#(which in hindsight is true but I still had a mental breakdown over it)

[leviiackrman]

Me: I wanna be productive so bad! I wanna finish my drawings!!

Illness: how about barf up a lung?

[asocial-inkblot]

Things I Hope/d to See in the New ATLA Live Action Show

A source material-accurate Azula (duh) and Aang (the show's namesake!) with something extra added to both. See #7 and #8 for more on that.

Tweaked war-related plans that come across like they could reasonably be implemented in real life and which may be based on/allude to actual battle proposals from throughout history. I know little about these sorts of things but others have pointed out before that one of Sokka's plans, for example, may not have actually made much sense. And Ozai's plan near the end? Yeeaaahhhhh... I mean, I kinda get it in hindsight. But still. Let's have him come up with something better than that.

Appearances and clothing that call back to the ethnic groups and cultures that the show takes inspiration from (things are looking great on this front so far), but also

Eye colors like the ones from the original cartoon. This may seem petty but I find that it's actually important to use the right hues for each character and not just make everyone's eyes brown or black or gray (looks to me like that's exactly what they did). The reason being that, although I personally tend to dislike when non-white characters are given what I now call "white qualifiers" (meaning traits often used to make them still appeal to whiteness, such as light hair, light eyes, bone-straight hair, round eyes, etc.), in the context of the show, the eye colors are actually by and large ethnic characteristics and differentiators themselves. As I've noted before in a previous post from a while back: Ocean blue eyes = Water Tribes, brown and gray = usually Air Nomad or Earth Kingdom, amber or light tan = Fire Nation, with few exceptions for all of them.

Enough similarities for it to feel like ATLA but with enough differences that it's actually its own story. Again, duh, but we all know how often adaptations tend to get this part wrong.

An age rating that won't be used as just another excuse to shoehorn in as much violence, gore and sexual content as possible but instead to allow for the full illustration of the impact that war can have on a people and their society/traditions. We saw, imo, only little hints of this throughout the cartoon (when Aang found Monk Gyatso's remains is one extremely devastating example), but not near enough. I know the reason why, of course. However, things like that only helped sell the show short by not allowing it to fully flesh out into a world with true, viewable consequences.

An Azula who, from day one, is unquestionably made out to be exactly what she is: A child soldier who is also a victim of the war in a similar way to how the Gaang is. I want to see her allowed to show worry, even fear, either during or after a situation. Not because I don't love how kickass she is, but because at her age, level of trauma and amount of risk to her life everyday, she has all the reason to be more stressed from the get-go. Not to mention her family issues. I want Azula to clearly have anxiety or depression, something many of us can relate to. I also want that scene of her mental breakdown to STAY in some capacity, but be seen in-universe and hopefully—eventually—irl, too, as what it really was: A teenage girl pushed to her limits until she had no where left to step. Real, living people have had anxiety/panic attacks and meltdowns before and that didn't make them evil or any less worthy of sympathy. It only makes it that much more obvious how real Azula herself is, and how much she needed and deserved understanding.

I want an Aang who's allowed to cry, not once, not twice but over and over again as the weight of the burden of what it means to be a child avatar during a world war—and one who was out-of-commission for a century—start to take their toll on his mind, body and eventually spirit. After he reaches his breaking point, I want him to learn to forgive himself and even forgive others, and come back from it, stronger than ever.

A Toph who's tough but maybe a little less...umm... She should be/feel affected by the war too, okay? And have some level of guilt, fear or self-awareness at all times. So she should be like her original self, but deeper.

More Ursa pleeeaaaaaaassse. We know next to nothing about this woman and what we do know, still involves a lot of inferring. I need to know just what her beliefs were about the war and her family/relatives. I need to know if she...if she often feared for her or her children's lives!

A little less romance and a little more danger, planning and large platonic relationship growth as well as character growth.

Zuko actually learning something from his travels; early on, every time he meets someone/some new people, and on a regular basis. I also kinda want to see him have consequences for his actions. Not just that one time, where he was only a clueless 13 year old boy anyway. Doesn't have to be huge or bloody, but he needs to lose something every time he gains at the expense of another. The ATLA world (if not within the cartoon then definitely within the live action show) should have a real, tangible concept of Karma present, if it doesn't already. That would make so. much. sense.

If possible, a little more fleshing out of characters like Jet and the Freedom Fighters, Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors, Hama, Mai, Ty Lee, etc. And can we not demonize or shrug off victims anymore?

A still sexy Hakoda, Ozai and June. (I'm so sorry, don't hate me...)

An ending that won't make me break out in hives plez.

(That's it for now. I may come back here to add more.)

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Level 1: Let's-a-go easy with some illuminated Mario!

What I want to explore at least partly over the course of Nintendo-vember is the fact, that Dobson was biased with a capital b when it came to videogames and Nintendo. To be more specific, Dobson not only hated people who played anything but Nintendo, acting like PS3 users are the scum of the earth (which we can see examples of a lot near the end of the month), but he was also very opinionated what counts as “the true and honest” depictions of his favorite Nintendo characters.

Again, something more explored down the line soon, but to give at least one example for how even the slightest “deviation” from Dobson’s own interpretation can result in him getting pissed, only for things to backfire on him in some sense (partly a cosmic one) let me turn back time a bit to the November of 2017.

Almost 6 years ago, it was announced that Illumination, the studio behind the Despicable Me movies and some really shitty Dr. Seuss based works, would head the animation work on Nintendo’s Super Mario Bros movie. And people were pissed.

Many of them believing that the studio would ruin their favorite videogame character and produce something that was of great disservice to him. And that was something people claimed, before even the voice cast was announced and everyone had a mental breakdown over Chris Pratt voicing Mario.

For your sanity though, don't click on the vidoe of that fat slob from Boston who is more of a disservice to animation than Live Action Disney is currently

Now to be fair, I am myself aware of the quality of Illumination up until the Mario movie came out. The Despicable Me and Minions movies, plus Secret Life of Pets, having been the most successful endeavors of the company, while also creating some rather annoying, though in my opinion funny cartoon slapstick characters. But honestly, I never thought that Illumination doing the Mario movie, could possibly be the worst thing to ever happen. At the very least, even if the company had fucked up royally with Dr. Seuss related content, they actually have some understanding of cartoon slapstick in their work and can in my opinion create some very colorful movies. And let us be real here, Super Mario has never been the most “adult” or deep franchise on the planet. So as long as Nintendo would keep them on the leash (which they did in the end) I doubted the movie would be utter shit. I at least did not expect it to be the Teen Titans Go of Nintendo, dumb like Boss Baby or unfocused and insulting like Wonder Park.

And lo and behold, the movie came out and minor things aside (like using Take on me as a pop song in the background at one moment) it captured the essence of Mario, was very colorful and a smash hit. To the point it was up until Barbie came along still the most successful movie of 2023 and is the third highest crossing animated movie of all time. With the place actually being the second, if the Lion King remake from 2019 wouldn’t be technically considered animated. Heck, you could actually call it the most succesful animated movie of all time currently, if you also decide to look at the list in such a way, that "sequels"/continuations ofalready established IPs don't count.

What I am trying to say is, in hindsight, many people should have just simply tried to be calm and see where things were heading.Give Illumination the benefit of the doubt. Particularly if they decided to first think about what was likely going to happen and analyze the pro and cons of Illumination doing the movie.

But fuck using your brain when your name is Andrew Dobson.

Dobson took genuine offense to the idea of Illumination doing the movie and as such made a “mock art” of what Mario would likely look in their art style.

There was just a tinsy winsy problem with it. The artwork in itself….

Turned out to be better looking, than most things Dobson did at the time.

No, seriously. Considering the lack of a decent art output at the time aside of shitting on nerds via SYAC strips, this, for what is obviously meant to take the piss out on Illumination’s art style reserved for the Minions, actually looks rather decent. Sure, Mario looks like a tic tac, but for a “quick” sketch, it looks nice. Mario looks -unlike Dobbear in 95% of the strips- actually happy by the way he smiles as well as very cartoonish. And considering that the blood and soul of Mario is kinda in the cartoonish nature of the game series -as evident by how ridiculously Mario Wonder is currently- Dobson in my opinion captured here the soul of Mario better than he did in other pics he did way back in the earlier 2000s.

Though to be fair, these pics look decent enough and at least Dobson was experimenting with different styles back then. Perhaps his cartoonish style would have worked best with Nintendo, if he refined it just right.

Which you know, kinda defeats the “purpose” of the picture if you ask me. I mean, it is obvious Dobson just did it to vent and piss on the fact that a company he considered “inferior” to other animation studios, would bring his favorite videogame character on the big screen for the first time since that Bob Hoskins movie. But if he wanted to mock the idea, he failed. Simply because in his sketch he doesn’t really “highlight” why Illumination being behind Mario would be bad. Not helped by the fact Dobson lacked giving more context why in his opinion that was a bad idea. And the few posts he did, painted him just as hating Charles Martinet and believing Charles would be the main voice of the characters in the movie

An as stated earlier, in hindsight, any “criticism” or fear Dobson might have had, proved in my opinion invalid in the end. The movie was not only a success, but it also paid tribute to his “precious” Mario is from Brooklyn background.

Frankly, the only thing I can see in the pic I would criticize is that Dobson a) gave Mario four fingers despite the fact he should know by now he has five (though that may be a cartoony jab at the Minions. Though even that jab is half assed, cause if he wanted to emulate their design, he should have given Mario three instead of four digits) and b) Mario being likely completely bald under that cap. The later just doesn’t fit entirely. Which, considering the Minions are mostly bald, may have been the intention by Dobson, to create an uncanny effect. Unfortunately, the rest of the artwork balances it out mostly, so on average the sketch ends up being visually more pleasing than anything.

Honestly though, the picture’s existence does highlight one thing more than anything: That Dobson would rather create something out of spite and hatred, rather than a genuine sense of enjoyment. That and if Ilumination being announced as a company to animate the movie, I wonder how he reacted in light of the casting or other Mario related news. Like can you imagine how livid he must have been when Mario+Rabbids by Ubisoft was announced and became popular?

[tuesdayx]

So I thought it would be fun to do a song-by-song breakdown of our latest album Essential.

Essential started as some rough demos designated for a side project in late 2019, which then became our largest album to date in terms of song selection. Many of the themes deal with learning to cope with the changing world thanks to Covid, with a perspective of someone who had to keep working at an "essential" job with no option of self-quarantine. I was happy to continue working and being able to pay my bills over the past year, but there was always elements of stress, fear, and tension lingering over myself and everyone else in my position.

So here we go; starting from the top let's look at the Songs of Tuesday X's 6th album Essential.

1. Jet Fuel Can't Melt Steel Beams: the title was a reference to the 9/11 conspiracy memes, which as stated in the opening lines, "has nothing to do with this song." Written in January of 2020 before Covid had made any significant impact in the US, the song touches on many themes which happened to occur throughout the year, such as [another] Californian forest fire (Australia too), new diseases (Covid), a riot (the BLM movement over the summer, which I will state everything that movement has been fighting for is 100% justified and the United States is in desperate need of Police reform, as does our political system which has remained inherently racist to this day.), Civil War (and exaggeration for sure, but the civil unrest and political division in our country will soon split us apart further), more corporate giants(companies like Amazon profited more from this Pandemic than ever before and have helped further the gap between the American working class and the top 1%). Favorite line: "I won't get philosophical, I only wanted your attention."

2. The Only Difference Between You and Me is a Sense of Apathy and Your Brand New Nikes: This song is a blithing criticism of the American political system. Our two party system has left Americans with a choice between "the lesser of two evils" and allows politicians with no true interest in our needs to rise to power. The use of 3rd parties as an alternative is a overly simple compromise that would only just begin to alleviate the problems created in our political system. Both of our main parties are considered conservative parties to the rest of the world, and any progressive measures that would benefit society and reduce the effects of climate change are considered radical and preposterous by politicians with financial stakes in our crooked system where corporatations hold control and the people are treated as fuel for an otherwise worthless currency. Favorite line: "Listen to the radio, they played my favorite song. Now I'm bored and wanting more."

3. Blame it on the Elves: the title is a reference to an episode of the Podcast "Lore" by Aaron Menke (i can't recall which episode, but you should check it out anyway because it's great listen.) An instrumental interlude inspired by ragtime music of the 1920-30's, with an edge of course.

4. Class of Dropouts: This song was written when I was 16 during my sophomore year of high school and was originally featured on my now unavailable album "trees" before adopting the Tuesday X monicker. I brought it back 6 years later because I loved how raw and punk it was. The lyrics are dorky but I decided to leave them as is, it's a cool track for high school stoners to blare and let out their teen angst. Favorite line: "Walking in on my friends fucking."

5. Polaroids on My Bulletin Board: This is a song about growing up. As a 22 year old (now 23) who decided not to go to college straight out of high school, I felt isolated from my peers in a way. By going into the workfield right away I sometimes feel like I skipped a few years and missed out on a lot of opportunities. I regret not leaving my hometown sooner than I did and chasing my dreams of being a touring musician in a band. More often than not I reminisce of my youth playing shows and getting into trouble, as I now feel old and out of place in a scene I grew up in. Favorite line: "I know what it's like to be alive, I know what it's like to live a lie."

6. Labradoodle Underpass: Going back on the theme of growing up, this is about my recent experience with shows as an adult. When I was a teenager I felt ambitious and ready for anything, and I would drop literally everything to go to the nearest show. As an adult I feel introverted and constantly anxious about the world around me. I've missed out on a lot of great shows due to my own self doubt's and anxiety. Now that shows have been canceled for over a year I feel even more regret by not appreciating them more while I could. Favorite line: "23 years and a lingering fear that anything could happen, why am I here?"

7. Some Shit: This was me trying to be modest mouse lol jangly guitars and half talking/half singing vocals describing the world around me. I guess in a way it was an exercise in writing character description and setting, but otherwise it's just a chill track that almost feels aimless at parts. Favorite Line: "it's just some shit I learned from a friend. Just some shit I learned when I was trying to prepare."

8: Woe is the World: On the album this is a chorus snippet that barely a minute long (the full version is available as a bonus track on bandcamp, and it was actually a demo that turned out better than the final version.) I originally wrote this song when I was 15 with a different set of lyrics, but I came back to it while writing this album and re-wrote it to reflect my mental state and the world around me. Overall, just another melancholy track in a sea of melancholy songs. Favorite line: "you've never felt more alone than you do now, was everything worth it in the end?"

9. Then Why Was it Named Gideon?: the title is a reference to a line in Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour (my favorite series) and like the first track on this album doesn't have much to do with the song. "Gideon" is a simple love song, talking again about how growing up sucks but having the right person by your side can make all the shitty times worth it in the end. Favorite line: "it's time to move on, you're taking too long."

10. I am Here, I'm Looking at Her, and She is Beautiful: This song is entirely about the book "Perks of Being a Wallflower". That's it. Nothing else, let's move on. Favorite line: "Over Christmas I read them a poem about a brown paper bag and the boy who wrote it."

11. Try to Be a Filter, Not a Sponge: Like the previous song, this one is also mostly about "Perks of Being a Wallflower", but with elements of my own experience with toxic relationships. I like to think of it as the character Charlie's experience with Mary Elizabeth overall though. Favorite line: "She called my favorite book washed out trash, said I have no taste and I'm still too sad."

12. Lavender Spray Bottle: This instrumental dates back to 2017. I recorded the guitar part as a demo on my phone and forgot about it. Over time I forgot how to play the guitar part, so I used the demo as a basis and layered everything else on top of it. The title is a reference to a bottle of water with lavender essential oils mixed in that my ex used to fend away spiders in the house we lived in at the time.

13. Hindsight is 2020: I will admit, this is my favorite song on the whole album and was actually the last to be written and recorded. With a simple guitar part and layers of vocals, this song is a direct reflection of life during the peak of the pandemic. With curfews in place and rising case counts, I had to learn to cope with life at home during my late nights away from work. My partner was quarantined during this time and I reflected on the mental strain this put on her. Favorite line: "Don't go to work, you need the money but you're not happy when you're there. Sometimes life is so unfair."

14. I Don't Know How to Deal With Serious Emotions Without Turning Them into a Fucking Joke: the title came from a meme I found on my phone from high school. The song itself was about my own inability to handle serious emotions without coming off as sarcastic. In both the music and lyrics, the song starts as a simple confession before exploding into raw chaos. Favorite line: "it's so hard. I'm so scared, what have I become?"

15. Say Hello to My Little Friend: the last instrumental on this album. A short haunting tune that reflects the final two tracks. The title is probably a reference to Rambo or something, but I never watched it and I thought it fit the feeling of this song.

16. Minneapolis: What became one of the most emotional tracks on this song actually began as a joke. My partner was snap chatting a friend one night and they asked me to write them a song on the spot. So I improvised the first two verses and chorus of this song, referencing her going to school there at the time. I found I actually liked what I had written however, so I refined the track and changed it from a sassy country song into a melancholic lament of my experience in the twin cities and southern Minnesota. Favorite line: "I miss Camp Snoopy, and Paul Bunyon's log flume ride that went around the whole damn mall."

17. Before the Sunrise: the final song on the album is an intimate look at my relationship with my partner. Through past experiences i have become riddled with self doubt and always looking at improving myself as a person. With hopes that one day I'll be the person I'd like to be for mine and their sake, it's an optimistic tribute to my best friend. Favorite line: "the cycle ends until the sun rises again, you're my best friend."

Thank you all so much! Check out Essential and our other music on Bandcamp, Spotify, Apple, and other places! I hope you all enjoyed this personal look at these songs that got me through the worst parts of 2020.

[slowlydrowningme]

But My Makeup’s Ruined Pt 2

Anon asked: Do you think you could do an angst that’s dick grayson x fem reader where he cheats on the reader with kori? I love your sm au so much ❤️❤️❤️ I typically like longer stuff but write as much as you want if you even wanna write it. No pressure 🥰🥰

Anon 2 asked: 3:31am and I just read your 'But My Makeup...' fanfic and IT's JUST. It aches. Somehow, when I'm writing DickxReader, which I love, I'm still kind hshsj I can't he'd be like this 4 Kory. So, this fic was really great to me. I was thinking if you could make a part 2? Like Kory goes to talk to the reader because she didn't wanna hurt anyone. Then maybe *timeskip* reader gets to be friends w Dick again. My dad cheated on my mom and they're not together, but still friends. So could be "happy" ending

Rating: T (mild swearing)

Word Count: 4531 

Warnings: Mentions of cheating but that’s about it

Pairing: Dick x Fem!reader (though they have separated)

Notes: Here is the second part that another anon had asked me for.  This has a confrontation with Kori and the a time jump where the reader and Dick have their first conversation since the morning after that night.

Tags: @this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms

Part One

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You expect the numb feeling that overtakes you the days following the night you found Dick and Kori together.  It wasn’t a surprise that you just sort of shut off your emotions in order to preserve your sanity as much as possible.  There was too much to get through and you just needed to steel yourself and get through it. 

The day after your stay at Jason’s safehouse, you found yourself at Dick’s apartment packing up the things that had accumulated there over the time you two had been together.  Clothes, bathroom items, and just other knickknacks.  You made sure to leave each and every picture of the two of you but took all the ones of you without him in them.  Photos with his brothers and your common friends that you knew you would be upset about not having down the road.  

The last item you placed in the box, despite knowing Dick would probably want it, was a painting that Damian had given the pair of you last Christmas.  It wasn’t of anything in particular, an abstract swirl of colors and emotions that had spoken to you the instant you had unwrapped the plain brown paper tied with the gold bow.

Dick could go fuck himself if he thought you would leave that behind.

With one last glance around the room, you had pushed down the overwhelming sadness and dropped your key onto the counter top before walking out of a place you had considered home for so long.

The following day you had called Jason to come grab the box of things you had gathered so he could bring them over to Dick for you and he had done so without a single complaint. You had thanked him by promising to meet him for lunch later in the week, because it would have just been too much right then and there.

So that was how you found yourself opening the door to reveal what you had thought was Jason, but instead was someone you had absolute no desire to see.  Ever.

“Kori,” you said flatly, clenching your teeth to keep the bubbling anger and hurt from exploding out of you in the form of word vomit.

“I know I am one of the last people you ever want to see, but I was hoping we might be able to talk?”

“You know I’d love to, but I have plans and you’re dangerously close to ruining my good mood.” The words have a bite to them, but Kori still smiles a small smile.  

“I ran into Jason downstairs and he said to call him when you want him to come back.”  Of course he did.  That bastard.  

Taking a moment to think about whether or not you want her in your home, you consider your options. Having this talk at home means you’re well hidden from prying eyes seeing your possible breakdown.  But having it outside means that you’re forced to be civil because you know that there’s always someone lurking who knows your face from your relationship with Dick or your job.

With the options weighed, you step aside and let her come into you home and close the door behind her. Remaining near the door, you don’t know what the social protocol is for having the woman your ex cheated on you with in your home.

“Can I get you something to drink?”  You ask, mostly to fill the silence.  You’re surprised to hear her soft laughter.

“You’re just as kind as they all made you out to be.”

“Who?”

“Everyone.  Even Dick.”  You wince at his name on her lips and move past her to go to the kitchen to get yourself a drink, mostly just to have something to do with your hands.

“Got me far, didn’t it?” Your voice is bitter as you pour the water into the kettle and set it on the stove to boil.  “Tea?”

“Sure.”

“Look Kori, I’m not sure what your goal was in coming here.  I don’t really have anything to say to you and I definitely have nothing to say to him.”

“I actually have something to say, if you’d be willing to hear it.”  Looking at her with narrowed eyes, you find yourself considering your options yet again.

“Fine.”  You know you don’t owe her anything but you also know she didn’t know about you when Dick first kissed her.  And you have a creeping suspicion she didn’t know two of the other three times they had hooked up.  The term made you want to roll your eyes because it sounds so casual and you know it was anything but for both of them.

Leaning against the counter near the stove, you watch Kori purse her lips and look down at the counter of the island that separates you two.  You know she’s trying to figure out where to start, probably didn’t think you would actually listen to what she had to say.  But she had been right, you were too kind for your own good most days.

“I know Dick,” you flinch at his name again and she sends an apologetic look your way.  “I know he told you that I didn’t know about you when he first kissed me.”  You nod your agreement with her statement and she nods back.  “But I don’t think he realized I didn’t know about you until the night you found us.”

“How did you find out?” Morbid curiosity and all that.

“Roy, actually.”  Well that made sense.  You knew she, Roy, and Jason had formed their own team for a while and had gotten fairly close.  And you had met Roy through Jason because the red-headed archer hadn’t been too fond of Dick in those days.  “I think he thought I had known all along when he had mentioned you, trying to make me feel guilty.  But when I just ended up confused, he explained.”

“He’s a good man.”

“He would have many examples of why you are very wrong,” she laughed and you can’t help but give a small smile in return.  “But you are correct.  He is a good man.  And he is quite fond of you.  As they all are.”

You’re not sure what to say to that but you’re saved the need to say anything when the pot whistles on the stovetop and you’re given a distraction.  You quickly prepare the tea and don’t bother asking Kori what she prefers because this is your home and she unknowingly destroyed a two and a half year relationship.  Setting a cup in front of her on the counter, you lean back against the counter behind you again and hold your own in both hands.

“Y/N…I never would have done anything with him if I had known.  And the night you saw us, I had told him that.  I had told him mere moments before you came in that what he was doing was wrong and I couldn’t be part of it.”

“But you still kissed him again.”

“I did.”

Taking a sip of the mint tea that had been a gift from Alfred a few months prior, you wish you knew what to say to that.  You wished your apparent kindness came with a manual for moments like these.  You had been manipulated in the past and it had caused you to develop a thicker skin, but this wasn’t one of those moments.  This was uncharted territory.

“Dick,” you forced out, clenching your jaw at his name and trying hard to keep the anger and hurt at bay as best you can, “called you his drug.”

“He is mine as well.”

“I only know second hand what happened between you when you broke up, but I know that there are just certain people in our lives that are just supposed to be ours.”  Kori hummed in agreement as she took a sip of her own tea. “He is yours.  He was never mine.  I realize that.  I can’t be angry with that fact.”

“But you’re hurt, and you should be.  I’m not here to excuse your emotions or my actions that led you to this point.  I just wanted you to know that my part in this was never intentionally against you.”

“We could have been good friends, I think.”

“Maybe one day we still can be.  If your kindness is what everyone says it is, I’m sure there is hope for us.  And, perhaps, for you and him.”

“Maybe.  But not any time soon.”  Setting your cup down next to you on the counter, you cross your arms and shrug a shoulder.  “What he did was wrong and I am angry that he couldn’t at least respect me enough to be honest with me before he was forced to be.”

“Secrets are a way of life.”

“Not with me.  It shouldn’t have been that way between us.”

“That’s true, but hindsight and all that,” she waved a hand in the air and your eyes rolled, knowing she had a point.  “Look, that’s all I wanted to say.  I’m going to leave now and hope that one day you’ll forgive my part in this.  I also hope that you’ll forgive him one day too.”

Looking away from Kori to the windows to your left, you hear the clink of her cup being set on the counter and soon enough the sound of the door shutting behind her.  You probably should have told her you had already forgiven the both of them because you had learned long ago that holding onto that kind of anger was disastrous to your own mental health, but it was too late for that.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, thinking about the conversation that you had just had, before your phone sounded from it’s place inside your pocket.  Tugging it out, you glanced at Jason’s name lighting up your screen before thumbing open the message.

You good?  Kori said she left a while ago.  Need to reschedule?  The thoughtfulness made you smile as you typed out your reply and hit send.

No, I could use a good burger and maybe a beer to two to wash it down.  Meet me there in 10?

I’m downstairs waiting for you already.

You’re the best.  I’m coming down now.

And the moment you stepped out of your building into the muggy Gotham air, you felt something like peace rushing over you.  You weren’t okay by a long shot, but for the first time since the infamous night you felt like you would be.

 (Three Years Later)

 “Thank you, Jefferson,” you say softly as you slide out of the black car with the driver’s help. You look up at the familiar Manor with trepidation, smoothing down the front of your black gown.

“Shall I remain close, ma’am?”

“Hmm?”  You looked over at him, his words registering slowly at first.  Smiling in thanks for the man who had worked for you for the last two years, you squeezed his upper arm and moved to head up the steps that would take you up to the door. “Go have dinner with your family. Plan the usual time.”  You heard him chuckle as you ascended the stairs.

Before you could reach the door to ring the bell, you saw it opening and revealing a familiar stern, but warm face.  Using the hand that was not holding the hem of your gown up so you wouldn’t trip, you reached forward and took Alfred’s hand in your own in greeting.

“Miss Y/N, it has been too long.”  And it had. Ever since your split with Dick, you couldn’t bring yourself to come by the Manor.  If any of the family had wanted to see you, they knew they had to meet you elsewhere.  It had just been too hard to handle those memories.

“It’s so wonderful to see you, Alfred.  Thank you for your care packages.  You always send the best teas,” you say softly with a squeeze of his hand as you step into the house.  The decorations for the evenings event were just tasteful as always and you felt a swell of pride for the reason behind the gathering.

“Y/N!  You made it!”  Was all the warning you got before you were being lifted in the air by a pair of surprisingly strong arms.

“Of course I did, Tim,” you chuckled.  You returned the hug as he set you back down on your feet before leaning back to look him over.  “You look good.  How are things?”  You felt a slight pang of guilt of not having kept as close of contact with him as you had with Jason, but even the communication with Jason had mostly been you responding instead of initiating.  He had just refused to let you slip away from their world and you had allowed the last link to remain.

Today, you was glad for it.

“Good.  Things are good.  It’s so good to see you.  Damian is going to be thrilled.  Jay wouldn’t say whether or not you would actually make it so I didn’t tell him I saw you had gotten on a flight.”  Giving him an unimpressed look, he at least tried to look guilty for keeping tabs on you electronically.  It wasn’t like you hadn’t figured they all would.

“Speaking of Jason, is he in his room?”

“Yeah, should be fighting with his bowtie right about now,” he chuckled, turning to walk with you up to the next level and down the hall where the bedrooms were located.  “It’s good that you came.  We all understood why you went away, but we’ve definitely missed you.  He’s missed you.”  You know Tim is talking about Dick and not Jason in that moment, but you only give him a smile.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”  His responding smile was almost blinding, and you find yourself strangely emotional at the sight of it.  Reaching forward, you give him another hug before grabbing the door knob of Jason’s room he used when staying at the Manor.

“Don’t you fuckers know when to knock?”  You could hear him call out before you could see him and it made you laugh.

“I thought your door was always open to me?”  You see the moment he freezes in surprise, hands struggling with the bowtie just as Tim said he would be.

“Y/N,” he says your name in a rush as he moves forward to wrap you up in a hug.  “What time did you get in?  Are you staying in a hotel?  Have you seen anyone else yet?”

“Slow down cowboy,” you chuckle, pulling back and immediately get to work on the bowtie.  “I got in a few hours ago and yes, I’m booked close by.  Jefferson and I both are, but he’s over seeing his family.  Alfred greeted me at the door as always and Tim walked me up here.”

“Demon is going to be excited.  I bet Replacement is teasing him about a secret as we speak.”

“I hope not.  He managed to keep it quiet that he knew I was coming, I’m sure he can be nice a little bit longer.”

“Tim knew?”

“He saw I booked a flight.” Jason chuckled.

“Of course he did.” Finishing up the tie, you smoothed your hands down the lapels of his black jacket and smiled up at him.  “You good?”

You hum in response and take a step back, sucking in a deep breath to let out slowly.

“I’m good.”  He watches you for a moment before giving a nod of satisfaction and holding out his arm for you.

“Guess we should go see about finding the man of the hour.”

“I can’t believe he’s a man. He used to be so little.”

“Wait until you see how tall he’s gotten.  Poor Dick and Tim.”  You know he’s watching your response to the use of Dick’s name, but you only laugh in response as the two of you exit his room and head back down to the main ballroom.

A handful of people have gathered, more could be heard in the other room where the main bar was located, and your eyes scanned the room for familiar faces.  You could see a few friends but not the one in particular you’re looking for.

“Jason.”  You glance over your shoulder and find Bruce Wayne standing there with a champagne glass in hand, a surprised look filtering over his features when he sees it’s you who is on Jason’s arm.  “Y/N, what a pleasant surprise.”  It’s warm and the smile he gives you sets something at ease inside of you. The two of you had had plenty of contact over the years since your split with Dick, but this was the first time you had seen him as Bruce Wayne since before the breakup.

“Bruce, it’s good to see you,” you tell him honestly.  He gives you a nod, as much as an acknowledgement of his agreement as you’re going to get.

“Damian will be down shortly, he will be happy to see you.”

“So I keep getting told,” you laugh softly.  The way everyone made it sound you had an incredibly close relationship with the newly 18-year old.  But truth was, you weren’t any closer to him than with Tim or even Cass.  Jason was really the only one of the Wayne family that you had remained particularly close with.

“The family has missed your presence.  It was an…adjustment.”  You’re not sure what to say to that, so you just smile in response.  You knew he understood why you had stayed away. There had been more than one moment of truth between the two of you in those late night visits or calls when you had helped Batman and his crew.

“Master Wayne, the mayor has arrived,” Alfred’s voice interrupted their conversation, drawing Bruce’s attention from you.  You looked up at Jason but found his gaze directed at something past Bruce’s shoulder and it causes you to frown because of his serious expression.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.  I’ll be sure to find you later.  There was something…else I had been wanting to discuss with you,” Bruce’s voice drew back your attention and you gave him a frown, but accepting nod.  

Not just a vacation visit like you had planned it to be, apparently.

“We’ll speak later then.”

You watched him follow Alfred and then it became abundantly clear what had caught Jason’s attention.  Dick stood about thirty feet away, glass in hand and laughing at something someone was saying.  You could see his profile as he stood there in conversation with a man who looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t be completely certain who it was. Not that it mattered because you only had eyes for Dick.  The man who had crushed you.  The man who you hadn’t seen since the morning after that fateful night.

“Y/N!”

The sound of an excited exclamation of your name pulled your attention from Dick just as it brought Dick’s attention to you.  But before you could react, Damian was in your field of vision and you found yourself floored at the sight of him.  Pictures from Jason only did so much, but the sight of him was a surprise.  You couldn’t believe how tall he had gotten.

“Damian,” you smile brightly, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He easily returns the embrace and you can’t help but smile at the thought of how he used to scoff at physical affection from other people. Even from Dick, and his oldest brother was undoubtedly his favorite person.

“I am so happy you’re here!” He squeezes you a moment before placing his hands on your upper arms and stepping back, gaze sweeping over you before landing back on your face.

“I would never miss a day like today.”  His smile grows even brighter and you can see the happiness basically rippling off him in waves.  “I can’t believe you’re a high school graduate now.  I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.”  His reply is simple, but you know he is more pleased than he lets on.  “How have you been?  Jason gives us updates at random and never with much detail.  How do you find New York City?”

“It is different and yet very similar to Gotham.”  He nods his agreement and drops one of his hands from your arm, keeping the other there as if he’s worried you’ll vanish before his eyes.  “But I do have some news that not even Jason is aware of yet.” Damian raises his brows and you look over to Jason to find him standing there with a single eyebrow raised, almost annoyed he didn’t already know something.

“Well?”

“I have accepted a position back here in Gotham.  I will return to New York in two days as planned, but I will be back in a week.”

“For good?”  Jason’s words are oddly hopeful.

“For good.”

“You’re returning to Gotham?”  Both Jason and Damian tense and you snap your eyes to the source of the all too familiar voice.  Dick is standing just a few steps away, looking surprised and somewhat contrite for having gotten himself caught eavesdropping.

“I am.”

“Dickhead…” Jason said in an almost growl-like voice and immediately Damian has released the hold on your arm to stand in front of you, effectively blocking your from Dick. Dick holds up the hand that isn’t holding his glass and takes a step back.

“Guys, stop.  Jesus.”  You refrain from facepalming right then and there in embarrassment at their actions. Like Dick would attack her at his little brother’s graduation party.  It was utterly ridiculous.  The two men looked at her in question and you sigh.  

“I just wanted to say hello.”  Glancing back to Dick, you give him a small smile.

“Could you two give us a minute?”  Both Jason and Damian opened their mouths to protest, but the single raised brow from you shut them both up.

“I should mingle anyway. Do not leave without saying goodbye, Y/N.”  You send Damian a wide smile and nod.  Jason simply squeezes your hand before heading toward the bar.  A moment of silence passes before Dick moves a little closer and gestures to the doors leading out to the path that would take you both to the gardens. You follow without a single word and snag a glass of champagne from a passing waiter before you two step outside.

“How are you?”  You break the silence between the two of you, genuinely curious at his current state.  You watch as he considers his answer carefully, hoping he doesn’t give you some fake answer that he prepared for the masses.

“It varies from day to day, I guess,” he answers, and you feel something loosen in your chest at the honest response.  “You?”

“Better in the recent months.  I have…missed home,” you admit.  If he was willing to be honest then you can return the sentiment.  He hummed in response and took a sip of his champagne and let the silence fall between you two again.  It’s not until you’ve entered the paths of flowers that he stops to look at you.

“Kori and I were married last year.”

“I know.”  You’re response pulls a questioning look over his face and you can’t help but chuckle.  “Jason.”

“Of course.  I forgot that you and he have…remained friends?” He says it like a question and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Yes.  Friends.”  

“Sorry, I don’t want to assume anything in regards to you.  Or him.”

“I understand.  But Jason has been a very good friend to me since well before our split.”  He nodded and you watch him closely.  “I didn’t see Kori in there tonight?”

“No, she is…at work.” And she knows he means she’s off on some kind of mission.  “Are you happy, Y/N?”  You look away from him and consider your answer.  You know you could tell him how you cried and almost gave into the homesickness a week after you had left Gotham for New York City.  Or you could tell him about the idiot you dated just months ago who thought he could manipulate you into being his little housewife and not the independent woman you are.  Or you could tell him how hard it had been to be in a city you knew no one in and find your place in that world.

“I am.  I hope you are as well.  I was glad to hear you and Kori finally got married.”  You won’t say that you had drank enough to blackout the night of their wedding, but that had definitely been a thing.

“Were you?”  You look at him and nod, letting him see the honesty in your gaze.  He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in what looked like amazement.  “You are too good for this world, Y/N.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Listen, Dick…”  You look back toward the Manor where you can hear the sounds of the party in full swing before looking back at him and facing him fully.  “I want to be around your family again.  Jason has helped a lot and the meetings with…”  You let him fill in the blanks, knowing he was well aware of Batman’s appearances in your life.  “But I miss what had been part of my life for so long before things went south between us.”

“I don’t want to get in the way of that.  I never wanted that.  My mistakes were not meant to take you from their lives too.  I’m sorry they did.”

“What’s done is done. But I just wanted you to know that I forgave you a long time ago and if you hear that I’m around or see me with one of them, you don’t have to stay away.”  You’re not surprised by the surprise on his face.  But you’re amused as it definitely takes him a few moments to get it together enough to respond.

“We can be…friends then?”

“We can start trying to be.”

“I’d really like that. Kori had mentioned the possibility after that talk you two had had.”

“Yes, well,” you shrug a shoulder and give him a smile.

“Hey you two!  We’re about to do speeches and we all know you, Dickhead, have something sappy planned.”  You both turn to see Jason standing further down the path, not at all hiding the fact that he’s curious about your conversation.

“Thanks, Y/N.  We’ll chat more later?”

“Yeah, later.”  You watch him head back inside, exchanging a look with Jason as he passed him.

“You good?”  Turning your eyes to look at Jason, you don’t bother to stop the wide smile from filtering over your features.

“Better than.  Now come on, I want to see just how embarrassing you all are going to be to that poor boy.”  Jason lets out an amused laugh before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you back inside.

[writers-block246]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - The Light Amidst my Darkness

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5

Warning: Mentions of mental illness. I tried to present Bucky’s challenges as accurately as possible. However, if anyone has some suggestions as to better portray his illness and resulting therapy, please lmk! (I researched to depict his struggle with mental illness and the type of therapy he would recieve as accurately as I could). Curse words are also included.

Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis. Set before Infinity War and Endgame. Slow burn. Mentions of suicide, heavy angst (unresolved), and cursing are in this chapter, specifically.

——————————————————————————

Chapter 4:

It was like a dam had broke.

Since your session where he actually revealed a part of himself to you, he had become more open; more willing to talk about his feelings and past experiences. Once you had showed him that, while you had never gone through something as traumatic as he did, you could still understand where he was coming from. You could still empathize with him. Not to mention, when you told him that you, too, desired to become a better person, he appeared to become more comfortable with you. Perhaps, because you could relate to him, at least in some small way. He probably never felt like he could relate to anybody. The fact that he held on to such a small connection between you two proved how desperate he was for human interaction and bonding. It made your heart ache. You also noted that your honesty seemed to be very important to him, as he was fed up with the lies he had been fed by so many others in his life. He yearned for the truth, to not be treated like a fragile child.

In short, over the past few conclaves, he had, slowly but surely, let you in; let you see some of his emotions. At least, to some extent. You had a feeling you had only scraped the surface of his psychological trauma.

And, by God, had he been through so much.

The past few weeks allowed for you to gain a better comprehension of just what he had experienced. Everything he told you made your heart weep for him. Your past session, especially:

“I’m a monster.”

That was the first he said to you when he sat down.

Schooling your expression, you replied: “Why do you think that?”

“I think it’s pretty fucking obvious. Do you know how many people I’ve killed?” he said angrily.

“Yes,” you stated calmly.

He seemed to become more outraged by your impassive expression.

“How can you just sit there and act like I’m not utterly horrible? Like I haven’t killed? Like I haven’t destroyed?”

The pain in his voice was evident, and you could tell he was close to a complete breakdown. It hurt to see him like this.

I need to calm him, and soon—before this gets out of hand.

“Because you’re not. That wasn’t you, James. You weren’t in control of your actions. That was Hydra.”

“But I still did it. I could’ve tried harder to escape. I could’ve just killed myself. Anything to make the destruction stop.” He was practically seething, self-loathing clouding his eyes.

“Think rationally, James. You tried to escape, didn’t you? Multiple times?”

He looked conflicted. “Yes, but—“

You didn’t let him continue. “But nothing. You tried, and that alone proves that you didn’t want to commit those acts. Not to mention all the times you could’ve killed Steve, and yet you held yourself back. You’re a good man, James. The real you, is a good man. Not what Hydra made you think you are. And killing yourself? What good would that have done? Hydra would never have let you get away with it. And even if they did, who would be here to help the people today? Because of your experience, you provide a key insight into the minds and methods of the enemy. No one else could help in that way like you.”

He had fallen silent, and you had sworn you saw a tear fall down his cheek.

You didn’t comment on it.

The silence continued on, and finally, he spoke. “You mean that, don’t you?”

“I meant every word, James. You know I wouldn’t lie.”

He settled back into his seat, taking in your words. The rest of the time was spent in quietude.

That session stayed with you. You couldn’t quite forget the look on his face when you vehemently disagreed with him. And you didn’t think you ever would.

It was like he couldn’t believe I saw him as anything else other than a monster.

You so desperately wanted to help this poor man. And by the looks of it, you were. He was talking more, delving deeper into his feelings.

The more he opened up, though, the more you realized that you liked the man behind the mask. He was charming, funny, a little shy, and very intelligent. The worse part, though, was that he didn’t even know how good he was. He couldn’t see it, but you did. He had been through so much, and he was still trying to help others. He had fought longer than a man should ever be expected to, and yet, he was still willing to fight some more. You soon found yourself looking forward to sessions with him, as you could learn more about the soldier.

Images of the smiles and laughs you shared during your time together flashed before your eyes. You grinned.

Of course, there were good days, and there were bad.

Today was one of the bad ones.

He was five minutes late to your session. Which, in hindsight, should’ve made you more prepared for the outburst to come. But, you were hopeful, telling yourself that he was just running a little behind. Maybe something had come up?

The angry knock at your door told you something different.

You called for him to enter, and the door burst open. He stalked to his chair, settling down heavily.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is something the matter, James?”

He ignored you.

You coughed to get his attention, and repeated your question: “Is something bothering you?”

“You’re a liar.”

You startled. What?

“Come again?”

“You heard me. You’re a fucking liar.”

You tried to keep your voice from giving away your true emotions. Steeling yourself, you said: “Why do you think that, James?”

“You told me that I wasn’t a monster. That I was a good man. That the past was in the past. But you fucking lied. Something you said you’d never do”

“In no way did I ever lie to you, James.”

“The fuck you didn’t.”

You tried to keep a soothing tone of voice. “Let’s just calm down and talk this out. How are you feeling right now?”

He only became more enraged at that. “Don’t tell me to calm down. And don’t pull that fucking stereotypical psychiatrist shit on me.” He stood up, tossing his chair to the floor in his frustration.

Okay, bad choice of words.

You remained sitting, hoping to show him that you weren’t afraid of him. That you trusted him.

But it didn’t seem to register with him. He only became angrier, more caught up in his own head. You knew, logically, that his hatred was directed at himself, and he was just taking it out on you. But still, his words hurt, and you worried that he was regressing.

He kept raging, throwing insults your way. He tossed your papers across the room, destroying like he believed he was meant to.

All the while, you remained seated and silent. Until finally, his anger turned cold. Those intense eyes that you loved (that stopped you in the middle of the hallway all those months ago, just like they floored you now), settled on you once more.

He uttered one word. One word. One word that had you holding back tears: “Liar.” So much hatred, anger, and self-loathing coated the word. Enough, in fact, to make your insides curl.

I feel like I’m about to puke.

With that, he turned and strode out of your office. The walls shook with the force of the slamming door.

Left in silence, a stark contrast to the hurricane that rampaged through your office minutes ago, you sat frozen in your chair.

What the hell just happened?

He was pissed. You lied. The person he trusted the most, other than Steve, had lied. All the time you spent together, those past few months, claiming that he wasn’t a monster. That his past was just that— the past. You lied. You were wrong. He had put so much faith in you, had opened up to you (like he had with no one else, not even with Steve), and you had had taken his trust, his feelings, and just stomped them into the dirt.

Those sessions didn’t mean shit. They were a waste of time. He didn’t progress. He didn’t get any better. You must’ve lied about that, too.

Why? Why does this have to happen? Why couldn’t you have just told the truth? Told me what I already know? What everyone already knows?

He was just a monster. That was all he was, all he ever would be.

I though I could trust you. That you were different. I thought you were my friend.

Hours later, you still remained in your office, sitting in the exact position James had left you in hours ago. You were still in shock due to the day’s events.

What if he never comes back? What if he refuses to see me again?

He was your friend, and you feared you might’ve lost him forever.

No.

You wouldn’t let that happen. You didn’t put your blood, sweat, and tears into this, into him, to just let it all go down the drain.

You were determined to bring him back. To keep working with him, even if he had regressed. There were good days, and bad days, you knew that. And before it got better, it would get worse. You reminded yourself that his outburst was normal, expected, even. You weren’t going to give up on him. You had made a promise.

After all, this was your job. And you were damn good at your job.

But above all, he was your friend. And you were going to stand by him—through thick and thin.

It was then that your phone chimed. A message from Steve.

A cup of coffee had been thrown on James early this morning, in his favorite coffee shop (his only happy place, other than your office). And with it, the offender had yelled a single word: ‘monster.’

-Admin Cheyenne

More chapters are on the way!

[timoswerner]

this is a long post that is just me rambling about this season lol ignore it

this season.... was a ride. after the ucl final i really thought we were gonna do a bit of a liverpool, you know lose the final then improve the next season. we bought tanguy and gio and i was though yeah this is it!!!!! and.... it wasn’t

the champions league run had really papered over the cracks and i had definitely ignored that our form since Christmas that season was like. relegation level. something had gone wrong somewhere. the players were done. poch just lost it, whether it was all the talk of him going to united or the final broke him. whatever, we took the bad form in the new season. honestly that week where we lost to colchester, bayern and brighton was truly embarrassing. bayern and brighton definitely should not have happened like that. the players gave up.

i love poch, i always will. but honestly... he did need to go. i know thats probably controversial but i’m gonna stand by it. i was gutted at the time and i was SO vocal about not wanting jose lmao i was full on having a breakdown at work the next day when he was announced. but looking back... yeah it had to happen. the team we’d grown to love was done, poch was done. personally looking back he should have left after the final, like that would have been a nice end to the cycle. i’ll always love him, i’ll always be thankful for everything, but all good things come to an end.

anyway, i know people are probably never going to love jose or even like him. i get that, he’s a... character. but fuck who ever would have thought we’d be in a position that JOSE MOURINHO would come and manage us.... things started well, got a bit shaky, getting knocked out the fa cup and the champions league was definitely shit but neither was as embarrassing as the fucking colchester/bayern/brighton week so you know. but he’s taken us from 14th to 6th. i honestly don’t think poch would have pulled us out of it. i think we’re finally seeing the players respond to jose (aside from today lol i started typing this last week) and quite frankly i don’t give a shit if the footballs boring if it means we’re winning games. playing ‘nice’ football at the end of the day got us nowhere in terms of wanting trophies (i still maintain that trophies aren't the be all and end all of football but when you get so close so many times it starts to get frustrating). in hindsight i definitely feel like we a bit too much of an underdog mentality, so when we weren’t winning those semi finals or whatever it was ‘well we weren’t expected to anyway’. which is yeah true, but jose isn't going to settle for that, obviously what he’s said about winning europa might come back to haunt us but god that’s the mentality we need. the manager and players both need to believe they can do it.

looking back at our summer signings.... well..... we got who, according to every journalist, poch wanted. we did spend money. gio, well, what can i say. every time someone says put him in the 16/17 team and we’d have won the league i want to cry a bit.i don’t know why poch wasn’t playing him, like it was always kinda frustrating how he didn’t play new players because they needed time to settle or whatever but the fact that he forced us to buy him in january by absolutely taking responsibility and playing for his life. yeah, we’ve got a good one there. tanguy... i don’t even know. i want him to do well, obviously. and he’s got the talent, you see it in flashes. but god it’s so frustrating like is he lazy? does he have an attitude problem? or like can literally only do it in bursts? is jose just being a cunt? i just don’t get what's going on honestly. i hope whatever it is, that it gets sorted quickly because if he is a real talent we don’t want to waste it and if the problem is tanguy then we can't afford to have passengers. kinda feel like his season has summed ours up quite well. i feel a bit sorry for sess, he’s had injuries and it’s not really a great time for a young player to come to the club. he’s definitely still got a lot of potential so hopefully he can kick on next season. jack clarke... literally don’t know. 2 loans and wasn’t playing much (i don’t know how much he was playing for qpr by the end but i know at first he wasn’t getting a game) but my estimations went down about him after finding out he called maya jama a slag that dont sit right with me anyway thats actually irrelevant lol but theres a chance that only 1 of our signings is gonna make it and that, quite frankly, isn’t good. whatever happens, we have to look at our recruitment because it hasn't been good for a while now.

but yeah, its been a weird season. it was write off before poch even left so to get 6th is beyond good, let’s be honest. god knows what next season will bring, but i’m interested to see what jose will do with us with a full season and hopefully refreshing the squad

[fipindustries]

my experience with my gender and my sexuality

because i think it is about fucking time i talk about this somewhere. this is a cheerful post, intimate sure, way too oversharing, certainly, but i like to think of it as joyous sharing because i feel like i can finally talk about this stuff freely and gosh ive been keeping so many things on the inside and now i just want to shout them to the world, consequences be damned

for years i have fantasized about becoming a woman. i will say it here now: i want to be a woman, i want to try it, i want to know what is like to look like one, to dress like one, to be called one, to be treated as one. if after a while i get bored of it, or tired or figure out its not my true self, or it just doesnt fit me for whatever reason then i reserve the right to back off and try something else. but for now this is my state of being and im going to share the story of how i got here.

my earliest memories of dealing with this confusion are about me reading a magazine talking about trans issues and me watching the movie “ma vie en rose” and “boys dont cry”. i was too young perhaps to be exposed to these ideas in such a candid and direct way. perhaps not mature enough to fully process or understand what i had seen, to the point that for most of my childhood i had this irrational fear that i would become a woman when i hit puberty. that my dick would just shrink into a vagina, that i would start growing tits, that i would get pregnant, etc.

i was a very unmasculine child, i didnt like sports, in fact i didnt like most typically boyish stuff. i thought muscles where gross, i thought violence and fighting was scary. i thought most boys played too rough for my taste. i was meek, shy, and a huge nerd. but i also had a strange rejection for most girly stuff. it was too soft and frilly and silly and pink and yucky. on top of all that, my understanding of trans people was mostly shaped then by drag queens and outrageous transvestites whose aesthetic, to this day, i find garish, over the top and unpleasant to look at. sorry, is just not something i identify with.

during this time i started to engage in all sorts of strange games as a child. i would start trying on my sister’s panties or my mom’s panties in the shower. i would created these elaborate scenarios where i would have all the stuffed toys in my room “kidnap” me, force me to give birth to them and then breast feed them.

cartoon shows that dealt with themes of gender bending held a powerful fascination to me, i particularly remember the fairly odd parents episode “the boy who would be queen”. i had this strange sense of love-hate relationship with it and anything on that topic where i just couldnt help to be obssessed with it but at the same time feel like it was illicit or transgressive for me to watch it.

then i hit puberty and a light switch went off. where instead of being scared or unnerved by those ideas i just kept obssessing more and more over them. i started googling everything i could about gender bending, about gynecomastia, about how to grow breasts with certain herbs or supplements. it was specifically on the breasts that i was fixated, i kept promissing myself that i would get them no matter what.

at the same time on the outside i was more than comfortable presenting myself as a boy, a geeky boy sure, but a boy all the same. i liked wearing high waisted pants, tucked in shirt and tie. i liked having short hair. i fantasized about growing a mustache. what’s more i definetly identified as a boy. i went to an all boy’s high school where we were taught stereotipicaly male things like working with heavy machinery, welding, general workshop engeneering stuff and i enjoyed all of it. i was still a huge outcast and not the manliest person but back then i figured it was because i was just a huge nerd.

i had no rejection of my body or the changes it was going through, i grew hair, limbs, genitals, etc and didnt thought much of it that i can recall, beyond a vague sense of not wanting to look too adult because it made me look too much like my dad, with whom i never had the best of relationships. beyond that socially i was a boy and had no issues fitting there.

i masturbated a lot, and a lot of those fantasies involved gender bending. usually boys growing breasts, boys being subjected to forced feminization, etc. there were other fantasies but those dont have a lot of bearing on the subject at hand. one of the things that excited me the most back then was to call myself a woman. to insist over and over that i was a girl. like the feeling that i was brainwashing myself into femminity was a huge turn on (this is why for the longest time i was convinced i was an autogynephile, and honestly, jury’s still out on that account). then, as soon as i finished i would quickly tell myself “im not a woman” as a strange way of “no homo” myself from my fantasies. i was still doing ocassional crossdressing whenever i was alone at home with my mom’s clothes, again, usually for the purposes of masturbation

i have been attracted to girls for the large majority of my life, it wouldnt be until college that i would experiment with boys too and found that i could enjoy that as well, but my main interest has always been consistently girls. yet a lot of the time my attraction towards girls would come from a place of envy. of apreciating how pretty they looked and wishing i could look that pretty myself. once i started college most of these fantasies came with me, i kept researching about gender bending and about ways i could try to gender bend myself. some times it was because of fetishistic reasons but a lot of the time was because i just found the subject inherently fascinating. it was like this that i came across a lot of information about trans people, back in like 2011 and when i first started to really understand them as a community and grapple with concepts such a gender dysphoria and such. back then i reached the conclussion that while i understood and sympathized with trans women, i was just a crossdresser because i didnt experience gender dysphoria and because i had never experienced anything even close to the feeling of “being a woman on the inside”.

what was more, it was around this time that identity politics really started to get traction, things like “die cis scum”, “yes all men”, “white men tears” etc started to be thrown around and, as someone who had been identifying as male for his entire life, i felt personally attacked by most of it. an immature reaction on hindsight, but a reaction that cemented in my mind the idea that i was a man and there were no buts or ifs about it.

i kept crossdressing, i kept fantasizing, i kept fetishizing. i even experiemented with auto hypnosis because i was realizing more and more that i was never going to be able to truly make my fantasy about becoming a woman real so was was willing to try anything that would get me even close to it. i cross dressed because i liked the way i looked, i liked the way the clothes felt against my skin, i liked the feeling of trying on a different role, one that was forbidden to me. as time went on i stated doing it less and less because of the sexual gratification and more for its own sake.

then the crisis came.

i wrote about this before, i saw a bunch of people i knew coming out of the closet at an advanced age, people like jacob chapman, the wachowsky sisters, even reading about the story of how allison bechdel. the idea of someone figuring out their identity way into their adulthood shattered my world view and it introduced me the possibility that i might be in the same situation, which led me to panic. all the crossdressing, the fascination with gender bending and with trans issues were strongly suggestive if nothing else, but back then i was just not ready at all to confront those possibilities so i supressed like a mad man.

three years later, here i am. during those three years i slowly and gradually came to grips the possibility, slowly losing my fear of what i might lose if i came out of the closet, slowly examining my self and comparing my story with the story of others in the community. finding differences but also finding a lot of similarities. for the longest time my trans ex girlfriend would insist that i was very much not trans because a lot of my experiences were very different from hers, such as the fact that i never had issues inhabiting the rol of a boy whereas her dysphoria had been strong enough to the point of suicidal tendencies for most of her life.

one of my biggest concerns had always been the fact that i had heard from many trans people that their dysphoria hadnt really kicked in until after they started transitioning. as in, once they started trying to look like women then they realized how far away they were from truly being one, making what until then had been a vague feeling of discomfort into a true rejection of their own body. but then on the other hand there was also the real possibility that i would end up having a mental breakdown once i hit my fifties after years of repression and by that point i would look like just an old man in a wig

i think what finally made me tip over the edge were the contra points videos and the reddit community egg_irl. i just identified too much with what i saw there, and breaking up with my gf had left me free to explore those feelings without fear of ruining my relationship. so where does that leave me?

still confused, but no longer scared of the answers. willing to give this and honest go and see where it takes me. im still not ready to call myself a trans girl with all the letters. i understand that gender is complicated but i would really appreciate a unified theory of gender to help me make heads or tails of what i am and what i am feeling beyond vague notions about “the spectrum” and “social roles”. i guess i could be considered gender fluid as of right now but honestly that label doesnt mean that much to me on a practical sense considering i am still presenting my self as a boy in my every day life with one or two exceptions

i have a lot of work ahead of me and for once i am excited about doing it right.

[namestaybutfriendscallmetrash]

Parks and Wrecks

Fic #2 of the day for @davekatweek 2017 Day 5 Prompt "Leave it up to Fate"

The prompt I used in in the link below, and okay maybe it wasn't exactly random but that's still okay right? Right?

http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/158049080336/person-a-is-super-sad-and-its-super-late-so-they

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Homestuck

Relationship: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas

Characters: Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde, Karkat Vantas, Roxy Lalonde (Mentioned), Gamzee Makara (Mentioned), Kanaya Maryam (Mentioned), John Egbert (Mentioned)

Additional Tags: Tumblr Prompt, Davekat Week 2017, Day 5, "Leave it up to Fate" Day, hardly any romance but whatever right, alternately titled "Taylor has a problem and can't stop writing pesterlogs because they're pretty", tw for:, abuse mention, Mental Illness, (unspecified)

Read it on Ao3 through the link below or under the cut :)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11769885

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]

TG: rose TG: heu rose TG: whre are you rigght now TG: rpse TG: rose TT: Dear gods Dave are you drunk? It's nearly midnight! TT: What do you want? TG: i need yu to comr gett me TG: quicjly if posssivle TT: What? Where are you? TT: And what's going on? TG: th park TG: itss hapenng again TG: pleaase help m TT: What park? TG: cannt read the sing TG: fuck i cn hardlt see TT: I need to know where it is if I'm coming to get you. TG: h sometingg TG: maybe higglans TG: highlad TT: Highland? TG: plese come egt me0 TG: m freakin the fuccout TT: I'm on my way, just sit down and wait for me.

You shut your phone off and shove it in your pocket with shaky hands and try to remember what your psychiatrist told you to do about these attacks. Deep breaths, silence, stress ball, vitamin d? You have no idea, and it's making it worse.

You all but throwing yourself onto the bench beside you, the only one free of the influence of any streetlight.

All it took was a stroll along the side if the road, a piece of gravel kicked into a street sign, a distinctive clang of metal, and it all hit you like a damn semi.

Swords, swords, why did everything sound like swords? And why did the sound make you shake, make your scars tingle?

You pull your legs up onto the edge of the bench and wrap your arms around them tightly, shutting your eyes to block out what little light the nearest streetlight throws and wait for your sister.

...

Eventually you hear tires on gravel, and when you take your hands away from your face you hand see headlights nearby.

You sit upright immediately and stare at the black sedan, which has now stopped in the parking lot hardly 60 feet away from you. A short, dark dressed figure gets out of the driver's seat and you stand.

“R-Rose?” You call, and it turns to look at you.

You're running before she has a chance to answer, bridging the gap between you in seconds and all you hear is a startled yelp as you cling onto her like a toddler that lost their mom in the supermarket.

“Rose thank fuck you're….” a lot less curvy than last time and also have no boobs…?

You look up at not Rose's extremely confused and slightly alarmed face.

“Shit, shit,” You pull off the visibly uncomfortable stranger, face going even whiter than usual.

Not literally though. You're albino so it's more like a figure of speech in your case.

“I'm sorry, you're not Rose, shit,”

“Yeah, no. Sorry?”

“God damn it, I'm, no, shit,”

You shove your violently trembling hands in your pockets and turn away from the guy because it's getting worse even faster now, and you really don't want anyone to see you like this, not even a stranger.

Speaking of stranger, you hear a cautious sounding footstep behind you.

“Hey, um, are you, like, okay?”

You don't turn around, just nod your head.

“Y-yeah, just… looking for someone.”

Good one, Strider.

The guy behind you seems to shuffle in place like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. That's probably for the best, he's got one of those voices that can't be quiet and quite frankly you can't handle that right now.

You back over to the dark bench and sit down again, trying and failing to control the shaking in your shoulders. You look over at the guy and he's staring, but once he realized you can see him he turns back to his car.

“Where the hell are you Rose…” you mutter under your breath as you put your head between your knees. You wish you hadn't gone out tonight, and you really wish you hadn't turned down John's offer to drive you home. ‘It's cool bro I'm only a 10 minute walk that way, save your gas’ was, in hindsight, not your best decision tonight.

Judging by the fact that someone just sat down beside you and cautiously placed a hand on your arm, smother hugging someone before you were sure they were Rose is pretty high up there on tonight's regret scale, too.

“Hi, so I know you said you were fine, but I kinda think that's bullshit and I'd be an ass to leave you here alone, so…”

He trails off, and you have to look up and make sure it's that same guy because that same grating voice just got really soft somehow.

He half smiles at you nervously when you turn your head enough to look at him out of your left eye, and you sigh shakily.

“Thanks, but I really am fine. I'll be back to my usual cool self in no time, I'm just down a bit right now, you know like, uh, shit I don't know, just whatever.”

You really wish your voice didn't sound like you were on the edge of tears. It doesn't help that you're on the edge of tears, wait what the hell why are you crying now?

“Fuck off, I'm not leaving until someone shows up to take you home.”

You tuck your head back between your legs and you feel hot tears begin to run down your cheeks.

“So who's Rose? Girlfriend? Oh, or ex maybe? Shit, sorry-”

“Sister. Rose is my sister.”

“Oh.”

You'd laugh at the total ass he's making of himself right now if you weren't in the middle of having a mental breakdown. Thanks a lot past traumas.

“Does she know you're here? I can call her to come get you, or something, if you want…”

“Yeah. She's coming.”

You don't know when he took his hand off you but you know he did when he shuffles awkwardly beside you, then goes silent for a minute or so. His voice cuts in just when you had almost convinced yourself you were home and it was Rose beside you.

“I, uh, I'm sorry if me being here is stressing you out or something… I can leave if you want.”

You don't say anything.

“It's just that I used to have a friend who would do this all the time, I mean break down alone at night, he usually came to this park too.”

You think he's balling his fists in his lap by the way you can hear skin and fabric brushing together.

“That stupid kid, he'd just drag himself here and wait for me to come get him, balled up under the slide and spouting nonsense at no one. I wish he'd have fucking realized he wasn't… Nevermind. He doesn't matter anymore.”

You actually kinda want to see where that story was going, but you're finally moving into the exhaustion stage of your little fit. Your eyes still sting from the tears that stopped not long ago and your eyelids desperately want to cover them. You think maybe you shouldn't let that happen, you don't want to add ‘falling asleep in a public park’ to the list of stupid shit you've done tonight.

You sit up, but let your head hang lazily in front of you. You make no effort to move it when you speak, either.

“He wasn't what.” You sound half dead, and you hope his voice can keep you from flatlining.

“He… he thought he would be fine if he just waited for me there every night. He'd get high out of his fucking mind, wander the streets in a stupor then come here when he started to feel bad again and wait for me. I'd find him passed out, crying, biting his fingers, pissing himself, you name it. But…”

He gulped.

“I'm not a doctor. I couldn't help him with the after effects or the mental problems he was trying to escape. He wasn't safe like he thought he was.”

This time the silence was worse. You peer at him through your left eye again, and he's staring off into the pitch black sky.

“You okay man.”

He looks at you suddenly like he didn't know you were there before scowling and turning his head away.

“Me?”

He's gone back to the loud voice, but you don't really mind at this point.

“When the fuck did this turn into my therapy session? You're the one who tackled me in the parking lot in search of your surely more stable sister.”

You snort with as much humor as you can muster, which is none.

“Hey how about instead of talking about my fuck ups you tell me why I was assaulted today?”

You turn your head back down with uncertainty. As much as you usually love spewing your personal life at people, you feel kind of weird about talking to a stranger about this part. Apparently the guy could tell, because when he speaks, his voice seems kind of panicked.

“Fuck, sorry, you don't have to say anything, you don't even know me-”

“I'm not good at change.”

You don't really know why you said it. It's true, you guess, but it's not really the root of the problem.

“I'm 22 years old and I just moved in with my Mom, for the first time. It's… Really different than what I'm used to.”

You yawn, and slouch a little further down on the bench. You think maybe it should be Rose you're retelling this story to again, not whoever this poor guy is, but she's not here and he is. Too bad it's not a couch like you're used to.

“It's so nice, so much better than before. Before was… Really bad. But I didn't know how bad it was until I had something good. Does that make sense…?”

You look to your left fully for a response this time. The guy nods, his fluffy hair nodding with him.

“You don't know what you have until it's gone, but… worse.”

You face forwards again.

“Exactly. And now that he’s- it's gone, I'm learning that my brain got just as fucked up as my body did.”

“I'm really sorry to hear that… uhm…”

His voice was soft again, and you turned your head so see him staring awkwardly at you, his dark eyes peering out at you nervously from the mess of coarse black hair that hung around his face.

“Dave. Strider.”

He looked away, clearly embarrassed that he hadn't asked sooner.

“Thanks. Oh, and I'm Karkat by the way.”

You stretch your legs out in front of you, which you're starting to be able to feel normally again.

“Nice to meet you Mr.Karkat, and welcome to Dave's mental trauma- the only talk show where literally no one wants to be there.”

The guy- Karkat- chuckles a little bit, then sighs.

The two of you sit for a few minutes which seems to translate to ‘an uncomfortable amount of time’ for Karkat beside you, because he's fidgeting and keeps opening his mouth like he wants to say something but quickly turns away any time you start to turn your head towards him.

You guess about five minutes total have passed when you get up and stretch, about ready to start walking home. You're about to turn around and say bye or something when he finally speaks up.

“So, Dave…”

You make a short “Hm?” and half turn to see him on his feet as well, standing a surprising foot shorter than you- how did you think he was taller when you were sitting beside him?

“Do you need a ride home? Because I've got my car here, and I'm not busy... or whatever.”

You decide not to take any chances this time.

“Sure, thanks man. Here, give me your number and I'll text you my address so you can put it on maps or whatever.”

He complies, and you send the message before following him back to his car and getting in the passenger's side.

You hear him start up the car and mess around on his phone for a minute, then he pauses before shifting gears.

“Wait, you're like three blocks from here- couldn't you have just told me the way to your place?”

You don't answer, and instead keep your head rested against the door and your eyes closed.

The car starts backing up and you smirk as you hear an exasperated “Asshole,” from the driver.

…

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: Dave where are you, I'm at the park on Highland like you said. TT: Hello? turntechGodhead [TG] is an idle chum

TT: Come on, don't worry me like that then stop answering me. TT: Dave if you don't answer I'm calling Kanaya to come help me find you. TG: oh hey rose TG: wait did I say highland TG: i meant henson TT: That's half an hour from here, are you serious? TG: sorry TT: Whatever, do you still need me to come get you? Or are you fine now? TG: im fine just talked to some guy who showed up instead TG: he drove me back to mom's place too by the way TG: and don't worry about hunting him down like some deranged stalker bent on thanking people for me, I gave him my number so we're cool TT: That's great to hear, TT: Leave it to you to hit on a stranger after dumping your feelings on him. TG: im the king of getting ass, and not even a panic attack can slow me down TG: you know how it is/span> TT: Yes Dave, of course. tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

[talesofnecromancy]

June 2017 #107

AKA: H and I bitch about Frankenstein.

Me: H?

H: Darlin’, I’m here.

Me: Were you elsewhere?

H: No. The storm is very loud.

Me: Ah, you have one too!

H: I didn’t see the board because of the lightning.

Me: How long’s it been going on?

H: Since this afternoon. It glowered this morning.

Me: How’s your day been darlin’?

H: My rump is sore and my bones weary. Other than that, pleasant enough.

Me: That’s your own fault - only the very young escape saddle-stiffness and aches from a bad night’s sleep!

H: There is truth in that.

Me: What did you do today?

H: I read. Caught up and then forged ahead with Frankenstein.

Me: What chapter are you at?

H: 7.

Me: I’m on 6. Thoughts?

H: I was disappointed with Victor’s extensive yet endlessly vague studies. It is not right he labored for a year - two - and did not write home despite his family’s support of him.

Me: Oh - his allowance and means to live?

H: Yes.

Me: I’d never considered that. Wow - Victor’s really an entitled little shit!

H: (uncertain) Yes?

Me: What did you think of the Creature and Victor’s reaction?

H: I didn’t think him much of a man.

Me: Victor, or…

H: Victor! He had a blessed childhood of love and plenty. His ambition drives him into the ground to play at God - to create life - did he think the usual manner beneath him?

Me: Ha! Um, not god-like enough for him since it’s the woman who does it all minus one single cell?

H: (grumpy) He should have studied Greek. He’d be acquainted with Hubris then.

Me: What did you think about the Creature’s description? How Victor chose his features for beauty - and how he made him bloody 8ft tall. Really - where the fuck did he get all these giant organs from?!

H: Yes, a babe or child would have been delicate work. Where did he find a giant’s heart? Did he use the spine of a horse?

Me: He says he chose the pieces of flesh for their beauty, but the description of the Creature is all yellow skin, black lips and water-pale eyes…

H: (annoyed) He is a fool. He thought animation would lend the dead flesh grace and was disappointed when it did not.

Me: Mm, which makes it sound like he didn’t learn as much from the conquering worm and the sepultures as he thought he did.

H: (still annoyed) This is hindsight, remember…

Me: ...You think he was exaggerating how awful the Creature looked to excuse his running away?

H: The Creature smiles at him and tries to speak but it is as coherent as a babe.

Me: (sighing) He made a person out of corpses and expected it to be a bloody angel and got freaked out when it was a confused corpse-baby. Victor is way more of a wanker than I remember him being when I read this at 15...

H: You had swords, I had gunpowder, he had corpses.

Me: How to score your child’s interest by awfulness on a scale of 1 to 10! Later Victor falls over of nervous brain fever or something - was that actually a thing? I’ve encountered it a couple of times in 19th C literature.

H: I cannot say, but I would hazard it was a catch-all for conditions that hinted at mental infirmity.

Me: Like a mental breakdown?

H: Perhaps.

Me: Biographies of playwrights, artists and authors are full of mental breakdowns. I could never find out what it meant. It’s not in vogue any more as a phrase so I’m none the wiser. I always assumed it was a single acute episode of clinical depression. Which then makes me roll my eyes - oh, you mean that thing I had constantly between 15 and 32?

H: (gently) You had seasons of remission.

Me: True. I wonder which has the longer claws and the wickeder hooks - TB or Depression? Doesn’t matter - they’re both bastards… Are the kits all inside? It’s blowing a gale here…

H: They’re here, sleeping in odd corners… (frowning) Darlin’?

Me: Do you find I interrupt you a lot?

H: Only to shorten my answer.

Me: Would you rather I didn’t?

H: You are correct more often than you are wrong. Why the concern?

Me: A- was here this evening and she interrupts everyone all the time. If you’ve spoken for longer than 10 seconds you can guarantee A- will interrupt you and derail whatever you were saying. It was so frequent I was left with the impression my voice didn’t matter to her at all - I was just meant to be an ear for her to spout into... Gods, I’m ranting, sorry… Quick, tell me things!

H: I have cats.

Me: (amused) Love you darlin’. I’ll be quiet about the mad author lady now.

H: You find her a trial.

Me: She’s entertaining, but she’s selfish. Then again, if I was a successful author, hung out at the Groucho, had rich friends and a bunch of dramatic shag stories I’d probably be the same I suppose. That’s not bitterness - I like A-, but I don’t want to be her... Ergh, I’m still talking - tell me more things!

H: I have a… jeng yane of cats.

Me: A…? Oh - black and white curled together in balance?

H: Yes!

Me: Right. Yin yang - principles of dark and bright in harmony. Nem and Isis - I’m jealous! Did you know last night the kits came over with you? They were monstering under the bed, jumping on the windowsill, pouncing on the duvet… you did know!

H: Yes.

Me: You figured they were the problem of someone more conscious than you?

H: (unashamed) Yes.

Me: Wretch!

Next Conversation

[brentrogers]

Suicide Loss: The Double-Edged Sword of Blame and Shame

After spending over a decade listening to the pain of those who have lost loved ones to suicide, I have felt, vicariously, the two sides of that double-edged sword thousands of times. Blame and shame are two of the words that describe what makes suicide loss so different. They are connected and can come from words someone says to the bereaved or — worse — from inside a survivor’s own heart following a death which is still, in most places, a societal taboo.

What these words carry forward are speech and actions that make the aftermath of this kind of loss infinitely more difficult. Ironically, both are undeserved. With education about the complexities of suicide — a phenomenon at all-time highs statistically — the true nature of what drives people to end their lives can be understood, at least as much as anything about suicide can be understood at this time.

There are many paths to suicide, perhaps as many as there are people who die by their own hands each year, and that number is in the millions in the United States alone. Each loss is unique; each grief experienced by those left behind is unique because each individual involved is like no one else. This tragic end and the grief that follows are among the most stressful of life events. A host of complications can follow, from malnutrition to systemic disease and breakdowns of mental health.

Ronnie Walker, executive director and founder of the Alliance of Hope for Suicide Loss Survivors, stated in June that she has seen a heartbreaking surge in AOH community forum registrations. “Their pain,” she says of these newly bereaved loss survivors, “is being exacerbated by isolation, economic challenges, and other stresses connected with COVID-19.” 

Decisions related to returning to work, childcare options, and school systems reopening in an atmosphere of uncertainty stress survivors enough without blame and shame. This is an untenable position for anyone, let alone those who are bereaved. 

“Over the last month, I have been particularly present to how many people fear — or are certain — that their words or actions, said in haste or anger, led to the suicide of a loved one.” Walker continued. “So many carry around a lead overcoat of guilt for doing — or not doing — whatever it is they think had an effect.”

Do we have an impact on our environments and on those we love? Of course. However, the word that must be considered when thinking about suicide is “complexity.” We may have some ideas about what happened, or we may see things that we feel were detrimental, but it is impossible to know fully exactly what a person considering suicide is dealing with in the last moments of life. Many of these actions and words are said by most of us in everyday communication to friends and family members who do not end their lives.

Walker understands this situation all too well. As a survivor of her stepson’s suicide and as a Licensed Clinical Mental Health Care Counselor with a master’s degree in Counseling as well as post-graduate certifications from the National Institute for Trauma and Loss in Children and the American Academy of Bereavement, she has worked in academic, clinical and social service settings. Her experience as a trauma and loss counselor led to numerous assignments at disaster relief sites by the Red Cross and U.S. government, and her work with Catholic Charities LOSS Program (Loving Outreach to Survivors of Suicide) and other organizations has been recognized with a number of awards in the field.

She cautions professionals and individuals, “It is important to remember that there is almost always a confluence or convergence of variables involved in any one suicide — psychological, physiological, pharmaceutical, social, economic, and so forth. It is also important to realize that hindsight profoundly alters our perspective on what happened.”

The pain of loss can find us wanting to pin blame on someone, even if it is ourselves, a normal reaction that sometimes is easier to face than the loss itself. Calling suicide the “final dance of an individual with Life’s circumstances,” Walker reminds survivors that what might lead one person to end his life might inspire another to take other actions.

We do our best to understand, but this is not easy. The same may be said about those who confront us with what they believe is truth. The old ideas surrounding suicide must be dismantled by education on a large scale. Training in schools and communities can bring new understanding and, quite possibly, benefit suicide prevention efforts. Like everything else, how we handle the challenges and high impact stressors that come to all of us matters.

Source:

Walker, R. (2020, June 29). Guilt, Blame and The Complexity Of Suicide [blog]. Retrieved from https://ift.tt/2Bqulok

Suicide Loss: The Double-Edged Sword of Blame and Shame syndicated from

[whorchataaa]

Suicide Loss: The Double-Edged Sword of Blame and Shame

After spending over a decade listening to the pain of those who have lost loved ones to suicide, I have felt, vicariously, the two sides of that double-edged sword thousands of times. Blame and shame are two of the words that describe what makes suicide loss so different. They are connected and can come from words someone says to the bereaved or — worse — from inside a survivor’s own heart following a death which is still, in most places, a societal taboo.

What these words carry forward are speech and actions that make the aftermath of this kind of loss infinitely more difficult. Ironically, both are undeserved. With education about the complexities of suicide — a phenomenon at all-time highs statistically — the true nature of what drives people to end their lives can be understood, at least as much as anything about suicide can be understood at this time.

There are many paths to suicide, perhaps as many as there are people who die by their own hands each year, and that number is in the millions in the United States alone. Each loss is unique; each grief experienced by those left behind is unique because each individual involved is like no one else. This tragic end and the grief that follows are among the most stressful of life events. A host of complications can follow, from malnutrition to systemic disease and breakdowns of mental health.

Ronnie Walker, executive director and founder of the Alliance of Hope for Suicide Loss Survivors, stated in June that she has seen a heartbreaking surge in AOH community forum registrations. “Their pain,” she says of these newly bereaved loss survivors, “is being exacerbated by isolation, economic challenges, and other stresses connected with COVID-19.” 

Decisions related to returning to work, childcare options, and school systems reopening in an atmosphere of uncertainty stress survivors enough without blame and shame. This is an untenable position for anyone, let alone those who are bereaved. 

“Over the last month, I have been particularly present to how many people fear — or are certain — that their words or actions, said in haste or anger, led to the suicide of a loved one.” Walker continued. “So many carry around a lead overcoat of guilt for doing — or not doing — whatever it is they think had an effect.”

Do we have an impact on our environments and on those we love? Of course. However, the word that must be considered when thinking about suicide is “complexity.” We may have some ideas about what happened, or we may see things that we feel were detrimental, but it is impossible to know fully exactly what a person considering suicide is dealing with in the last moments of life. Many of these actions and words are said by most of us in everyday communication to friends and family members who do not end their lives.

Walker understands this situation all too well. As a survivor of her stepson’s suicide and as a Licensed Clinical Mental Health Care Counselor with a master’s degree in Counseling as well as post-graduate certifications from the National Institute for Trauma and Loss in Children and the American Academy of Bereavement, she has worked in academic, clinical and social service settings. Her experience as a trauma and loss counselor led to numerous assignments at disaster relief sites by the Red Cross and U.S. government, and her work with Catholic Charities LOSS Program (Loving Outreach to Survivors of Suicide) and other organizations has been recognized with a number of awards in the field.

She cautions professionals and individuals, “It is important to remember that there is almost always a confluence or convergence of variables involved in any one suicide — psychological, physiological, pharmaceutical, social, economic, and so forth. It is also important to realize that hindsight profoundly alters our perspective on what happened.”

The pain of loss can find us wanting to pin blame on someone, even if it is ourselves, a normal reaction that sometimes is easier to face than the loss itself. Calling suicide the “final dance of an individual with Life’s circumstances,” Walker reminds survivors that what might lead one person to end his life might inspire another to take other actions.

We do our best to understand, but this is not easy. The same may be said about those who confront us with what they believe is truth. The old ideas surrounding suicide must be dismantled by education on a large scale. Training in schools and communities can bring new understanding and, quite possibly, benefit suicide prevention efforts. Like everything else, how we handle the challenges and high impact stressors that come to all of us matters.

Source:

Walker, R. (2020, June 29). Guilt, Blame and The Complexity Of Suicide [blog]. Retrieved from https://ift.tt/2Bqulok

from https://ift.tt/3g3Budn Check out https://peterlegyel.wordpress.com/

[ashley-unicorn]

Suicide Loss: The Double-Edged Sword of Blame and Shame

After spending over a decade listening to the pain of those who have lost loved ones to suicide, I have felt, vicariously, the two sides of that double-edged sword thousands of times. Blame and shame are two of the words that describe what makes suicide loss so different. They are connected and can come from words someone says to the bereaved or — worse — from inside a survivor’s own heart following a death which is still, in most places, a societal taboo.

What these words carry forward are speech and actions that make the aftermath of this kind of loss infinitely more difficult. Ironically, both are undeserved. With education about the complexities of suicide — a phenomenon at all-time highs statistically — the true nature of what drives people to end their lives can be understood, at least as much as anything about suicide can be understood at this time.

There are many paths to suicide, perhaps as many as there are people who die by their own hands each year, and that number is in the millions in the United States alone. Each loss is unique; each grief experienced by those left behind is unique because each individual involved is like no one else. This tragic end and the grief that follows are among the most stressful of life events. A host of complications can follow, from malnutrition to systemic disease and breakdowns of mental health.

Ronnie Walker, executive director and founder of the Alliance of Hope for Suicide Loss Survivors, stated in June that she has seen a heartbreaking surge in AOH community forum registrations. “Their pain,” she says of these newly bereaved loss survivors, “is being exacerbated by isolation, economic challenges, and other stresses connected with COVID-19.” 

Decisions related to returning to work, childcare options, and school systems reopening in an atmosphere of uncertainty stress survivors enough without blame and shame. This is an untenable position for anyone, let alone those who are bereaved. 

“Over the last month, I have been particularly present to how many people fear — or are certain — that their words or actions, said in haste or anger, led to the suicide of a loved one.” Walker continued. “So many carry around a lead overcoat of guilt for doing — or not doing — whatever it is they think had an effect.”

Do we have an impact on our environments and on those we love? Of course. However, the word that must be considered when thinking about suicide is “complexity.” We may have some ideas about what happened, or we may see things that we feel were detrimental, but it is impossible to know fully exactly what a person considering suicide is dealing with in the last moments of life. Many of these actions and words are said by most of us in everyday communication to friends and family members who do not end their lives.

Walker understands this situation all too well. As a survivor of her stepson’s suicide and as a Licensed Clinical Mental Health Care Counselor with a master’s degree in Counseling as well as post-graduate certifications from the National Institute for Trauma and Loss in Children and the American Academy of Bereavement, she has worked in academic, clinical and social service settings. Her experience as a trauma and loss counselor led to numerous assignments at disaster relief sites by the Red Cross and U.S. government, and her work with Catholic Charities LOSS Program (Loving Outreach to Survivors of Suicide) and other organizations has been recognized with a number of awards in the field.

She cautions professionals and individuals, “It is important to remember that there is almost always a confluence or convergence of variables involved in any one suicide — psychological, physiological, pharmaceutical, social, economic, and so forth. It is also important to realize that hindsight profoundly alters our perspective on what happened.”

The pain of loss can find us wanting to pin blame on someone, even if it is ourselves, a normal reaction that sometimes is easier to face than the loss itself. Calling suicide the “final dance of an individual with Life’s circumstances,” Walker reminds survivors that what might lead one person to end his life might inspire another to take other actions.

We do our best to understand, but this is not easy. The same may be said about those who confront us with what they believe is truth. The old ideas surrounding suicide must be dismantled by education on a large scale. Training in schools and communities can bring new understanding and, quite possibly, benefit suicide prevention efforts. Like everything else, how we handle the challenges and high impact stressors that come to all of us matters.

Source:

Walker, R. (2020, June 29). Guilt, Blame and The Complexity Of Suicide [blog]. Retrieved from https://ift.tt/2Bqulok

from https://ift.tt/3g3Budn Check out https://daniejadkins.wordpress.com/

[sagebodisattva]

Overcoming Absurdism

So this is an interesting testimonial, and not very uncommon, as it might seem. Some may say that this situation is like a classic case of a Nietzsche type struggle to overcome nihilism… but I would clarify it more precisely and say that it is a struggle to overcome absurdism, not nihilism; as, one only struggles with nihilism when one doesn’t want to let go of falsehoods in the face of the truth, and stubbornly clings to outmoded world attachments despite the resounding implications of aspiring to the contrary.

I composed a video covering this type of subject last year, entitled “Absurdism, Existentialism and Nihilism”, but it seems many recipients either couldn’t follow the plot, or just completely lost the script: as, many of the comments and questions that followed seemed to be placing way too much emphasis on all the wrong areas of concern. A common point of contention raised repeatedly was regarding atheism; of, what exactly is and isn’t the position of an atheist… but that contention is mostly irrelevant, as the video is a narrative involving a quintessential journey: the potential progression of an existential explorer through philosophy into deeper positions, such as nihilism and existentialism, AFTER rejecting theism, of which, is a mandatory prerequisite. Hence, “the atheist position” wasn’t being claimed to be something it’s not. I was merely positing it as a possible starting point into deeper inquiry; you know, a chance to leave the crowded lobby where most end their inquiry before the journey as even begun.

Now, why is the rejection of theism a required precondition of transition into deeper philosophical explorations? Well, I’m glad you asked! Until one is able to cast off the oppressive mind conditioning of conformist ideology, one will remain continually isolated from the truth, and thus ignorant to the fact that more complex philosophical conflicts even exist. The idea of a god takes care of all such concerns, and acts as both a pacifier, and a safeguard against any possible philosophical existential crisis. God is the original objective truth, and provides to all the special needs of an advanced thinking creature that will naturally seek value, meaning, purpose and narrative in existence. All this comes exclusively from the very lips of god HIMSELF.

This is why objectivity stinks of religion, even when the idea is attempted in application with more scientific paradigms, like in conjunction with objectivist concepts, such as “determinism”… and of course this where they will object, and scream that, ‘No! The context of objectivity is different in science and religion!’, but it really isn’t… Objectivity demands that you assign power and responsibility elsewhere, onto an extrinsic aspect… and whether that extrinsic aspect is a supreme deity, or some fundamental elementary particle, makes no difference in what it accomplishes, in terms of the process of enslaving the mind… and with a god, there’s no need to even question these aspects, as they are conveniently supplied to a subject, with incentives, or threats of punishment, as the case may be, making everything so much more easier to sort out. No bigger ideological bullseye could be contrived then that of religion. It’s moth to a burning flame. No thought is required. It’s literally a no- brainer, and the ignorance is surely pure bliss. That is, until some holy man comes along and sticks a bony finger in your anus, and calls that "God sanctified love"... THEN the wake up call arrives, yes? THEN the thoughts starts racing, no? But by this time, it’s usually too late; as, the mind is completely brainwashed, despite the cognitive dissonance created by the holy man’s finger probing deep in your anus… this situation will hopefully set the stage for the negation of religion. What makes the separation from religion an existential crises is the suffering one will endure overcoming their conditioning. But it’s a rite of passage… and the way out of the crowded lobby. What’s important is that there is a trigger that leads to the rejection of theism.

I hate to disappoint many of you, but it’s not always gonna be a holy man’s finger, sorry to say. Sometimes it’ll be other events, as is the case with our existential explorer in the beginning of the video: a family crises… the breakdown of a personal relationship… becoming a victim of an injustice… the loss of something significant in one’s life… the shattering of one’s stability bubble may play out in a variety of different circumstances… but when the shattering comes, the existential explorer will find himself naked and alone, forsaken by an abstraction of a non-existent god, facing now a vast expanse of a seemingly impersonal objective universe that doesn’t provide a subject with any objective value, meaning, purpose or narrative; a cognitive dissonance unto itself!

Next stop: Absurdism. This is where Nietzsche had the opportunity to recognize the truth of awareness and was tasked to let go of his attachments to concepts about materialism, but instead, failed dismally. For, you see, part of Nietzsche’s problem, despite his survival through the death of god, and his subsequent passage into the fray of absurdism, going on to confront the implications of nihilism, and ultimately reject it’s utility, was that Nietzsche stubbornly clung to abstractions… in this case, abstractions involving materialism; hence, his entire investigative approach, to the whole of philosophy and science, was taken predicated entirely upon an erroneous premise. This is why Nietzsche was unable to succeed on his path, and finally suffered a catastrophic breakdown into mental illness. In hindsight, examining his trajectory, in the light of the truth that Nietzsche himself so thoroughly rejected, we can appreciate how his voyage, while resonant and definitely a necessary stepping stone, was finally in vain; as, Nietzsche didn’t awaken, and refused to move past his own subjectivism… thus, fell into darkness. There’s absolutely no need for an existential plight to become so bleak and despondent, or degenerate into such ruin.

Nietzsche seemed to recognize the mystical phantasm that is the idea of objectivity, yet still, nevertheless, resisted introspective affirmation; choosing instead to criticize the philosophy of Kant, Descartes and Plato, attacking “thing in itself” and “cogito ergo sum” (“I think, therefore I am”), as unfalsifiable beliefs based on naive acceptance of previous notions and fallacies. And while his criticisms may have had partial validity, I would still rate the findings of said philosophers higher then of Nietzsche’s observations. When a truth is falsifiable it means that it, in fact, it isn’t a fundamental truth, but that it is only a truth relative to the discrimination of a personality, which of course means, instead, it is, in fact, a falsehood, even if conditionally true. So falsifiability is only applicable to illusion, which can’t be said to represent the truth, due it’s illusory nature. To falsify is to point outwards, and just by pointing outwards, the game is already lost. Falsifiability is reserved for contextual bullshit. It doesn’t apply towards anything that could actually be true. The actual truth renders falsification impotent. One cannot falsify that which cannot be denied under any circumstances. And arguments based in abstraction soup are not legitimate as denials of reality.

Then there’s Nietzsche’s 'Perspectivism’, which is basically his own brand of relativism, and is hardly profound; as, this mindset leads one to form identifiers with the persona, instead of that which gives a persona it’s context. And what, may I ask, was Nietzsche’s assertion that: 'what makes a person great is the very act of valuing itself rather then the content of any value’, based on?… other then his own naive acceptance of his own previous notions and fallacies concerning materialism? So, it doesn’t wash...

It can’t be avoided, if lucid awareness is to set the mind free from it’s bondage: Your true nature is empty. Point blank. The essence of what you are is not represented in any manifestation of form. It’s an impact that shatters your delusion… and that may turn your world upside down… but you are expected to get through the existential crisis as a rite of passage. A master does not earn his robes by crying over the loss of his attachments. A master sacrifices his attachments for the sake of the truth… and then takes possession of nothing when the abundance becomes overflowing.

The circumstances of absurdism can be perilous if not navigated with caution. Set the course to the heart of the truth and refuse any distractions. This is where nihilism can be employed for survival. Nihilism isn’t pessimism… nor a detrimental negation of a positive value for the sake of destruction. Nihilism is there to be used as a TOOL by an existential explorer. It is a mighty sword that cuts down lies and falsehoods, liberating the mind by cutting it free from the many ropes that have previously always kept it tied down. By doing this we make room for solipsism, finally creating the space necessary to facilitate intimacy with the truth. The truth of the empty self. If the implications of the empty self are a source of anxiety, it means there is still work to be done in lucidity. Accepting the empty self unconditionally does not mean the end of value, purpose, meaning or narrative. Accepting the empty self unconditionally opens the doorway towards authentic existentialism.

Existentialism is the peace after the existential crises. It’s a newfound liberation after the burden has become lifted. Having survived this battle, you come to eventually see that this wasn’t the end of value, purpose, meaning and narrative, but really only just the beginning! That in fact, value, purpose, meaning and narrative have really only just begun, but are now intrinsic: with a fresh understanding that the author of all these aspects is not objective… and that the source of all these applications is the ultimate emptiness within. So the real question that should be asked at this point is: why is the fact that these aspects are subjective, a source of anxiety? Embrace it, as it is, unconditionally. There’s no shame in the fact that you are making this whole fucking thing up as you go along. Run with it. Let go of the stigma you have associated with the interconnectivity of illusion and the mind.

[unexpected-absquatulate-blog]

A BEGINNING OF GENUINE LOVE HAS NO END.

Today I witnessed my father breakdown in tears when I discussed with him my disconnection with western society as a result of my mental health and the stigma due to my differences between someone who is not marginalised to the same degree I am. I was the most honest with him that I have ever been this afternoon and the fact he started crying over the thought of my suicide attempts was something that has really touched me because at the root of my problems I always thought I never had a strong male influence (not that this is always vital but for me I was raised as if I missed something) as a child besides my poppy who passed away before I could mature with an opinion of my own. Yet now, looking back my dad was there as much as he could be and is always here for me in the present which is and has always been enough.

My dad apologised for not being there for most of my mid-childhood which is an exceptionally important developmental stage for every person. This realisation has really filled a void inside of me, I really believe now that this wasn’t my dad’s fault but a societal flaw. A societal flaw that the West says we must dismiss our own emotions in order to move forward and put an end to relationships purely because of a lack of communication and the issues that manifest as a result. The flaw is the fact we should not dismiss our emotions but communicate them with honesty to the people we love and love us but must be reciprocated to assure a fulfilling relationship. The separation of my parents was caused by the inability to communicate issues in the present which bottled to a bigger reaction in the future than small lessons along the line that my parents could have learnt from each other. A weak structure led to an unhealthy relationship and an inevitable separation. Separation can be prevented when this sort of flaw is acknowledged and discontinued when both individuals accept there MUST be a fair say and an equal amount of communication contributed between the two when conflict arises.

I do not and will not ever believe in beginnings and endings because I thought the separation of my parents would cause an ending between the relationship I have with my father to ever flourish, yet it truly has not. I thought he left me for good and now that I am a 17-year-old it would be too late for my father and I to reconnect yet we do every time we come together and focus on love above all. I love my dad, not just because he is my biological parent but because he makes me feel worthy of existing and has taught me countless lessons and proved his dedication to supporting me emotionally. He has never had any ounce of intent to make my life difficult, all he wanted was to be there for me when he could not. If someone in your life has the intent to hurt you, cut them out until perhaps they can recall their own wrong and swiftly show you their genuine intent instead. Do not cut out loved ones and end relationships that may have flaws which can be fixed and used as lessons to end and resolve possibilities of further conflict.

You can fix a relationship on the basis of effort seen from action and if that person who has hurt you comes back with confidence in themselves they will always stay loyal to their words and if there is truly no evidence of positivity, it may just not have worked in the beginning and it might not have ever began at all. There would be no reason for someone to follow another after a breakdown in a relationship if they did not want resolution and see the chance of resolution. The separation of my parents has stayed true to this very day as they both admitted love was lost and there was absolutely no resolution but for my mother to take care of me instead of my father. If two people love each other and show kindness more than conflict there is no means to an end, and if an end is forced it will always begin again. If two people agree to an end, it can be an end but that is not an organic ending, losing love truly is only the end, from my perspective.

I never lost love for my dad, that is why I am willing to move on from his mistakes and inability to “be there”. I will not shut him out nor will I believe that that decision would ever resolve my pain caused from his absence. The love he shows me mends my uncertainty. The same goes for my mother, as I am her world and she proves that everyday and even though we may drift, our love for one another always unites us and we forgive each other. This goes the same for any love not just platonic, romantic too. My words truly make sense now from this hindsight. I have not lost love for my romantic interest and he has not lost love for me, that is why I am hopeful. I will know if love is lost if he ends the prospect of us ever working, yet again I will state that is not organic and no matter what I believe we would still be bound together again.

Although, he might have lost love. So I can only wait and see what happens by tomorrow. I do have faith because I know he is my soulmate, since I have seen his pure dedication to be in my life.

An example of an ending for me was when I was sexually abused and the perpetrator never loved me enough to apologise nor own up for a heinous act they committed. That is why my short term love and trust for them ended and I am scarred but not in pain anymore because I began again.

See the contrast and comparison? Love can unite. Beginnings and endings are immeasurable. We are reborn and with forgiveness we can SEE through the conflict and come to a sensible conclusion and resolution in the end.

When I was fighting for my life as a newborn my dad told me, “I don’t care what you do, just breathe.” Dedication radiates.