! ((and I promise you'll see Peter soon))

1 | 2 |

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

“Jean?” Ororo rapped on the door with her knuckles while her head poked through the doorway.

A girl with hair like fire was adjusting her clothing and didn’t bother to turn from the mirror. “Yes?”

“Are you busy?

“I was actually about to go and meet up with Scott.” Jean turned to face Ororo. “Why, what’s the matter?”

In response, I was reluctantly dragged from the hallway into Jean’s room and gave an awkward wave in return. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Jean responded. Her facial expression didn’t change.

Ororo looked expectantly between the two of us before the uncomfortable silence became unbearable. “Alright since the both of you obviously can’t interact as normal human people do, I’ll help out a little.”

“Nyah,” Ororo turned to me dramatically. “Would you be alright with Jean helping you out?”

Jean interjected. “I don’t mind helping out, but I would like to know exactly what I’m helping with.” Jean turned to me. “Last time I went along with something I ended up in detention with you and Peter for a month.”

Ororo chuckled at the memory. “The Professor smelled like potatoes for a week.” while I stood there clueless, but a death glare from Jean wiped the smile from the silver-haired girl in a heartbeat.

“Right,” she cleared her throat. “Well, Nyah’s a little confused on what her mutation is, exactly. I, ever the genius, came up with the idea of doing what the Professor usually does and replicating the emotions she was feeling when her mutation arose.”

Jean stared at Ororo for a moment before sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of her nose. “And did it ever occur to you that maybe there’s a reason why only the Professor uses that method?”

“... okay, yes, but--”

“Jeez, Ororo!” Jean exclaimed.

“Please!” She pleaded, gesturing to me. “I wanna help her out. I know you know how terrifying it is not understanding who and what you are. If we have the chance to save someone from that, why not take it?”

I could see Jean fighting with herself on whether or not to agree. “Why not go and ask the Professor? I’m still not entirely sure what I can do and he has the skill and the actual authority to do it. Why not ask him?”

“You know why.” Ororo huffed.

“Um… I don’t.” I said.

The two girls seemed to forget that I was in the room as they both looked mildly surprised at the sound of my voice.

Jean smiled slightly, trying to calm her nerves. “The only time the Professor uses that method is when nothing else works.”

“Why not use it more often?” I asked.

“Well,” she sounded hesitant. “It’s mostly because it puts the mind in a fragile state and he doesn’t want anyone getting hurt--”

“Plus some kid went too far a couple of years back and the Professor is afraid of it happening again.”

“Oh,” my gaze dropped to the floor. “Alright then.”

I mean, did I really need to know what my powers were?

Ororo’s gaze softened. “Hey, look, you don’t have to go through with this if you’re not sure, I’m here to help either way.”

The gazes of both girls seemed to bore into me and after a moment of silence, I nodded slowly.

“Alright.” Jean rubbed her hands together. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m supposed to be meeting Scott in half an hour.”

*********

“So uh, what exactly do I have to do?”

Two chairs were placed directly across from each other, Jean and I sat in them while Ororo rested on her bed.

“Just uh-- just breathe.” She wiped her palms on her jeans and tried her best to keep her breath steady. After a couple of deep breaths, she closed her eyes and tried again. “I can go as far into your mind as I need to, but it would be better for the both of us if you did your best to keep that memory at the forefront of your thoughts.”

I furrowed my brow. “But why not just search for it? It feels like that would be easier, especially since I don’t remember every detail.”

“No,” Ororo shook her head frantically. “Definitely not.”

I figured she was joking, but my smile faded at Jean’s serious expression.

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because,” she sighed. “I can only control my powers so well. Not even the Professor knows the extent of what I can do.” Jean glared pointedly at Ororo. “Which is exactly why it would have been a lot smarter to either wait to get help from the Professor, or just wait for your powers to manifest themselves.”

I hadn’t felt all that great about the idea of someone poking around my thoughts, but if it was risking everyone’s safety, was it really all that worth it?

It wasn’t hard for the two of them to tell that I felt guilty. Jean interjected at the exact moment I opened my mouth. “Look, I know that we’re making it sound like it’s the end of the world, but at the most, I’ll be a little tired. I swear, it’s not as bad as you’re thinking.”

“And you’re sure you’ll only be looking for one memory?” Sure I felt bad, but I also really, really didn’t like the idea of a stranger going through private thoughts and memories.

Then again, the fact that I was letting her in my head in the first place might have invalidated any desire I had for privacy.

“Just the one memory,” Jean repeated.

I could see Ororo clutching Jean’s pillow in my peripheral. “Okay,” I muttered. “Let’s get this started before I chicken out.”

Jean nodded and the door closed and my heart skipped a beat before I remembered that Jean was, in fact, telekinetic. She grabbed my hands and a small part of me wondered if that was necessary. Her eyelids grew heavy and her head dipped a little-- but I wasn’t feeling anything. How could I not feel someone going through my head?

Apparently, I had spoken too soon. A sharp pain shot right behind my eyes and I knew that she had entered, but it didn’t feel like expected it to. Had I not expecting it, I probably wouldn’t have felt the almost imperceptible change in weight-- not physically, of course. After the initial sharp pain, everything just felt dull and clouded.

There was a tug in the back of my mind-- as if someone was trying to drag something out of a corner. I resisted the urge to fight it and heard a quiet gasp from in front of me. Whatever Jean had been trying to drag out had grown into something that I couldn’t avoid.

The memories of that day played like a slideshow in my head and I could feel the emotions rising up with each frame that was presented.

Jackson going too far and my teacher following me through the hallways after I had stormed out of the classroom.

Me not knowing how I got from the hall to the bathroom when I never walked through the door, and eventually being hunched over the sink.

The teacher grabbing my arm only to end up across the room and unconscious in the blink of an eye.

Me suddenly appearing back in my classroom while the entire school sat in darkness.

I could feel every ounce of fear and anger and frustration bubbling inside of me, the strongest one being fear. How was I supposed to deal with this? I didn’t want any of it, I didn’t need any of it. Why me?

As my pain and frustration grew, the light in the room seemed to fade despite the fact that it couldn’t have been later than 4 pm. I risked peeking my eyes open to see the light in the room being pulled away-- like some sort of vacuum was sucking it all in.

“Umm...” came a voice from my right. I turned to see Ororo sitting stiffly in the corner, her eyes were wide and frantic. Her gaze landed back on me and I could have sworn she was on the verge of fainting.

I was too preoccupied with everything I was feeling to notice what was happening. Something in me screamed to get away.

“I gotta--” My head hurt and the room was swaying. I staggered to the bed and, as I fell, I could see that the pitch-black tendrils were all coming from me.

*********

“Ugh, fuck.”

Everything was bright-- too bright. My head was throbbing and the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears was unbearable and someone had moved me from the chair to a bed at some point.

The light in the room was overpowering and I covered my face with my hands, wishing that the light would go away.

Wait a minute--

I squeezed my eyes tighter and kept my hands over my face as I focused every thought into taking the light out of the room.

The space grew dimmer and I let out an audible sigh at the same time a man with an accent spoke up.

“Well, if this is how you’d prefer it, I suppose I don’t mind.”

My eyes shot open and I turned towards the voice to see none other than the Professor himself. I didn’t do much other than stare at him for a little while, which prompted him to speak once again.

“Well,” I could see him blinking harder than usual in an attempt to adjust to the unnatural darkness. “You surely caused quite the ruckus earlier.”

I was drawing a blank before my throbbing head reminded me why it was throbbing in the first place.

“Oh God,” I pinched the bridge of my nose as if that would get rid of the thundering in my head. “Are Jean and Ororo alright?”

“She’s alright. Ororo ran out of the room for help pretty quickly after you fell over.”

I turned so that I was facing the professor entirely. “Is everyone alright?”

“No one was hurt Nyah,” Charles’s voice was calm and soothing. My head grew quieter the longer he spoke.

“Did the backup generator work well?”

He looked genuinely confused. “Backup generator?”

“Well, yeah,” I muttered. “How else is the power back on in the rest of the school?”

“Ah, I see.” The Professor chuckled at my confusion. “Nyah, you don’t control electricity, you control darkness. When Jean entered your mind, whatever you felt was powerful enough to push any trace of light from the building.”

There’s a chance he was able to sense my guilt. “If it’s any consolation, once you went unconscious everything returned to normal.”

“Oh.” it was silent for a little while before I thought of something else. “What about Jean?”

“She’ll be alright,” he sighed. “What she did earlier took a little more out of her than she likely expected. Jean is powerful, but she has much to learn.”

The Professor quirked his eyebrow and rested his chin on his fist. “What I would like to know, however, is why none of you thought to come to me.”

Sitting through this conversation I felt like a little kid being reprimanded, except this time I couldn’t think of an excuse-- at least not without somehow blaming Ororo for the entire thing.

“I, uh-- well. Ororo just wanted to help--” the Professor snorted at that. “She brought me to Jean and told me about the method we used earlier. I figured it was a good enough idea because I had no clue when I’d be able to figure out what was wrong with me.”

His eyes softened. “Well, your first problem was thinking that there was something wrong with you in the first place.”

Anyone could guess where this conversation was going, but I really didn’t feel like having it right now. “Right. Sorry, I mean what my mutation was.” My brain latched onto another thing that Ororo had said. “Ororo also mentioned that part of why you never use that method is because something… happened a few years ago?”

The Professors’ change in attitude was instant. His eyes grew heavier and he looked at least a decade older than he had just moments before. The two of us bot sat quietly in the darkness, and I noticed that, although the room we were in was pitch black, the halls were perfectly lit.

“What happened with that student was a mistake-- one that I refuse to make again.” It seemed as if he was reliving the moment in his head. He was paler than usual and his eyes seemed glazed over.

It took a moment for him to continue. I don’t think he knew that I could see him as clear as day since he tried to act as if nothing had happened. “No. I refuse to make that mistake again.” His face brightened and he looked in my direction. “All I ask is that you come to me if you ever need help with your powers, Nyah. We are here to help you..”

“Of course,” I nodded.

“Now,” the Professor said. “I do believe that dinner will be served sometime soon. Would you be interested in joining the rest of the students?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Excellent. The cafeteria is--” he turned to see a kid walking past. “Emanuel, would you mind showing our newest student to the cafeteria?”

After a moment of confusion, the kid smiled, his teeth practically shining bright enough to illuminate the pitch-black room. “Of course, Professor.”

“Lovely.” The Professor turned his chair towards the door and left, but paused just before.

*********

The walk was awkwardly silent and I struggled to keep up with the kid in front of me.

“Hey,” I huffed. “Would you-- uh-- would you mind slowing, down a little bit?”

“Hmm?”

“I said: could you slow down?”

Yeah, sorry.

The hallway to the cafeteria seemed farther than it needed to be. Was this even the right way?

In yet another attempt to lighten the atmosphere, I spoke up again. “Jeez, it feels like we’ve been walking forever.”

“Not forever. About fifteen minutes, maybe.”

Oh, alright then. “How far away is the cafeteria from my room?”

“About two minutes tops.” His voice was calm and unwavering in the most condescending way possible.

“Are we going the right way?”

“Of course,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Are we taking some sort of detour?”

“The quickest way is always the best, so no.”

“So how has it taken us fifteen minutes to walk what would usually take two?” My confusion seemed to do nothing more than amuse him.

He adjusted the coil of stark-white curls atop his head with a small smirk. “Because I want it to.”

I hadn’t realized that, at that point, we had arrived at the bustling cafeteria, yet it seemed as though people were just beginning to get their food. I turned towards where I thought Emanuel was standing, only to see that he had vanished.

“Alright then,” I mumbled to myself.

I took one step and it felt like the first day of school all over again-- probably because it was. It was loud and everything was moving. I could hardly see where the lunchline began and the constant sound and movement wasn’t helping.

Everything felt smaller than it should have. I could feel each footstep and hear each conversation. I felt a threateningly familiar pit in my stomach and I was too afraid to risk what might have happened if I didn’t find something to help.

I reached towards my belt loop to feel that what should’ve been there wasn’t. I looked down and realized that I had left it in my dorm.

Shit.

Hoping I’d be able to make it there and back with enough time to get my food, I took a look at the slowly growing line, sighed, and raced back towards my dorm.

By the time I arrived all of the light had returned to normal and my duffle was squished between my bed and the wall. I reached for it and found my Walkman and headphones, securing everything before walking back towards the cafeteria.

Like Emanuel had said, the walk was only about two minutes and I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d managed to stretch it out as long as he had. Maybe he was just screwing with me?

I looked at the line, which was far too long to stand through for whatever they might have been serving, which left me with just finding a table until dinner was over.

As I scanned the room I felt a pair of eyes boring into me, which turned out to be none other than Emanuel’s. His gaze made my spine feel weird, so I looked away, eventually deciding to just spend the rest of the hour in my room.

*********

Her face brightened the moment she saw me which, to be honest, wasn’t an unwelcome reaction.

“Jesus, Nyah.” her arms were wrapped around me before I could register what was really happening. “Where were you?”

“Uhm, unconscious,” I joked, and Ororo pulled away to frown at my humor. “How’s Jean doing?”

Her face fell ever so slightly. “She’s alright, but still exhausted. Hank said not to let her out of bed for another day or two.”

The guilt was heavy in my chest as I nodded.

Ororo took note and had an idea. “Come on, you haven’t seen my room yet.”

I was half led, half dragged down a series of hallways until we reached another dorm that looked like it had been occupied for quite some time.

The walls were covered in posters of various bands and movie characters, all over walls painted and electric blue.

“Dude,” my jaw was close to the floor. “Your room’s amazing.”

“I know.” She winked as she grabbed a snowglobe from her shelf and shook it.

“Hey,” I said to Ororo. “Do you know anything about Emanuel?”

She plopped herself onto her bed. “Who?”

“Emanuel Nelson,” I repeated. “Pretty tall, white hair, kind of an asshole.”

Ororo snorted. “Yeah. Everyone knows him.”

“What’s his deal?”

“I’ll tell you later tonight.”

“And what’s tonight?” I sighed, already having a pretty good idea.

“You’ll see.”

Although it was meant to be a secret, her grin told me everything I needed to know.

[whetstonefires]

Do you think the DC fandom maybe, Infantilizes Tim a little too much? Like for a rich kid character who's main trauma for a long time was a getting left home alone too much there's an oddly amount of meta abt how much how much his parents hurt him~ compared to, y'know the two poor characters who grew up with physically abusive dad's+druggie mom's, or the two that were raised assassin cult's, etc

…well, yeah, I do kind of think that? His whole schtick for so long was being too old for his age in ways that didn’t sacrifice his jokey, relatable teenager energies. It’s weird how little of that we see anymore, sometimes.

And then DC broke him and discarded him and he’s sort of awkwardly hanging around getting reimagined as more woobie with every fan generation. It is weird!

But tbh I do get it. And I think the reason his parents’ failure of him and his vulnerability get played up so much, and Jason and Steph’s sufferings (while used a lot for things like motivation and context) not dwelt on quite so much in the same lugubrious style, are kind of the same reason.

Which is that canon didn’t commit to it. Jason and Steph’s experiences with bad parenting were foregrounded and retconned more dramatically awful several times. (There’s some definite classism in how that was approached imo, and I’m never budging on being mad about DC retconning out Catherine being sick and then ignoring her forever in all Jason characterization because a drug death invalidates a person ig, great message during the opioid crisis guys.)

They engaged and coped with it–Steph (and Cass, our #1 canon batfam parental abuse victim) pretty directly, Jason a little less so because of the dubious and fluctuating canon status of most of the content more specific than ‘poverty, homelessness, theft, parental drugs and crime in there somewhere,’ so most of his parent issues have been focused on Bruce. He sure has dug into them tho. 😂 Rarely well or productively, thanks DC, but it’s explicitly part of his character, is my point.

Whereas upper-middle-class Tim was always treated by the narrative as fortunate and unharmed by his experiences with his parents. Even though they were clearly behaving badly in several ways, and Tim showed signs of being harmed by it.

Tim outside of immediate moments of frustration always was of the opinion he was Fine, and Very Fortunate Actually.

Therefore a huge chunk of the numerous everyone who’s got parent-related mental and emotional harm, but has struggled to have that validated and hasn’t responded with a lot of anger toward the parent, identifies with Tim. The only one who’s never really lashed out at his parents for fucking up with him. The one who still needs it explored, because canon ultimately didn’t.

[editing post to put in a readmore because lol it’s long, post otherwise unchanged]

(Dick obviously didn’t ever have any Issues with the Graysons, but he Angry Teenagered at Bruce so hard it changed Bruce’s characterization permanently, rip.)

The things Jason, Steph, and Cass have been through are dramatic, obvious, and fit stereotypes because that’s what they’re based on.

That’s important content to have, but because it’s right out there in your face even people who identify with it quite a lot are less likely to feel the need to work all the way through it again in fanworks. That part’s there. It’s text.

(Well actually Jason having been physically abused kind of wasn’t? I think? It was mostly assumed on the basis of stereotyping and Jason’s not caring about the man much even as he felt possessive of information about his death, which is valid. I don’t actually know what’s up with Willis now, Lobdell did some weird shit that lacked emotional resonance or staying power because he’s Lobdell and has no soul.

Cass’ wandering years are also ludicrously underdeveloped. But very very few comics fans or writers can personally relate to being amazing child warriors with no grasp of language living feral under bridges. That part of her life is consistently represented in terms of absences, in terms of its deviation from the norm and the deficits of normality it left her with, which is typical but unfortunate.) 

-

The interesting things to do with these characters are often informed by the bad stuff in their childhoods, but there’s relatively rarely that much more to say about the fact that those things were bad. They know they’re bad. They’ve had a lot of on-panel rage about it, as discussed above. Steph and Cass both beat the shit out of their dads.

Jason is, in fandom especially, a sort of Platonic ideal of a kid who’s mad about his bad childhood and really bad at figuring out where to point that rage.

(Damian is a whole other kettle of fish, because he’s been lumbered by so many detailed retcons coming so fast no two people can seem to construct compatible models of what his early childhood was like, and even more because he’s still ‘a child’ enough that he’s necessarily in a different stage of processing than someone who’s officially only a few years older than him at this point, but still functionally 8 and also 20 years older, and whose parents are no longer in the picture to continue screwing up.

Also there’s no question that if he brings up an abusive thing the League did, he will be validated by his current environment about his realization that it was in fact bad. There’s a lot of fic on that theme! But it doesn’t have the same tone precisely because it is usually understood that that support will be there if he wants it. Realizing that his previous context contained things that were wrong keeps being made the focus of his arc.)

The badness of Tim’s childhood, on the other hand, was mainly in subtext. Even when we were clearly meant to understand Jack was fucking up, like when he canceled plans with Tim at the last minute to go on a date with Tim’s stepmother, or that infamous time he came to apologize for not being a great parent and got mad Tim was distracted by a crisis on TV so he flew into a rage and took the TV and smashed it and was like ‘that’ll teach you,’ it wasn’t leaned into.

The story didn’t treat Jack as a minor villain to be overcome but like a sort of environmental hazard of childhood, like homework, to be endured and coped with. Tim said things like ‘it’s fine’ and ‘at least he left the computer.’

(And like. It’s not about having a TV and computer in his room. It’s about not letting a child have boundaries, pointedly not respecting a child’s possessions, creating an emotionally insecure environment, punishing minor infractions in proportion to their momentary impact on your own ego, physically lashing out at a proxy for the child…)

Rather like Tom King later didn’t understand about the punching from Bruce, whoever did that story (probably Dixon? I don’t care enough to check) did not understand how serious a case of bad parenting that scene was. That is most definitely textbook abusive behavior. (It’s a hell of a lot more common abusive behavior than being a lame supervillain or shooting you when you screw up, and a lot more specific than ‘was a thug, might have hit me, dead now.’)

And Tim was never allowed to be mad at his parents about it. It was fine. He needed to be ignored so he had the freedom to be Robin. He deserved his dad being mad at him because he was keeping secrets. He complained too much, although objectively he did not.

The universe punished him for ‘complaining,’ more than once. We cut straight from him shunting aside his disappointment that his postcard from his parents was just to say they weren’t coming home yet after all with ‘if it will stop all the fights they’ve been having lately it’s more than fine’ to them getting kidnapped.

He agreed not to come on the rescue mission. His mom never made it home, and his dad was in a coma for a while. And then ultimately Jack died as a result of Tim’s decision to be Robin, immediately after finally deciding to accept it.

So Tim walks around feeling a huge burden of responsibility for his parents’ deaths, and completely unable to process any hurt they did him as real or valid, especially in comparison with the far more blatant awfulness other people have been through, and canon is clearly never going to address it. Or even acknowledge it properly.

Let me repeat that because it’s kind of my main point:

People are fixated on getting Tim’s emotional abuse validated because that’s an incredibly important step in recovering from emotional abuse, and it’s one canon consistently denied him.

How ‘bad’ things are ‘in comparison to’ problems other people have is a bad and unhealthy way to engage with trauma. Okay? That’s just a really harmful framework to apply to pain.

It’s also a way that both Tim and people with experiences similar to Tim’s are encouraged to engage with their own experiences, compounding the existing problems.

So. Not a form of relatable DC was ever actually aiming for when they tried so hard (and pretty effectively) to make him a relatable character as Robin, but an enduring one for a lot of fans.

-

So Tim’s childhood is a natural target for fanworks in a different way than the traumas that have been made explicit and taken seriously by the text. And then a lot of that got compounded by the way the introduction of Damian as Robin was handled, and the lack of resolution that got. And his current status as not quite having a place in the family anymore.

So between the level of projection encouraged by that context and how relatively difficult to access Tim’s Robin run has become ten years after the fact, this has led to a lot of fanworks on these themes that are based mostly on other fanworks, and stray further and further from the original content.

So at this point there’s an entire wing of Tim’s fandom wherein this side of him has expanded enormously, and he primarily exists to suffer, frequently in ways that 1) escalate to a point that is inarguably ‘valid’ and hard to dismiss and 2) set him up to rebound from it in whatever way the writer finds emotionally satisfying or useful–being ultimately cared for and reassured by people who value him (the most infantilizing option but like, popular for obvious reasons), or unveiling his brilliant scheme that was causing him to pretend to be passive in the face of mistreatment, or turning around and using his genius ninja skills to wrest power back from his abusers, or just laying down some sick burns about being treated fairly.

But not that many of the last one, because that’s mostly done with other batfam members.

Tim’s become a vehicle for a lot of vicarious coping that Steph and Jason just aren’t appropriate for, because they get angry and they get even. And those are stories that exist already, so there’s less scope for telling your own.

And because Jason’s reaction pattern is ultimately so masculine (i’ll make them all sorry! with my guns! blam blam!) while Tim’s is pretty gender-neutral, the demographics of fanfic mean that the bulk of the people using Tim vicariously in this manner are female-aligned, which has over time feminized this archetype of him a lot. Sometimes in ways I find really uncomfortable, like there’s a lot of forced pregnancy stuff which activates my panic buttons. x.x

But, ultimately, it’s fandom. People are going to do what they’re going to do, DC in their perpetual fail has hung Tim out to dry in narrative terms, and I’d rather the people who are using Tim for victimization narratives over the people who can’t dismiss or discredit him fast enough now that his position has been filled. 🤷‍♀️ What we gonna do? Fave’s in an awkward spot. DC hates us. This is the life in this comic book pit. XD

-

Also if you’re the same anon who left me a callout about op of that weird Steph post in my inbox, or if you aren’t @ that person, 1) I refuse to get involved so I’m not answering that ask 2) those aren’t even particularly dramatic fandom crimes? That’s pretty normal? That’s just…Caring Too Much About Ships And Disagreeing With Me.

Do I also feel those opinions are kinda bad? Yeah. But I disagree with everyone about something. Chill.

[killingpaper]

I’m sick of feeling like my feelings are invalid or forced to doubt the importance of what I’m experiencing. My whole life I’ve internalised my emotions, I’ve fought against my depression in silence. People told me to communicate, to let them know if I need help. I’m trying now, and no one answers. I grew up being the middle man, the shoulder people cried on, the one to save my sister from suicide attempt after suicide attempt. The one to rationalise fights between my parents, the one friends could rely on. But when I need a helping hand, or just someone to talk to? I’m not asking people to drop their life for me, just be there please, help me even a little bit cos I need help I need it so bad. I told my housemate I think I need to see a therapist after bawling my eyes out in my car and she said yeah maybe you do and then went back to cooking without any other comment. 

I just want to empty these thoughts, I wish I had someone I could always share my burdens with and have it be equal and without guilt. I want to experience love but fuck I’m terrified of it because I’ve never seen love succeed. It’s so lonely. All I have is this right now, just writing it all out because I think if I don't I’ll combust. I’m sick of feeling like I have to compare my feelings to others, I’m sick of feeling like I’m overreacting. My mother was essentially on her death bed a few days ago and I was doubting my sadness even then. Other people have it worse I would think. And yeah, that's right, but why do I have to be pushed aside because I’m considered less vital? I broke down on the phone to my dad today, which I never do. I never cry in front of my dad but I couldnt stop and I’m usually so in control of my tears around him but I have no one else to break down too at the moment. I miss my mummy, I miss the comfort I would feel from her when she was healthy. Now, her minds barely here, she’s getting better which is positive, but she’ll never be the same. Last week she couldn't even remember my name. 

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, I’m exhausted.

[flying-elliska]

The last few months I have been in a pretty intense "confronting my trauma" phase but that's - not easy. There are just, a lot of layers to it.

There's some pretty heavy complicated shit in my childhood that I'm starting to come to terms with that for a long time i never thought i could tell anyone. But silence and shame is how things start to fester and weigh on everything. And now I'm finally realizing that i shouldn't be the one to carry the shame of those things and that i shouldn't have to carry that stuff out of a misplaced sense of loyalty.

I have a complicated relationship with the part of me that was hurt - often I thought she was weak - but it's also the part of me that has an innate sense of boundaries, autonomy, right and wrong and that was yelling at me that there was something very wrong with some of this and acting out when I didn't listen, inconvenient and dysfunctional coping mechanisms that at the same time allowed me to preserve some sense of self. So I can't reconstruct without acknowledging and learning to respect and healing her.

A complication is that the trauma here is linked to abuse that was, for the most part, not physical - but tangled in a web of messy emotions, manipulation, neglect, good intentions, codependency, and unresolved trauma from previous generations. A lot of it is ambiguous and difficult to understand unless placed in context and fucked up in ways that only make sense when put all together. (Although some stuff is just fucked up no matter how you present it, tbh) So for a long time it was easy to feel like I was exaggerating or making it up for attention or as an excuse for my issues.

I got more clarity by reading a lot of stories of coming to terms with stories of trauma linked to childhood/family stuff, fictional or not, and how it can warp your worldview from the start, in ways that are difficult to grow past because often it feels you're building on nothing, on thin air - if not rotten roots.

A key thing is the idea of "legitimate trauma." When are you "allowed" to suffer, to be impacted, to be deeply and lastingly changed by what happened in inconvenient ways ? According to a lot of social narratives, never ; you either buckle up and let go or you're weak, destructive, and a nuisance. So I've tried to "just let go" for a while and it just lead to more problems. It was actually a form of self denial. And what's more, a core part of abuse is making you believe that your feelings and perceptions don't matter, are unjustified and invalid - no matter how bad it gets. So having a moment of "yeah this was really bad no wonder I'm messed up over it and angry and hurt" is very important. Sure "others had it worse" but I'm realizing a big part of coming to terms with trauma is letting go of the need for comparison and absolute evaluations - what matters is that it hurt me and it had an impact on me and I'm allowed to recognize that.

Still - this kind of dynamic turns your own character traits against you. For a long time I told myself that if I had been less sensitive and eager to please, less loyal and naive, less needy and wanting to feel special, more emotionally independent - like my sister, who grew up a lot less scarred - it would have been less easy for my mother to manipulate me into an unhealthy dynamic that deeply fucked me up. But fuck that ! Children are malleable and dependent on their parents by nature... It's not weakness of character ! My mother telling me she "saw and treated me like an adult" changes nothing about that. In fact the situation was shaped by her refusal to recognize the power differential between us ; putting the focus back on it is fundamental.

There are no easy villains in this narrative. I sway between feeling like my anger is pathological and thinking there has to be something wrong with me for still loving my mother so much. I have to allow myself to take my own side and be viciously angry at times ; and also hang on to my compassion and the knowledge that a lot of our family issues are rooted in social dynamics of sexism, ableism, classism and more. I have to uproot the belief systems and behaviors she passed on to me so I make sure I don't perpetuate any toxic shit while at the same time trusting my heart and the knowledge that there are some things I would never do, no matter what, that i am neither my mother or my father or anybody else. I have to look at events that I buried for a long time because they annihilated my ability to even think or assign meaning to them, because the idea that had happened was unbearable and I thought it would mean facing there was something terminally wrong with me - and finally trust myself to process them without betraying myself or letting them destroy me. It's a lot !!!!

[hcpefulmarshmallow]

Anonymous said:

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to reply! Know that you say it, it's true that both Akechi and Nagito share some kind of character archetype. I was mostly curious because, although they share similarities, they are different in other things. I tried to like Akechi, I really did, but the fact that he doesn't seem to feel remorse for his actions and sometimes is sadic when he kills shadows. (1/2)

And (SPOILER!) he worked for Shido to gain his trust and eventually kill him, but somehow was surprised to learn what Shido really thought of him?. Yes, Akechi sacrificed himself in the end to help the Thieves (I'm not fond of the "sacrifice redemption" thing) but doesnt excuse his actions. Meanwhile, Nagito cares for his classmates, tries to do what he thinks is best for everyone (but is bad ofc) and is kinda influenced by his illness. (2/2)

Then again, i watched the game on youtibe so it's not the same experience that playing it myself....

Here’s the thing, Anon: as someone who began Persona 5 feeling a deep, debilitating rage every time Akechi showed his stupid fucking face onscreen, to possibly maybe shedding a tear or two for him by the end, I’m not going to try and convince you to like him. Partly because it’s a silly endeavour, but partly because I understand that he just isn’t an easy guy to like. And I say this fully recognising that, just before, I called him extremely likeable. I hold the same to be true for Nagito, as well. It’s one thing to tolerate a character’s flaws when you understand their deepest and most sympathetic motivations; it’d be another if you met them in real life and were blindly subjected to the worst of that their personality has to offer. 

(continued under a cut for heavier spoilers and length i guess)

 That said, I’d argue Nagito is just as remorseless and ruthless as Akechi is. In his mind, so long as an action is committed to further a great hope, it is justified. I suspect their differences are less a matter of contrition, and more a matter of time. I found Nagito easier to sympathise with at first, because it’s easier to see his humanity than it is to see Akechi’s. Despite his habit of pushing people away, Nagito remains so desperate to be recognised, he seemingly can’t help letting his cheerful, apathetic veneer slip here and there, giving glimpses of his true motivations from the beginning. It also helps that, as Hajime, we - the player - notice it early on. Hajime observes pretty quickly that Nagito has probably been through a lot, and that he seems kind and understanding if a little strange. On the other hand, due to the nature of the game, Joker’s initial opinions of Akechi are entirely up to the player. You won’t see much of his true personality early on unless you’re really looking for it. This, for the longest time, he’s nothing more than a vaguely antagonistic presence with who knows what motives.

 Furthermore, Nagito’s betrayal of the group comes much sooner which, I’d also argue, helps ground his character. It gives us time to explore those motives, the implications, and how he might still fit in a group dynamic. Whereas, by Akechi’s about-face, we’re pretty late in the game and he still isn’t wholly part of the group, having distinguished himself from the PTs by demanding that they disband in exchange for his help. 

 In all, while Nagito is willing and eager to make his true self known, Akechi hides himself until the very end, making it harder to understand and explore his character. Even in the third semester, with his demise imminent, he’d rather keep the other characters at arm’s length than live his final month or so in good company. He really is that ruined for other people. With time and patience, he could become as open as Nagito is, but the game simply doesn’t have that time to give at this point. And that, I suspect, is the cause for the trouble you have with his character and not Nagito’s. Akechi isn’t allowed to be a person for very long. Anger, hostility and fear trickle through as unadulterated sadism, because we aren’t privy to his whole side of things as thoroughly as we could be. 

 With regard to the Shido thing, I kind of read that as a rare moment of his emotions getting the better of him. He’d always wanted to get back at his father for abandoning him and his mother. Make him pay for the hellscape of a life he trapped them in. Much like Joker, he’s met with a perceived injustice, and he wants to right it via his own means. Of course, whether what he’s doing is “right” is up for debate, but I digress. To find out that Shido knew who he was all along and was still, after all this time, willing to discard his own son must’ve hurt. To realise he never stood a chance, for his life’s work to suddenly become nothing. You know, the whole “My expectations were low, but HOLY FUCK” thing? The game puts a heavy emphasis on Rotten Adults failing kids, but with his charm and sophistication, it can be easy to forget that Akechi is one of those failed kids too. I think he reacted like a child because, deep down, he is: a child fueled by a childish anger, and that’s why the game doesn’t condemn him the way it does Shido himself. There’s this implicit hopefulness that, through atonement and support, Akechi could change himself. Become a better person. But, because of his terrible, horrible, bad, bad father, he’s once again robbed of a chance of a better life, and it’s all he can do to make sure he doesn’t drag others down further than he has with his bad choices. 

 Yeah, I’m not too fond of the Sacrifice As Redemption trope, either. I would have preferred a proper character arc. But, I do think it demonstrates an ability to be selfless and contrite, if not a willingness. Stripped of his dreams and left with nothing, he really could have done anything in that moment. And he did That. 

 Of course, it’s possible that my interpretation of Akechi is a little charitable, do bear that in mind. I have a weakness for these types of characters, and my perception may well be biased. Due to my experience with other complex characters (like Nagito), I kind of just want to see the best brought out in him. (What can I say? I grew up shows like Avatar, complicated characterisation and quality redemption arcs Do It for me.) That said, it’s not at all invalid to find Akechi’s arrogance, selfishness and disregard for others offputting, with or without a reason for him to be such. The way he exists in his story vis-à-vis the whole foil thing I discussed in my last post is similar to Nagito’s role, and they share a lot of characteristics that are fun to discuss. But they are, ultimately, different characters. It’s okay to feel wildly different about them. 

[applesauccce]

What’s up gamers, back at it again with complaints and over sharing about my life. I swear I’m not turning into a life blogger, I just want somewhere to spew my thoughts that isn’t google docs. (Quick tw: gaslighting, emotional abuse, homophobia, eating disorders)

Anyways, so as a quick summary, I got on decent meds, have seen a real difference, but am still having a multitude of problems. Brain fog, inability to concentrate or focus on tasks (even if it’s something I want to do, like cleaning my room or painting), extreme memory loss, both short term and long term, an excess of nervous energy that prevents me from sleeping or concentrating, over sensitivity to various stimuli, food texture sensitivities, etc etc etc. I’m working with a very nice psychiatrist (he’s been very supportive) and hopefully will remember to find a therapist to work with as well.

Basically, we’ve been running through the potential causes for my issues and will slowly eliminate them. The current list of most likely causes of me not being able to function is as follows. Adhd (runs in the family on both sides, I have a lot in common with adhd individuals), Autism (likely, based on my behaviors), PTSD (welcome to Trauma Town), Anxiety (no shit Sherlock), and Depression (my current meds need more time to take full effect). Currently we are waiting to see if giving my current meds more time to take effect will help at all, but it’s very likely that it won’t solve everything.

Now here’s my problem. My mom (bless her heart in every way, she is an angel on earth) is extremely supportive in every way. She listens to me, validates my worries, asks genuine questions about my experiences, and is generally open minded to most everything. She genuinely wants the best for me and has learned over the years that her idea of what’s best may not necessarily be the solution, so she has chosen to be open minded and supportive.

My father on the other hand (my parents are divorced btw, you’ll see why in a moment) is the exact opposite. Take every boomer parent that thinks they know best. has the most set in stone and stubborn mindset, and throw in a heavy dash of narcissism (scratch that, pour in the whole container) and you have my trash bag of a father. To name just a few things that he does/says.............(brace yourself, it’s a long list)

Barely tolerates me being queer (pansexual, told him. Non binary, cannot tell him unless I want to be disowned, abused, and murdered)

Believes that women shouldn’t work after they are married and they need to have kids

Claims that trans, nb, and gender fluid people are “corrupted” and have been sent by Satan to destroy the nuclear family

Thinks “the gays” are some angry liberal movement, “just like those awful BLM people”. My favorite things he’s said is “they just want govenerment funding and special laws passed to give them the power to sue religious people”, “if you want respect, why don’t you go out and organize your gay friends and do a service project to show you’re good people”, “if someone’s uncomfortable with a gay person, they have the right to refuse service!” “But what if was the other way around? What if a gay person was uncomfortable with a religious person and refused them service?” “Thats discrimination!”, “I tolerate gay people! I’ve had gay friends!” “......you do realize that means next to nothing right?” “hOw RuDe!”, and finally “yeah, you’d marry a woman just to spite me.”

I was prescribed birth control by my dr for extremely painful periods. I then happened to go visit my bf at the time and since I didn’t want to stay in my moms house (had issues with her husband, he’s a nice guy tho, we chill now), his mom offered to let me stay in their spare room, as long as I kept the door locked at night. He found out and immediately called me a whore and said I was ruining my life, had used his insurance to get the birth control to have sex, and was a disrespectful disgrace to the family. He then proceeded to tell his entire family.

When I was talking about the possible diagnosis for my issues, I mentioned autism and he laughed and said “you don’t have autism, you’re normal. Plus, you don’t look like it, and you’re smart. Trust me, I know mental handicaps, I grew up with a handicapped sister.” (His sister does not have autism and is an extreme case, she needs round the clock care). Like thanks for invalidating my thoughts and research, saying I don’t look “disabled enough”, and saying I’m too smart to have problems.

When I was discussing my eating issues, I mentioned that it was likely I was/am anorexic, based on my behaviors and thought process surrounding food. He laughed and said “oh don’t be dramatic. You’re not anorexic. Look at you! Still plump and healthy, you have meat on your bones!” I told him it wasn’t about physical appearance, it was about the mental process about food. He rolled his eyes and said to stop self diagnosing myself. Like thanks for again invalidating me.

Is in general, a gaslighting, narcissistic, self righteous bitch who thinks he is the most amazing and religious person in the world. He constantly complains about not being able to find a new wife (I wonder why /s)

Not to mention his absolute cultish fanaticism over religion. Like don’t even get me started. He’s the reason that people think Mormons are cultists.

Anyways, so my dad sucks ass, but thinks he’s a god among men. The only reason I moved in with him was because at the time my mental health was really bad and I was having a very hard time dealing with my moms husband. Things are a lot better now and I’m lowkey considering moving back in with my mom bc holy fuck I am so sick of dealing with my father.

Also I’m trying to find a therapist to help me figure things out and help find a diagnosis. If it is autism, I’m going to shove it in his face and laugh at him. And if/when I get diagnosed with an eating disorder, I am also going to shove it in his face and tell him he’s a bitch. Can’t wait till he realizes that all his children hate him and are never going to “choose to live with their daddy” bc they’d rather not be gaslighted and emotionally abused.

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 014 [Social Interaction? Effort.]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,680 ☁

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“All I want is a place to call my own. To mend the hearts of everyone who feels alone. You know to keep your hopes up high and your head down low.” A Day to Remember, “All I Want”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

I groaned, forcing my eyes open. My hand shot out, feeling around for my annoying ass phone. I had three unread messages. The first was, surprisingly, from Aizawa.

✉ ‘Careful on your way to school.’

Weird, but okay. The next was from Toshi.

✉ ‘The school entrance has been swarmed by reporters. Ignore them, please.’

Reporters? Is that a normal thing for U.A.? The last message was from Murder.

‘Ur face sux’

My eye twitched as my fingers flew across the keyboard. ‘Uve never even seen my face fool’ I stood up, throwing my phone onto the couch before getting ready for school. After grabbing a bottle of Dr. Pepper from the fridge and scarfing down a bowl of cereal, I grabbed my phone again and slipped my sneakers on. A message was waiting for me.

‘Doesnt matter ur face still sux’

I rolled my eyes, ‘Ur an idiot‘

As I got closer to U.A., I heard the chaos before I saw it. The entrance was swarmed by at least two dozen people, some holding microphones, others holding large cameras on their shoulders. They were screaming at the students as they tried to enter the school, blocking their path. Talk about being a hindrance.

“Strange. I’ve never heard of such a thing happening in the past.”

I glanced over at Fumi as he stopped beside me, arms crossed firmly over his chest. “So this ain’t a normal thing, then?”

“Not to my knowledge. Though, if I were to make a guess, I’d say this has to do with All Might being a teacher.”

“You think so?” I scratched my cheek, watching as a female reporter roughly grabbed a student’s shoulder when he ignored her. “He’s the top hero, huh? So heroes are practically celebrities that people go nuts for here… how fucking annoying.”

He tilted his head, looking at me curiously. Right, he doesn’t know anything about me not being from here.

I cleared my throat. “Should we get it over with? Don’t wanna be late… again.”

He nodded, “Yes, they will only become more aggressive over time.”

The fucking vultures spotted us before we even got close, shoving microphones into our faces and screaming over one another to be heard. The only thing I could clearly make out was the name ‘All Might’. Fumi didn’t even spare them a glanced as he headed for the gate, but a woman grabbed his arm and shoved a microphone in his face, demanding an answer.

I felt a surge of annoyance and I grabbed her wrist, my hand turning red as I increased the temperature until she let go of him. “Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself, bitch. The fuck is wrong with you, grabbing a kid like that. Grow the fuck up and get a real job!”

She cried out in pain and frustration and I released her hand. Muttering profanities under my breath, I put my arm through Fumi’s and tugged him past the archway.

“Thank you,” Fumi spoke softly, his feathery cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

I didn’t even know it was possible for him to blush but this world keeps fucking surprising me, don’t it? “Don’t worry about it,”

“If you won’t bring All Might out, I’ll get him myself!”

I glanced over my shoulder as a loud buzzing filled the morning air. Sheets of metal shot out of the ground, blocking the entry and towering above the stone walls that surrounded the school. The woman screamed in surprise and I scoffed. “That’s what you get, invasive bitch.”

Fumi sighed, placing his hand over his beak. “Your vocabulary is quite vulgar, Jen-san.”

I grinned at him. “Pretty sure I was a fucking sailor in my past life.”

A breeze blew past us, ruffling my hair. A shiver went down my spine, but I didn’t feel cold. I felt… exposed, in danger. What is this strange sense of dread that I’m suddenly feeling? Why do I have the urge to run? I suppressed another shiver, glancing back at the metal sheeting.

“Is something wrong, Jen-san?”

I snapped out of my daze, giving Fumi a forced smile as I followed him into the school building. That feeling lingered in the back of my mind, like someone breathing down my neck.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Decent work on yesterday’s combat training, you guys.” Aizawa stood at the front, his eyes sweeping the room. “I saw the video feeds and went over each of your team’s results. Bakugo – you’re talented, so don’t sulk like a child about your loss, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Pft, that bitch is totally sulking. I glanced around Big Boobs, but I could only see the back of his head since he was sitting in the same row. Truth be told, I had been a bit worried about him, but he seems to be in better spirits. His aura ain’t as dark as it was, anyway. I wonder what Midoriya said to him yesterday.

“And Midoriya – I see the only way you won the match was by messing up your arm again. Work harder! And don’t give me the excuse that you don’t have control over your quirk. That line’s already getting old. You can’t keep breaking your body while training here.” His voice softened. “But your quirk will be really useful if you can get a handle on it. So show a little urgency, huh?”

“Right!”

I snickered at his caring tone and his eyes snapped to mind. Shit, is he gonna call me out, too? I didn’t do that bad, did I? I slowly moved my body back behind Big Boobs, slumping over the desk so he couldn’t see me. I still haven’t apologized for the other day, either. Damn, I should really have a talk with him and Toshi, but effort. Emotional effort, too.

“Let’s get down to business,”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Your first task will decide your future.”

The classroom grew tense at his words, but I had the distinct feeling that he was trolling everyone again.

“You all need to pick a class representative.”

He said that so seriously, what the fuck. Still, the classroom started to erupt, overflowing with excitement and energy. I hate it.

“Pick me, guys! I wanna be class representative!” Do you even know what this job takes, Red?

“I’ll take it!” Sparky is definitely not smart enough for this.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need me.” Somehow I doubt that, Punk Rock.

“Someone with style should be -”

“Ooh! I’m totally the right pick!”

I guaran-fucking-tee you that Alien does that to French Fry on purpose. She’s going for the record of how many times she can interrupt him in three years. Or she just hates his guts, which I can understand.

Everyone’s voices started to overlap and I slammed my forehead onto the desk. What the fuck is wrong with these idiots, seriously? Don’t they realize how much work and responsibility that role entails? No fucking thank you. Oh, great taco god, even Bakugo wants the job. Depending on who gets the role, my school life could become hell. I’ve seen plenty of school anime to know that class reps and the student council give students hell.

“Silence, everyone! Please!” Prep shot up, his voice booming over the others. “The class representative’s duty is to lead others! It’s not something just anyone can do.” Especially not most of these dipshits. “You must first have the trust of every student in the classroom. Therefore, the most logical way to fill this position is democratically. We will hold an election to choose our leader!”

That’s a great idea and all, but… that hand of yours is raised higher than anyone else’s. It’s pretty obvious he wants the job.

“Is this really the best idea?”

“We’ve only known each other a few days, how do we know who we can trust?”

That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it? It’s not like the class rep is gonna be trying to bring nations together or some shit.

“‘Sides, everyone will just vote for themselves.”

“Most people will, but that means whoever does receive multiple votes must truly be the most suitable person for the job. It’s the best way! Right, sir?”

Aizawa had slipped back into his sleeping bag at this point, looking bored out of his mind. “Do what you want. Just decide before my nap’s over.” And with that, he fell to the ground, hidden behind the long lectern.

I sweatdropped. For someone that can show so much care for his students, he certainly loves to act like he hates his job. I wonder… is Zawa part tsundere? Is that even a thing? It’s gotta be.

“Thank you for your trust!” Prep turned to the class, pushing up his glasses. “Everyone, please write your vote on a piece of paper and fold it!”

With a sigh, I dug through my bag for my notebook and a pen. So far, it had only been used to draw cute tacos and the sacred taco bra. I swear, I’m gonna take this fucking grudge to the grave and then come back to haunt that bitch. I tapped my pen on the paper, scanning the room.

I don’t really have a relationship with any of these people. I had that one awkward moment with Bakugo; Ochako introduced herself to me; I helped Midoriya to Granny, but he probably don’t even know about that; Peppermint likes to glare at me for no reason, but he has a really nice voice; Then there’s Fumi.

I glanced over at him, watching his pencil scratch across his paper. Did he even want this job? He hadn’t said anything about it, and he doesn’t seem to be especially social or extroverted. He’s the closest thing I got to a friend here, though.

Damn, I’m really shit at interacting with people. Now that I’m thinking about it, the only people I ever interacted with during school was Travis, and even that was limited to a few times a month, and then there’s Skye and Heather, but something tells me those two are invalid. And twats. They’re definitely twats.

Maybe I should make more of an effort to get to know these people, but that sounds like a serious pain in the ass. Most of these people annoy me, anyway, and the only one that’s made an effort with me is Ochako and Punk Rock, but I blew her off.

“I will collect the votes now!”

Well, shit. I stared at the blank piece of paper and hummed thoughtfully. Oh… a grin split my lips as an idea popped into my head. I quickly scribbled down the name and balled the paper up, tossing it at Prep as he walked by. After collecting them all, he headed to the front of the room and started to calculate the results, writing names and numbers on the board. There were a lot of single votes. Guess people really did vote for themselves. Losers~

“Who voted for Aizawa-sensei?!”

“Pffft,” I bit my lip hard to stop from laughing, but his offended tone really fucking got me, man. Big Boobs and Peppermint turned to look at me, one with a weird expression, the other glaring in annoyance.

Prep slammed his hand on the lectern repeatedly. “This is an important decision, please take this seriously, Winchester!”

“Che. It ain’t that serious, fam, take a chill pill.” I huffed, leaning back in my chair. “One vote ain’t gonna make a difference.”

“Every vote matters!”

“For fuck’s sake, fine.” I scratched my cheek, glancing at the students as they looked back at me, some snickering. “I vote for Fumi,”

“Fumikage Tokoyami,” Prep nodded in satisfaction, turning to the board to add the vote. I caught Fumi’s eye and he smiled, sending me a nod.

Thankfully, I got zero votes.

Midoriya was in the lead with three votes, while Big Boobs, Momo Yaoyorozu, got two. Man, that name is hard for me to say, I hate it.

“How did I get three votes?!”

“Okay, you idiots!” Bakugo shot up from his seat, angrily slamming his hands on the surface of the desk. “Who voted for ’em?!”

“What, did you honestly think anyone was gonna vote for you?”

I mean, I thought about it doing it just for shits and giggles, but the risk that he would win, no matter how low, prevented me from doing so. Imagining that loud ass as the class rep makes my head hurt.

“What did you just say?!”

Prep sat down at his desk, his body shaking. “Zero votes… I feared this might happen, but I can’t argue with the system I chose!”

“So you voted for someone else, huh?” Yaoy… what was it again? I squinted at the board, eyes narrowed at her last name. Fuck it! I’m calling her Momo whether she likes it or not.

“But you know it was best to vote for yourself, right?” Sumo asked. “What were you trying to prove here, Iida?”

Iida, huh? I leaned back in my chair, folding my hands behind my head. I don’t know, I like the name ‘Prep’ better, honestly.

Midoriya stood up, his whole body shaking like a leaf as he headed to the front of the room, Momo standing beside him.

“Alright, the class rep is Midoriya. And our deputy is Yaoyorozu.”

“R-Really? It’s not a mistake?” Midoriya squeaked in disbelief. He’s such a timid little shit. How did someone with such little self-confidence become All Might’s successor? Makes no sense to me.

“This might not be so bad!”

“Yeah, I can get behind Midoriya, I guess.”

“Yaoyorozu was totally on top of it when it came to our training results.”

I glanced out the window at the azure sky, tuning out the class. That sense of dread is getting stronger and it’s making my fucking stomach turn. I guess I can add fucking paranoia to my list of issues.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

Lunch arrived and students poured out of their classrooms toward the cafeteria. I hung back, not wanting to get stuck in the crowd of hungry teenagers.

“Hey, Winchester!”

I paused, glancing behind me. “Oh. Hey Rin.”

He gave me a bright smile when he finally caught up and we started down the hall. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to say hi. I’m glad you passed the exam!”

I grunted, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I only passed because of you,”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know you were there,” I muttered with a shrug, looking away from him. “I just wanted to test my power, I completely forgot about the exam and about getting points. I only got in because they thought I saved you.”

He nudged my arm, smiling when I looked at him. “Whether you knew I was there or not, you did save me, but that’s not important. We both got in, right?”

“Guess you got a point. Thanks for saving me, by the way.”

He nodded. “You’re in 1-A, right?”

“Yeah, what about you?”

“1-B and guess who’s in my class~”

My brow furrowed as I thought back to the exam. “Uhh… wait, not that blonde idiot.”

“Yup! His name is Neito Monoma and he’s certainly an interesting character.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but a loud yell from in front of us stopped me. “Get the fuck outta my way, Deku!”

“You guys got the arrogant prick, Monoma. We got the loud chihuahua, Bakugo.” I commented, sending him a blank look.

Rin chuckled as he watched the blonde stomping away from Midoriya. “I think we’re a bit better off. But only a little bit.”

“Probably are. My class is fucking nuts.”

“Sounds fun,” He paused for a moment, tilting his head. “Do you mind if I join you for lunch today?”

“Hmm, sure.” I usually just sit at the end of the table, listening to my classmates ramble on and argue about stupid shit. Wait… if he sits with me that means I have to put in the effort to try and carry on a conversation with him.

Fuck my life.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

▸ Forward

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

If you enjoy my writing, please considering tipping me on Kofi or Cashapp. Every little bit helps and means a lot, thank you so much ^~^)/ If you can’t afford to do so, that’s okay, too, thanks for reading!

[sweetestrequiems]

alright, real talk with kit for a moment. i’m about to explain why i love this song so damn much. and y’all are gonna get an emotional insight into a part of my life i very seldom talk about because i never get the chance to share it. 

also prepare for a mini rant about why our skin color does not matter. and yeah, under the cut is a picture of me in san juan right before my cousin’s wedding. you get to see the face behind this very blog.

if you read all of this, congratulations. because i go off. 

by this point, you guys know i am from the commonwealth of puerto rico. in case you do not know the location of this on a map, i want you to locate cuba. look to the right, and next to it is hispaniola. look to the right of hispaniola one more time. that island right next to it is puerto rico. in case you did not know, haiti is the west half of the island, and the dominican republic is the east half of hispaniola.

you’re wondering at this point what does this song have to do with puerto rico.

this song is considered the unofficial national anthem of the island. yes, we do have a national anthem and no, our national anthem is not the star spangled banner (even though we ARE an american territory). our anthem is la borinqueña.

“kit, what’s your point?”

my point is, that i want to give my other fellow boricuas a bunch of love. i love my island. i miss it. i miss my flag. i miss my people. 

but i also want to raise a form of awareness for my island, months away from the three year anniversary of the travesty that was hurricane maria. maria made landfall in yabucoa on the morning of september 20th, 2017. and while this seems very insignificant to a lot of you, i pray and hope none of you go through what us boricuas went through up here.

imagine waking up in the morning, about to go to school or work to hear a category 5 hurricane devastated your home. your family still lives there. and you call and call but nothing comes out on the other end. i was very lucky to be one of many who did not lose family, but i was also terrified, at the same time. my grandparents are quite old, and so is my father.

i was mostly worried about my father. why my father over my grandparents?

my father works emergency management. my father had to revalidate his paramedic license about a week before maria hit. my father went from helping dispatch and doing paperwork as they had previously assigned him, to going back to his youth as a first responder. 

maria sent an island of over 3.4 million people into a humanitarian crisis. and while this might not matter to a lot of you, you will never understand how much it means to me. i was devastated to find out my father had to go and risk his life at his age (my father is 66, by the way.) for other people.

i had no contact with him for months. 

and if you think this is an exaggeration, it is quite obvious you have NEVER set foot on that island or lived there. take it from someone who was born there and with family there, who has also visited. service in puerto rico is absolute shit.

“what does this have to do with the song, kit?”

the words to preciosa have never resonated with me more than ever. i never get to talk about how much i LOVE puerto rico, quite simply because no one cares to listen. and this will go into the void of tumblr, but i finally have the voice to say it. 

preciosa means beautiful. the song is a love letter to the island.  this song, i will tell you now, represents the heart and soul of the people of borinquen.

we are strong people, no matter if we’re up in new york. down in orlando. or even on the island. 

we are all one and the same. we love one flag. we love one island. we love our roots. 

just figured i should say, i went back to the island in august of 2019 for my cousin's wedding. i knew the island was different after maria had hit, but what i saw was devastating.

i grew up in one of san juan’s most affluent parts in hato rey norte. i grew up in the urban neighborhood of puerto nuevo too. i grew up in the old, but homey neighborhood right off of what used to be known as la avenida de campo rico. i grew up up by the martínez nadal expressway and train station.

i hadn't been to puerto rico in YEARS prior to 2019. last i remember, that island was full of life.

i came back to a deserted place. what used to be affluent and lively was now just empty. that old urban neighborhood was no more. la campo rico was so empty yet full at the same time. but that neighborhood right where i grew up with my grandparents? almost empty. no block parties, no celebrations in the cul-de-sacs. no music and laughter. and god forbid i ever see such sadness when i get on the train.

when i arrived to luis muñoz marin on july 31st, my heart broke. flying over the island, i was devastated to see how horribly things changed. my heart knows devastation, but something about seeing your home in shambles and not quite the same hits harder than a train running you over.

“again, song, kit. you’re getting off topic.”

i’m not.

i think back to this kind of shit every day.

nothing hurts more than going back home and seeing the place you so proudly love be in shambles years later.

why is preciosa so important to me?

because this song perfectly describes my feelings. this song describes the feelings of millions of us. on that island, and up in the US. it describes our pride.

it describes our passion to our roots. our passion to our flag.

something no one ever mentions when they bring up puerto rico is how loyal we as a people are. we, as a people, stick by each other. you could be from mayagüez and me from the other side all the way in canóvanas by el yunque and we will have each other’s backs without knowing each other personally. 

speaking of el yunque, by the way... it's a rainforest. national rainforest. national park in the US. completely devastated. and that rainforest is home to a critically endangered species of bird native to the island.

“Yo sere puertorriqueño. Por donde quiera que ande. Por que lo llevo en la sangre.”

wherever i go, i will always be puerto rican. because it’s in my blood.

let me put it in a way you will understand it:

this song encompasses the bond 3.4 million of us and counting share with our island. it perfectly describes our pride. it describes our home. it describes her beauty. it gives insight as to who we are as a people.

we are noble and loyal, like our spanish ancestors. we have the fierceness of our taino ancestors.

and let me fucking tell you that i will be puerto rican until the fucking day i die. i will proudly scream it into the air until i can’t fucking talk anymore.

my cousin played this at her wedding reception, because we (my aunt, cousins, mother, and i) all flew in from north carolina. we were the only ones there that did not live on the island. and let me fucking tell you that brought tears to my eyes that she played that song and dedicated it to us because even though we live up here, we’re still her family. 

“wow, that got really deep just then. but, kit... you don’t look puerto rican. you’re so white.”

would not be the first time i hear this either.

we have no one fucking skin color, by the way.

hi, by the way.

let me properly introduce myself.

i’m katherine, you know me as kit.  i’m puerto rican, and i’m fucking proud of it.

and yes, i look more american than anything. i’m quite white. i have blonde hair. i have hazel eyes.

and let me tell you that people like me, in terms of skin color, are the minority in puerto rico. the majority is actually mixed, or they're afro-latinx. and i love ALL of them. white, mixed, afro-latinx. all of them.

but if you dare tell me that because i look like i’m from fucking nebraska or some shit that i don't count as a true puerto rican because i don’t have dark skin or dark hair? kindly leave my presence. 

just because i look american does not invalidate who i am in the end.  and being the minority as is because i am hispanic/latinx is very difficult. i can count every single time i’ve gone back home and been asked what state i’m from before i’m being insulted for being so white.

just because i speak english better than spanish and look like your average girl from the states does not mean shit.

i guess my point here is... don't be an asshole.

we’re one people under one flag. we should be helping each other, not tearing each other down.

y puñeta te lo digo que si alguien me dice que lo que digo no puede ser verdad voy a decirle algo que no es bien amable.

para terminar todo esto:

hola. soy kit.

soy puertorriqueña hasta mi muerte. amo a mi isla. amo a mi gente. y nunca me digas que no sere puertorriqueña por el color de mi piel.

eso es todo.

[xavier-sunshadow]

A Soft Heart

Eilithe’s words rang heavy in his mind as Xavier walked through the forest of Elwynn, before sighing and just going home. The burning anger he felt over his feelings just being dismissed. The anger and sorrow he felt at being told if he ever had to, to kill them...his parents. The accusation that he had abandoned his sister and that his uncle had tried to take her...or was going to try and take her? 

Xavier grumbled and grabbed a small glass dragon, gripping it tight and directing a single thought. 

I need to talk to you.

With that he fell into bed, tossing and turning before at last sleep took him, and darkness settled in. Since becoming who he was, Xavier had always had the same four dreams, outside of his visions. Usually one began with him in the scorching desert, another him lost in a port he did not recognize, but tonight was his least favorite: the ship. It was always the same, he would awaken and find himself on the deck of a ship being thrown by impossibly huge waves. There was crew, he could hear them shrieking and trying to save the ship while above all hell came from the clouds in sheets of rain and zapping green lightning. However he felt the tug just as the front of the ship went under, and quite suddenly he found himself in a warm room, sitting on a bench with the one person he wanted to speak to next to him. 

Ari looked at him, raising a brow as he handed him a towel. “You alright?” 

Xavier took it, opening his mouth to say the words he always said. ‘I’m fine’ resting on his tongue. It felt even more heavy than usual, a sour taste in his mouth, and as he looked into the brown eyes of his best friend, he sighed. 

“No.” he finally answered. 

The dark haired Sin’dorei frowned, moving to scooch and put an arm around his friend. “Come on Xavi...spill it.” he encouraged gently.

And so Xavier did, leaning against his friend as he told him of the interaction with Eilithe. How angry her words had made him, how confused he was. 

“And then she just storms off, leaving me with that! Gods it made me wish I’d taken my stupid cowardly self and done what I’d planned to do.” He finished, fists clenching.  

Ari frowned, just holding Xavier closer as his friend trembled. He had to be careful, as angry as he was sometimes on how Xavier’s family was just...ridiculously anti-emotion, he knew the blond would never forgive himself if something actually happened. He sighed, nuzzling the top of his head gently. 

“Okay...let’s take it from the top yeah? She was obviously worried about you, and you told her you’d been planning to run away...so she got mad because she was scared.” he started. 

“Great, because I’m not allowed to have feelings, I’m not allowed to be upset or grieve or...or...”

“Try to run away and erase your memories because you felt too much?” Ari sighed, looking at his friend in the face. “You didn’t even tell her that part, but you know I hated it and she would have probably punched you.” 

Xavier scowled, he knew the other elf was right but he still wasn’t ready to let go of his ball anger and hurt. “So what, I’m just supposed to survive like they do? Act like feelings don’t matter? That I’m just supposed to go on like nothing happened again and again, even if I lose the ones I love? Desert’s not meant for love, desert isn’t meant for feelings...gotta be hard Xavri’asan, can’t have feelings or care except you need to be loyal and care about this one part but oh don’t care too much so you can just fucking kill your family when you’re minorly inconvenienced!” By now he had gotten up to pace, working himself into an absolute frenzy. “How do I counter that? How do I even deal with the fact that I’m this bleeding heart useless feeling mess when everyone else is just...what, dead inside? Did they trade their feelings to a fel’s damned Loa or something? Should I just go march right back to that troll and trade mine just to fit in? Maybe she can just kill me so I don’t have to do this anymore because I’m tired, Ari, I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m two seconds from shattering and no one cares.” 

Ari took a small breath, and had to turn from his ridiculously melodramatic idiot to roll his eyes, counting silently to ten before he could continue. 

“Xavier...loyal, soft hearted, feelings as big as Azeroth herself...you’re being an idiot.” He said, holding up a hand to cut off the next tirade the blond was about to throw at him. “You feel way too much, and yeah you’re kinda naive with some of this stuff and absolutely you need to get your emotions in check but she didn’t say what she did because she wants you to be like your father, or those other hard hearted men in your lives...she wanted you to remember your responsibilities. You have a responsibility to your siblings, your feelings aren’t invalid they just...have to be felt in conjunction with the fact you’ve got other lives depending on you.” 

Xavier winced, trying to hold onto his righteous anger, but it was fading into what it really was that was eating at him: guilt and confusion. He sighed, slumping back down onto the bench, ears wilting. Ari moved to sit beside him, looking at the floor. “If you wouldn’t have felt insanely guilty you would’ve just come back to the Knights when you thought they were dead...you would have turned your back on your sisters and brother and the Harbor...but instead you went and made a stupid deal with, luckily for us, a very smart Seer who let you grieve and see your mistake, but you planned to strip away your guilt by losing all your memories. The guilt you feel now? You earned that...but you didn’t do it, so you have to accept that guilt and move on to what’s really bothering you. So...what’s bothering you?”

Xavier also stared at the floor, his friend’s words hammering into his brain. He wiped a stray tear away, trying to focus on what was bothering him...really bothering him. 

“What she said...about my uncle. Why would he try and take Karkah? She’s safe here, and I don’t know what happened with my father in the Mirage but when I asked him about Ammon he...he didn’t respond, and he had this look on his face that I think meant he won...their fight y’know? So if that’s true, and both my uncle and father are here...someone has to be running the Mirage...and why would he try to take her from us? Why in front of everyone?”

Ari nodded encouragingly, latching onto something that hopefully the blond could actually figure out. “What do you mean?” he pushed. 

Xavier frowned, continuing. “He’s not a..a brute force kind of man y’know? When he got me rescued, he couldn’t be the one doing it, but he did it. He’s not a fighter first, he’s...he’s a chess player. He has pieces and thinks about his movements, he’s like every Sin’dorei noble I ever grew up around or with. You don’t just rush your target you destroy them from the bottom and then cut them at the top...so why would he switch like that?” 

Ari shrugged “There’s really only one person that can answer that question...sure glad you remember him so you can go ask him.” he offered his friend a grin, secretly relieved when he got a glare but a smile in return. 

Xavier nodded “No, you’re right...only way I’ll know is to ask him. Thank you, Ari...I don’t think I’m ready to apologize to Mai yet but...I know I should and make sure she knows I mean it.” 

“And you’ll never do something that stupid again and just come find me to cry and ruin my shirt again?” Ari added hopefully. 

The blond rolled his eyes, shoving the other Sin’dorei playfully “Yes, I’ll come find you instead and ruin your shirts.” he promised. 

Ari nodded in acceptance, patting him on the back “Good. Being soft hearted in a harsh world isn’t a weakness, Xavi. You just have to temper it a bit...you’re on the right path though.” 

Xavier smirked “When did you get so smart? Aren’t we the same age?” 

Ari raised his head haughtily “I’ll remind you I’m exactly three years older than you, means I’m three years smarter which is like one hundred years for you and the dumb shit you do.” he winked at him. 

Xavier laughed then, pulling his friend into a hug. “You’re right...I do dumb shit, but I’m glad I’ve always got you to catch me when I fall too far.” 

Ari smiled softly, hugging him back. “Always, little sundial. Always.” 

( MENTIONS: @eilitheduskbringer​ @kurel-andiel​ )

[trans-son-of-perdition]

Why I relate the Trench album to my own personal life and struggles.

A couple things before I begin. I am aware the true meaning of this album relates to Tyler Josephs career and struggles with mental health. However, art is subjective. It’s meant to be interpreted however you want. I’m not trying to invalidate his experiences, this is just how the album helped me and how I related to it in a way that made it important to my life and my coping with realizations I had around the time Trench was being teased and released. This post is not meant to attack a specific faith, however given my own opinions and viewpoints this post could be uncomfortable for current believing members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. If you are uncomfortable with exmormon viewpoints, this might not be the post for you, and I would like it if you didn’t try to force your views onto me as a result of this post. I will also give warnings for abuse mentions, cult mentions, mentions of suicidal thoughts, and mentions of transphobia. 

In this post, I’ll go through each song in the album and explain what it relates to in my life. I’ll also go into the lore of Trench and how I relate to the Clancy letters, as well as explaining why my icon and blog banner are what they are.

If you have not heard this album, I recommend it entirely. And even if you have, I recommend listening along to this post. You do not need to be a fan of Twenty One Pilots or the album to read this, however, and you do not need to understand the deeper lore or know about the Clancy letters to read this post.

With that being said, this will be a long post, so I’ll put the rest under a read more. 

Let me begin by briefly introducing myself. I am a 22, nearly 23 year old Exmormon who was born and raised in the church near the heart of Salt Lake City, Utah. I was a devout member of this church until I was 15, which was when little things started to not make sense anymore. This was when I was shown that it was okay to feel differently about my gender and sexuality, when I started to realize there were words to describe why I felt so weird about the concept of being a girl, etc. In a lot of ways, 15 was when my faith started slipping. There are journal entries from then where I’m crying about how I didnt want to feel the way I did, it was kind of the usual young mormon kid has a crisis over their sexuality and gender and tries to pray about it over and over but nothing changes. I even had a moment at 17 where I found a place to hide where my family wouldnt hear me and prayed for about an hour because I was questioning if the church even was true. I got no answer to this.

By the time I was 18, I no longer attended church. I still called myself mormon, and was actually kind of an apologist for years. It was only early last year that I started realizing something didn’t seem right, which was what led to a very long beliefs crisis and eventually me formally resigning from the church. It was also the year that repressed memories finally started to surface, and the true extent to which I had been abused and neglected started to show. Near the end of 2018, one of my best friends helped me escape Utah and get far away from my family, and currently I am living happily in Arizona far from the church’s influence.

Now enter the Trench album.

Instantly, when the Jumpsuit video was first released, something felt comforting about it. And every song since has been extremely comforting to me because of how I have related it to my life. Here is how each song ((and even the videos and extra lore)) have helped me and have related to my life as a secret exmormon who felt trapped in Utah.

Jumpsuit

This song actually came out just as I was questioning the church and realizing some things that were very long. With every little thing I found that was wrong, it was like my life crumbled a little more. I’ll admit, the “spirits in my room” lines I took much more literally, having lived in a very haunted house in a very haunted part of Utah, but the lines “Felt it in my youth, feel it when I’m old” also felt like a reassurance to me that the doubts and feelings I had in highschool when I was just beginning to question myself and my life were valid. Like they weren’t just a passing phase, this was something that had been going on my whole life. And then we have the bridge. 

I'll be right there But you'll have to grab my throat and lift me in the air If you need anyone, I'll stop my plans But you'll have to tie me down and then break both my hands If you need anyone

My life up to this point had been manipulated by those around me. My parents controlled my actions, I sat there and let them abuse and disrespect me. If any of them needed anything, I jumped to help. This had spread into my other relationships as I felt the need to be there for everyone, be the personal therapist to everyone, try to fix the emotions and problems of everyone I knew because my family had made me think thats what I needed to do. Like in the video, I was very much stuck under the spell of the “smearing” of the bishops. My family knew how to manipulate my emotions into feeling like I was in the wrong, like I inevitably had to love them and follow them no matter what. Which was why the “Cover me!” screamed at the end makes my heart beat faster. In his “Cover me!” I felt my heart scream it too. I couldn’t out loud, because my family would have yelled at me and made my life hell, but I could scream inwardly with him. I could feel myself running from the bishops with him. That song felt more joyous, more releasing, and more moving to me than an LDS Hymn had in years. Even as I’m writing this, the “Cover me!” makes me feel deep and strong emotions that at one point I would have called “the spirit” or “the holy ghost” and its stronger than any feeling I attributed to those things from talks or lessons in the church.

Levitate 

This song actually gave me courage to be more openly myself again. To stand up for myself and look for other options. To admit that the way my life had been was fucked up and that there were better things out there. The line referencing Car Radio was cool to me, because Car Radio was a big song for my depression and dysphoria. I wont go into it too far, since I’m focusing on Trench music, but I’ve always taken Car Radio as a good way to describe how I felt about my life, the world, and my own dysphoria and struggles with suicidal thoughts. And so having this song tied to rebellion against how my life had always been reference another song that had helped me with coping was so encouraging to me and honestly really cool!

This culture is a poacher of overexposure, not today Don't feed me to the vultures, I am a vulture who feeds on pain.  

I mean. Come on. I lived in Utah. Utah culture is oversaturated in the church. Its in the politics, in the laws, in the tv shows and on the radio. There’s a ward building everywhere you go. You cant do anything without seeing it somewhere, at least not in big cities ((or at least not living as close to downtown Salt Lake City as I did.)) Admitting to being exmormon while there felt like I was risking being separated from the rest of society. While this isn’t entirely true, I grew up seeing how my family treated exmos. The way they treated them like poor misguided souls that would eventually have their “sins come crashing down on them and turn their hearts back to the church”. 

The next few lines are kinda self explanatory. “Sleep in a well-lit room, don't let the shadow through,” both refers to the whole “haunted house” thing I mentioned ((a story I wont go into here tbh)) as well as me using my room as the one place I could hide and be more myself, discuss the things I believed and thought. “And sever all I knew, yeah, sever all I thought” has to do with the slow realizations of the lies I had been taught by the church my whole life. The next few lines refer to what sounds like him asking for help to keep away from the ledges, which both feels like my reaching out to online friends for support both to reassure me that I wasn’t crazy as well as their help in keeping me away from my increasing suicidal thoughts.

The video actually felt like my chosen family in general, them getting me away from these ideas and worries I had had burned into my brain at a young age, pulling me out of this DEMA and into their Trench, where we all could support each other and help each other realize that the false things of our past didnt have to shape our futures for us. And much like Tyler, I was still struggling with my parents pulling me back in by tugging at my emotions, making me feel guilty for my rebellion.

Morph

Lets be honest, in order to explain this one I need to post the whole song. It feels like a mixture of my beliefs crisis and dealing with an abusive and transphobic family, to be honest. 

Can't stop thinking about if and when I die For now I see that "if" and "when" are truly different cries For "if" is purely panic and "when" is solemn sorrow And one invades today while the other spies tomorrow We're surrounded and we're hounded There's no "above", or "under", or "around" it For "above" is blind belief and "under" is sword to sleeve And "around" is scientific miracle, let's pick "above" and see For if and when we go "above", the question still remains Are we still in love and is it possible we feel the same? And that's when going "under" starts to take my wonder But until that time, I'll try to sing this

Here we have my crisis, where I was doubting my own doubts and wondering if I was wrong and truly destined to end up in a lower kingdom away from my family and if I was sinning. It led to a fear of death, a fear of the end of the world, a fear of anything related to it because what if the mormons were right? Honestly, this is an ongoing thing that causes panic attacks to this day, and this song is where I turn to when these doubts happen.

If I keep moving, they won't know I'll morph to someone else What they throw at me's too slow I'll morph to someone else I'm just a ghost I'll morph to someone else Defense mechanism mode

A lot of people in the transgender community have brought up that this is a really relateable few lines. I’d like to add on top of it being about my gender, it also can relate to how I spent years pretending to be someone else in front of a lot of people ((and still am to some extent, I’m working on that.)) in order to keep myself safe.

He'll always try to stop me, that Nicholas Bourbaki He's got no friends close but those who know him most know He goes by Nico, he told me I'm a copy When I'd hear him mock me that's almost stopped me

This part I actually relate to my younger brother, who is almost violently abusive towards me and who I have had not only threaten harm to me, but have had mock me and tell me that nobody truly cared about or loved me, along with much worse things that were so intense and awful that when my sister ((the only family member I truly trust)) heard it and told our parents what happened, they were legitimately worried about me knowing about my suicidal thoughts and were bugging me the entire time I was at work and while I walked home to make sure I was safe and okay. My brother is a horrible person, and I honestly am afraid for whoever ends up marrying him based on his treatment of everyone else in our family. My sister and I have even shared our concerns with each other that he could one day lash out and hurt/kill one of us. Hes one of the biggest reasons I and her hurried to leave the state as fast as we could.

Well we're surrounded and we're hounded There's no above or a secret door What are we here for? If not to run straight through all our tormentors? But until that time I'll try and sing this

This again relates to my family, along with the opinions of the church towards transgender and gay people. I don’t think I need to go into what the LDS church thinks of us. 

The final part of the song, to me at least, feels like the loneliness of my situation, and wanting someone to be open with in real life that would understand where I was coming from. It also is about my reaching out online when I couldn’t find support in person.

My Blood

I actually don’t need to go into this too deeply. My whole chosen family relates to this song, and so hearing it reminds me of them. This song is how we are to each other and how we feel about each other. Pretty straightforward. Especially since this song likely is about Tyler’s brother, so the fact we all consider each other brothers and sisters works with this.

Chlorine 

Another straightforward one. It kinda feels like I’m singing this to the people of my past. My family especially, but also the friends that were part of why I hid so much about myself. They were toxic, but I made myself stay near them out of love. And as I “decayed”, the feeling of rebellion started to grow more until I found myself running for my life away from them all. 

I'm so sorry, I forgot you Let me catch you up to speed I've been tested like the ends of A weathered flag that's by the sea Can you build my house with pieces? I'm just a chemical 

This final part is more towards myself, however. How I forgot the true me, how I’ve been broken and hurt by these people, and how I need to finally build my life up again away from them all.

Smithereens

Another one that makes me think of my chosen family, and makes me think of my best friend who helped me escape Utah. I’m not a violent person, I actually consider myself a pacifist. But if someone threatened my loved ones I’d do everything I could to stop them.

Neon Gravestones

Yeah, I had to get to this one eventually. This song hit me hard the first time I heard it. If you haven’t heard any songs from this album at all, THIS IS THE ONE YOU SHOULD HEAR. It speaks very bluntly about how fucked up the media’s portrayal of suicide is, among other issues around that theme. Its beautiful in my opinion. 

Obviously yes, as someone who struggles with suicidal thoughts, this song obviously does resonate with me. But this is where I’ll go into the deeper lore for a moment.

In the world of Trench it’s been mentioned that the Neon Gravestones are one of the big symbols of Vialism- the religion in DEMA that is a religion that worships false light. In Vialism, those who have died in the name of Vialism are revered, respected, and glorified. Now look at the church. How many people have had their hardships and deaths be romanticized by the church? How often have I heard people say that if you die in the name of the church, you will be exalted? How many LGBTQ+ youth in Utah have killed themselves because they think that its better to die before they have sinned? How often growing up has the “Martyrdom” of Joseph Smith been romanticized and used to show how committed to the church he was? For hell’s sake there’s a song WRITTEN ABOUT HIM saying that he now will be glorified for eternity because he died for the church! He’s held with more respect than even Jesus in the church! I could go on for hours about how I feel about the way the church treats death and how fucked up it is that there have even been cases you can find online where people have been told it would be better that they killed themselves than be gay or be an apostate. I’ll get more into the Neon Gravestones symbolism later when I reach the Clancy letters. 

The Hype

Yet another song about reaching out for support and community as I was realizing the truth about the church. I also had a huge falling out with a close friend around the time the album released, so having this song to cope with it helped too. It feels like the acceptance of the fact I was slowly getting out of brainwashing and programming I’d had since I was an infant, and though I didn’t know where I was going in life anymore, I knew that I would have the people I trusted there with me every step of the way as I became a normal member of society and began a new, better life. 

A lot of songs in this album seem to be very chosen family oriented. This one just feels like a reminder to myself that I’ll be okay.

Nico and the Niners

This one is a little obvious. But i’ll go through it regardless. 

East is up, I'm fearless when I hear this on the low East is up, I'm careless when I wear my rebel clothes East is up, when Bishops come together they will know that Dema don't control us, Dema don't control East is up

This song was released at the same time as Jumpsuit, and honestly some of the same things apply. I realized how much this really fit my life at the time as I was working on getting out. How the literal bishops and leaders of the church as well as the figurative “bishops” of my life were who I was rebelling against. DEMA is a something I have actively called Utah ((mostly Salt Lake City and all other areas in the main valley)) before, for reasons from it literally being a city surrounded in huge walls((both the mountains as well as figurative walls)) that circled around a main central part ((Temple square)) where the bishops resided and performed rituals in the name of Vialism. The next lines mention that they, the bishops, want you to make you forget. They want you to be docile. To conform to them. Follow their rules and laws and teachings without questioning. Ignore and forget the things they don’t say in the moment are truth. In the video, Tyler is seen quietly preparing to escape, hiding in his room as yet another ritual is performed elsewhere in the city. He sneaks out of his dark room, where he meets the Banditos. He seems hesitant and scared at first, but they calm him down and welcome him.

What I say when I want to be enough What a beautiful day for making a break for it We'll find a way to pay for it Maybe from all the money we made, razorblade stores Rent a race horse and force a sponsor And start a concert, a complete diversion Start a mob and you can be quite certain We'll win but not everyone will get out

During this part, Tyler is loudly rebelling in the center of a courtyard, where all the people hiding and silently judging the Banditos from their windows can see and hear them. He sings about escaping and finding ways to prepare to run away, escaping the walls of DEMA and the watchful eyes of the bishops and those devoted to them. It’s after this that his friends, the Banditos, help him escape into the night from DEMA before he can be caught by the bishops, but leaving a trace behind to hopefully inspire the children still growing up and learning inside DEMA.

I compare my chosen family to the Banditos a lot, something that will become clear when we get to a song later on. My open rebellion, being myself and leaving the church, leaving Utah and the judgmental eyes of those still devoted to the church and their teachings... This is what the song is to me. I’ll win, I’ll escape, I will do what I can to inspire my younger brothers and sister to follow me out when they can. I’ll do what I can to help anyone still stuck in their DEMA, but in the end I had to leave. I had to listen to my chosen family and run. I had to get out of those walls before the metaphorical bishops of my life, my family, dragged me back down again into them and broke me further. In that way, Nico and the Niners is both the presidency of the church, but its also my parents. 

Cut my Lip

This one actually speaks to how I used to be, letting myself be abused and mistreated. The cycle of trying to escape but being dragged back in. Knowing I was being hurt but letting my programming and the thought that I had to love my family no matter what hurt me over and over. But though I’m bruised, I’ll keep moving.

Bandito

This is the big chosen family song. We have called ourselves Banditos a lot. I personally consider myself a Bandito. 

This is the sound we make When in between two places Where we used to bleed And where our blood needs to be

We are all in Trench right now, to various extents. I am mostly out of my DEMA, having physically left it but still dealing with the mental battles and the pulls from the “bishops” to return. Other members of my chosen family are dealing with abuse, neglect, trauma, mental illnesses, isolation, etc. We all have our own DEMA to escape, and we all do what we can to pull each other back into Trench and support each other as a family. 

In city, I feel my spirit is contained Like neon inside the glass, they form my brain

In Utah I felt trapped. Confined by what I could and could not say around my family because I was afraid of what would happen if they knew some of the things about me. About my opinions of the church. I had realized my brain had been manipulated and formed into what the church wanted, and I was starting to break free of it.

But I recently discovered it's a heatless fire Like nicknames they give themselves to uninspire

The opinions of my family and the church have begun to feel less important and the thought of rebelling against this has become easier and I have become more confidant in my beliefs. 

Begin with bullet, now add fire to the proof But I'm still not sure if fear's a rival or close relative to truth Either way it helps to hear these words bounce off of you The softest echo could be enough for me to make it through

I’m still afraid though, and I still have doubts pop up. And until I can fully break free of the brainwashing I was subject to for 21 years of my life, I’ll still have those doubts and fears. But hearing my chosen family reassure me and validate those feelings I have about the church helps me get past it and grow as a person.

As far as Sahlo Folina? We use it in my chosen family. When we see each other say it, we hurry to support each other and pull each other back from the personal bishops we have. For those who don’t know, Sahlo Folina in the lore is the call the Banditos cry out when they are stuck alone in Trench and need help. It doesn’t have a canon meaning otherwise, but many people have given it the meaning of the joy or act of creating. And my chosen family and I use this phrase to warn each other of panic attacks, or of dysphoria, or of a moment when we just need a little validation. This song is so important to us, and is one of the most beautiful songs on the album in my opinion. If you haven’t heard it, take a look at imabandi.to, its an interactive music video for the song that explains some of the deeper lore of Trench and is in general visually stunning.

Pet Cheetah

Honestly this is really just a bop, but its good for when I feel angry. Not just even at the church, in general its a good anger song because of how intense it feels. It also speaks to the isolation I felt, how I tried to calm myself down from my doubts for the longest time. It helps that the song kinda has a “Fuck it” moment halfway through.

I'm done with tip-toeing, I'll stay in my room My house is the one where the vultures are perched on the roof

The song then expresses the fear of losing everything, but its too late now. The anxiety is raising again, but I’ll do what I can to relax and keep going. 

Legend

This song actually makes me cry, because it reminds me of my grandparents. They were the two I was closer to than my own parents, and I was destroyed by their deaths. Even though I still feel them with me, I deeply miss them and I was scared for so long that I would never be able see them again because according to the church, I would have not been allowed to be near them again for eternity. “I look forward to having lunch with you again.” is the line that has made me break down crying before, because I know that no matter what happens, it’ll be okay. I wont go into my current beliefs here, but I know that my grandparents love me and that no matter what I’ll still get to see them again one day. 

Leave the City

And now that i’m crying from legend, let me personally sob for a moment about Leave the City, because this song is what I played as I finally left Utah. On my main blog, the title comes from this song. 

I'm tired Of tending to this fire I've used up all I've collected I have singed my hands It's glowing Embers barely showing Proof of life in the shadows Dancing on my plans  They know that it's almost They know that it's almost over 

This song expresses how I felt from my depression, the doubts, the abuse, the ongoing crisis as I realized more and more how much I had been lied to. I was being reassured by my chosen family and my other friends that it would be alright, that I’d get away and life would be better. Now that I’ve been out of that state for several months I can say they were 100% right, but while in the moment I was drained and tired and just wanted to be free. And the knowledge that one day I would leave was what kept me going and kept me alive.

But this year Though I'm far from home In TRENCH I'm not alone These faces facing me They know What I mean

Again, this feels like my chosen family, my Banditos. My real family, the people I trust most. The know who I am. They know where i’m coming from. And though I’m far from my end goals in life, and I’m still here in Trench, I am not alone. I have them with me, and for now that is what matters. 

Now, onto the lore and Clancy letters. Because honestly my relating to this doesn’t just stop at the music.

The following are quotes from the many “Clancy letters” that have come out sine the album was being teased.

Note 1:

As a child, I looked upon Dema with wonder, today, I am wrought with frustration, as I spend each day squinting for a glimpse of the top of the looming wall that has kept us here. It was upon my ninth year that I learned that Dema wasn’t my home. This village, after all of this time, was my trap. 

Before I became realized, I had deep affection for Dema. There was a wonderful structure to the city that put my cares to rest. Streets and locations were dependable, and the responsibilities of the day seemed to be accomplished with minimal effort. Once a task was taught and understood, we delighted in our ability to complete our obligations timely, and felt secure in knowing tomorrow's duties would be accomplished with the same efficiency. We all worked to represent our bishop with honor, and knew that each inhabitant of our region had a like-minded dedication to consistency.

Note 2:

To refer to Dema as my home has never felt accurate. Dema, to me, has simply been the place that I’ve existed, or, the 'slot' they've put me in. I've heard stories about the idea of "home," and its depiction has always seemed warm from the storyteller's description. There was a romantic ownership of the place they inhabited that I admired, but could never relate to.

Note 3:

Am I the only one who realizes that we've been lied to? Am I the only one not afraid of the notion that the nine have hijacked our trust, and extinguished the hope that once motivated our existence? We used to close our eyes and picture a better life, now this city is full of dry eyes caught in a trance of obedience, devoid of any trace of an identity.......My hope of something more is all I have in this rigid tomb, and I will not let it die.

I wanted to quote the fifth note, but the whole thing feels relatable to me as someone who left Utah. So here is the full letter:

I've made it out. I feel weightless. I know that place had always held me down, but for the first time, I can feel the unity that I had hoped for. It's been three nights now, and my breathing has changed - it's slower, and more full. It's like the air out here is actually worth taking in. I can see it back in the distance, and I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't constantly on my mind. I wish I could turn that fear off, but maybe the further I go, the less that fear will affect me. I feel betrayed by what I assumed was home. If I ever end up back there, I won't be able to look at it the same way. They are asleep. They're so sure that they know the truth, and carry on throughout their day with the same meaningless tasks. They've forgotten to look up, and to look outward, to understand that this isn't about 'in there.' This is about 'out here.' This new world surrounds me. I used to think the walls back home were massive- these green cliffs engulf me, and place me right in the middle- Trench is quite precarious at times, and it's easy to grow weary. But it's real, and it's true, and I'd much rather endure reality than to mindlessly be obedient to a life that someone else created for me. I've obsessed about this world for so long, that it feels more like home than anything I've experienced. Somehow, in this vast openness, I feel more protected than ever. The landscape feels endless, and I've found myself walking for hours without any true evidence of getting further down. But I've seen plants and colors out here that I'm not sure I've witnessed before. There's a beauty in the strangest places,- and the curiosity of what's next continues to motivate me. I wonder who else is out here. If what i assumed inside is true, there's got to be more like me. Sometimes I'll feel a presence, only to look up and see nothing. It's just another thing that I'm afraid of that also excites me. It all just confirms all of the things that I hoped to be true for all of this time. I am out here and I am very alive. I'm sometimes scared, but always discovering something new, and I will not stop. Cover me!

I’m not going to go into why these relate, it should be clear from my explanations of the songs why I can relate to these letters. If you are exmormon yourself, you might understand already anyway. 

Now finally, I’ll go into the letters in the site that I mentioned earlier, imabandi.to. These are actually where my blog icon and banner come from.

Remember when I explained Vialism? One of the notes goes further into it. 

The text reads “The necropolis glorifies the early graves of those who lost themselves along the way. Let us overthrow this concept as a symbol of dedication to and celebration of life.” and is accompanied by a caption that reads: 

STEADFAST IN OUR REBELLION AGAINST THE TEACHINGS OF VIALISM, WE TURN THEIR FALSE DOCTRINE UPON ITS HEAD. PROTECTED MORE THAN EVER, THE DOUBLE BARS ARE A SYMBOL OF LIFE AND HOPE. 

Overturning the symbol of false doctrine in order to celebrate the concept of life and being alive. This is what I want to do. Life should be enjoyed and celebrated and not controlled and given up for false teachings.

The icon for this blog is the Vulture symbol of the banditos. It comes from this note:

It reads: “The fear and pain shall not be elements that stop us, but what feeds us to persevere. The vultures above are our symbol of turning death to life.” And its caption reads:

WE ARE VULTURES. THE VULTURE SEES BOTH WORLDS, DEVOURING DEATH. A SYMBOL OF OUR RESPONSIBILITY TO TURN DEATH INTO LIFE. MAY WE LEARN FROM WHAT WE'VE LOST, AND COMMIT TO LIVING.

So another symbol of committing to being alive and to life itself. It is to me a symbol of rebellion against the things I was taught and becoming my own, free person.

Finally, the banner I use on my blog. 

This one I have compared to being an apostate. The caption reads: 

THOSE WHO SEE CORRUPTION INSIDE THE LIES OF DEMA FEEL A RESPONSIBILITY TO GET OUT, AND ATTEMPTED ESCAPE SHOULD BE HONORED. MANY ARE PUNISHED WITH THE FAILED PERIMETER ESCAPE BADGE, BUT WEAR IT PROUDLY. IT IS THEIR SYMBOL OF THE BANDITØ UNDERGROUND — THE FEW, THE PROUD, AND THE EMOTIONAL. 

The label apostate is used often by people in religions as a label meant to shame, but we use it proudly. There are posts I have even seen about how “Apostate” means freed slave, and how it is a thing to be proud of. Much like how the note above says: “ We shall call our label of delinquince by a new name. This is who we are, and let us never be ashamed by the penalty placed upon us by false authorities.” I’m not ashamed to call myself an apostate anymore. I feared it at one point, but now I embrace it. It is what I am. I am freed, I am openly defying and rebelling against the false teachings of my childhood. And seeing this note was what solidified me relating this album and its lore to my life entirely. In my opinion, I escaped my DEMA. I saw the outside of the walls and was helped by those around me to escape them and find true freedom beyond them, in Trench. And although it will be a long time before I am truly free from the trauma and leftover programming that happened to me while I was in the LDS church, I have those around me who will reassure me and support me and let me know that I am never alone.

Anyway. I’m finally at the end of the post. Thank you for reading this. Cover me!

[sokumotanaka]

@sssn-neptune-vasilias

Before this post goes on and on like my traditional long winded post do I wanted to say something.

I apologize.

Yeah surprised? You shouldn’t be I may disagree with your view but I’m not a monster and definitely no where near kob’s level of malice, venom and childishness and I hate to say this but I will defend myself, I disagree with that essement of me but I will also say you’re more than justified to be angry; now if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to elaborate on the apology for a bit.

I didn’t walk away happy with that post, it left a bitter taste in my mouth, again it wasn’t my intention to sound like I was attacking you and I can’t stress enough that me disliking rwby and being confused and disagreeing that it was phenomenal isn’t me attacking you or your point, I disagree with the quality the show has been upholding for several years, refusing to learn lessons, disrespecting fans, jarring jump cuts and so on.

So when I said I don’t understand nor see it as phenomenal, it wasn’t to make you feel inadequate for liking rwby and yeah I did say I had good taste and it was wrong of me to say that; it was a poor choice of words on my part.

And while I don’t think I deserve the chance I wanted to try rewording my disagreement on rwby in a kinder way, and if you don’t want to read that’s more than fair, that being said I’m hoping this can clear up any bad beef or at least my viewpoint.

[Ignore this section if you like]

This again and I stress this hard isn’t an attack on your enjoyment of the show, this is just a guy who grew up loving media stating why he thinks rwby volume 6 wasn’t good and why I feel Miles and Kerry should really focus on improvement.

I watched volume 6 with low expectations and yeah I was glad plot stuff was happening in the first few episodes, I was grateful to get out of the volume 5 house and off the volume 4 never ending roads, I was genuinely excited about maria’s fight and her weapons. I even expressed the rest of th volume can be bad and I can walk away happy with that in mind.

It was then with no effort from me I noticed the dip in quality from many different angles, it was evident that this volume was a fix it volume and yeah there may be some that say “well better late than never.” But I say too little too late, I’m not saying that if I prefered it not to be there but alot of these plot threads could have been wrapped up volumes prior.  At least that seems to be the general consensus, and the problems not flaws constantly seemed to pile up, poor line delivery and writing, horrible animation, our “heros” are some of the worst sapient beings ever, watching a child get smacked, killing tons of faunus, no one saying shit when something that requires emotion pops up.

I mean all of ruby’s speeches were so inaccurate, my favorite one is when ruby states how far they got without adult help but she’s saying this while squating in an adult’s house, being led on this journey by two; one telling them to keep the lamp safe, going to another adult for help. This is all after they choose to agree to the dumbest plan out jaune’s mouth.

Then the mech fight which was upsetting for many reasons, I’ll spare you the long banter the literal death spiral the ship takes only for it to not have a scratch next episode ozpin or no still doesn’t explain the lack of damage, smoking and how it ruins tension.

I grew up loving books and video games (we couldn't afford tv early on) I fell in love with such amazing characters, worlds and their trinkets and creatures. Paper mario, Avatar, Mass effect, Dragon age, Final fantasy 6 & 9, Cowboy bebop, FMA and so on and all these things have amazing characters, stories, worlds and so on. things to invest me, characters I loved and hated for many good reasons, villians with great motivations, Heros with compelling stories, worlds with such love and care put into them.

Then last year it hit me, I was hoping rwby to these standards that are way beyond their reach, I eased up on them after that, as long as they can make the story or characters consistent I’d give them a pass, and yeah there’s many who saw my last train home post, but this was a earlier me, vol 6 was close to wrapping up, and there was a jarring jump cut three times in the same episode, adam’s reveal made me hate blake the only character besides the newly introduced maria and sun/neptune that I didn’t hate nor was ruined.

The adam vs yang fight while it used the monty files left kinda a bad taste in my mouth, like miles has been dishonest so many times it’s hard to believe when he’s genuine, kerry entice physical violence on the fans who don’t look at the supplemental material for the show, stuff they constantly retcon or contradict, it’s unfair to their fans and they seem to invalidate them every volume.

I’m always hoping miles and kerry will say something that will make them stop and realize how cruel they’re being not only to themselves but their own series, I know they can do better so it's a crying shame when they act this way.

There was also things I glossed over that were rushed and crammed in this volume solidifying it as a “fix it” volume but not only did alot of it weirdly complicate things it was rushed, before I could enjoy neo’s return, silver eyes came the very next episode, then jaune's sister came into existence, pyyrha’s statue that was a memorial for all the people at beacon? Was found by jaune and not her so called friend ruby, then after a spat with jaune oscar instantly forgives him and jaune learns nothing.

Don’t get me started how we were squating in one house to another.

Back on topic of why I...guess felt the need to tell anyone this. I recently watched the Steven universe finale and it cleared up, referenced and closed many small and big plot threads. And this series like it or not has been very consistent, enjoyable, had great music and characters. (lackluster fights but the character are pretty strong in the writing department) The finale blew me away, I felt “these characters deserve a happy ending, this show can end here and it be perfect.” And “I’d love more.”  and these people work their hands to the bone on a smaller budget that miles and kerry take advantage of, employees they take advantage of and say they didn’t enjoy working for them, shane’s letter, miles insulting other better media without trying to fix his.

I’m not aiming this at you but I wanted to share some wise words that I favor alot from a wise man. “When you compliment or ignore the writing problems writing certain media make, you’re ignoring the work better writers put into their own work.” Those words stuck with me long ago, but I decided to ease up on ruby and gave it 4 episodes to at least connect two plot threads without stumbling, I let my love of media turn me vindictive and that’s not what media should do nor should I.

That being said my personal view on rwby is that it’s awful, there are so many better written media out there; and the writers have gone from ‘okay’ to venomous, entitled, backstabbing and dishonest people who don’t seem interested in improving.

So when you said it was phenomenal by brain concluded that you either missed the flaws or were maybe being paid to be positive and it was fucked up, wrong, look we may not agree on alot of things but we can agree on one thing.

I was rude, immatune, and hurtful and fuck that’s not who I am, I had to look at myself cause me explaining my issues with rwby helped me get past all the messed up static to get a clearly picture, I shouldn’t be asking this after what I did.

But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and if you don’t, fair.

But I hope my explanation helps clear things up if you even read it, and if you did read it, thanks for reading.