#sometimes it feels like parents truly project so much onto their kids that it becomes stiffling..

[uncanny-tranny]

If I ever become a parent, I think I'd probably hold off on those gender reveal parties until the kid tells me what they are, and like... nothing would change afterwards obviously, but it's an excuse to eat a cake and give them gifts, plus it's a nice memory that I wouldn't have had if the reveal was held before they even had a chance to speak for themself.

[1990jeevas]

Braid Me a Home

summary:

"Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.” 

or

A story about the Sleepy Bois being family, told through braids.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: child neglect, hurt/no comfort, canonical character death, implied/referenced mental health issues (like it’s obvious but there isn’t much detail to it), brief blood mentions (ik this fic sounds kinda angsty as hell but its not? imo its light angst)

a/n: first dream smp fic and im ALREADY projecting? christ. anyways. go easy on me pls this is far from my best work i just havent written a fic in like 5 months (more if you dont count the fucking chat fics) mm also i may have posted this like a week ago on ao3 just to test the waters and its already gotten way more comments and kudos than any fic of mine usually gets this early on so hopefully tumblr enjoys it too :]

—

When Wilbur Soot was born, he came out crying, as most babies do. Covered in vernix and blood, he weighed just barely above the seven-pound mark, gasping out sharp cries that only a parent could truly stand, or worse—love. Though he was the second baby born into the family that day, he was fussed over far more than he would ever be again.

Technoblade, on the other hand, had barely made a sound when he came out, a trail of blood smeared across his forehead, almost as if it was meant to be there. He made small noises that were more akin to confused mumbles, weakly grasping at his father’s hair when he was eventually passed on for the second child to be welcomed into the world.

Only when both boys were held in their father’s grasp did Wilbur quiet down, his soft head leaning into his father’s beard as he stared wide eyed at the boy across from him. Though they looked similar enough, Technoblade’s nose was squished further back into his face, appearing almost snout-like to Philza. Of course Wilbur noted this, wiggling until their father somehow managed to get them pressed right up against each other with minimal damage done. Though Techno never stopped squinting like an annoyed old man at Wilbur, he allowed the other to press a fist against his nose, his eyebrows unfurrowing just the slightest bit at the touch.

From that day on, Philza was the father of two twin boys—a loud boy who cried easily, but always calmed down for his older brother, and a rather monotone one, who’s face seemed to be permanently stuck in a scowl, unless said face was being smushed around by the younger. And things worked like that for a while. Not forever, but...a while.

—

Philza taught Wilbur to braid on a hot Monday afternoon.

It had been a rough day for the boy, though Phil hadn’t a clue why. Maybe he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Or maybe he hadn’t slept enough between bedtime and the time Tommy had started crying again, the youngest boy’s crib being right beside his head and all. Though it might’ve seemed cruel from an outsider’s perspective, Wilbur had been the one to ask for it. Something about Tommy being his little brother and how he needed to teach the boy the ways of the world in the same way Techno had taught him—because apparently that was all Techno’s doing now, not Phil’s.

Regardless, Wilbur had been a bit too snippy for Phil’s liking that day, complaining about every little thing they did until finally, the day was over.

Well, as over as it could be with Techno leaving mid foam sword fight, an annoyed shout of ‘I quit!’ leaving his mouth before he snatched up Tommy’s carrier and brought him inside for god knows what reason.

It had only been around four P.M. by that time—too early for dinner, yet too late for Phil to really demand the boy stay outside and continue to entertain himself with a brother who was clearly not entertained himself.

Details aside, Phil isn’t really sure how they got to braiding. He just knows at some point they did and by the end of their outside time, just before the clock struck six, Wilbur had made two thick, messy braids in his hair. They stuck out awkwardly, looking all too similar to Pippi Longstocking’s iconic hairdo for his comfort, but he’d be damned if he took out the braids his son had so happily rushed inside to show his older brother before demanding to do his hair as well. After all, Wilbur didn’t have long enough hair for braids, but Technoblade sure as hell did. It was only at his shoulder blades back then, brunette curls wrapping around his narrow shoulders and thin arms like thick vines.

Wilbur had always enjoyed brushing it out with his fingers and putting cute, handmade clips or flowers in it at random, decorating the waves for his brother who was more than happy to let the boy do as he pleased. Though he would never admit it, Technoblade liked how it felt when Will played with his hair. He was always careful not to tug too hard, prioritizing the comfort of his other half more than the beauty of his work, as he so often referred to it.

So when Will had presented him with the mess that was his first two braids, he wasn’t hesitant at all to let the boy practice on him. Instead, he walked to the couch with a small smile, removing his glasses gently and getting comfortable before his brother plopped down into the space behind him. Long legs draped over long legs with no warning, thighs pressed together as if they were meant to be like that all along—and they might as well have been, for how often they did this.

Phil had watched them from the doorway in content silence, Tommy sitting behind him in a wooden high chair looking bored, but not making a fuss for once. And as he left that doorway to begin dinner, he listened to their muffled conversation and soft bursts of laughter with a small smile on his lips, for he knew things wouldn’t always be this way. They would have to grow up eventually, and when they did, things would change. Phil could only hope it was for the better.

—

When Tommy turns nine, Wilbur teaches him to braid under circumstances not too different from the ones he had learned under himself.

Well. Not too too different.

Philza and Technoblade had been...busy as of late. In the house for three days, out for a week, in for a week, out for three more, over and over and over again. Wilbur had become more like a father to Tommy in recent months than he should’ve been, his fourteenth birthday fast approaching as their father took Techno out for yet another job, one that Wilbur couldn’t come on because he was too fucking weak to do anything Techno could do, too fucking stupid to learn all the techniques Techno did, lacking all the strength and agility his older sibling possessed, like the useless prick he was-

Right. This is about Tommy.

When Tommy was nine, his hair rested gently against his collarbones in the exact same cut and color as their father wore. If Wilbur was a lesser man, he would’ve hated the kid for it, but it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t see what a selfish git their father truly was yet. All he knew was that their dad was busy a lot and that, for some reason, Techno needed to go with him. Apparently, that was enough for him to keep holding onto the idea that one day, the man would stay longer and maybe, just maybe, show him some of the same care that his older brother did.

If Wilbur was a better man, he would tell Tommy the truth. He would tell him all about the way Philza had called him useless in a fight, forcing him to instead stay home and care for a child while still being one himself. He would mention how Philza had given him no instructions on how to care for a developing child, how he left out key details to parenting on his own as a goddamn thirteen-year-old, yet remembered to tell him things would be better this way because god forbid he does his fucking job as a father for anyone but Technoblade—

Who he missed. He missed Technoblade, his other half, so fucking bad it hurt sometimes—so bad it left him gasping for breath at two A.M., his head pounding in tandem with his uneven heartbeat, lungs burning as his snot and tears soaked into his brother’s cold, cold sheets. And it made him feel fucking pathetic because the truth of the matter was that...Techno had left him behind too. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the older boy, no matter how hard he tried. Couldn’t hate Philza either, if he were to be honest with himself, but it was a lot easier to pretend he did when his father was the one putting them all in this position to begin with.

So, Tommy was nine when he learned how to braid.

Phil had promised him and Techno would be back Tuesday morning.

It was Wednesday afternoon.

Tommy didn’t fucking understand, and as frustrating as it was that the prick decided to take it out on Wilbur, he couldn’t blame him. Who else was he supposed to take this shit out on? Certainly not the man who had yet to return.

Wilbur had started the braid as a way to distract him. It was simple, really—tell him you know something he doesn’t and that he won’t get to know if he doesn’t sit the fuck down and listen.

When he had started tugging the boy’s hair back from his face, his immediate reaction was to jerk away, swatting at the hands that hovered over his shoulders. This only happened once or twice more before he let it happen naturally, his posture stiff as Wilbur ran his fingers through the boy’s hair with practiced ease.

Though it may not have seemed like it, Tommy was significantly more averse to touch than Techno had ever been. The only reason Techno even seemed averse to it was because of his hesitance to initiate, something he and Wilbur had discussed in depth. Rejection was one of the few fears Technoblade truly had and Wilbur held that fact close to his heart, ready to die with it if need be. Tommy, on the other hand? He was very particular about where and when and why someone was touching him, and it had taken Wilbur a long time to get used to that fact. But, he wasn’t about to make his little brother uncomfortable just so he could be happy and, eventually, he learned the ins and outs of how to touch TommyInnit without causing issue.

Pulling a few of the shorter strands towards the front of Tommy’s face loose, Will separated the blonde’s hair into three sections. They were rather small, what with how thin and short his hair was, it just barely being long enough to even have a proper braid in it, but Wilbur knew he could make it work.

“Now, Toms, you gotta listen to me here, because I can’t show you this bit, yeah? Phil and Tech aren’t here, and my hair is too short, so you’ll just have to feel it out for now, but...this is how you braid hair-” Wilbur had said in a soft voice, brushing the pad of his thumb over the boys neck slowly to ease the tension out of his shoulders. The effect was immediate, the boy slouching forward as if he had just noticed he was holding himself so sternly. Smiling softly, Wilbur instructed him on how to weave the strands together, answering questions and pulling lightly at Tommy’s hair so he could feel exactly where everything went. After he was done, Tommy had reached back to feel the bumps in his hair, all his earlier anger seemingly gone as he gave a small smile. And then he tried it himself.

Of course he got a bit of help at first, Wilbur’s larger hands guiding his own with gentle corrections, but after that Tommy worked on it alone, his older brother watching in silence from a patch of grass beside the porch step.

That night, Tommy and Wilbur slept in Techno’s bed, a soft, blue blanket wrapped tightly around them. And if another body woke them up at some point that night, shoving its way into the mess of limbs, their chest pressed right up against the youngest boy’s back, then that was only for them to know.

—

At eleven years old, Tommy takes a pair of scissors to his hair. With flushed cheeks and salty lips, his hands shaking and his eyes foggy, he cuts, cuts, cuts, until he can no longer braid his hair—until he can no longer look like fucking Phil.

Even though Wilbur had once said he hated Tommy’s long hair—hated how similar he and their dad looked—he felt like crying as he ran his fingers through the uneven strands. He didn’t tell his brother this though, instead grabbing his face and planting a wet kiss on his freckled forehead. In a fierce whisper, Wilbur had said, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Tommy. So fucking proud.”

Tommy never forgets the way he felt that day. He doesn’t forget Wilbur’s words either.

—

When Wilbur loses his last life, Technoblade tells Tommy to braid his hair.

It wasn’t a question either, but a demand forced out between gritted teeth, his face red, his nose stuffy and his lashes wet with unshed tears. Still, his words were clear as day.

“Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

Tommy sniffled, but did as he was told.

Maybe it was because he was too tired to argue with the only person he even had left. Maybe it was because he could tell Technoblade was mad at their father for the first time in his life, and he knew how bad his first time had felt. Or, maybe, it was just because he knew Techno fucking cared. Nobody else seemed to, but he knew Techno did and...that was enough for him.

As long as someone else cared—as long as it was fucking Technoblade—that was enough for him.

Just as Tommy had finished the braid, curling his finger around the light pink tail that tied the whole thing off, Techno yanked it forward. Before he could even register that the hair had left his hand, the older boy had taken an axe to the top of it, letting the rest of his hair fall around his face in uneven curls. Though it was a good ten minutes of work wasted, Tommy couldn’t say a damn thing as he watched Techno pocket the braid, muttering a thank you and heading in the direction of Wilbur’s unofficial grave.

In that moment, he felt relief for the first time in a long while.

—

Wilbur Soot was born covered in vernix and blood, weighing just barely above the seven-pound mark, and he came into the world much like he left it. Everyone had heard his cries—even if they weren’t there, even if they didn’t know him well—they had saw the way he spiraled, desperate and afraid and paranoid, searching for help, but never receiving enough.

And though he was the second child born, he left the world first, returning in a yellow sweater with a small braid tucked behind his ear. He didn’t really know why he had one, but he remembered braiding Techno’s hair and he remembered teaching Tommy how to do his own and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered the braids.

[not-reagan]

milf: man i love forests

pairing: deforester boo seungkwan x frat boy mirror demon han jisung (side pairing reagan x rainbow)

genre: crack, strangers to friends to lovers, non-idol au

warnings: cursing, brief supernatural elements, i don’t know if this applies but all lcase, and i listened to christmas music and abba while writing this

word count: 2.7k

authors note: happy birthday @miyuuraiura !! i am so sorry about this monstrosity being your birthday gift but you asked for it so it's your fault entirely. i was gonna include some context on this story for those who are not rainbow and i but actually i don't think i will.

seungkwan did what he could to get by. he loved nature, he really did, but sometimes you have to make moral sacrifices to survive. he was a college kid strapped for cash, and when he saw a sign reading “GET RICH QUICK, INVEST IN DEFORESTATION” in the summer going into his freshmen year, he jumped at the opportunity. sure, he would have rather been a freelance singer, hired for bar-mitzvahs and children's parties, but that job market was flooded at the moment.

jisung, on the other hand, had no care for nature. actually, he didn't care for any human things, apart from “banging parties, booze, the boys™, and bitches”. he hated quite a bit about earth, the worst of all to him being college. as a demon, he had no reason to attend university, but after he was summoned in the bathroom of a frat house by the school’s power couple; rainbow and reagan, he felt obliged to follow the two around and keep them company.

for seungkwan, his main job rarely required in person work. he usually just chose plots of land to demolish, and sent plans to local managers. the only time he actually had to knock down any trees himself was during his summer break. he has a part time job of course, but it didn't provide him enough cash to survive. for someone with a job as a deforester, he truly did do what he could to save the environment. he joined his schools environmental club, becoming vice president his sophomore year because of his work with them. he kept his job a secret, not even telling his parents where the influx of cash was coming from. he kept a low profile and went through the motions of life. he didn't have much of a social life, with his small amount of friends being from the environmental club.

han jisung found joy in witnessing his professors and fellow students lose their minds over his lack of effort in class. he did the bare minimum and still passed with flying colors. most of all, it angered his seatmate in earth science, who happened to be none other than boo seungkwan. seungkwan was a hard worker in everything he did, particularly in school. he didn't get the best grades, but by no means was he the worst. averaging a steady B+, seungkwan spent most of his nights studying or working, rarely going to parties and enjoying himself only through one person karaoke rooms.

this fact upset jisung. he didn't know why, but seeing seungkwan so tired every day made him feel sad(? jisung wasn't sure what it made him feel. it was an emotion he had never experienced before. rainbow told him it meant he had a crush. to this he threw an empty soda can at them). not to mention seungkwan’s upsetting karaoke addiction, which he knew all about the danger of because of reagan, who spent most of her weekends drunk and singing. jisung didn’t know why he took such a liking to seungkwan. what he did know was that he was ecstatic to find that they would be paired together for a project. a project that required quite a bit of teamwork, and a lot of after school work sessions.

seungkwan liked to think that he didn’t hate anyone. he hated evil people, like hitler and stalin and jyp, but he didn’t really hate anyone besides the worst of the worst. that was until he experienced jisung. he wasn’t sure why jisung always talked to him when he was trying to take notes in class. he especially wasn’t sure why he was so excited to be partnered up together for the project that was worth 25% of their grade. seungkwan was less than happy to have to cooperate with jisung for an extended period of time, and he was not looking forward to letting him into his dorm room, or going anywhere near jisung’s frat house. seungkwan had no idea what he was pushed into.

they planned to meet at the cafe on campus at 5:00 pm after class. seungkwan was less than happy. jisung was thrilled. when jisung arrived seungkwan was sitting at a table drinking an americano and working on an english essay. he wasn't sure how to approach him, slowly walked closer before tapping on his shoulder. seungkwan jolted in his seat.

“jesus fuck jisung. you scared the crap out of me,” seungkwan gasped. jisung’s ears flushed as he brought his hand to the back if his neck.

“sorry,” he started, pausing for a second before starting again, “why don't we get started?”. he swung his bag down to the ground as he took a seat. seungkwan offered a small, non genuine smile before pulling out the project’s guidelines.

“let's try to finish this as quickly as possible. im pretty busy and don't have much time to fool around.” seungkwan said. jisung felt his heart drop. did seungkwan really think that little of him? granted, he always dozed off in class but he got his work done on time and in an orderly fashion. he felt his mind begin to wander. if seungkwan felt this way about him now, how would he feel when he found out that jisung was a demon. would seungkwan start to like him if he knew him better? jisung couldn't figure out why he cared so much about how seungkwan perceived him. he had never had an issue with others opinions of him before, so what made seungkwan so different? for some reason, jisung felt the need to connect with seungkwan. if not for himself, then at least to help him let loose.

after working silently on each of their portions of the projects for 3 hours, jisung finally spoke up. “do you want to maybe come to my party next month? well, it's not my party, it's for rainbow’s birthday. i know you're not one for social interaction but it would be cool to see you there. i’ll give you the details if-”

“i’d love to go,” seungkwan cut off jisung’s rambling. to be honest, he wasn't exactly sure what he was agreeing to, but he knew it would shut jisung up, and seungkwan valued his peace and quiet. part of him also just felt downright bad for the other. he seemed to be trying awfully hard to become friends with seungkwan, and he wouldn’t admit it, seungkwan had started to warm up to the boy. he really wasn’t as much of an issue as he had thought before, and was actually really respectful of seungkwan’s wishes. maybe i’ll give him a chance, seungkwan thought before going back to his work.

over the next month, jisung and seungkwan continued meeting to work on their project. seungkwan was less short with the other, and jisung was still red faced every time seungkwan decided to talk to him, which became quite frequently over the next few weeks. jisung was starting to realize that the feelings he had for seungkwan were not simply platonic, and that he didn’t just want to be friends with him. with the help of rainbow and reagan, he had come to the conclusion that he really, really liked seungkwan, and that he was going to do something about it. remembering that he had invited seungkwan to the party, he devised a plan to not only tell seungkwan about his whole “i’m actually a demon” thing, but also about his true feelings. it wouldn't be easy, but it was what he had to do.

a month later, seungkwan still wasn’t exactly sure why he had agreed to go to jisungs frat house at 9:00 pm on a saturday night. yet there he was, standing on the front porch of a large house, wondering if he should bite the bullet and walk in, or spare himself and leave right then. he didn't get a choice, however, as rainbow and reagan stepped out of the house giggling while clutching onto each other. both stopped in their tracks when they saw seungkwan. the couple and seungkwan stared at each other for a good minute before seungkwan shook himself from his trance.

“hey rainbow!” seungkwan started, “and reagan too. i know we aren’t super close, but jisung invited me and i thought i’d just drop by and wish you a happy birthday.” he passed her a birthday card filled with $50 bucks and then turned to leave. “i’ll leave you guys now. have a great birthday!” before seungkwan could get very far, however, rainbow grabbed him by the arm.

“hey, i’d love if you’d stay! at least go say hi to jisung. i’m sure he’d like to see you,” she said, silently making note to have jisung pay her back for being a great wingwoman.

“he’s probably hiding in the second floor bathroom. if you don't see him in there, just say his name three times in front of the mirror. he’ll appear.” reagan explained. seungkwan thought she was joking. how wrong he was.

following his entrance to the house, he had to refuse not one, not two, but three different people who were looking to give him bottles or cups of something which seungkwan presumed to be various types of alcohol. navigating through the house was difficult, reaching the stairs to the second floor only after running into numerous people borderline fucking on two large couches in the living room, a smoke circle taking place in what seungkwan assumed to be a dining room, and a very aggressive makeout session against a wall. once he finally reached the second floor, he had some difficulty finding the bathroom, accidentally walking in on reagan and rainbow, who had miraculously made it upstairs faster than he had.

“if you don’t stop shitting constantly i am going to break up with you! also, stop taking feet pics! it’s weird!” he heard rainbow shout.

“at least i can eat seafood! how does it make your head hurt? you’re the weakest link! that fucking seafood platter was delicious. and you know what, i’m glad i didn’t have to share it with you!” reagan responded. seungkwan quickly shut the door, not wanting to get involved in whatever drunken argument was going on there. after a bit more searching, he finally stumbled across the right room. knocking first to see if anyone was in there, he entered, and to his surprise, nobody was there. jisung was nowhere to be seen. seungkwan reviewed his options. he could a) leave the party, or b) continue to look around the packed house. but there was another option. he thought about it for a second.

“what's the harm in trying,” seungkwan thought out loud, before staring directly into the mirror.

“han jisung, han jisung, han jisung.”

nothing happened. that's what seungkwan thought, until a minute later the lights in the bathroom flickered off and the mirror began to glow. “what. the. fuck,” seungkwan managed to squeak out before falling backwards into the tub. first a leg emerged, then two arms, and finally the rest of jisung’s body.

“i feel like the genie in aladin every time i have to get into a fucking mirror,” jisung complained before seeing seungkwan toppled over. to that view, he jumped down off the counter and moved to help him up. seungkwan, aside from falling, seemed to be reacting well to the whole situation, at least in the sense that instead of freaking out he seemed to be in a state of shock. jisung took this as a good sign, and lifted the motionless body up onto the toilet seat.

“hey seungkwan, you there?” jisung waved his hand in front of seungkwan's face as he slowly came to his senses.

“what kind of twisted party trick was that?” seungkwan asked, pretty seriously. jisung just laughed.

“you summoned me from the mirror. i’m like a funny version of michael jackson except i'm a demon and not a man in the mirror.” jisung explained. seungkwan just stared. “are you ok kwan? do you want me to get you some water?”

“it was… kind of sick.” seungkwan stated. he didn't know why he wasn't scared. under any other circumstance like this one, he probably would have shit his pants. for some reason he felt comfortable around jisung. he felt warm. he felt seen. it was something he hadn't felt before. that's when he realized. he wondered why it took himself to long to figure it out. he never hated jisung. he just didn't know what to do with the fact that he made him feel special, and that he felt as though he belonged when they were together. it had hit him why he was so nervous the whole night, why he had wanted to make such a good impression, and why he was willing to embarrass himself by calling out jisungs name as opposed to just choosing to go home. it was because he loved him.

“can i tell you something?” both of the boys said at the same time. jisung giggled and seungkwan flushed red. **authors note! bonus starts here**

“you first,” seungkwan offered. he wasn't exactly sure he would be able to make it through a sentence without getting any redder than he already was.

jisung took this opportunity to finally get his true feelings out into the air, “i like you… uhh like, i like like you. i have since we first became seatmates. well, i think that's when i've liked you since. i knew whe-”

“you're rambling again,” seungkwan told him. jisung flushed a dark shade of pink. “it's a habit of yours. i think it's cute actually.” seungkwan wasn't sure where his sudden surge of confidence came from, but he was glad it came. he was standing up now, holding jisungs hands in his. jisungs heart was racing a mile a minute as he looked down at their intertwined hands and them back up, catching seungkwan looking directly at his lips. “can… can i kiss you?” seungkwan stuttered out. jisung couldn't find his words, so he opted to just nod.

when their lips connected, seungkwan could have sworn he heard fireworks. he did later find out that someone was setting off a firework in the back yard, but it was the thought that counted. their lips melted together perfectly, and seungkwan wondered why it took him so long to admit his feelings to himself. he could have been kissing jisung for a month before this.

once they finally parted, seungkwan spoke softly, “i like you too. i think that's pretty obvious now but just in case you didn't know.” jisung had the dumbest, most confused face on, and seungkwan had the brightest smile he'd ever had. seungkwan had rendered jisung speechless, for once in his life. not long after, they started kissing again, content with their emotions and their new relationship.

seungkwan was never one to believe that good things were permanent. he was overdramatic, stubborn, and hated interacting with people outside his small social circle. that was until han jisung came along. he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he could let someone else into his life.

jisung was a simple man. well, not a man, but he was simple nonetheless. he liked banging parties, booze, the boys™, and bitches. well maybe there was one more thing he liked. he knew for sure he liked boo seungkwan. maybe he loved him. maybe seungkwan even felt the same way.

-fin

**BONUS**

reagan and rainbow leaned up against the door to eavesdrop on their matchmaking work.

“holy shit!” reagan gasped.

“what is it?? tell me what happened. you're hogging up the door!” rainbow hissed.

“our boy is so grown up,” reagan pretended to cry. “put your goddamn ear up here.” rainbow felt her ear connect with the cold door just as jisung confessed his feelings.

“i like you… uhh like, i like like you. i have since we first became seatmates. well, i think that's when i've liked you since. i knew whe-” his next words were cut off on the girls side of the door as reagan squealed.

“shut your mouth! seungkwans saying something!!” rainbow said, obviously annoyed that reagan was obstructing her ability to hear the exchange.

“can… can i kiss you?” they heard seungkwan say. both looked at each other in shock.

“oh. my. god.” was all rainbow could say.

“i think we should give them some alone time,” reagan suggested as she tugged rainbow down the hall.

“i think we need some alone time for ourselves,” rainbow said as reagan pushed her into a random room and locked the door behind them.

[funny-house]

huhu u got me to watch opal the other day since u keep talking abt it and im glad bc i Really Enjoyed It but !! anyways , i saw u mention mirror man doing makeup for someone and i keep thinking about it so Thoughts Incoming sorry in advance lmao. i think he would like to do claires makeup (and teach her abt it in general) when she gets a bit older,, both bc it seems like a legitimate hobby he would enjoy (i imagine if he werent Like That he probably could have been a makeup artist or something similar!) and bc he would like to ‘prettify’ her a bit.

and ah well,,, a lot of parents Like Him sometimes try 2 make their child a carbon copy of themselves or of an image they enjoy so if he grew to like claire more or already does like her enough for that (or just, wants things to revolve around him More) hed try to nudge things in that direction. and in his own way i think He might think hes doing something good, he knows when he was her age he would have killed to have a parent so eager to help him learn makeup and stuff but. claire isnt him. she probably isnt even interested in it at all but shes kinda desperate for Nice Moments and also doesnt wanna risk making him angry so she goes along with it. she always has her head in the clouds so all the things hes saying is too much at once but shes trying to comprehend it,,,,,

nd he keeps giggling at her for how awkwardly she moves her arm when putting on foundation and blush nd gets kind of annoyed with her for repeatedly flinching when he tries to help her with mascara nd teases her a bit for trying to taste the lip gloss (and keeps pointing out a flaw or two on her face “well, youve always had a sort of weird shaped face but youve always had the cutest little smile, its like Mine :)”) but they do it !! together !!! and nothing (that) bad happened !!!!!! so claire is happy,,,,,,,,,,, until that inevitably opens the gates of him trying to pick out what she wears for her and “””suggesting””” hairstyles for her and getting manipulative and even flatout Angry when she doesnt do what he wants her to (bc even when things Seem like theyre about claire they Are Not, its what He wants for her , in the end its still all about him) but, ive rambled enough to you already <:o) sorry for talking so much i just wanted to chat a bit abt opal with you !!!! hope ur doing well hehe . and im sorry this is rambly nd probably incomprehensible i just did a lot of work hkehri

ohhhhhhhh !!! FIRST  I am super glad that all my constant rambling about this man has allowed you to go watch Jack Stauber’s awesome little short, it’s really good and deserves all the support !!!

also i totally appreciate you wanting to share your thoughts with me ;u;

AND I TOTALLY AGREE  the whole idea of him projecting himself onto her, trying to take over her, I think that is so fitting for the short itself tbh, because it’s a reflection ( mirrors, hehe ) of what the mother wants from Claire as well. The thing that terrified Claire near the end is the mother reaching to hold onto her, specifically after the mom said that she was going to become just like her. The idea of her becoming her parents? it terrifies her, clearly!!

And Mirror Man, he is what they call a “archetypal narcissistic abuser”, in my eyes at least,  and it would be really really common to see someone like that not only be so controlling and self absorbed that they treat their child like a decoration to themselves, but also use that child, especially as they get old enough to have opinions on the situation, to turn them against their partner-- such as.... the mom

so picture this

Claire is like 10-12, and she’s bright and she’s got a good heart but she’s WELL and truly Affected by the years of being brought up in that ridiculously toxic hell hole-- I mean house no idea if the grandpa would live that long uhhh in his state, but even if he does, he’s still very sick, disabled, and senile and he isn’t going to be much help. and Claire, she’s starting to have Opinions,, on how things are running around here,,      but in swoops Mirror Dad

He’s like........ it’s your mother’s fault. Oh, absolutely, have you seen her? I mean look at her, she’s disgusting. she’s a drug addict, she’s a drunk, she’s ugly, she’s the reason you feel like this-- and maybe some of that is understandable, i mean she’s a real mess of a mom, no mistake, but hey

Nobody’s going to tell Claire who made her that way! Nobody’s going to tell her Mirror Dad was the one who trapped her in an unloving, possibly violent relationship, with a kid, and ripped apart every inch of her self worth !!!

Nope. she just sees the aftermath. So mirror dad...... turns claire on her. And she starts to side with him on things and she starts to even kinda talk like him maybe even....... learns how to do that dark and scary insecurity voice of his and one day She walks by the.... Reflection Chamber and Mirror Man is there in that way He Always Is in that seat he always sits in, and he says something very very odd to her!   he raises a finger and curls it in and says    come sit on my lap you haven’t gotten too big to sit on my lap have you?? come here!! and i mean Claire is still very very uncomfortable even being near him, and this feels like a trap, but i mean she can’t just say no, and there’s a part of her that’s kinda hoping... maybe he really is trying to be nice. and so she does and she sits with her but you’ll notice he is never looking directly at her. Even as she’s approaching literally right in his line of sight, he stares straight into her reflection, never her face.  It’s like she’s not even real unless she’s in those mirrors.

And he tells her he wants to do her makeup! yay! how fun! and he tells her to close her eyes and pout her lips and try not to flinch when the sculpting starts or he’ll use his deep voice-- and how he’s going to finally FIX her. Goody!! then maybe the constant barrage of insults and negs and criticisms will stop!! (p.s. they wouldn’t have )

And so she opens her eyes..... and the face of her abuser is looking right back. It’s her face. Or it used to be-- now it’s literally his and it’s hideous-- it does not AT ALL belong on that body, and the only thing left of her is her big shiny eyes

and she  S C R E A M S that way Claire does,,,

but this time, loud enough to crack the mirrors, and stun the dad just long enough for him not to catch her in his hands when she leaps off his lap and books it for the attic the attic, the view of the billboard with the same worn out, not updated ad for Opal’s in the window. She locks the door, it doesn’t take long for mirror man to come banging on it, telling her she’s ungrateful, she doesn’t deserve what little she has, taking back every nice thing he ever said, etc,,,

and Opal just starts clawing off the makeup/clay/whatever from her face in the mirror’s glass reflection, putting her hair back into the pigtails her father said made her look stupid

but she isn’t Opal, she’s changed, she’s aged, but Opal-- she’s always the same!! happy!! cared for!! and what is she supposed to be under the makeup? huh? Who is she besides the abuse she’s put through, that billboard and what it sells to her?  she doesn’t know! nobody does nobody ever bothered to get to know what it even means to be Claire.

[conservativetranny]

2020 blog update

Hello. No idea if any of you ‘remember’ me but I do seem to have a fair few followers on here. I managed to access the login information for this account and it is safe to say this blog is dead. I denounce everything I stood for on this stupid shit. 

I’m writing this because it’s what the blog deserves. Not looking to be dramatic, not looking for sympathy, in fact I think i’ll get a bit of backlash for this but bring it on. 

The past and the present- a summary

I had this blog when I was 14, unfortunately way too young to have a social media presence (one which carried any responsibility like this one anyway). No matter what age I said I was, no matter how I portrayed myself or how you, my followers interpreted me, I was a sad young trans guy desperately hoping to look big, cool, masculine and stoic, and that manifested in the most toxic way possible. 

I’m 17 now, still very very young, and after developments in my life, especially pursuing my medical transition and becoming happy within myself, I no longer hold such toxic beliefs as I once did. I am happier with myself and no longer feel the need to sacrifice others’ dignity, respect, and unfortunately sometimes on this blog, privacy, for my own. I was a very insecure, stubborn, and ignorant teenager, who dealt with a lot of denial. I’m not blaming the way I treated people online on other factors, but of course external factors came into play. I was dealing with bullying and insecurity, with parental problems, and with loneliness and depression. I seeked some sort of community, and I wanted to push myself away from the ‘weak’ trans community (the way I viewed it at the time). I wasn’t in denial personally, with the fact that I was trans (being gay is a different story- I was in complete denial with the fact that I’m gay), more just with the way other people viewed me (I will expand on this). I could elaborate on the way in which I viewed other people and the way that projected onto my conduction online, but it is a complex and confusing story. I have completely changed my viewpoint on trans ‘discourse’, I am open minded, I am close friends with people I would have turned my ignorant nose up at years ago. I am so proud to say that I am a completely different person now. I grow every day, it seems, and I can assure that I will never return to this ignorant mindset.

Growth

With experience, I have grown too. Obviously, from 14-17 i have become more mature. I have different experiences now as well, for example, I don’t bind often at all really anymore, because its more comfortable and can sometimes make me more dysphoric to know I am binding. I’m bringing this up because I bet you back when I was active on this blog, I would’ve laughed at the more mature, tolerant me, and probably went on a tyrade about how I was a fake trans guy or less of a man for not binding. I often wonder what ‘old me’ would think of ‘new me’. Now obviously, three years isn’t a hell of a big difference, but to a 17 come 18 year old it is. I understand I am not an adult yet, but I’ve always taken pride in conducting myself with a sense of maturity and articulacy, and for this post and platform especially I feel it is appropriate.

The Truscum Mindset

Back when I ran this blog, I was in an echo chamber of like minded people, which didn’t help my ideological development. I watched youtubers like Blaire White and Kalvin Garrah, who I thought gave me a balanced, moderate, and fair opinion which is clear is not the case. Back then I would’ve scoffed at the idea of Blaire and Kalvin and other similar people as being radical or a gateway, but I urge you, if you feel you are slipping to obsession with those ideologies, to seek to widen your opinions and associations. I understand it’s a fairly niche discourse topic, but for me it opened a wider rabbit hole into the alt right. From wanting to fit into the lgbt and wider communities as a masculine male, this opened up the black hole of the alt right, I browsed (now deleted) subreddits and 4chan boards, and forums that put me in a very negative and dangerous place. If you’d like me to make a post elaborating on this, I am more than happy to, but this post is to address conservativetranny.

Denial and owning up to responsibility

Back in 2017/18, I was very much in denial of certain aspects of myself, especially my sexuality. I am gay. I thought that this was, and especially as a trans guy, a demasculating quality. I still deal with those feelings sometimes, as a lot of young gay guys do, but thankfully it does not manifest itself as toxic as it once did. I just wanted to portray myself online as how I thought I wanted to be viewed-I didn’t want to be viewed like ‘any other trans guy’. I wanted to be different, but now I can appreciate individuality and I can also embrace being trans as well.

I used to think that having alt views was the coolest thing ever, which contributed to my slip into the alt right, something on which I’ll elaborate on in later posts. I am now an advocate for deradicalisation, and being rational, truly rational. I’m also an advocate for maturity and owning up to your mistakes.

I have hurt people, especially in my personal life, throughout my time as a stupid, thoughtless immature teenager and i am sorry, from the bottom of my heart, for that. I now respect the hell out of those people and unfortunately, but definitely rightfully so, they have lost their respect for me. I don’t blame them, because as I said, up until very recently I was a horrible, toxic person. With maturity, in the past half a year I have been able to own up to my mistakes and I am now taking responsibility for that. No excuses, because I was a shitty person. Of course there is a line between excuses and justification, and I hope those which are reading this can distinguish and appreciate this difference.

Self Hatred and Truscum

Back when I ran this blog, it was very easy to tell I was self hating. Everything I wrote on here, pretty much, was hateful except for the odd two posts that were about something unrelated to my ideology. I was extremely dysphoric and in a bad place when I wrote these things and certainly projected my insecurities onto others. I wanted to find a community of different thinking people that would accept me, and this community was certainly the wrong turn. I had a feeling that it was wrong at the time, but I was too naive and cowardly to own up to it and seek a way out. I kind of just naturally fell out of it, a a lot of things happened in my personal life in late 2018 that forced me out of trans discourse and into much more toxic places like the alt right and true crime fandoms, and I think I’ve only recently ‘found myself’ in the past year or so. I might make a post on self growth on the future as I intend to keep this blog to elaborate and voice my opinions on deradicalisation and highlight the importance of owning up and self awareness.

Don’t fall into the rabbithole

I’m not too acquainted with trans discourse anymore, so I’m out of the loop on this one, but I’d imagine that there’s still ‘transmed vs tucute’ ideas. Kalvin Garrah’s community comes to mind, I haven’t watched his videos ‘as a fan’, if that makes sense, for a while now but I am aware he has a large fanbase of young trans teens that were in a similar mindset to where I was back when I ran this blog. I would love for this post to reach his opposers and supporters for that matter, as a means to show them that they don’t have to fall into this cycle of hate which can be very damaging. I used to be an avid fan of Kalvin, and Blaire White, amongst others. I watched exclusively their content alone and formed my opinions around theirs. If you’re doing that now, I urge you to consider other people when you do. Think about the people like Brennan Beckwith, people who were severely impacted and hurt by hateful rhetoric. Those people are human too, and with maturity you will learn that people with different experiences and views are, at the end of the day, the same as you, and they have feelings as well .I’m going to make a post in the future about Kalvin Garrah, certainly, but maybe Blaire White as well.

Why now?

You may be wondering why this post is being made now of all times, and that is a question that has every right to be asked. I feel as if this timing is right because I finally possess the level of maturity needed to own up to my mistakes and tell you that I was wrong and it was certainly wrong to post those opinions and mistakes online for all to see, and put people in my real life on blast like I did.

I had completely forgotten about this blog, and forgot about the rude and ignorant words I had written towards the people in my real life, until chance had it that I was in contact with one of the people mentioned in this post. [https://conservativetranny.tumblr.com/post/169351517511/no-one-pretends-to-be-trans]

I’m not going to go into the nuances of the conversation we had, but it turns out they had, for a while and definitely rightfully so been hurt by the fact that I had mentioned them, by name, in this post. And while I’d of course still like to keep these people anonymous and will not sacrifice their anonymity in order to tell a story or ‘save myself’, this post is quite funny to read back on as I am good friends with the people referred to as ‘P’ and ‘Shadow’ now.

This is the end of this post, as I feel I have said everything I have wanted to say regarding my previous conduct on this blog. I’m going to change my name on this blog and my bio as I do intend on further posts in the future. I’m not sure how many people, if any, this post will reach, but I’m satisfied I have written this anyway. I certainly do plan on writing future posts but I’m not exactly sure how to formulate them. But thank you so much for reading this far, and if you have, I appreciate it.

[missinghan]

「 semper lucet ↠ bang chan 」

You’ve been a loner for as long as you can remember. 

Really, as melodramatic as it sounds, you don’t think it’s fair when every other kid in class always sits together during lunch and talks about something as silly as a new trendy toy that they saw on TV the night before or complains about how much vegetables their mom's packed into their lunchbox. And they always have a partner when the teacher tells the class to work in pairs. No one ever gets left out. Unlike you. 

Every day is the same as every other day; you get home from school only to find a single lamp in the hallway being lit up, dinner in a box of Tupperware inside the fridge that’s at least five times bigger than yourself and a cold pitch of milk on the marble counter. You also don’t think it’s fair when your classmates get to run into their parents’ arms after a long day full of monstrous lessons because, sadly, your parents have never come home before ten o’clock. 

Some outsiders might find it funny if they witness a nine-year-old preparing her own meal, getting washed up on her own, and tucking herself into bed. Others might find it dangerous and irresponsible of the parents to leave their daughter at home all alone at such ungodly hours. But you? You find it quite depressing actually, sometimes you wonder if you’ve done something terrible in your past life to deserve to die alone in this one. 

Hence, sleep doesn’t like you that much. Most of the time, you’d be turning and tossing under your comforter non-stop until your parents’ footsteps can be heard outside. Other times, you’d find yourself having a staring competition with the ceiling until sleep finally gives in and draws a hand over your eyes. Your boring life goes on like so, slowly and dreadfully.

Well, at least it keeps going like that until something crashes onto your balcony. Or someone. 

“Ow, I’d better work on my landings next time.” It’s a boy, you assume. “Sorry I was running a little late, I miscalculated and got lost on the way. I’m Bang Chan, by the way, nice to meet you!”

From then on, he crashes at your place (literally) every night, though you have to give him more credit because his landings only improve through time. It’s the giggles that are the sails upon your boat. You both find the funny in every little thing and for the first time ever, you find yourself laughing so much that there are tears in your eyes like a dam that’s about to break and your stomach hurts like no other. It’s the kind of sweetness that you need during rough times but he’s more than just someone who makes you laugh. 

Chan is probably the best thing that’s ever happened in your life and you truly don’t deserve him. And the best things don’t happen twice, they say. 

He goes through the years with a petty, teenage-angst Y/N that decides it’s a good idea to resent her parents for the rest of her life. Edgy, you know. And you go through the years enduring his baffling questions about how insignificant humans are in this universe and his weird obsession for the pile of philosophical books that your dad gave you as a Christmas gift. 

But you’re more than willing to hear him ramble about how irritating and insufferable humans can be sometimes because of his dimples, his curly locks, and the way his eyes light up like a supernova when he gets excited about something. There’s kindness in his smile, a gentleness that’s irreplaceable. It’s the smile of one who laughs with ease, a soul-connector. You suppose he’s the kind of person who lives how he believes people should, a ray of sunshine wherever he goes. Chan is the calm sea, a friend, a guardian angel. 

Yet most of all, he’s your lucky star. 

“I live on the brightest star up there,” Chan speaks softly. “Did you know that?”

“Hmm, that’s very charming, tell me more,” you toss a piece of popcorn at him, snorting involuntarily. 

It’s a lovely Saturday evening and your parents have decided to go out to their favorite restaurant after a tiring business trip, leaving you at home with a sad portion of leftover spaghetti from your dad’s birthday party. Chan’s situated next to you on the couch with a boring rom-com playing on the TV and a bowl of popcorn on his lap, your head leaned against his shoulder. Nothing new. Though normally, he’d start making fun of the cliché plot and terrible acting with you, a lot has been on his mind. It’s a shame you don’t notice how sad his starry eyes are tonight. 

“I’ll have to leave soon, I don’t have much time left,” he lets out a breath, an exasperated sigh. 

You reply with little consideration, only paying attention to how stale the popcorn is, “Okay, my parents are gonna be home soon anyway.”

“No,” Chan’s voice suddenly becomes firm and this causes you to startle. “I’m leaving for good. You’ll never get to see me again.” 

A pang of fear is evident inside your rib cage. It’s finally time. The time you know would come sooner or later but dread. You’ll have to say goodbye to the only person that you genuinely care about other than yourself, to the only person that you feel happy with. How are you supposed to bid him a farewell without feeling like you’re losing a part of yourself?

“You’re my friend, Chan, I’m not gonna let you go, not like this.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. There’s nothing I can do,” Chan pushes your hands away gently and stands up from the couch, knocking the bowl of popcorn onto the floor. “I hope life won’t be so unfair towards you anymore.”

You swallow dry, tears already pooling inside your eyes, “What happened to ‘I’ll always be with you’ then?”

“Don’t humans lie to themselves in order to feel better?” Were his last words before disintegrating into a thousand bits of stardust. You should have known better; you wanted a friend and the universe answered your calling. But with every granted wish comes a consequence — another star will lose its light.

Chan’s stepped out of your life so easily and you wish you could do the same with moving on from him. It’s not easy when wherever you go, you see his face and hear his laughter. It definitely doesn’t help when there’s a rose attached to your university acceptance letter for astronomy. And the afterwords of the letter reads ‘To every star that you’re looking for’.

During your days of working as an apprentice for professor’s Park, a strange asteroid catches your attention with little time. Its pattern of behaviors is making you highly concerned since the amount of nuclear fuel it’s exhausting is downright alarming. It’s going through the various stages of a star’s life almost as though it’s a human being. With the help of Park, you’ve concluded that due to the unstably explosive core, this has caused far too many reactions and absolutely no control over how fast it’s using up hydrogen. After a few decades, once there’s no fuel left, the star will collapse and its outer layer will explode as a ‘supernova’. 

Although your prediction seems to be too irrational and unrealistic, the research’s still nominated for an award. And while professor Park is dealing with the press all smoothly, you remain anonymous under the project’s name, only going as far as letting them know you’re the one who’s named the star ‘Semper Lucet, Bang Chan’. 

Or in English — ‘Bang Chan, Always Shining’.

[heavencollins]

Top 10 Films of 2020: Part Two

And the last five of my top ten are...

5: Unpregnant, directed by Rachel Goldenberg and written by Rachel Goldenberg, Jennifer Kaytin Robinson, Jenni Hendriks, Ted Caplan, and Bill Parker.

This HBO Max Original was the tipping point for me actually purchasing HBO Max, and I haven’t regretted it since.  Starring two absolute queens, Barbie Ferriera and Haley Lu Richardson, Unpregnant tells the story of a teenage girl who finds herself in a situation she wants nothing to do with: pregnancy.  Her boyfriend informs her that the condom broke a few weeks ago but he didn’t tell her, which is fucked up in it’s own right, but that they should keep the baby and raise it and get married.  Veronica, played by Richardson, quickly says no and runs to her old friend’s house; Bailey, played by Ferriera.  Veronica learned that you cannot access abortions in her state without parental consent, so she makes a plan to roadtrip to New Mexico from Missouri to get an abortion that should be a human right.

Veronica and Bailey have been estranged for years, as Veronica became popular and Bailey fell into the realm of introvert, pothead, and nerd.  But Bailey misses their friendship, and says yes to going on this road trip because she knows they’ll have time to grow close again.  Throughout the road trip, the girls reminisce and become closer than they have before; Bailey revealing her sexuality, Veronica facing the reality of her shitty relationship and not-great friends, and the fact that chosen family is often better than real family.  

The film is aggressively pro-choice and feminist, but also is a feel-great movie, not just good, but great.  it made me both laugh and cry, as well as cheer on both characters.  There’s a lot of really, really, really wholesome narrative within this and it’s a film targeted at teens for teens.  It shows what a healthy relationship is and that no matter how different your best friend is from you, you’ll still have the same connection as always.  I love this one.  

4: Saint Frances, directed by Alex Thompson and written by Kelly O’Sullivan.

One of my favorite facts about this film is that the lead star wrote it, and she works as a team with the director, Alex Thompson, and is partners with him in life as well.  Saint Frances focuses on a 30-something woman named Bridget who finds herself with no set path in life.  She’s childless, sleeping around, has no real career other than waitressing, and doesn’t know what she wants to do with herself.  Her friend recommends her as a nanny to a lesbian couple around her age who are having their second kid and need help with their six year old daughter, Frances.  

Shortly before starting her job as Frances’ nanny, Bridget undergoes an abortion via pill, which means you bleed in the safety of your home and get to do it outside of the medical appointment.  This plays heavily into the plot, as her periods end up being heavier than ever throughout the rest of the film and it becomes a slight joke between all of the characters.  It also shows how little Bridget really cares for her own health, as she doesn’t think to go to the doctors at all and that it’s totally normal.  

Frances helps Bridget grow up, as well as bringing her two mom’s together after the birth mother of the newborn suffers from extreme post-partum depression.  Bridget and Frances end up becoming best friends, and it’s a truly touching film that feels like a home, if that makes sense.  I could watch this again and again and never get sick of it.  O’Sullivan and Thompson are a fantastic writer-director team.

3: Shirley, directed by Josephine Decker and written by Sarah Gubbins and Susan Scarf Merrell.

A movie about one of the greatest horror novelists and short story writers of all time set in Vermont starring Elisabeth Moss?  Alright, I’m in.  Shirley held very tightly in the number one spot until just this month, because it was that good.  Moss plays Shirley Jackson, the horror writer we all know and love, and there’s something haunting about her.

While the story is highly fictionalized, with two characters being completely made up (the young couple played by Odessa Young and Logan Lerman), the film takes place right after Jackson published The Lottery and as she’s writing her next novel.  Her husband, Stanley Hyman (played by Michael Stuhlbarg), is a professor at Bennington College and Jackson finds herself shying away from the stereotypical role of a faculty wife.  She’s aloof, callous, straight up rude to the other wives and prefers to spend her time alone in her room, writing.  Hyman prefers to cheat on her with younger woman and yell at Jackson for not being more social.  This is most likely true to real life.

The young couple work as a mirror for Jackson, people she can project her novel onto and try to see how it will play out.  It’s reflective of her writing style.  This story is told with lavish cinematography and a score that reminds you of wind whipping between the trees, one of the best scores I’ve ever heard, actually, and it’s just lovely.  Despite being mainly fictionalized with some truth sprinkled in, it’s by far Decker’s most palatable work for a wide audience (though I loved Madeline’s Madeline).  I highly recommend this one to anyone.

2. Never Rarely Sometimes Always, directed and written by Eliza Hittman.

I’ve loved every single film that Hittman has put out, but this one is especially poignant in the current political climate.  Abortions should be widely available, but sadly they aren’t and often teenagers have to travel to other state’s to have to have their procedure done without putting themselves in danger by telling their parents.  

In Never Rarely Sometimes Always, two cousins go on a trip to New York City to procure an abortion procedure, not informing their parents beforehand.  Except nothing goes to plan; they end up having to sleep in strange places, use all of their savings, and even steal portions of money from the grocery store they both work at.  This film is quiet, sad, and real.  

Perhaps the best scene in this is when the title comes into play.  Anybody who has been to a physical appointment knows the questions they ask, but it’s especially nerve wracking when your body is at risk for something.  The nurse asks questions, stating never, rarely, sometimes, or always after each.  Skylar, played by Talia Ryder, starts to hesitate as the questions get more and more personal.  And then she finally breaks down.  It’s overwhelming and scary and she’s finally vulnerable for the first time in this entire movie.  

While Unpregnant and Saint Frances provide more witty and funny tales about abortion and unwanted pregnancies, Never Rarely Sometimes Always gives a dark and gritty tale of what having no help in those situations can look like, ultimately putting yourself in the most dangerous situations possible to make the right choice for yourself.  

1: Swallow, directed and written by Carlo Mirabella-Davis.

I don’t want to say much of this film because it’s something you truly have to experience.  Hunter, a woman who finds herself pregnant with her rich husband’s child, finds herself having what can only be called abnormal food cravings.  Except, what she eats isn’t necessarily food—she suffers from an extreme form of pica, causing her to eat everything from marbles to staples to little figurines.  She proudly displays her collection on her desk, cleaning them off meticulously once she passes them.  It’s a horror film but the horror isn’t necessarily in what she eats, it’s how she’s treated.

In fact, her eating habits are the one thing she has control over in her life until even that’s taken away from her.  Her husband’s family doesn’t care about her—only the fetus she’s carrying.  It’s a really good representation of an abusive husband that you don’t often see, because none of the abuse is physical, rather, emotional.  

I can’t say anymore because then I’d be spoiling—all I have to say is go watch it.  Please.  It’s so amazing. 

[transromanticism]

any spare trans shawn hcs ? 🥺

KSKAKKSJLKSKS MY TIME HAS COME

just a heads up trans shawn is probably the most i've ever projected onto a character (no joke). also i'm gonna mention trans gus + trans jules bc yeah ✌🏼😗

when shawn was a kid he was like Tomboy™. if you searched tomboy on a dictionary shawn's childhood pics would be there. and like his parents were always like "shawn why don't you wear a dress? what about this pink shirt? let me style your hair" but they let him be all tomboyish bc he was like textbook adhd yknow. he and gus became friends over being the "weirdest" girls of the class and shawn was always fighting with girls who would pick on them bc gus hated it sometimes in really bad days it would lead to him having meltdowns (bc gus's autistic and you can fight me in that).

anyway nothing much was thought of it until he was like 12 and feelings started to happen. that's when shawn was like me? bi? in love with girls? especially gus? PFFFFFF... maybe. which is like ok whatever that wasn't so hard yknow. he looks both that's cool that's nice. gus likes both too so that's cool too. BUT THEN shawn's like uh. i don't really feel like a girl. i wish i wasn't a girl bc i don't like being a girl.

cut to 13yo shawn and he cuts his hair real short and one day someone calls him a boy and he's like :O I'M A BOY and he talk to gus about it and he gets really excited about it and can barely contain himself (gus's really happy for him and falls in love even more with shawn and he starts to question his gender too bc shawn's talking about stuff he also feels and he's like maybe? no, but what if?). shawn decides on the name shawn a little before his 14th bday and he and gus sort of become each other's safe haven bc they're the only people that know and use the other's name and pronouns.

cut to 16yo shawn and he finally comes out to his dad. gus & shawn made a pact to come out on the same night so that's what they're doing. henry is accepting? like, he doesn't get it, and he's kinda rude sometimes, but he loves his son (and his friend who's also his boyfriend). shawn knows it's not that safe for him to start transition, so he waits until he finishes hs, which ends up being another reason he leaves sb. he gets why gus's going to college, bc that's how gus wants to transition, but that's just not his thing. shawn knows he wouldn't fit in college, and it would be just a continuation of the inferno of school, so he goes away. in the 10 years, he starts taking t and get's top surgery (he loves his chest scars SO MUCH). he and gus keep sending each other postcards updating each other on their transition, and if it's a big thing that makes them really excited, they call each other and talk for hours.

when shawn comes back, he's more himself than he ever could be. for once, shawn's actually shawn. seeing gus makes me legit cry, and he can't even believe this is happening? like, he wishes he could tell 13yo shawn that's still unsure about what name to go by that a day will come where he's got a goddamn fucking beard and so does gus and they're together in love and happy being who they truly are. hell, even saying it now still sounds unreal!

which is why when shawn's called to the precinct, it sucks even more. he knows he will be deadnamed and possibly even misgendered, he doesn't expect less, and he's goddamn correct. lassiter asks for his name, and he notices he's henry spencer's kid, "yeah, that one" "uh, i thought he had a daughter", and under his breathe shawn days "yeah, he did". and when lassiter asks for his papers and he only gets a "there's no shawn spencer, sir" he gets really confused. shawn waits for some time, like he's collecting himself. he hates so fucking much already, and he hasn't even got to the worst part. barry nudges shawn and asks him to explain himself, to which he responds with a sigh and days "look for [deadname] spencer", which they do, and they thing, but lassiter still doesn't accept bc "this is a girl, and you're not" to which shawn says "some people are trans!" which leads to even more confusion bc cis people in 2006 don't know shit about trans people. thank god buzz knocked at the door before shawn started crying.

anyway shawn & gus are kinda :/ with working with the sbpd but they're also like whatever we get some money and it's nice yknow? until jules into the picture. they don't know she's trans btw and neither does she know about them initially. but one day going through files, jules's like "wait where are gus's and shawn's files? they're supposed to be here" and then she idk asks lassiter and he's like "yeah turns out spencer's trans and so is guster" and she's like :OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO but like on the inside so she just says "oh really? cool for them" and leaves. the next day she goes RUNNING to the psych office and she's like "WHY DIDN'T YOU GUYS TELL ME YOU WERE TRANS" and gus's like "how the heck did you discover that??????" and jules explains what happened and shawn's like "damn lassiter that was not cool" while gus's like "okay but why are you barging into our office asking us why we didn't come out to you?" and then jules comes out to them and shawn & gus are like "WAIT YOU TOO?" and they three become the spider man pointing at each other meme but they're excited trans people bc they just round another trans person. they become the trans trio and their wlw/mlm solidarity grows stronger. yknow that scene in the s1 finale where it's the three of them eating takeout and laughing? TRANS TRIO

anyway thanks for listening to me trans rambling about my fav hc even if this wasn't exactly what you asked for 💞 now i'm gonna first write another post where it's actually just a bunch of psych trans hcs and then add to my wip ideas "psych moments rewrite where shawn+gus+jules are trans"

[qwertyfingers]

Hi, I'm curious, could you elaborate on what things people in SPN fandom produce that you wouldn't have been able to filter out as a teen? I'm not really sure what you're referring to. Problematic porn? Bad takes? Wanky fan activity?

okay uh CSA, incest, and suicide trigger warnings for my answer here lol

first off i dont. really think you actually need me to explain this to you and the way this is worded really feels like either an attempt to minimise some truly atrocious shit or like, imply that i think highly of myself which is not true? i'm full of bad takes bro. i don’t care what people are posting as long as it’s not harmful. but there’s a few layers to the issues i was referring to yesterday

1) while it’s gotten a LOT better over the years, the defense of john’s parenting still happens fairly frequently, and as a kid who related extremely deeply to dean’s specific brand of Menhol Eelness that kind of defense of abuse would have really messed with my headspace! it’s messed up in and off itself to defend people who harm their kids - even unintentionally! - but the way that it specifically affects children who are still being abused is the worst of it. every kid with CPTSD who’s ever had to see someone defend behaviours they recognise from their own abusive family as done out of or as excusable because they had a good reason remembers that shit for the rest of their LIFE

there are echoes of what happened to me in dean, both in the abuse and trauma itself and the way it affects him in the aftermath. to see those things minimised by fans can be really re-traumatising for people. i’m very glad that my exposure to it comes at the end of several long stints in hospital and several years of intensive therapy. i don’t know that 18yo me who attempted suicide on a near weekly basis and hallucinated my abusive step father in my house all the time could have coped with takes like ‘its okay because john was drunk and alcoholism isn’t his fault’ or ‘john wasn’t abusiv he was just grieiving’ or ‘john didn’t abuse dean, everything he did was reasonable for their lifestyle’ without becoming deeply unwell. 

2) we also all already know how much deeply fucked up incest content gets made and shared in spn circles. like, okay,  have made peace with the existence of incest shipping. i blacklist that shit and i move on. most of it is avoidable and i can kind of forget about it if i’m being careful. but some of spn fandom is on another level. people write and draw some shit that is like, actively triggering on the ‘call my therapist and beg to be sectioned’ level. i had to renew my lorazepam prescription for the first time since lockdown started lmao.  one of the fandom darling artists literally posted graphic dean/jack porn on their blog next to their really popular castiel art like. i’m not kidding when i say that would have made me hurt myself when i was younger

3) there are a LOT of really weird interactions btwn minors and adults in this fandom and while thats noit something that the corner of tumblr/discord i move through has any real problems with, i still see shit go down in other circles / servers, and the things i saw on the  periphery when i was younger tell me it used to be wayyyyyyyyyyyy worse. adults actively encouraging like 13yos to read/write porn, children being pressured into incest content, 30yo+ people having intensely sexual interactions with minors like. 

as someone who is generally of the belief that ‘minors n adults shouldnt interact online’ is the dumbest shit i’ve ever heard, supernatural fandom does sometimes make me think im wrong and wish i could set everyone under the age of 18 in a safe enclosure away from some of the insane people that go here like. 

in general i think that teens having adult friends in fandom is good becuase it allows an avenue for discussing legitimate issues you have and they can be really helpful to help rpotect young people! I literally owe my adult fandom friends from my own childhood for giving me the lagnuage to talk about the abuse i faced and they were the first people who ever made me feel like i had a way out of my situation. without older online friends i might never have found out that the reason i had no interest in sex was because of trauma, or figured out that the reason reading fic about women or trans men upset me so much was because i was projecting my trauma onto them, and with cis mens bodies i didnt have that issue. i owe all of those things to adults who in the modern day might be chastised for being friends with me because i was young, but i needed them! 

all this is to say that i think the breadth of inappropriate adult/minor interactions over the years have led to an environment where a generation of 20-somethings are now terrified of interacting with teenagers (for fear of becoming the adults who traumatised them), and a generation of teenagers who are largely terrified of talking to adults (for fear of being traumatised) and miss out on guiding hands that some of them really need. if the adults in your physical life harm you, and you cannot turn  to adults on the internet, what do you do? 

4) i’m so tired of people writing underage porn, bro. there are enough adults in this show, grow the fuck up

[bangtanblurbs]

intro: never mind

song: Intro: Never Mind

first experience: i remember when the Never Mind comeback trailer dropped - i was sitting in my dorm and it was absurdly late at night. i was preparing to go back home for the thanksgiving holiday and closing out what my university affectionately called “hell week” - a week in which nearly every class you’re taking schedules their final midterm exams and projects due in preparation to give you two weeks to study for finals. i was feeling really defeated. i’d decided to take on a really hard load of upper level economics courses that semester. i didn’t really care about school at this point. my grades were good, sure, but my motivation was completely shot. hearing yoongi’s voice, the emotion in it, it became almost like a mantra to me at that time. encouraging me to keep going. to make it through. day. by. day. i listened to the song on repeat so much as i pulled all-nighters in the library. it was my lifeline.

feelings/personal connection: as alluded to, this song for me - it’s pure pain, struggle, and perseverance. it’s full of spite, but not the kind that brings you down -- the kind that pushes you forward. for me, this song is the core of bangtan’s experience. they had to push through so much bullshit to get where they are. listening to never mind always has layered meaning for me. of course there’s the meanings associated with the struggles bangtan overcame, their dedication, yoongi’s story specifically too... turning on never mind and listening even without understanding the lyrics, you can hear that this is bangtan’s “we’re going to make it, we’re going to hold our head’s high and keep going. we are following our dreams, and with our conviction - nothing else matters” song. having been with bangtan for so long - seeing them fight like hell... this song is everything. known that they knew their worth even in 2015 when they weren’t getting the recognition they deserved and were being treated like absolute shit left and right. 

outside of the meaning for bangtan, this song strikes a core with me. growing up in a rural less than stellar suburb of west atlanta there weren’t many expectations for me - a young girl, pretty mediocre at everything she did. but i wanted a lot. i felt like an outcast in my community... i’m not sure how or why but everything i loved and fascinated was something my culture and community deemed strange. girls where i’m from, they get married before they’re 20, have kids before they’re 25... it’s all very linear. i wanted adventure, i wanted to think, stand on my own two feet. i wanted a lot for myself, things that nobody in my family wanted or understood. things that sometimes, they didn’t support. listening to never mind transported me back. i saw my teenage self struggling through my IB degree - fighting like hell to get into a good university - fighting like hell not to let that university swallow me up with temptations and malice. at the time of finding never mind i was in my third year of university. i felt like i was going to make it, but then what? never mind was my mantra - don’t give a shit, or a fuck, about those people at home. don’t care about the people at university who were rich, privileged beyond belief, and considered me stupid trash. i kept my head down and i ran. raising hell when i had to, fighting for myself.

even now, i’m an outsider in life. i’m pursing a phd - i’m living in a new city (washington DC)... i don’t belong here. i’m not the traditional type to walk this path. i come from a very modest background, my family never left the country, my parents never expected anything for my future. but i won’t mind them. things are hard, people question me, my mind, my thoughts, my identity, my legitimacy. and when it’s tough - i put on never mind and i shout with yoongi. nobody is holding me back anymore. i can see the light at the end of my journey, i will get there, and those that doubted me for any moment - never mind them. 

song breakdown

musically: there’s so much here. there. is. so. much. here. from the very start of the song with the crowd cheering - this brings about the notion that yes - BTS has made it *yoongi* has made it. they have fans, they perform in front of crowds, they’ve achieved something that those who didn’t support them thought they never would. the mic tapping, the screech, the coughing -- lets us know we’re about to get a story, something heartfelt. he’s nervous to share it. gathering confidence. (truly i feel like never mind is one of the first bangtan songs that speaks to the group’s PERSONAL experiences coming up in the industry) - it’s something new, something that they’re nervous to share, different from love songs and more traditional narratives that they typically share with us. the piano backs yoongi in the beginning, drums and a beat come in as the lyrics pick up - it’s understated, it lets you really focus in on the emotions in his voice. something about it is truly haunting. the beat picks up during the bridge and levels out to a nice calming tone as namjoon and hoseok come into bring in the chorus - the MANTRA - of the song “NEVER MIND, NEVER MIND”

vocally: it’s all rapline here. and it’s all emotion. from yoongi’s first breath, you know you’re going to be sent somewhere. he’s going to tell you a story. a deeply personal one. you can hear his change tones, he giggles at points where he needs to emphasize the fact that those who counted him out are finally proven wrong, they’re finally eating their words as he rises and meets his success. he speeds up the rap as the song goes on - it’s like running - the start is slow, labored, but over time it builds to a fantastic speed and bottoms out with even chanting. this is the story. these 7, yoongi among them, they started out slow, but damn they’re running by the time HYYH pt. 2 drops. they are running like hell - and they’re going to make it. the fact that hoseok and namjoon join in on the chorus is also telling -- perhaps yoongi added them on the track because without the three of them, they wouldn’t be living this journey, maybe he’d still be stuck at the pace he was running before. now they’re united - they can join together and fight those that held them back. hoseok brings his upbeat tone - namjoon brings his soul, and rapline completes the song together with yoongi uttering the final bars in a soft soothing voice - almost like he’s telling us, don’t mind those that hold you back either, we are here, you can do whatever it is you want as well. 

lyrically: i could give a three hour lecture about these lyrics. as we all know, never mind was written by yoongi. the song starts out offering us some insight into how yoongi continues on despite all the shit he deals with - “i only look forward and run” it’s almost like he’s offering us this advice as well, just focus on what’s in front of you and keep going. he talks first about his success, he’s finally “become the pride” of his family. but then he dives into the pains he’s overcome - acknowledging the common thought that “teenage years mess you up” (something with which we can likely all relate to - somehow those teenage years are when you’re the most insecure, and also the years when you usually take the most heat when it comes to deciding who you are and where you want to go with your life). yoongi remarks that the only thing that’s changed about himself is his height - i wonder if he feels the same now - and he speaks to the fact that his youth is something that he carries with himself into the present. it motivates him. it’s made him, him. yoongi had to overcome a lot of hardships, people telling him he would be the very demise of his family as he fought for his dream a music career. but he kept going - he says “i only lived how i wanted, guided by my own beliefs” and he taunts the listener who may have doubted his ability to make it “how do you think i’m doing now?” and states he wants “to ask the several people who prayed for me to screw up - does it seem like my home is going broke, you bastards?” this is the spite that yoongi carries. the pain. despite looking only forward and not being concerned with the haters - he acknowledges that he was outcasted because of it, he wants them to see that they were wrong, that they messed up in their evaluation of him. 

yoongi’s words move into the bridge - they continue their powerful message. he acknowledges that he’s failed, but because of his youth that he continues to carry he can pick himself up on it. “if you can’t return, go straight through your mistakes and forget them all. never mind.” he encourages us to do as he did, if you mess up - why carry it forward? just keep running forward never look back. 

yet yoongi maintains his humility through all of this. he acknowledges, letting the hate and doubt roll off of you, it isn’t easy -- “it’s not easy but engrave it onto your chest” (which jimin quite literally did - NEVERMIND - a reminder that he needs to hold his head high and keep going). yoongi continues to offer encouragement “if you feel you’re going to crash - then accelerate more, you idiot.” when you’re at your lowest - that’s when you really need to forget what the others said, go so fast and so hard you have no time to consider them and their ignorance. that is comfort. this song is nothing but pure comfort. 

the chorus brings in the thoughts that yeah, there’s a lot you can’t change - there’s thorns along the journey of life - but you have to keep going. especially when you carry your youth, your immaturity, don’t give up. just keep going. yoongi repeats several times “if you feel like you’re going to crash - then accelerate more, you idiot.” using the same insults and pain that they threw against him in likely a layered sense. first telling himself, he’s an idiot for ever moving closer to crashing, but also laughing and calling himself an idiot in the way those who doubted him did - he was an idiot for chasing a dream, but damn he’s overcome and he’s made it. 

performance: to be quite honest, it’s hard to find performance videos of never mind. i was lucky enough to see it live when i went to HYYH in macau - but i don’t have any footage of it. typically though it starts with the entire venue dark. a single light will come upon yoongi as he begins rapping in his hooded coat. either way - the performance starts with yoongi alone, much how the story in the lyrics starts. it’s haunting to see him - typically facing the back of the stage - rapping his heart out. it’s like he has to build up his confidence before turning around to bear himself and his emotions to crowd. as the bridge hits - the hood comes off. the confidence is there, hoseok and namjoon join on stage. the mood is generally one of encouragement. 

as for the comeback video - it’s remarkably profound for an animated video. the video starts with the butterfly, often symbolic of rebirth. resilience. then we get the animation of a boy, playing basketball, alone, feeling hopeless. lost in what seems to be a visual maze - reaching for the butterfly. an a microphone in chains. the boy begins to run during the bridge - just running along. the butterflies surround him. it’s like he’s chasing a moment for redemption and rebirth. running towards that moment that the catterpillar transforms into what it’s meant to me. just as yoongi tells us - run, run like hell towards who you’re meant to be. don’t look back. 

tl;dr: never mind is a masterpiece. it’s raw emotion. it’s one of the first songs where we really get a bangtan member spilling *their* life story, their struggles, with us in a song. it’s highly relatable - and while it’s yoongi’s story - it also feels like a letter of encouragement to all of those listening. turn away from those that doubt you and run like hell. 

[dragonofdarknesschaos]

I've been thinking (because I'm quarantined and bored, sorry )..how it could be possible for Jack to form a good friendship? ...I mean even if a person shows affection, good intentions or a real interest on his stuff... the chance of Jack's betrayal is still there. I don't know I'm wondering ..if he can have a healthy friendship.

*cackles*  Jack Spicer, as he is in XS, is not capable of forming a stable and healthy relationship, despite the fact that he desperately wants and needs one.  And if that ain’t the tragedy of the whole series.

The Jack of Showdown

Just when Jack finally starts to actually warm up and be open and honest about his feelings with others, he either gets grossly mistreated (“The Deep Freeze,” “The Apprentice”) or is presented with the choice of being loved and accepted, despite who he is and what he’s done, or giving in to his baser instincts and double crossing his new would-be friends to get praised by someone who could not care less about him (“The Apprentice”).  It’s difficult to tell if Jack feels he doesn’t deserve to be happy for some deep and personal reason, or if he’s so focused on being seen as EVIL™ and not good; that he believes he must take any and all opportunities to prove his evil worth.  Whatever the reason, the Jack in XS would need someone that will stick by his side no matter what decisions he makes, or what actions he takes to push that person away.  Someone who unconditionally supports him and wants to be by his side.  The problem is, that’s more of a pet and has the potential to become quite toxic.

The Jack of Chronicles

As for the Jack of XC, he has some boundaries, and he’s not quite as ruthless.  He knows he’s kind of a loser, but he still really wants a girlfriend to help boost his sense of masculine ego.  But more importantly, he just wants a friend, to the point that he was willing to pay people to hang out with him (just like in XS “Something Jermaine,” “Judging Omi” and XC’s “Magic Stallion and the Wild Wild West,” “Buddy Blue Ray and the Golden Bunnies,” and “Heal Me”).

Jack enjoys Wuya’s company, but she gets frustrated with his lack of action in favor of building capital or just having fun (the Golden Toilet arc, “Super Cow Patty,” “Tokyo Madness,” and “Omi Saves the Holidays” among many others).  Jack seems to have moved out of his parent’s basement, and is now in his own warehouse/factory, so he’s really trying to focus on starting up his Evil Business idea and often refers to himself as an “evil entrepreneur” throughout the series.  While Wuya appreciates the “go get ‘em” spirit, she still feels that Jack isn’t doing enough to help her, which is the whole reason they teamed up in the first place.  Because of her nagging attitude and matriarchal approach to the relationship, Jack often feels smothered and refuses to act.  However, he still has boundaries and refuses to do certain things if they are not in his interests as well (“Back in the Flesh Again”).

Jack and Shadow

With Wuya as Jack’s pseudo-mother, he needs a datemate to call his own.  Gone is his curiosity in Kimiko (though he does seem to think she’s still cool), but if it’s any other girl, he will do his best to impress her.

Case in point Willow--who he tried to ask on a date if he won the Showdown Trio in “The Fall of Xiaolin.”  She strongly states that she isn’t interested in him in the least, and because the two never see each other again, I would assume Jack dropped the pursuit.

Shadow on the other hand, he likely sees a lot of himself in her.  They’re both evil, admire Chase, they seem about the same age, and... that’s about where the similarities end.  Shadow’s actions say that she is repulsed by Jack, but she never pushes him away, and even praises his “doo-hickies” (“The Laws of Nature,” “Rocco”).  With the use of camera drones, Jack witnessed a lot of the private behavior and abuse between Chase and Shadow, and even some of the abuse in person ( “Tigress Woo,” “Rocco”).  Even the cold open of “Who Shrunk Master Fung?” features Jack being very careful not to harm a strange bird, who is later revealed to be Shadow.  Case in point, the Jack of XC has a streak of kindness in him, and it is unclear if Shadow sees that and resents Jack for having it, or if she admires that aspect of him.  Regardless, after the events of “The Laws of Nature,” where Jack effectively double crosses Chase (and her by extension), Shadow likely made the choice to never trust Jack completely.  She double crosses him at the end of their wonderful team up in “Back in the Flesh Again.”  And Jack doesn’t even get upset or angry about the loss and betrayal.  He’s even more smitten and tries to brag to Omi and Ping Pong before realizing they aren’t into it and flies off.

Overall Jack and Shadow have feasible grounds for a relationship--even a romantic one--if they could both create some honesty and trust between each other, but neither is willing to do that, despite Jack’s over sharing (literally every time he opens his mouth around Chase).  For further reading on Jack’s relationship with Shadow and Chase, check out this post.

Jack doesn’t interact with Tigress, Kimiko’s older sister, much, but he does bother to keep tabs on her and warns Kimiko about her sister’s more nefarious activities (“Tigress Woo”).  It’s unclear if he did this in an effort to get closer to the Monks as a friend, or if he was stalking Tigress because he was attracted to her.  In either case, Tigress is never seen again or mentioned by Jack.

Jack’s Other Interests

There are a handful of episodes in XC that revolve around Jack seeing or meeting another evil-doer and fixating on them, often trying to model himself after them in some fashion.  He does this with PandaBubba to a lesser extent in “Magic Stallion and the Wild Wild West,” then goes full blown fan for Super Cow Patty (in his self-titled episode) and later Le Mime in the same episode, making fan videos and full costumes with personas for both his fixations.  In both instances with the truly evil characters (PB and Le Mime), Jack was looking for a sense of acceptance by an Evil Businessman and entrepreneurial peer, and a sense of belonging to a larger community with Le Mime and his henchmen.  That desire for belonging to a larger community is reiterated earlier in the series with “Heal Me” and Reverse!Jack’s cult.

However, when presented with an actual fan of his, Tiny Sim, Jack is actually somewhat reluctant to have the fan tag along with him.  And maybe that was for the best, as Jack soon discovers that the fan he inspired to become Evil is actually a lot better at it than he, himself, is (“Drawn to be Evil”).  In retaliation, Jack confines the fan to being just a creative idea intern.  Jack is essentially taking credit for all of Tiny Sim’s ideas, and not paying the kid a thing.  Sim, either because he’s doing what his idol taught, or because he feels cheated, makes it a priority to take a Wu or two when he can out of Jack’s stash (“Mark of the Dragon Spirit”).  Sadly, the series ended before the relationship between these two could be further developed.  It wouldn’t have been healthy, but at least it would have been something.

Another important note, Jack does make the clear distinction in both series that the gallery of sellswords he pays to be around him are only in it as long as there’s money for them to be had.  They are not his friends, they will never be his true friends, they’re just people he pays until the money runs out (“Something Jermaine,” “Judging Omi”).  So Katnappe, Tubbimura, Cyclops (after their initial debut), and to a lesser extent Vlad will never truly be Jack’s friends.  Vlad does make a return in XS’s “The Demon Seed” to try and cheer Jack up (not that he’s very good at it), but he doesn’t seem to want anything from Jack other than to do evil things and pal around.  This is a bit of a departure from their first encounter where Jack was presumably paying Vlad to be his hired muscle and inside man (“The Deep Freeze”).

Jack’s Robots

Jack’s relationship with his various Jackbots and other robots is an interesting one.  It’s possible that he created them out of a sick sense of wanting to have friends that he could control, but it comes back more to how the bots are presented in both series.

The Jackbots of XS seem to have a hive mind of sorts, as they will blindly (and sometimes literally) follow their master’s commands.  Those that fall are replaced as if nothing happened to the fallen Jackbot; their numbers are legion.  The bots are later programmed with emotions and feel sadness, but not fear.  This is interesting, because Jack is shown having temper tantrums from time to time, but he doesn’t break things, only tosses them around (“The Journey of A Thousand Miles”).

Jack’s relationship with the more “custom” humanoid robots is split into a binary.  On the one side are the bots that went rogue and have tried to annihilate him or simply want nothing to do with him: Chameleon Bot, Robo!Jack, and the patent-pending Shen Gong Wu Detect-o-bot.  On the other side are the bots he grew very attached to: Yesbot, his Cheerbot squad, and the Shen Gong Wu Detect-o-bot before it went rogue.  Both Yes~ and Detect-o~ allow Jack to be more of a child, as he is depicted being held like a scared child with both of them (if I remember correctly.  “Oil in the Family,” “The Demon Seed”).  He treats them like the parent he doesn’t have around.  The Cheerbots are his hott Barbie dolls that he gets to dress up and maintain.  He doesn’t go much farther than projecting personalities and life problems onto them.  Eventually they are absorbed into the Jackbot hive.

Remember how Jackbots don’t show or know fear in XS?  XC opens with Jack having a tantrum, and many of his various designs of bot run away from him.  Jack is left cornering Chefbot, who has darts sticking out of his chef’s hat.  Rather peculiar for robots to be afraid of their master, especially since they are meant to be hoards of drones.  As Chefbot is developed as a character, Jack comes to respect his creation more, but Chefbot says he has no interest in hanging around someone like Jack; he wants to go places and be a real chef!  He can’t do that if he’s making paltry snacks for Jack.  Chefbot’s last appearance in the series is on a cooking show (either on TV or YouLook) making pizza, while Jack follows along from his RV.  Jack seems quite relaxed and at ease, even using the Banyan Twister Shen Gong Wu to stretch his body and the pizza dough.  It is never stated, but perhaps Jack is proud of his creation accomplishing it’s dream.

Thank You for Being a Friend

In conclusion, the Jack of XS is incapable of having a healthy friendship with anyone, either because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it or because he really is just a terrible person and pushes everyone away.  He would need someone to stand by and support him no matter what he does and no matter how horribly he treats that person.  Such a relationship has the potential to become toxic if boundaries are not set and if Jack doesn’t grow as a person.

The Jack of XC is desperate for a single friend, but 98% of the cast sees him as a pathetic loser, and not worth a second of their time.  Those that do see value in Jack’s companionship have all been hurt by Jack’s betrayal and lack of trust, or have betrayed Jack, because they have no trust in him (often from a previous encounter).  For this Jack to form a stable friendship, he needs someone who he can talk to honestly, openly, and not be judged for his feelings, and he seems to want someone who talks the same way to him.  He’s ready for a relationship, he just doesn’t have the rapport or trust built up with anyone.

TL;DR

Jack lacks basic trust in all his relationships.  He would need someone he can constantly count on, while also setting healthy and reasonable boundaries with that person.  If honesty and trust--ABSOLUTE TRUST--is there, Jack can have a friend, maybe even something more.

[anikkis-fantasirealities]

“The Banquet Rooms of the Grandeur Campus”

③ Human Interest Story ┊ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵒ ʸᵉᵃʳⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵘᶦᵈᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʸᵒᵘᵗʰ···ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ᵍᵉⁿᵘᶦˢᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵍᵒᵒᵈʷᶦˡˡ·

꒰⁺˚₊·₍₍loading...₎₎ ✎...۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪ -ˏˋ 📨 ˊˎ-

༘✶ ㊉ ㈦〘 ⅯⅯ 〙⋆｡˚𓆟 ༉ ║ Posted : ０６/１５/２１° ｡༄ ‧₊˚ ๑ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ •ଓ.° ｡❍ ㈩ ㊇

- - ——— ꒰ An article by Nicole “Nikki” Elaine S. Chua ꒱

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ࿐ྂ—͙❬₊° ᶦ ᵃᵐ ᵃ ᵇˡᵒᵍᵍᵉʳ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ·“= ‹⸙͎

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┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

┊ ┊ ┊ ✫

┊ ┊ ︎✧

┊ ┊ ✯

┊ . ˚ ˚✩

On a scorching afternoon where the shouting of children, chasing each other after classes have concluded, and the chattering adults have started to lock up the messy rooms, there was not one place that was quiet. I, on the other hand, had a quest to fulfill under a time limit! The red ballpen flung onto my chair desk when white sheets of paper were clenced by my thin palms. I ran outside past our broken doorstep to our class, over the pastures, and on top of stone-edged floors. Time is ticking... 4, 3, 2, and those squeaky black dull shoes made it! In opening the slim door to the right side of the room, they were like glorifying gates that screeched wide open—awaiting for my arrival. Well, it wasn’t that dramatic, but I was perspired out of sprinting under the gleaming sun. My short legs wobbling for a tiny second. The beads dripping on my worried face were shaken when I entered the room at around the size of a studio-type residence.

It was normal for me to be an errand girl who assists her class and obey her teachers with respect, no matter what school my identification card is designated to. I grew up with that kind of personality: helpful, caring, kind, diligent, and patient. Hence, these exhausted shoes have travelled to many places across gymnasiums, libraries, storage rooms, and laboratories. Though, sometimes, my mind still can’t get used to such a huge room, like that of the faculty rooms. I still become staggered over the hectic aura of the space, where long tables sat in rows, and people in pink & blue uniforms kindling the noise from the outside within. I would look around to see piles of examination papers, rolls of cartolina squeezed into a box, and scattered gadgets for teaching being charged to full energy. This is an article featuring the 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙀𝙧𝙖 𝙐𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙮: 𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙎𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡.

Throughout the years I’ve walked on those narrow corridors, and climbed up stairs to different floors of the vintage buildings, I also meet ways with many generations. One generation was younger than me—that of clumsy children innocently playing in the fields endlessly. The other was of my age, those who exist with me, as they attempt to finish their studies without tilting their heads to nudges of distraction. Then, there was this generation who were much similar to us—like students in a classroom laughing and sharing stories with each other. They had the knowledge of the world in their hands. In their arms, they carry heavier packages to unbox. Though, unlike the previous generations I meet who simply stepped up and down the stairs, the prudent grown-up smiled back to me, walking slowly pass my agitated shoulder.

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ㅤㅤ ❝ That room that I remember the most, ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ was under construction before the pandemic began. ❞

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I had the desire to help them lift their troubles by standing by their side, but they refuse because it is the role they signed up for, and my position had no power to be elevated to their level. Though, through these words, I know I would be able to do something to display their everyday lives behind teaching the New Era youth, giving the best advice, and serving the school with unconditional love. I was given the chance to be closer to the people who inspired me to present the compassionate self with the direction, ambition, and deduction to offer my best contribution to the world I belong to.

At the back of those generalized comforting grins and caring embraces, come their different fairytales that make the generation a community of teachers—young or old, millennial or Gen X, whatever gender and status they may have. They were a social generation, with hundred of stories to unfold and share to the youth. That was one thing I admired about them the most.

Well, I have encountered many teachers in my life since entering school, but the memory that always stick to my mind is my experiences with the teachers of New Era University: Integrated School. For some, they would cover their face when they recognize their teachers riding on a public vehicle rushing to its detination. Others simply ignore their respected educators when they spot them being at school even if the sun has already tucked in for the day.

However, I was one of those students who waves and greets them with my two-front teeth sticking out in happiness—trekking my way to school, riding shiny metallic jeepneys, and walking through scrapped walls that used to be fully painted. The inspiration flows out when I’m with them—a witness of their trials and ever-changing biographies in their very own home, the school, itself. Yes, the school becomes their shelter, figuratively, because that is how passionate they are in the path they’ve chosen to wander upon.

Then, there’s this vague image that I always remember—a banquet room where teachers eat together side-by-side during lunch breaks. The clanging of plates and utensils compliments the happy vibe of the room. The meals packed in transparent plastic bags from the canteen look fancy because of the optimistic mood all throughout the proximity in between me and the busy adults. Oh, and how could I not forget to mention the signature pancakes by New Era University: Integrated School that some teachers indulge in the most?

The giggles never end when I hear their jokes from afar, while I am walking through their room to return the checked papers I’ve finished to my Filipino teacher in Grade 10. Everyone was like workers in a castle of royalty—busy and preoccupied with their own duties, yet working towards one united purpose, that together creates a vibrant mix of emotions in the great hall. The harmonized melody it produces once the sweat and tears has finally been paid off, truly, the lunch breaks are what makes the banquet more lively. It’s a feast to behold!

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ㅤㅤ❝ Whenever I catch my name, I return it, ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤwith my good-natured, ‘Hi po, Sir and Ma’am!’ ❞

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On one side were the lockers, where old and new student’s projects filled the barren storage with interesting information. There are multiple brown wooden tables overlapped with colorful designs where groups of teachers sit together. The masters of Science sat at the bench to the wall at the right, while the experts in English stay behind a counter adjacent to the door on the right. People who speak of Filipino, Math, Computer, and MAPEH had benches next to each other in the middle of the bustling hall that was their faculty room. They are not divided, literally, for their workplaces are not distanced from one another. Each part of the table has a customized area per teacher, whose pictures of blood-related family and schedules are inserted under transparent cover—giving them motivation to carry on their sworn responsibility. However, just like BFFs who stick together, some teachers transfer to other tables to enjoy the rest of the day with their close co-faculty members.

They would talk about their personal lives, their interests, and at times, the students & problems they encounter in classes. Some gave glee, but of course, there were also those that gave headaches. That’s why whenever I am presented with a new subject teacher per grade level, I can understand if the they know me well from the narrations of the teachers who’ve handled me. They are aware of my struggles, efforts, and kindness as a pupil of New Era. They are familiarized with this face, the expression, and its body language.

Though, I am still proud that they recognize my batchmates dedication, too. Each teacher imparted values to all their children equally. There was no favoritism, and everyone gets a chance to participate. When we make mistakes, we are still accepted and loved. All this, even though they are humans who are aroused by intense feelings? No matter how impressive, or lowly we are, it is that chance to be better that we are most thankful about in this palace of high education.

All the pictures you’ve seen so far contain significant beings in my life as a student-soon-to-be-adult. That’s the magic of being someone not so known in society or history, but will remain a treasured person in your life—a special connection only you and that person understands, and not everyone else does. Even though I tend to stutter and zip my mouth when I am often in the loud banquet when I do not want to disturb the delightful get-alongs by our educators, eventually I am noticed and asked, “What are you doing here, Nicole Chua?” It’s the admiration that regardless if I was hidden or completely revealing of myself, they help me to speak out and be more confident with the adults. That is something that I also want to influence my classmates with, because these teachers outside lessons and activities are not so intimidating & looming at all!

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ㅤㅤ ㅤ❝ I can recall the cooked dishes and the grades for judging, and I cherish them knowing you cannot taste them again. ❞

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They are friendly, approachable, and absolutely considerate of the many kids they manage from Mondays to Fridays. Off campus is a different story that I can’t personally share for the privacy of their lives, though I would say it’s rough. It’s rough to come back home—to take care of your very own children while finishing school records, bringing along the stress from work into their real dwelling. They are not just mothers and fathers of the campus that caters hundreds of beautiful princes and princesses. They are also parents worried of their own children’s future.

The sicknesses, the loans, the quarrels, and the trickling hourglass—all this is what they must face in the cold, dry evenings. They are vulnerable to all these things that makes them a part of reality, and not just some fantasy with no flaws. It didn’t matter if they were in the coordinator’s office, the cookery laboratory, the office in the second floor, or that special place on the fourth floor. I was there to hear their encounters with their rude children, or the sweet marriage they had. If I clean harder, dart quicker, and volunteer even more, I can appreciate them who were not supernatural beings veiled in fiction. They sacrifice for that hope, that they will teach the next generations how to educate those after them, and those before them. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.

One time, I was holding onto the dream of being a part of the school’s newspaper—it was my “𝗛𝗨𝗗𝗬𝗔𝗧” to fulfill the vision, reflected by that tender link I had with that story. The tension was still on me when I came to the opening. I had no clue why I felt that way, even if I’ve entered too many banquet halls at that point. Though, I was determined to open that door and introduce myself with the passion I had. She was someone I did not know so much back then, but now, I’m writing this article because of her instruction. Her proficient Filipino words, and the lectures she offered to us. There was the excitement, the uplifting compliments, and the will to keep on writing. This may be the last time that we will be coupled for education, but I’m hoping to see our names as staff on the front page. Am I too much, or was that a mysterious ending?

Teachers in general only want the best for their learners, for influencing their lives is the greatest fulfillment. They can be strict or relatable, but together, they spend the rest of the day in the banquet room, merrily toasting for a job well done. In this monumental learning institution, many important people shall rise and do their part in society, away from the fairytales and fictional playtime. Perhaps, next time, if you can also observe your own school’s faculty room, you can hear their stories—the sounds of a feast, and assist them in preparing for the afternoon festivities.

I hope you were able to see the beautiful reality of the teachers of New Era University: Integrated School with my own eyes. Do greet them hello, or help them in your tiny acts the next time you see them, and it will definitely brighten their day. Thank you for reading their ordinary tales! Come back again in another blog where my fantasies become realities! A Nikki reminder: let’s help one another to rise up to success, instead of degrading one another to failure!

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ❝ It’s the ultimate desire, and yet I felt so anxious, ㅤㅤ ㅤbut now we’re so close, yet so far between screens. ❞

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· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚ . . 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . * · . · · + . ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ· ** ˚ . . + 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ. . + 　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧ ⋆ · * . · . · · .. . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ· + ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ · ** ˚ . . + ㅤㅤ　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ⋆ · * . · ㅤㅤ . · · .. . . · + .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ. · + . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⋆ * . * . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ . · ·

ㅤㅤ﹙dedication. ﹚ ୨˚୧ ˚ ༘♡.↳ ₊˚‧

This blog is dedicated to “I am a Teacher,” for her patience, remarks, rainbow scarfs, adorable dogs, and wonderful words given to me. You are My Most Precious Treasure in this writing journey, from blandness to vividness.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 🧁 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ┊彡 Credits

➥ Cover Edit

➫ Ma’am JB

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ First Blog Divider

➫ Sir Leo

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Second Blog Divider

➫ Ma'am Eva

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Third Blog Divider

➫ Sir Prince

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ �� ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Fourth Blog Divider

➫ Sir Prince

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Fifth Blog Divider

➫ Teacher Med

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[aerynwrites]

Liberation - VII

Chapter 7: Holding on

Author’s Note: New chapter came early! I was feeling really motivated and inspired to write this chapter so it came a little earlier than usual! I hope you all enjoy this chapter because i have been looking forward to it for SO LONG and It’s finally here!!! Love you guys and I hope you all enjoy it! 💖

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: cursing, Mentions of slavery, past torture, past abuse, injuries, and just lost of angst, and emotional turmoil. Fluff kinda at the end maybe?

Chapters: Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven (here), Eight

////

It had been almost two months since You, Mando, and Cara helped the villagers on Sorgen with their raider problem. Granted it wasn’t as easy as you all had assumed when you found out about the AT-AT, but you all handled it regardless, and the scrapped parts from the downed imperial machine helped with repairs on their machinery as well. You frowned down at small basket you were currently weaving as you recall the conversation you, Mando, and Cara had as you were scavenging the AT-AT.

You ended up being the one to take charge of the project, telling the others what to take from the large machine and what was useless. However, after quickly learning that most of them were not sure what you were even talking about, the project fell mainly to you and Mando.

Cara arguing, “I shoot the damn things, not take them apart,” she said as she sat back against a nearby house and sipped on some spotchka while watching you and Mando work.

You rolled your eyes at her words and continued to work on the machine, stripping it of various wires and mechanical parts, separating them into baskets at your feet. You and Mando worked in a comfortable silence before he stopped suddenly and looked to you, head tilted in a curious manner.

“How do you know so much about…” he waves he hand towards the fallen machine, “all this? it seems like second nature to you.”

You pause your work, stalling at his question that, if it was to be properly answered, would dig into your past, something you knew you wanted to leave untouched. You eventually shrugged and went back to what you were doing, “I just know my way around mechanics is all,” you say, “It’s not that hard to figure out.”

Mando doesn’t move from his position other than to cross his arms, “I don’t believe you.”

You whip your head up at his words, irritation in your eyes, “Well that’s not really my problem is it?” you bite, “why does it matter how I know what I’m doing? I’m helping, that’s all that should matter,” you say bitterly, yanking more harshly than needed on a group of wires.

Mando shifts his weight slowly, “I just-“ he sighs, “I’m just trying to understand, is all,” he says finally, “you continue to do all of these things that took me years to learn and I’m just curious.”

You scoff not looking at the Mandalorian, “Yeah, well I would appreciate it if you would leave it alone. My past is my past, I’d prefer not to dredge it up if you don’t mind.”

You shook your head as you remembered the conversation had ended after that. Mando hadn’t brought it up again, but you hadn’t failed to notice the strange glances he would give you when you would snap at a local, or zone out, or do any of the weird behaviors that had become normal to you over the past two months. Since you had been on Sorgen, nightmares had plagued your sleep, which in turn resulted in you not getting any sleep at all. This planet – this village, reminded you painfully of your home world and all of the distressing memories it had. You had hoped after you helped the villagers with their problem that you and Mando would move on, but so far it was safe, at least physically, and Mando wanted to lay low. So, here you were; sleep deprived, angsty, and just downright exhausted both emotionally and physically.

You heard a pair of footsteps approaching behind you and you turned your head slightly to look behind you and gave a tired smile when you saw it was Omera.

“Hey,” you greeted, turning back to your miserable attempt at basket weaving.

“Hello,” she says kindly, sinking down to sit next to you, “How are you doing?”

You shrug your shoulders and fiddle idly with the item in your hands. Omera had quickly caught on to your sleep loss and your nightly walks around the krill ponds to try and clear your head. She had inquired as to why you were awake, and you simply told her nightmares. She didn’t press further.

“As good as can be expected,” you say lamely, feeling tears prickle at your vision, “I’m just so tired,” you whisper, eyes watching the sun sink behind the trees surrounding the village, signaling another sleepless night ahead of you.

You feel her hand rub comforting circles on your back as she looks at you sympathetically, “Have you talked to anyone? About your nightmares?”

You shook your head, fingers now opting to play with your braid instead, “it’s bad enough having to relive my memories when I sleep,” you mumble, “I’d rather just try and forget when I’m awake.”

You hear Omera let out a sigh, before following your gaze to the setting sun, “you can’t run from your past,” she says, a certain wisdom seeping into her words, “the past is a seed planted inside of you, it’s a part of who you are. And you can either tend to the plant that comes from that seed, keep it healthy and trimmed,” she pauses now, hand stilling on your shoulder, “or you can let it grow, uncared for, until it’s wrapped its very roots and vines around you, controlling you.” she looks at you now, and she stands slowly, “and even though it is your past, your…seed, sometimes it isn’t a bad thing to ask for help taking care of it.” She finishes finally.

You don’t say anything at first, and Omera takes this as her answer. She turns away from you, going to help the other villagers prepare dinner.

But before she can get to far you speak up, “What if it’s too late?” your voice is a whisper, almost too quiet for Omera to hear, but she does, and she stops her stride, turning to face you slightly.

“It’s never too late, you may just need more help,” she says firmly, then continues her course leaving you to your thoughts and mangled basket next to the krill pond.

* * *

Din walked into the small hut you and Cara had been sharing since you arrived on Sorgen. He was placed in the barn directly next to you and had come over to check on you after he had eaten. He had expected you to be busying yourself with something, since that seemed to be your usual past time. However, he walked into the house to find you sitting by the window, absentmindedly playing with the uneaten food on your plate.

“You’re supposed to eat that, you know,” his voice broke the peaceful silence you had been in.

You pulled your eyes from watching the smaller kids playing by the light of the lanterns and instead turned to look at Mando who had come to stand next to you.

You gave him a small smile, albeit a tired one, and turned your attention back to the kids, “I know. I’m just not very hungry,” you said simply, letting silence take over the room once again.

You and Mando sat next to each other in silence for several moments, just watching the village children play happily with the small green child, rolling a ball back and forth with him. After several moments of your quiet breathing being the only noise, Mando speaks softly.

“I’m worried about you kid.”

“My name’s not kid,” you say quickly, “I thought we went over this.”

A deep sigh seeps from his modulator, “I know but-,” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “but you are a kid, (y/n). and you can argue with me all you want, but I’m serious when I say I’m worried. You haven’t been yourself since we touched down here and I just-“ he stops himself again, as if debating on whether he wants to say what he’s thinking. He eventually decided to continue, “I know we’ve only been working together for a little while but, I do care about you. And I want to help with whatever….” He gestures to you, “whatever this is.”

You can’t help but give the man a genuine smile, laying a hand gently on his shoulder. Omera’s earlier words ring in your ears, and for a split second you open your mouth ready to tell him everything. Your past, your parents, everything that has been plaguing your dreams the past two months. But you quickly close your mouth, Old habits die hard it seems, and you pat his shoulder reassuringly.

“I’ll be fine, Mando,” you say softly, “I just have to figure some things out.”

Mando stiffens under your touch, clearly not believing your words, but relaxes. If you didn’t want to tell him about what was bothering you, there was simply nothing he could do. However, he did feel a pang in his chest at the thought. He had grown quite fond of your exuberant and sarcastic personality since you had joined him, and to be quite honest he liked the company. He liked the fact that he had a sort of apprentice under his wing, someone he could truly try and help and teach. So, to listen and see you struggle with something on your own when he was clearly there to help…well, it hurt. He wanted you to know that there could be trust between the two of you. while it wasn’t 100% there yet, he would trust you enough to tell you things he hadn’t told anyone in ages, he just wished that you would trust him enough to open up and let him help.

He heaved a sigh and stood to his feet, “Goodnight kid,” he said softly and turned to leave the small home.

“Night Mando,” you called after him, watching as his cape disappeared from the doorway.

You let out a shaky sigh, turning to look back at the children, only to see that they were starting to disperse for the night. You cast your gaze back to your picked apart plate of food and stood, setting it onto the counter in the corner before walking over to your small bed, pulling the sheet over you as you climbed into it. You momentarily wondered where Cara was as you adjusted your position to roll onto your side, facing the window. you assumed she must be drinking and socializing with the other villagers. That’s what you supposed you should’ve been doing as well, but instead here you were; lying in bed ready to face the nightmares once more. You new the minute your head hit the pillow and exhaustion tugged at your eyelids you wouldn’t be awake long. However just as they slipped closed, you hopefully though that maybe you would be so tired you wouldn’t dream tonight, maybe the comfort of a dreamless black expanse would greet you instead….

How wrong you were.

You felt like you and just fallen asleep when your eyes snapped open and a raw cray ripped from your throat. Images of harsh hands, the hot sun, and blaster fire still assaulting your mind as you shoved the covers from your sweat damp skin. You saw Cara sitting up in the bed adjacent to you, alert instantly at your scream. You clambered out of bed before she could and stumbled to the door, hand gripping it desperately, searching for anything to ground you in the present instead of the past. You could barely hear Cara’s calls of your name asking what was wrong, past the ringing in your ears. Your breathing was erratic, and your vision seemed to blur at the edges, as you stood on shaky legs, still grasping the door frame of the hut. Finally, you felt Cara’s calloused hands on your shoulders through the linen top you wore. But in your hazy and somewhat disoriented state you jumped when her hands made contact with you, turning and pushing them off of you in a panic.

“Don’t-“ you whimper, “I just,” you breaths were coming out in gasps, as you ran a hand through your damp hair, “I just need some air, I need-I need air, please,” you practically beg, to who you don’t know.

Cara stands back slightly, casting a worried gaze over your disheveled form, “Okay, okay,” she puts her hands up in surrender and you give her a shaky nod before turning around and walking away towards the krill ponds, the only place you seemed to feel safe.

As she watched you go, she sees Mando erupt from his lodging area and walk swiftly over to where she stood, body rigid and on alert.

“What happened, I heard-“

Cara stopped him.

“Nightmares.” She stated simply, eyes looking back to where you had walked off to and seeing you sitting by the pond furthest away, feet in the water.

Mando sighed quietly, eyes finding your form as well, “I’m going to go talk to her.”

Cara looked at him warily, “you sure about that? She said she needed air.”

Mando turned his helmet to look at her, “Would you want to be alone right now?”

Cara didn’t answer, she juts crossed her arms and looked down at her feet.

“She needs someone,” He says firmly, “whether she wants to admit it or not,” and with that he brushed past the shock trooper and over to where you sat.

You had heard him approaching from several feet away, despite him not wearing shoes. You cast a small glance his way when he finally approaches you, and you’re slightly caught off guard at seeing him without his armor on. It seemed he was just as vulnerable as you felt.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” you say gently, eyes turning back to watch your feet swing slowly in the water.

Mando sits down next to you, and shakes his head, “Nothing to apologize for. You can’t control what happens when you sleep,” he says, “Nightmares aren’t an uncommon occurrence.”

You look at him now, brushing your hair behind your ear, not noticing that it had fallen out of its earlier braid in your fitful sleep, “Do you have nightmares?” you ask meekly.

Mando nods, “Yes. Not as often as I used too, but I still have them from time to time.”

You turn your gaze away from him, as you feel tears start to fill your eyes, dropping slowly into the water below, “I hate that I’m like this,” you whisper, “That no matter what I do I can’t escape from my past. It’s like it I can’t let go, no matter how hard I try,” your voice cracks.

You can feel Mando’s gaze on you now, his helmet turned to look at you and you feel his hand fall to your back gently, “The past isn’t something you can just get rid of. We are products of our past, but it doesn’t mean we have to be prisoners of it,” while his voice is soft, his words are firm, and they remind you of what Omera had said earlier, about needing help. And maybe she was right.

You let out a shuddering breath and wipe at the tears on your face, a fleeting feeling of embarrassment shooting through you before you quickly subdue it. You sit up slightly straighter and your hands fall to the ground beside you, fingers playing with the grass, “you know what I told you about my parents?” you asked.

Mando nodded turning to face you more fully, “you said they gave you up, if I remember correctly.”

You shook your head, “they sold me,” you spit bitterly, fingers digging roughly into the soft dirt, “I don’t even remember why because I was only five or six…” you trail off, images of you being shoved into a strange mans arms, crying out for your mother only for her and your father to turn away as you were dragged onto a ship. Mando stiffens beside you and you feel a new wave of tears cascade down your cheeks as sobs wrack your body.

“They fucking sold me to some – some imperial lord for drinking money, they sent me away to a life of utter hell, for the next thirteen years,” you gasp.

Mando’s hand gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze, and you take that as a sign to continue, “So that’s where I was for my entire life. A slave for the empire. He had me do everything; from running his errands, tending to him hand and foot, scrapping on jakku…”you paused casting a quick glance at Mando, “That’s how I learned mechanics, I was just around it so much I was forced to learn,” you cast your gaze back down to the water once more, ��at first I was so scared. Scared that he was going to hurt me or kill me,” you admitted, “but when I got older, I got more defiant. I rebelled, I fought, I talked back, so much until one day he had enough I suppose,” you stopped talking, the horrible memories causing bile to rise in your throat so fast you thought you were going to throw up.

“Did he kick you out? Is that why you were bounty hunting?” Mando asks curiously.

You scoff, a bitter a dry sound pushing past your lips, “I wasn’t so lucky,” you reach your hand up and pull down the high neck of your shirt, “I should’ve known this is what he would’ve done. He had a thing for acid when he was torturing spies.”

Mando felt a burning fire erupt in his veins as he took in the marred and rough skin under your shirt. The skin was discolored from the rest and bumpy as it ran across the entire span of your chest and collar bone area. The sudden urge to hunt down and kill whoever could do this to a child, suddenly overwhelmed him. But when you released the fabric, allowing it to conceal the damage once more, he shoved those feelings down and continued to listen to you.

You shrugged, “So I quite fighting after that…I did whatever he wanted without question, in fear that next time he wouldn’t be so generous to spare me my life,” you voice was so quiet that Mando almost couldn’t hear you through his helmet, he had to strain to hear your heartbreaking words, and you continued to speak, a little louder this time.

“Then one day he sent me on a job in the city,” you said, voice slightly less somber, “I knew that when I left his house that time I wouldn’t be going back. I was going to escape or die trying. So, I found a ship on the docking bay and snuck on it, stowing away successfully until they landed on the planet a few systems over. Then I got off and managed to get by on stealing for a little while. Then I heard about bounty hunting and did that for a few months until you found me.” You looked at him now, even more tears starting to spill from your eyes as new sobs ripped from your throat and you could no longer look at him without a sense of shame filling your mind, “So there. Now you know my entire fucked up and sad sob story.” You laugh dryly, before falling silent, the only sound being your sniffling and the sounds of nature around you.

Mando sat in slight shock, his mind racing and searching for the right words to say to you in an attempt to give you some comfort. But all he could come up with was silence as he rubbed your back quietly.

Finally, after a tense moment of silence you spoke up again, “one hundred credits,” you croaked, causing Mando to give you a confused look.

“What?”

You looked at him fully now, pulling your feet from the water and scooting minutely closer to him, “That’s how much they sold me for,” you whisper, “one hundred credits is all I’m worth.”

Your hair falls around your face in a makeshift curtain as you curl in on yourself, your cries jarring and broken. And before Mando could stop himself he was shifting quickly closer to you and pulling you firmly against him. It’s the only thing he could think to do for the broken girl in front of him. He hadn’t even been this physically close with someone in decades, yet somehow, he knew this was what you needed, as he was sure you hadn’t had any sense of comfort in your entire life. At least Mando could remember his parents fondly. He knew his parents loved him up until their last breath…and here you were, not a single thought or hope in the world that anyone truly cared for you.

“Your parents were horrible people,” he says finally, “They don’t know what they lost when they did that.”

He felt you shake your head against his chest, “Maybe they were right,” you mumble.

Mando bristles at this and pulls you away from him slightly, looking directly at you through his visor, “No. Don’t say that. A parent should never do that to a child. Ever.” He says firmly.

You give him a wary look, “are you close to your parents? Are they still with the covert?” you ask cautiously. Mando lets out a small sigh and moves so he is only sitting next to you now, shoulders brushing against each other every now and then, “I was close with them,” he begins, “but they died when I was young. In the droid attack,” your eyes widen as you remember him telling you about the droid attack several months ago, and your heart ached for him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice small.

Mando continues, “The Mandalorians found me after and they took me in as a foundling. They saved me and raised me as one of their own.”

You pull up some strands of grass from the ground and watch as the flutter from your open hand into the water, “So, you put the helmet on when you were just a kid?” you asked.

Mando just nodded, so you continued, “So you haven’t taken it of on front of anyone since you were little?”

He stays silent, but that’s all the answer you need.

“looks like were both just two lonely bounty hunters then, huh Mando?” you tease, trying to turn the tone of the conversation.

“Din.” He says suddenly.

You furrow your brows, “hmm?”

“My name,” he clarifies, “It’s Din Djarin. I figured it’s the least I owe you.”

A warmth spread through your chest at the simple words. Something that seems so trivial to others meant the world to you, since you knew the importance behind them.

“Thanks Din, for being here.”

Mando just nods, “Anytime, kiddo.”

No more words are spoken between you and Din. You both just sit in a contended silence; listening to the insects and rustling of the trees as the sun rises slowly above the horizon painting the sky a lavender purple. And for the first time in years, you were truly excited for what the future may bring.

///

Liberation Tag: @Therobinathome @lirinchi​ @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8​ @fucking-dip-shit​ @notmyspaghetti​ @humbleseame​ @peter-psrker @riddlersfate​ @fandoms-equal-my-life​ @kaialisonflame​ @goth-pigeon​ @sinon36​ @bruithel​ @magical-fandoms​ @scarlett126​ @rickysbxssett​ @jamesdeerest​ @tennisislife12345​ @rosey-posey141100​ @forever-paramore28​ @gothtechie​ @hollybee0987​ @izdevett @witheringblooddemon​ @katelicon​ @sparrows-books​ @twofacedbassy​ @crazy-obsessed-fangirl​ @eternallyvenus​ @lewismerryweather​ @doubtedbus409​ @the-dream-catch3r​ @and-i-swear-we-are-infinite​ @cinnanomwolf​

Mando Tag: @tryn25​ @igotmadskills​ @dizzydazed​ @theforceofdisney​ @jeepangel​ @maryan028​ @mandalorian-theway​

Permanent Tags: @fleurdemiel145​ @sargesbestgirl​ @lustriix​ @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii​ @lord-wolfgen @petalduck​ @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​ @stillreadingfantasy​

[allthebooksandcrannies]

Just some thoughts on maturity...

This is going to get long so there’ll be more under the cut.

I saw a post the other day about how it can be tempting particularly for the older crowd on this website to judge or condescend those who seem to struggle with expressing or holding truly complex ideas and instead getting stuck in a binary mentality of good vs bad or us vs them. then the post went on to point out that its not really their fault considering that a major proportion of tumblr users are under 25 (according to this report, 39% of users are under 25 and 66% are under 35) and devopmentally this is really where we see the ability to hold complex feelings and accept the existence of multiple realities really start to develop and it was kind of an epiphany for me. 

I don’t want to come across as condescending, after all, i’m part of that 39% myself and can admit that i’m still working on this skillset. But part of emotional maturity is being able to accept and understand that the world is a complicated or gray place and morality is, if not exactly relative, at least exists on a continuum (what is acceptable and even praise-worthy in one culture might be taboo or reprehensible in another [which is why we need to avoid judging past or foreign cultures by our own cultural norms/morals]).  

Just as it is possible to do the wrong thing for the right reasons or the right thing for the wrong reasons and it be both right and wrong at the same time, there can be multiple truths and “realities” at the same time without either being more or less correct than the other. I know that might sound confusing or convoluted but let me explain. You’ve probably heard the expression that there are three truths: your truth, my truth, and the actual truth is somewhere in the middle. I agree with this to an extent. People can look at the same experience and come up with radically different narratives to explain what happened to themselves or others and generally they are both a little biased because the brain naturally works from an egocentric point of view (this isn’t necessarily the same thing as a selfish/arrogant pov, but that we tend to view things based on their relationships to ourselves even if they aren’t actually connected to us, ie a child that sees that their parent is upset about something that happened during their day but assumes that it is somehow their own fault, which gets into some theory of mind stuff that is honestly a whole other post and not really the point). 

An example from my own life, is a common argument that my mother and i rehash a lot lately. Just going off of the things actually said aloud (which is only ever half the argument), my mom likes to ask for constant progress reports on things like my thesis or grad school applications or my love life and then proceeds to tell me what she thinks i should do. Sometimes i humor her and let it go, but other times i try to explain that talking about the things that i’m anxious about actually makes my anxiety related procrastination worse and that i would appreciate it if she wouldn’t ask as often. Those are the main events that lead up to it. 

From what i can tell, she views her questions as good parenting. She has told me before that she felt hurt as a kid by how uninvolved her parents were in her own adolescence/early adulthood and doesn’t want to make same mistakes.  She then takes my request not to ask as a rejection of her parenting, and usually responds by telling me that i should stop being bothered because she’s just trying to help and i’ll feel better if i just do what she’s suggesting (and then proceeds to say “see, aren’t you glad you have a mom who pushes you to do these things” once i finish a project.)

there really is no winning because my mother has never really learned that the things you do to be helpful can still be harmful. in her mind, she can’t be in the wrong because that would make her a bad mom and she can’t be a bad mom because she loves us. sure, she might be able to accept this idea in fiction or in the abstract, but isn’t able to put it into practice because that is a learned skill that she has never known to try to learn. i think a lot of people end up stuck there. tbh its still my first instinct a lot of the time and its only through a lot of courses geared towards developing critical thinking and empathy, a lot of fiction meta analysis, and reading about a million fanfics that each interpret the same canon event differently based on the author’s personal experiences coloring what they viewed as important.

my first instinct is to view my mother’s refusal to change her behavior as a disrespect/invalidation of my feelings. I feel guilty because i know that i should do the things she’s suggesting but that is never the issue, the issue is that i have trouble actually making myself do it. For a long time that egocentric worldview (and that instinct kids have to implicitly trust hteir gaurdians) told me that both the executive dsyfunction and the fighting were my fault. It felt like she was saying that if i was better or smarter or more mature surely i would be able to do this on my own. it felt like she was saying that if i was a better daughter i wouldn’t hurt her feelings like this. 

But i’ve been learning that neither one of us were truly correct and we both were at the same time. Those feelings and concerns were real to us, even if we were both projecting our own insecurities onto the other person. Those feelings were valid and understandable but (and this is incredibly important) that did not give either one of us a free pass on how we acted on those insecurities.  It didn’t make us bad people but it did mean that we were engaging in toxic behavior that just hurt both of us.

So, the question becomes “what do i do with that?” Now that i know we were both responding from a place of trauma and insecurity in the past, how do we change how we act in the future? I think we have to get to a point where we can look at a situation and truly try to understand the internal dialogue that the other side is experiencing in the moment (why they feel the way they feel, do we really have evidence that they feel what we think they feel or are we projecting, are they acting well-intentioned/malicious or are they even considering the ramifications at all/do they have any conscious intentions) and come to a point where we can truly empathize with them, not sympathize with them, not feel sorry for them, but truly see it from their side and understand where they are coming from. we should remember that we’re all a little broken. and we should be gracious and merciful. 

That doesn’t mean we have to be happy about it. We don’t even need to think that they have a good point or that their pov is reasonable or forgivable (sometimes it just isn’t, and its important to understand that too). But it means not dehumanizing the enemy or oversimplifying their position into the general “bad guy” role. You can forgive without absolving and you can understand and show compassion without forgiving or accepting.

You need to set boundaries, and you need to accept that at the end of the day the way that they respond is not on you, not if you’ve acted based on that understanding we talked about earlier and treated them with at least the bare amount of dignity we are all entitled to as human beings. 

Returning to the previous example, with my mother, i now make a point when we disagree of first summarizing and acknowledging the validity of what i understand her intent to be, making it clear that i appreciate that she cares and is trying to be helpful. Then i explain my point of view not as what she makes me feel (because that would come across as judgement that would prompt natural, though incredibly unhelpful defensiveness) but as to how i feel based on my interpretation of the action. I try to make this sound as nonjudgemental as possible without making it anyone’s fault, including my own (which i admit can be easier said than done). Then, i give an alternative suggestion for what would actually be helpful and then it is in her hands. It is up to her whether or not to accept the boundary i have set up.  

In an ideal world she would respect my wishes and alter her behavior. after all, she is supposed to be the adult/parent in this relationship. the emotional labor isn’t supposed to be on the child, at least not the majority of it. 

(side note: this goes for relationships of equals such as significant others, friends, siblings, extended families, and peers. in a healthy relationship of equals you should be splitting the emotional labor equally. if they aren’t trying as hard as you are, you probably need to have a conversation about that and based on the outcome then evaluate how much, if any, of yourself is safe/healthy to continue to pour into the relationship)

But because many people, adults and adolescents alike, have not reached this level of emotional maturity and can’t honestly/completely accept or acknowledge their own flaws and mistakes without their sense of self taking a hit, sometimes its not enough.  My mother, no matter how respectfully i phrase my concerns and request, continues to insist on asking the same nagging questions that trigger a lot of my childhood emotional drama related to being good enough for my parents impossible standards.  I understand why she behaves the way that she does but the fact of the matter is that she still continues to hurt me and no longer has plausible deniability in those situations.  I have the right to be angry, though i do not have the right to lash out or respond in kind. 

I do, however, have the right and the responsibility to myself to do what i can to protect myself from further harm. I still want a positive relationship with my mother, we have plenty of good moments and are very similar people. But i have to be willing and able to remove myself from unsafe situations. Usually that means making it clear that i won’t be answering the questions and not calling or texting with her until the point is made (even if this leaves her surly). 

I had to lower my expectations for her as well. I had a high opinion of my mother because she can be very nurturing and compassionate, especially when we are in agreement. So i thought on some level that if i shared the information and the sources that prompted me to begin my own journey of self-actualization and personal growth in earnest that she would react similarly and understand why i needed her to at least try to do the same. Piece of advice, kiddos, it’s not your job to fix someone, no matter how much you love them nor how much potential they have. It needs to be on them, and they need to make that decision for themselves or it won’t work anyway.

I am trying to accept that unless she makes the decision on her own, she isn’t going to become the mother i want her to be. That’s an incredibly sad thing to realize about someone you love, but its true. If i don’t let that expectation go, our relationship will always be one of disappointment and eventually resentment. Instead, I've had to evaluate what conversations we are and are not able to have in a healthy manner, and just let things be what they will be.  I know my own worth (when my brain chemistry cooperates) and i have a lot of good, healthy relationships in my life that i can turn to when i need something my mom doesn’t know how to give me. 

It’s painful to grow and realize you’re leaving people behind in the process. You can offer them the tools to follow, and give them the support that they need to do so, but only if they want to. 

But i promise you its worth it.  When you accept your own worth with rather than despite your own flaws, when you learn to do the same with others, you realize that there’s a lot more hope for humanity than you thought.  we are capable of so many great things if we are in an environment that fosters our best selves. and even when we are not, we are still capable of growing past our trauma and hurt so that we don’t have to continue the cycle of pain and misery. We can’t control everyone and everything around us, they still have a measure of personal responsibility to themselves and others that you can’t absolve them from.  But you can be an example to them. You can show them through your own life and actions that things can be better, even if they weren’t aware of how much they need things to improve, or how much they deserve it. You deserve good things but you wait for someone to solve it for you. You have to fight for yourself and struggle against falling into the trap of the familiar. It is going to be scary, it is going to be confusing. there will be times when you don’t trust your own interpretations of your emotions and perceptions (especially if you weren’t taught to do so as a kid, its not your fault, but what happens next is up to you). When those times come you’re going to want to have good friends or mentors at your side or as a source of hope that things will be better and that there are people who can and will offer you the help you need along the way. No one can do it alone, and you don’t have to.  For me, my college roommates were my first clue that maybe things weren’t as good with my mother as i assumed, they fostered my confidence and my self-worth and i was constantly afraid i was going to scare them away but they had my back.  I didn’t think i deserved to be happy, i didn’t think i was worthy for anything outside what i could do or give for others and they showed me that i was worthy just as i was.  it was creators like @goldkirk and @maychorian and @cdelphiki and @sohotthateveryonedied that taught me through their works what healthy family relationships (particularly between parent and child) should look like, what unhealthy relationships can do to you, and that families of choice are just as valuable as those of law or blood. And @goldkirk especially, i want you to know that reading your blog, be it the ups, or the downs, your knowledge of things like child development and mental health, and even the things that you find helpful and reblog have meant so much to me.  I have a lot in common with your Tim and with you and you have given me so much hope and confirmation and affirmation that i’m not alone in my experiences and that i deserve to be happy, even if the road isn’t a straight line. and lately i have to say thank you to @mahpotatoequeen for just straight up deciding to be my new mom this summer. I don’t have the words for how much i appreciate you and how much it meant to me that in one of the worst crisis of my life that there was someone who saw the things i had posted just to get out of my system, things i had never said to anyone before and that came from a really broken and painful place, and reached out and stuck around rather than just continuing to scroll and go about their day.

But I digress. My point is that there are people out there that you can learn from and there are people out there who will care. And maybe we all owe it to each other to strive to become the healthiest version of ourselves, so that maybe someday we can be that for someone else.  just a thought.

(I can’t find the original post i referenced earlier but if someone knows what i’m talking about plz send me the link so i can give credit where credit is due)

[ilikelookingatthings]

Thoughts on Akatsuki no yona: chapter 196 part 1

hmmm.....do I believe kyk-sook about the talk with the king Il and yu-hon?.....I don’t trust mndern day adult version of him in the slightest....but there isn;t much reason to believe he’d lie as a child/teen. Its a interesting situation where Yona is hearing about what happened from Yon-hi’s diary which Yon-hi over heard from the talks of kyk-sook telling soo-won and the other men. but we saw the talks up close like we were there which gives us a reason to think the report must be completely what happened because WE are seeing it as kyke-sook describes. but if we think about it logically we still don’t know for sure.

On one hand it makes it easier to picture and get a grasp of what happened and who said what because we see it as if we were witnessing it ourselves. On the other my extention of disbelieve is having trouble trusting it. it gives off the vibe of ‘how do you know about the things you weren’t there for’. Like kyke-sook was quite a bit away... how did he hear everything? how did he remember everything word for word? We also know lots of people were disappointed in yu-hon not being chosen so would kyk-sook lie to soo-won to get soo-won motivated?

But then again the proof was that soo-won looked at the corpse and was able to find the stab wound that was easy to miss and that it was in the back which lines up and proves those events. AND we know Il has motive.

It would be very easy to think Il thought Yu-hon killed Kaashi. Il has been paranoid his brother would find out her identity f for years. His brother was willing to kill all the priests, women and children included. Heck Il had saved Kaashi from literally burning alive in that fire that first time which had been on yu-hon’s orders. Kaashi was attacked after being invited to visit yu-hon’s wife and the last time kaashi and yon-hi got together was when yon-hi collapsed after the conversation with Kaashi. If Il found out about yon-hi’s illness and the connection to the king hirryu blood King  Il would have good reason to suspect his brother might try picking a fight with yona or the priestess/wife if his brother projected his sense of helplessness about his wife’s situation onto them.

We and Yon-hi knows how much yu-hon cared about his brother and wanted to support him and appreciated other people who see his younger brother’s worth. no liking people already depressed before his brother has done anything yet for example. telling yon-hi and his son thathe wants to support his brother and the country. Wanting his brother to hang out with him instead of the priests to the point his tone was too harsh and made Il feel bad for enjoying the one thing people dont carepare and look down on IL for. Yu-hon was really bd at getting his feelings across properly to his younger brother. H e wants to support his brother but he never properly let Il know about that.

even when yu-hon has the best intentions to help he tends to forget to talk to the people involved and his help can hurt. like how yu-hon killed all the priests without asking and yon-hi was terrible sad and hurt because none of her family approved of that and her mom killed herself as well as hurting his brother by taking away the only people who didnt make fun of him(the priests), a lie from his brother hiding yon-hi’s bloodline. then seeing up close and personal and murder and killing of priests who hadn’t done anything warenting being set on fire  and the people letting his brother get away with wjth.

There is a chance that yu-hon ordered kaashi or Yona to be attacked if he thought the influence was too strong and dangerious because she was a priest and he thought his brother would rely on the priestess words too much. Or it could have been a attack on Yona due to her being the reincarnation and yu-hon associating that with his dying wife. All of the people supportingyu-hon who heard the words seem to think Il was influenced or deluded thanks to the priestess and that fixationon the religion is the only reason Prince Il was chosen by the original king.

But I do wonder...the priestess kaashi was already dead and Il knows his brothers the popular one. what did he think his brother would do? Il was already going to be king? and we know Il did cry. Yu-hon was thinking of the long term survival of the kingdom and he aparently had a dream of taking over the whole continant according to his followers. Yu-hon definitly seems the more reasonable one daying that Il needs to focus on using the people and puting in work and to not just rely on the gods. Yu-hon was the one actually properly trained to be the leader of the country for years and has the broad enough sense to know you have to rely on people. but we also know Il is right that Yu-hon might care forthe people close to him he will do bad stuff he shouldnt do without a second thought seeing it as justified as a means to a end.

It makes sense why Il wouldn’t trust his brother. especially since we know grief can change people and Kaashi died very recently AND Il is now the king while knowing he isn’t supported by anyone other than Mundeok.

Its easy for us to belive that Il is mistaken and that yu-hon didn’t kill Kaashi. but we are also only viewing him through yon-hi’s lense. the mahoriy of what we see are his good intentions that don’t come out right and trust he fully commited to supporting his brother since he told his wife and kid that.

But Il is also his brother and has seen how far yu-hon will go in other aspects and that even hen you think your safe with the brother if he finds a reason to see you as a enemy yu-hon will change and act swiftly. Though  I wonder  why Il thought stabbing his brother was the only way. Like couldnt he have looked into who killed his wife and get evidence it was his older brother and judge him in a court?

Did Il think no one would convict him because of how popular he is and that he’d get away with it just as Yu-hon got away with killing all those priests because he was so popular and everyone would prefer him? did Il not want his brothers reputation ruined?

Yon-hi seems to truly believe its possible that Yu-hon killed Kaashi and thats pretty telling. though of course one murder doesnt mean its okay to murder someone else and king Il knew yu-hon had a kid so thats cold. I don’t get why Il wouldnt have done something about kyk-soo since it was clear he witnessed the murder and that it wasnt a accident.

Il seems focused on the dragons and praying....but I wonder if its also a result of no one believing in his abilitities? he has spent years of everyone critisizing him instead of teaching him including his brother, even that wasn’t his bro’s intentions. The one thing he was good at was praying. We know Il showed kindness and consideration to even commoners but we also know he didn’t leave the capital much so probably didn’t have alot of experience seeing how sometimes force is nessacary since the one big show for force what what happened to the priests that he saw. and he robably didn’t have favorable thoughts about the cutting up the head thing. I wonder if Il thought he couldn’t rule with his bro by his side because he couldn’t trust him and might see him as a threat to Yona. Though Il being hyper fixated on religion does seem to be his MO and him bringing up that soo-won can’t replace king hirryu and stuff like that later.

Its definitely noticeable that the ‘cowardly king’ nickname that even Il calls himself...I wonder if Il thinks its fiting because he stabbed his brother in the back and pushed him off the cliff instead of listening to him. Though it makes sense that if Il killed his brother why he wouldn’t want soo-won marrying Yona and that he faced his death head on. I wonder if Il though his brother would stop yona from becoming ruler or something?

I’m kind of enraged that the men told literal child soo-won about his dad literally being murdered by his uncle. They let him dig up his fathers dead body to check the wounds O.O

He is a CHILD. and while its smart because as a kid he would be less likly to get in trouble if found out and Soo-won chose to do this. Soo-won wouldn;t have looked into this if he wasn’ told about the murder. And aparently telling a literal child about it was better then them telling the mom? the PARENT that her husband had been killed by his brother. They let soo-won dig up his fathers corpse and never though to ask her opinion? Like soo-won is practical and he seems unaffected discussing everything but the fuck?

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 38

AO3 link here

The campus is quiet over spring break, and Sam has resolved to force himself to take advantage.

He’s been asked to fill in at the library - they’re on limited hours and he’s not a regular work-study student, but his dad is basically best friends with Dr. Morris over there, and when they’d decided to do a shifting project while the students were away, he hadn’t exactly had other plans to use as an excuse. So, since he’s here, he’s decided that he won’t leave until he’s settled on something.

Leslie at the reference desk gave him a couple of career advice books and he carries them in his arms out onto Keyser Quad. It was cold yesterday and it’s supposed to be cold tomorrow, but today it’s mid-fifties and sunny. He squints a little coming out from the low light of the library, trying not to let himself get distracted already.

He’d looked at other schools, was accepted at some, and figuring in both his parents’ tuition grants, could have gone to even a good private one without much trouble. But he grew up playing under the desk in his dad’s office on the weekends and doing his homework in the hospital cafeteria with his mom in her scrubs, being the only kid in his class interested in college lacrosse. He was excited to come to Hopkins, to make it even more his own, to stay. His parents had been excited for him, and the school was so well-regarded in so many different areas, that no one had really objected to him coming in undecided. But now here he is, coming up on the end of his sophomore and he has yet to declare a major.

He’s a good student and he’s taken classes he’s liked - a basic level astronomy course as a natural science credit, Introduction to Comparative Politics with one of his dad’s colleagues - but nothing he can even come close to imagining doing for the rest of his life.

Sometimes he wishes that someone would just decide for him, but then he realizes how much he hates the idea, and instead wishes he would just feel it, whatever inside push that made his mom decide that medicine was her thing, that makes his friend Wen describe the life of a struggling filmmaker with some kind of odd, headlong relish. But no matter what he tries on for himself, he can’t make anything fit right.

He’s already flipping open the top book as he walks, skimming down the table of contents, and so he doesn’t notice that he’s brought himself over to the one bench on the vastly open quad that’s actually already occupied.

“You look like you’re trying to make a decision.”

When Sam looks up, the older man sitting next to him already has a smile on his face. But when Sam’s eyes meet his, there’s a slice of a second where the smile shifts to something a bit pained, a bit wary, strangely knowing. The next second, Sam wonders if he’s imagined it; it’s just a nice stranger’s smile again.

“Just trying to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life,” Sam tells him, giving a wide smile of his own, the kind that charms professors, parents on his campus tours, all the people at his grandparents’ church. Somehow this guy doesn’t seem to fall for it.

“That is a big decision,” he says, and it’s the calm observation there, the way he sounds like he’s cracking a conversational door if Sam wants to step through it, even more than the fact that they’ll likely never see each other again, that makes Sam close his book and turn to face him fully.

“Sometimes I think it would be easier,” he says, “if we had a family business. A store or a company or a tradition, ten generations of something that everyone would expect me to go into.” It’s not only the first time he’s said such a thing outside of his own mind before, but the first time he’s allowed himself to even think of it in such specific words. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, shakes his head. “I know it’s selfish, thinking that way. Plenty of folks would give a lot to have my sort of problems - I’m in a great school, my parents are supportive. I can choose practically anything I want.”

“But you aren’t someone else, and it doesn’t make it easier if you don’t know what to choose.” The man stretches long legs in front of him, hands patient in his jacket pockets. The calm understanding hits Sam in a way that nearly makes him want to turn his face.

Instead he asks, “How did you choose your job? Whatever you did.”

“I was a social worker for the state, working in the foster care system. Twenty years in the job. My wife and I adopted all four of our kids, and every time we went through the process, I knew that it would be impossible to bring all those children home with us. But it wore on my mind, thinking of them all, it really did. I stayed home with the kids when they were younger, but after that I went back to school, got my masters, started doing what I could to help all those I couldn’t bring into my own family.”

Telling a saint about my problems, Sam thinks. Smooth.

“It wasn’t as if I had thought of doing anything like that before, but then I ran into the idea and I knew it was the right one.” He shrugs, and for a sudden blink, Sam can imagine him younger.

Sam shrugs back. “Guess nothing like that’s happened to me.”

“Not yet, maybe,” says the man, but Sam shakes his head.

“And what if it doesn’t? I don’t have much time left to get--” He waves a hand around a little. “Inspired, or whatever.”

“Time, hmm?” With a tilt to his head, the man says, “Sounds like you’re putting quite a bit of pressure on yourself to have things figured out now. What if instead, you got things figured out for now?

“Like, for the next few months, or what? Because I have parents who like a little bit of a longer timeframe. And I don’t think they’ll be that impressed by my picking a major and then changing it next semester.”

A laugh. “So let’s go for something a bit more permanent. What are you interested in?”

“That’s pretty much the problem,” Sam says. “I’ve liked plenty of classes, but there’s nothing that really jumps out to me.”

The man shakes his head. “I didn’t necessarily mean classes. You’re thinking narrow.”

“I guess…” Sam runs a thumb over the soft-edged corner of the book in his lap. “I was a camp counselor, and that was cool. And we had to do CPR and first aid training there - I ended up getting EMT certified after that.”

“Really?” says the man, though he doesn’t sound entirely surprised. “Why?”

“I guess I liked the idea of being able to help people,” says Sam, ducking his head for a second. “It made my mom think that I was going to become a doctor like her, though.”

“And you don’t want to be?”

“I don’t think I’m that science-minded, man. I’ve looked at the sample MCAT questions. But it isn’t like there’s a paramedic major here.”

“You know,” says the man thoughtfully, “one of my sons-in-law got a degree in physics, even though he always planned on becoming an electrician. There’s no shame in learning for learning’s sake, if you have the means for it.”

“Bet he didn’t have my parents, though. They’re...They expect something from me. My dad was the first person in his family to go to college, and now he’s got tenure here. My mom worked her ass off - sorry - for years to get where she is. They want that to mean something.”

“I wonder,” the man says, “if you are holding onto a narrow definition of what has meaning. Because hard work, helping people, that seems to me like something that means a lot.”

Sam thinks of his mother coming home worn through and ready to go back tomorrow to help a new round of patients. He thinks of his dad explaining the ways that political science isn’t just theory, how it shapes lives without even being truly recognized. Slowly he says, “Maybe I could talk to them about it. See what they say.”

“I think that sounds like an idea,” says the man, smiling. “I’ve known a lot of parents in my time. I’d hope yours might surprise you - by being more open than you think, or bringing something new to the table.”

It surprises Sam, how much he likes the thought even as it scares him: just sitting down and telling his parents what he’s been thinking, hearing what they have to say. He shakes himself a little, looks at the fresh grass around them. “Thanks for talking that through with me. You’re pretty good at that.”

“I had plenty of people who taught me.” Once again his smile seems almost ready to tip into something else before he rights it. “And communication like that only works with someone who’s willing to give back from their end. So thank you.”

“What are you doing on campus, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“My wife is giving a lecture soon. I’m just a little early for it. Thought I’d enjoy the weather while it’s here.” He checks his watch, stretches himself into standing. “But it looks like it’s time for me to head over.”

“It was good to meet you,” says Sam, extending a hand. “I’m Sam Wilson, by the way.”

The man takes his hand, shakes it, but doesn’t say anything for a second. Finally, hand still clasped firmly around Sam’s, he says, “Steve. And believe me, Sam, it was very good to meet you.”

More chapters here