he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.
I’ve talked about this before but imagine what it’s like for someone in a country/place where eliot is Top Most Wanted and then your tech guy finds a breakout star baseball player on their visual scanner that looks EXACTLY like spencer. but…there’s no way that’s him, right???
and then the next year it happens again but this time it’s some one hit wonder country singer kenneth crane that has like 78 tween-run fangirl blogs dedicated to him. you see a grainy video of him being chased by a horde of screaming teenage girls and ??? no way Eliot Last Thing You’ll Ever See Spencer is a country singer star just. signing pictures of his face right…?
a few months later your intern shows you footage of an eliot lookalike who is in san lorenzo talking about how there is dog fighting in the presidential palace and you just. sigh. because of course. a scant few days later the political geography of the country changes drastically and damien moreau is imprisoned. …interesting
and then a year of silence goes by. he still shows up as blips on the radar but he must have a good hacker working for him because his tracks on the internet are expertly erased.
every time you ask through interagency channels some random interpol guy talks in (condescending?) riddles at you and it also somehow feels like he’s threatening you
and then your friend who recently got into foreign hockey teams sends you a dropyourgloves video of someone called jacques the bear. you immediately get a headache (and watch some more videos because even you can admit this guy is a good hockey player)
and you know he’s a Bad Guy but it’s been admittedly a bit entertaining seeing what claim to fame he will come upon next. and his most recent actions over the few years make you wonder.
a few months later your phone pings because multiple heads of state evacuated from DC. the reason? eliot spencer was in town. you hear two days later a bioterrorist was taken down by… the report was redacted. your hacker tells you spencer and two teammates were behind the successful operation. which, huh.
not even a full year later it is released that spencer is dead and… you don’t know how to feel.
can you really talk about tim's tendency to idolize and place dick on a pedestal and his semi-entitlement to understanding dick without also talking about dick's tendency to project his own feelings and insecurities onto tim and also his semi-entitlement to his right to try and micromanage how tim should feel and react about things. i, personally, cannot.
that scene in season 1 where teruki hanazawa exorcises ekubo mid-sentence... and shigeo's eyes widen in shock?
i really want to talk about it, specifically the explosion meter accompanying it.
normally, when the teenager's emotions aren't obvious to the audience, that meter relays to us a sense of what he is actually feeling. but we cannot trust the meter here. we see it jump up a few points at teru's 'psycho wave' sending the sleazy ghost to the shadow realms, and remain steady at 50% upon shigeo's recollections of the spirit's unsavory nature. the boy outright tells teru that he isn't bothered. and it's funny!
but shigeo isn't being honest with himself here either.
his face briefly gives his feelings away before resettling into its normal flat affect. (to be fair, what he's really feeling isn't teru's business. this kid is trying to provoke a fight out of him, after all.) after he's basically tortured into exploding, shigeo spends three hours in the pouring rain, searching everywhere for ekubo.
three. hours.
these are not the actions of someone who isn't bothered. letting himself get drenched to the point of sickness,
even though he literally holds the power to shield himself from it,
reads to me like unconscious self-punishment for allowing all this to happen.
after a large chunk of his short life spent denying and fearing them for good reason, shigeo's first impulse is often not to use his psychic powers -- even after his integration at the story's end. i wish this was discussed more, because many watchers cannot fathom why this boy with world-breaking psychic abilities would ever refuse to use them.
also: the explosion meter lying to us / representing shigeo's detachment from his own emotions alexithymia may occur elsewhere in the series as well, especially when he's not close to an explosion; i'm reminded of the tiny dent ritsu's provocation of him makes in it a few episodes later.
I think what might actually help the families of trans loved ones is to actually engage with where the trans person is at - especially if the family isn't quite understanding yet. When I came out, I was completely alone in figuring out my manhood. I had peers and I had exposed myself to so many trans people who explored gender, and while it was amazing, it isn't quite the same at times. I grieve quietly, sometimes, about all the missed opportunities that might have just made it easier for my family to have seen how utterly happy I was. It took them a very long time to actually notice that I was happy, especially once I got on testosterone. I'm lucky that they saw that happiness eventually, and slowly accepted it. My manhood is completely detached from their influence, both to my relief and chagrin. It's sad to me that I learned to shave from a kind online stranger, somebody who didn't even have a father and yet, I do. I have a father. I grieve at the loss of a potential shared experience. I grieve about the pain I went through when I was in that stage of transition, especially because it was raw and vulnerable. I grieve that many trans people today are traversing the path I had to, because it's sometimes lonely (even when you do have other forms of support).
It's hard to know that I will never have gotten my sense of being from my family. In many ways, it has severed a lot of connection with them because there were so many times that I was begging them to see happiness when they were focused on the idea that I was almost in a state of purgatory - flesh which felt warm but held no familiarity to them. I don't harbor ill-will toward them, I hope I don't leave the impression that I despise them. I understand what they felt, even if I can't conceptualize it myself. However, it's a raw wound in my heart, and I don't want to leave anybody else feeling that way, either.
actually I love Tentoo and he is the Doctor and it was the only ending for Rose that worked and it is a huge gift to be able to have the man she loves grow old with her, they were always heading for that, y'all be quiet. I 100% understand the angst but it's okay, they're okay, good ending-
Fig's line "I don't think I'm an artist, I think I'm just a good friend" has not left my head at all. Just...
You're Fig Faeth and your horns came in over the summer and you pick up the bard class as a form of adolescent rock 'n' roll rebellion, and it works! It's exactly the outlet you need! You give a guy you just met drumsticks and you start a band and it's good enough that within a year and a half you're touring. You are, in every sense, good at being a bard.
And then, finally, your junior year, you start to take it seriously. Your art goes from an outlet and a form of rebellion to a practice. A discipline. (Can rebellion exist within a discipline?) Your classmates know what they want to do with their work. They all have a thesis statement. And yeah, there's cohesion in the music you make, but you've never had to think about why you make it. You've never sat down and dissected what it is about bass that speaks to you. You've never poured over your lyrics to pick at any deeper meaning. Why should you? You don't play music for a grand design, you do it to... huh, why do you do it?
(Your art is the one form of self-expression that feels as safe as Disguise Self does, because even if you're pouring your heart onto the page and then screaming it in front of thousands of people, it's not like you're really making yourself known. You can sing I'm lonely, I'm scared, I'm furious, and your fans will sing it right back, and there will still be the distance between performer and audience to keep your heart safe.)
Now you're being asked to look inward to explain the artistic choices you're making, and you can't help but recoil at that, because you'd rather do anything than look inward. Meanwhile, your classmates have no problem with it, so you start to wonder if you're a real artist at all. Can your art be authentic if it only exists to bolster a thesis statement? Has your art been unauthentic this whole time because you've never really thought about a thesis statement before? Is that what makes it art, and not just the next track on somebody's teen angst playlist?
You can't think about yourself— acknowledging your own existence makes you want to puke. So if your music is an extension of yourself, (and it is, even if it's just because the spotlight reveals only what you want it to,) you can't think about your music. You can't. You have to. Your grade depends on it.
You're Fig Faeth, and you keep multiclassing because you'd rather be a good friend than a great artist. If introspection is what great art demands, then fuck it. You must not be a bard at all.
It's funny to me anyway. Funny to me because my wife is the very picture of femininity, loving, caring, sexy, pretty, beautiful wife, loving and adored by all her children. And a satisfied and hot for her husband.
But to me she is beautiful and terrible as the Dawn! Treacherous as the Seas! Stronger than the foundations of the Earth! All shall love her and despair!
And yet she chose me.
So to all the hella ladies who rejected my advances? Y'all missed out. Because she saw in me what way too many people couldn't. And sometimes still can't.
And she wants to run my life. And the lives of our whole family. And we all kinda love it. Mostly. But it ain't worth the headache or heartache of fighting her on anything. She's Daddy's little princess and her mother is the loving matron and queen bitch of the family and we all stay in line. Mostly. I love to do my own thing too much for my own good. But it keeps our fights about stupid stuff instead of my weed use again.
(I'm dead ass functional and present from 6am on till I finally get my insomniac ass too sleep while high just to escape the constant anxiety about my sick daughter's upcoming surgery, my dying suegro, my mourning wife, disturbed autistic son, special needs princess Daddy's girl I'm spoiling her to death to make her just as powerful and ungovernable mother and it's working too well already. Have you ever negotiated with a hostile bitchy entitled as fuck child? )
Anyway, you wouldn't know it looking at me or talking normal chitchat, but I'm pretty fucking manly. In the way my culture defines manliness. I'm not very masculine. But I'm very manly.
I'm feminine as fuck in my household. I mother the kids, help their emotional development, work on my wife's emotional and mental well-being, and I'm the one never in the mood for sex. And I do every single thing she says. And then she does the discipline and management of the family's affairs. And she's the one who has to seduce me. Did I mention she was sexy as fuck? (While I'm awkward as fuck every time we even roleplay.) And a horny Latina. (That's why these horny sexy, nice, Latinos are taking over. It's natural selection. The Whites just can't compete and as usual are getting their panties in a twist over not being able to compete even with everything in their favor to out reproduce them all but it was too many kids for a nuclear family to handle Whites.) So beautiful hot queen sexy as fuck Latina seduces me every night. #blessed. So fuck yeah I don't wanna fuck up this arrangement. So I do everything she tells me to and treat her real good and let her win every argument and over apologize. Except when I make a rare exception to make a stand in something important or just to make some trouble and have some fun.
Oh yeah. She's a clean freak 😮💨 But she's an impatient Latina housewife perfectionist clean freak. So she gets mad at my perfectly good job when company isn't ever coming job and tells me to stop even trying to clean. Go play Minecraft with your daughter to keep her occupied.🤣
I have the best living situation ever. I'll be your bitch my bitchy highness. Just please keep playing with my hair on your lap. Oh, and that sucking my dick the way you do and being right 95% of the time on judgement calls.