#And instilled with the love for that responsibility that a caretaker should have like it was my foretold heroic destiny

[thaylepo]

The panic was legitimate. The ozone layer was noticeably deteriorating within a few decades of the introduction of freon* refrigerants. The compound was developed in 1930. The Montreal Protocol was in 1987, and a total worldwide ban on the compound wasn't until 2010. In the span of less than a century, we nearly destroyed our planet's atmospheric protection layer, a thing that's been in place for billions of years before the first primate ever held a pointy stick.

The effect was noticed well before 1987. General Electric deliberately legally suppressed scientific efforts to show the damage dichlorodifluoromethane refrigerant was doing to the ozone layer. The amount of damage didn't have to be as severe as it was by 1987, and the compound was only discontinued by the companies producing it when they were forced to.

Let me make this clear. In the span of a single human lifetime, we nearly cooked our fucking planet, and the fuckers responsible had to be dragged kicking screaming throwing up away from the Money Button that was causing it. They fought it every step of the way with every bit of dirty money and underhanded tactics to wring every drop of profit they could out of endangering literally every living thing on god's fucking green earth.

Tim Harford and the Cautionary Tales podcast did a very succint episode on this whole debacle, which explains everything in simple, chilling detail. I highly recommend, if you have time in your day to be equal parts horrified and blindingly outraged:

We don't talk about the ozone depletion as much now, because in the last 40 years since the Montreal Protocol and especially the 15 since the Kyoto Protocol, a lot of that damage has recovered and continues to do so. Now that the US had pulled out of the Kyoto Protocol, keep an ear out and see if we don't start becoming concerned about it again.

It's not a "trend" topic, we all just breathed a collective sigh of relief at averting an extinction level event of our own making, and turned some of our efforts to other crises that needed averting. Because there's always something, huh.

"Freon" is a brand name that was previously applied to dichlorodifluoromethane or Freon-12, CFC-12, or R-12, which causes rapid ozone depletion and were banned by the Montreal Protocol. The trademark "Freon" is now applied to some of the hydrofluorocarbon compounds that replaced it, which are allowed but regulated under the Kyoto Protocol as they do cause a slower depletion of ozone. You'll still see "freon" used in new products, but production of Freon-12 specifically is banned worldwide.

[clovermarigold]

Smoke & Ice Head cannons and facts

Small facts and characteristics that are cannon to my fic, Smoke & Ice. Please note I do not claim any of these to be cannon to the MK franchise!

Don't worry I won't do any woobifying.

Also note after finishing this, I should have named this Angst angst and more angst

pt.2 pt.3

Calla has actually never been in a relationship because she always felt responsible for the Mangrove and like their parents/caretaker/sibling, even when they were around her age. (#oldest daughter vibes)

Bi han grew up with a different side of his father compared to his siblings. I head cannon that he probably learned his assholery from his father when he was younger. But he grew as a person as he had more kids.

Thats also why I think Bi han has both his evident hate and some internalized hate for Smoke. Because he's jealous of how soft and easy he went on him. (#oldest son vibes). This coldness and quiet resentment are also why he is TERRIBLE with children. He will seriously treat them like whole ass adults.

Calla: Go on. Talk to him

Bi han: ...Wanna beer?

Calla: NO!

Smoke on the other hand, is amazing with children. He didn't have a lot of interactions or experience with children, but that didn't stop him from being really good at it. Kids are really good at vibe checks, they can tell.

Smoke tends to hyper analyze and feel guilty after being around the children however, because he feels like he's projecting his memories of his sister onto them.

Smoke despite having MAJOR trauma has a habit of minimalizing it and brushing it off. Which infuriates Kuai Liang to no end.

Kuai Liang is the middle child that acts like the eldest. He got a glimpse to the kind of man their father was, since he's not that much younger than Bi han. But he was one of the first things to inspire their father to grow as a person.

Despite being the middle child, and the brother Bi han hates the least. It's usually Smoke who is the mediator between the two brothers.

The three brothers have vastly different relationships with their parents.

Bi han was an absolute mama's boy. He was always closer to his mom since she was the only person he would accept kindness, love, and even pity from. The day she died was when he truly became the Bi han we all know today. He had a terrible relationship with his father. Due to being put through grueling training when he was younger, as well and having the Lin Kuei's greatness instilled in his mind. Only to watch his father change and abandon this ideology as he aged. To him, any attack to his values is an attack on him.

Kuai Liang on the other hand unfortunately suffered from middle child syndrome. Often not being prioritized due to his mother's focus on Bi han, as well as his father's priority on training Bi han to lead, and later favoritism of Tomas. This neglect is what made him easily the most independent of bunch in their youth. Though this did change after the loss of their mother, which left Bi han to be the most independent and cold.

Smoke, however, is a more complicated matter. While he is undoubtably a daddy's boy. Due to his lack of a present birth father growing up and being taken in by him. His relationship with their mother is difficult. In no way does he dislike or have any problems with her. He just can't bring himself to truly see her as his mom. After watching the death of his true mother and sister, Tomas inherited a number of mental issues that the Lin Kuei never truly bothered to address. The loss of his twin sister made him incredibly clingy and reliant on his brothers, but the loss of his mother left him feeling guilty any time he tried to bond with his adoptive one.

Johhny cage has MAJOR daddy issues and minor mommy issues. Based on character interactions from both MK11 & MK1, we can deduce that he was an asshole. His dad switched between emotionally abusive and absent all together.

While he absolutely adores and loves his mom for being the parent who stayed and raised him, it didn't change the fact that she gave mostly tough love, being a cop and a single mother of two. (His brother who is said to be an asshole though we don't know the extent)

Movies were his main escape from his shitty home life and social life. I decided to keep his characteristics from Mortal Kombat Cage Match, being that he was bullied as a kid. Both by classmates and his brother. As a result, he absolutely loathes bullies, and is fully down to beat the shit out of any adult or minor that bullies any future kids of his, nephews, nieces, or just friend's.

When recreating the timeline, Liu Kang had to decide what to do with the children of Kronica and whether or not to include them in it.

I don't have a canon decision of Shinnok, since we won't be focusing on that in the story, and it'll probably be explained in future games. But Cetrion is a different story.

Cetrion was made to be a caretaker of the earth realm and its life. However, after falling in love with a mortal, was granted permission by Liu Kang to live among them as a mortal.

Their children would eventually become the dryad and subsequentially the Hamadryad, which is why they do not exist in any other previous timelines. It is also why Cetrion was able to become mortal without abandoning her duties. By creating a clan tasked with her previous role.

Anyways! Hope you enjoyed my "Head cannons". Have some tissues on your way out, I know I needed them.

Tag list

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

@whore-of-many-hot-men

@cherryblossomly

[aeb-envs3000-w22]

Myself as a Nature Interpreter

Taking care of the environment around you is a key ethic of mine in everything I do. The quote “take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints” is one that I have always followed in life, and is one that I hope to bring into my future endeavours as a nature interpreter. This quote is often credited to either Sir Robert Baden-Powell or John Muir of the National Park Service. However, the actual source of the quote is unknown at this point in time. If I were to adjust this quote, I would encourage others to “take nothing but memories and knowledge, leave nothing but footprints and improvements”. I have always been taught to leave the world better than you found it, and I want to instill this idea in those I interact with.

Sir Robert Baden-Powell was the founder of Boy Scouts and the co-founder of Girl Scouts alongside his sister Agnes. Prior to this, he was a military man who fought in Africa. Upon his return, he found out that some of the handbooks he had designed for soldiers were being used to teach young men and boys about the wilderness, which became the roots of Scouting as it is known today.

John Muir was fascinated by the interconnectedness of nature. He had a passion for educating and inspiring others to care for nature as much as he did. As noted in the textbook, Muir was well-known for his sentiment that nature has intrinsic value, beyond the value it holds for humankind; this is a sentiment that I myself also share.

Personally, I feel that my views and values around sharing nature with others align with some of the perspectives of these individuals, which is part of why I love this quote so much. However, I want to make it clear that I do not view either of these individuals as role models – I could never look up to someone who has expressed homophobic or racist views towards others. In my opinion, regardless of the time period and of what was deemed ‘acceptable’ at the time, everyone should feel welcome to enjoy and explore nature – it should not be gatekept from those with unique identities. One cannot claim to care for nature and yet disrespect Indigenous people, who are the original caretakers of this land. If you truly care about preserving nature, then everyone’s attempts to do so should be welcomed and valued. Nature is not property – it belongs to everyone equally.

As an interpreter, I have the responsibility of teaching others that every action has a consequence, whether it be good or bad. This could be in reference to their own actions, to the actions of humans as a whole, or to the actions of nature itself. Predators pursuing prey, increases in global warming, pollution – everything impacts the balance of nature in some way. Some things can be rebalanced, like the population dynamics between predators and prey; others, like water pollution, are much harder to counteract and rebalance. This does not mean that I will discourage people from interacting with nature; I will simply help them to understand the impacts so they can make informed decisions about what they do.

My main belief when it comes to nature interpretation is that no one knows everything, but everyone knows something. As discussed throughout the textbook and this course, everyone comes from a unique background and has their own experiences; therefore, there is always room to learn from new perspectives. Learning from others makes me a better interpreter, and allows my audience to gain insights they did not previously have.

As a young female in STEM, I feel that my best approach to interpretation would involve treating others as equals. While I may posses knowledge that they do not, there is no other power dynamic that puts me above them. I aim to create an environment that is conducive to learning for all. My approach also involves being inclusive to all that enter my programs, regardless of age, gender, ethnicity, or ability. All of these aspects play a role in how my audience and I see the world, but they are not barriers. I like to think of them as different glasses a person wears. They alter your views and mindset but beauty is still seen, even if it is different than the person next to you.

In conclusion, my view on nature interpretation is that everyone is welcome and everyone has something to contribute. Learning from and protecting the environment are everyone’s responsibilities.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/newsround/53006178

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Robert-Stephenson-Smyth-Baden-Powell-1st-Baron-Baden-Powell

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/sierra-club-muir-racism-board-vote_n_619548aae4b0f398aeff3677

https://www.johnmuirtrust.org/about-us/about-john-muir

https://yourmileagemayvary.net/2020/01/17/the-iconic-tourist-destination-that-youre-not-allowed-to-take-a-picture-of/

[cryingyetcourageous]

From the moment Peter began explaining the strains of parenthood - the exhaustion, the responsibility, the gag-worthy messes - he began to smile. It was small at first, a little unsynchronized twitch at both corners, one ever so slightly after the other as though his face stumbled over the reaction, but as he kept going and Raivis saw where his little rant was heading, it only grew.

Perfect. All children were. The most human thing in the world was to protect children, to see to it that the next generation was safe. Cultures differed in their approaches to how best to ensure their safety, whether to teach them about the world or shield them from it, whether to instill ethics and discipline early on or offer the space to develop one's own sense of direction, over how much to tell them: endless were the ways in which people could argue about parenting, but it all came down to a deep-seated, primal drive to nurture.

And Peter would. Raivis had full faith in him. He didn't shy away from the less-than-pleasant bits, but rather relished in them. He embraced the struggle of meeting the needs of a little one who did not yet have a way to express herself beyond making sounds and faces. He practically glowed, in Raivis's eyes, as he spoke of it all. Through this tiny new life, he found a new life of his own. His love for Sadaf radiated and warmed Raivis to his core.

Well, mostly. There was still part of him, deep down, that panged with an icy sort of ache. One was more lukewarm, in a sense, and that was the acknowledgment that Peter was growing up. How could he be so proud of him yet so desperately wishing to turn back time? There was a little boy in a sailor suit, the one that he could dote on and fret over, one that he could joke with and teach, one that he could take care of before a certain Swede stepped in and filled all caretaking roles. That boy now sat beside him, towering over him like everyone else did, starting a family of his own, embracing his coming mortality. How did it change so quickly? Why did decades have to feel like months? He was proud of him and it hurt.

The other was selfish. Perhaps the first was selfish, too - longing for days when Peter was little despite knowing full well that he was happy now - but it was selfish in a different way. Part of him, beneath all the joy and pride and warmth, wondered why it couldn't be him. Everyone aged past him. Nations half his age outpaced him and treated him like a kid, those who had once been his peers moved on. To say he wanted to be a father, given how he looked, would sound ridiculous. Was that part of why he clung so closely to Peter in the first place? He called himself a 'big brother', but was that only because the alternative would have been laughed at?

...It didn't matter. Even his insistence on being a big brother probably came across as laughable or outright condescending, to humor himself into believing he in any way had a right to be a guiding older figure in Peter's life at this point, that someone stuck as a teen had any right to give advice or reassurance to a full grown man. Besides, what kind of "brother" didn't know he had a "niece"?

And that was why, when Peter offered to let Raivis meet her, he was floored. "Y... You mean it?" he asked. It was only video call, sure, but that was still a massive leap from accidentally seeing pictures on a phone, especially when he wasn't supposed to know she existed in the first place. Jumping on the offer was the first instinct, but it was ignored in favor of skepticism.

"Are you sure it's okay?" he asked slowly, shifting in his seat to find an outlet for the pounding in his chest. He should take the chance, leap for the opportunity to meet her and be part of her life, because that was what he wanted, but "I-If... If I see her, I'm going to get attached." A gentle warning in a soft voice, barely more than a whisper. If he saw her now, interacted with her through the screen, and then wasn't allowed to be part of her life? It would fuck with his head. She was too young to remember him, but Raivis would undoubtedly remember her.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. It didn't matter what he wanted right now when it would only complicate things in the long run. "Are y-you certain you want her to know me? I don't, um - you have this whole thing planned, and if I ruin it, or if I..." He trailed off. 'The only ones even close to stable are my fathers and uncles.' That was what Peter said, and he could hardly disagree. Did he really want Raivis in her life to be a bad influence and another added stress?

"I want to meet her. I want to meet her very badly," he said, hand curling into a fist over his chest, "but I also want to be sure that you really, truly want me to. If I meet her, I... I would want to be a part of her life for the long run, y-you know?"

At this point, Peter was no longer going to let his guard down in this apartment until he left, because clearly Raivis wanted to push this issue, no matter how much he tried to cover it by coddling Peter. Or how much emotional damage he was willing to take to push a matter that didn't need pushing. He has to be a glutton for punishment, Peter mused, wondering how much of that was a joke.

“Oh, I’d tell her about them," Peter said plainly. It was yet another thing Peter had thought about as he plotted his and Sadaf's "escape" from this life. "I mean, as ideal as it would be to hide every single aspect of this existence from her, I know that she'd pick up on immortals existing eventually. Especially since it's damn near impossible that her family will become mortal in her lifetime." Of this airtight plan Peter had of entering a human life with his daughter and leaving no trace of their immortality, this aspect was the only one Peter would allow some leeway. "It would simply be like any other mortal being close enough to know about the existence of their type. "There are plenty of humans who are close to you nations to know of immortals' existence, right? It won't be any different for her if I told her that her granddad is an immortal who got bored and wanted to raise a couple kids."

And that was the beauty of micronationhood, that Peter had realized too late, but had finally realized nonetheless: it can be thrown away. Nothing, micronations especially, is permanent. Sure, maybe some of the conventions of a micronation falling is the same as a full nation, that the government has to fall and the land annexed or totally cleared of inhabitants, but all Sealand would need for that is its princes dropping this fort like a kid selling his trading cards or a magic kit collecting dust in a closet. It was easy for Peter to be detached because, really, what else was there to Sealand?

Forget being kicked out of the table or turned away at the door for not being a real nation; forget constantly being mocked or, worse, being humored while patted on the head; forget being put in the back of his birth family's mind half the time until they needed some amusement. Sealand simply had outlived its purpose. No war was being fought that Sealand could be used in, nor was there any illegal radio that needed broadcasting after the advent of podcasts. The royal family had no plans to renovate Sealand into a "floating" city when sea levels climbed too high and made most of the land uninhabitable, so there was another avenue closed to them. The only purpose the fort had now was to keep Sadaf alive long enough to get stronger. And when it seems safe enough, they can leave. They can leave all the nonsense behind like Hutt River and Niko, and Peter can finally have the human life he so desperately craved.

The detachment came with hope.

So, Peter wanted desperately, through his smoldering frustration, to assure Raivis that there was nothing to worry about, but with the way the conversation had gone to shit so far, Peter was certain his friend would take it the wrong way. Besides, there was more important stuff to talk about.

"It's tiring!" Peter laughed, throwing his hands in the air. "Oh, god, feedings all day, diapers all night, crying every hour on the hour because she doesn't know how to pass gas on her own yet. And when I do change diapers, I don't know if I'm gonna get an easy clean or the grossest, nastiest, soupiest diaper known to man. She cries if I make the bath too hot, she cries if I make the bath too cold, and she cries if I make the bath just right but she needs to voice an opinion, anyway.

"And I love every minute of it." Peter leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. He stared off across the room, smiling to himself. "Every day that I have her, I find something new to love about her. I love the funny faces she makes when she's trying to pass gas or try to voice her discontent. I love how her cheeks get rosy like mine when she giggles, and her toothless little smile. I love watching her sleep, and feeling the peaceful dreams she has because she knows that I and her mother are there to keep her safe. And her fingers and toes! They're too small, because she's too small, but they're so... perfect."

He lifted a hand, only to let it fall back down on his lap. "She's so... perfect."

And there it was: a way for Peter to squash this whole talk of keeping this awful secret away from his child. He looked over to Raivis. "I'm supposed to be having a video call with her in a while. Do you want to meet her?" What harm was there, since Raivis knew about her now?

[waterrtribe]

just here to let u kno i would Love to hear ur thoughts on katara as the mom friend 👉🏻👈🏻

lksdjfklsdfj okay disclaimer: i’m not very articulate so i don’t have a full coherent Thought about this so get ready for some word vomit and a scary glimpse of the disconnected thoughts in my brain. i promise, what i lack in coherency i make up for with my love and passion for this show and for katara herself. also this got long so...bear with me. 

i’ll start off by saying that i think about the episode The Runaway a lot. It’s the one where Katara and Toph get into it about how Katara tries to mother them all the time. at one point sokka explains that their mother died when they were so young that in his mind, Katara basically took over Kya’s place. he said something along the lines of, “when i try to picture our mother’s face, i just see katara’s,” a line which still makes me very emotional every time i watch.

anyway, i see katara being The Mom Friend with sokka, with aang, with toph, and it’s very sweet!! i love the Gaang’s dynamics and how much they all love and support each other. still, i can’t help but feel kind of....indignant on katara’s behalf?

i think it’s because i’m older now, so i’m just hyperaware of these characters’ ages. when i was watching this show in 2007 i didn’t understand quite as much. all of the weight of their trauma and responsibility really hits me harder now. so i see the rest of the gaang get to act like their age a lot of the time and just be able to be Kids (as they should!!), but with katara, it seemed to me like she gets to do so less than the rest of the gaang.

i know we can say “well that’s just because she’s the mom friend and it’s part of her personality.” still, i can’t help but focus on the fact that the reason katara is The Mom Friend in the first place is because of a combination of her mother dying at such a young age and her having to step up to fulfill that role plus the general gender roles instilled in her while growing up. i think i’ve seen some posts floating around that mention how sokka and katara ended up adhering to more traditional gender roles because sokka had to fill his father’s shoes after he went off to war and katara had to fill her mother’s after she died. so going off of that, sokka and katara both bear responsibilities and pressures that they shouldn’t have to when they’re just children.

there’s still a difference between the two, however. sokka is still a very goofy, fun-loving character who can make cheesy jokes and get into all sorts of hijinks. he’s allowed to be childish, and it’s fun to watch him be childish. katara, on the other hand, always has to be the mature and levelheaded one. when i think about this contrast, i think about The Desert episode from book 2. they’re wandering the desert and katara is the one keeping them on track. aang, of course, has his own worries about appa being taken, and toph is unable to navigate the desert very well because she’s not used to moving in the sand. that leaves sokka and katara to lead the way. but then, sokka drinks the cactus juice. don’t get me wrong--i’m aware that whole bit was comic relief and adds levity in a very emotionally heavy episode, and i love it a lot! but i still can’t help but notice that sokka is the oldest, and he’s the one whose character arc is about growing into the strong leader that he becomes in book 3. yet, katara is the one leading the way here while sokka’s allowed to check out and be our comic relief. katara’s never really allowed to let loose in the same way.

i can think of two instances where she’s allowed to let loose a little and both of them end up with her facing serious repercussions for them. there’s the part in the first episode when she goes penguin sledding with aang and she’s enjoying herself and she says, “i haven’t done this since i was a kid!” and aang replied, “you still are a kid!” which is so telling (also this reminds me of when aang basically had the same exchange with zuko later but this post is long enough without me talking about zuko lol). katara hasn’t really been able to be a kid since her mom died. and when she allows herself to be one in this scene, she and aang end up accidentally setting off a booby trap from an abandoned fire navy ship which lights up a flare that leads zuko to her village. the other instance is in the episode i mentioned earlier, the Runaway, where katara wants to have fun with Toph and pull a scam with her in an effort to stop being The Mom Friend and just be A Friend, and that ends with them being arrested. even when it was her turn to pick a vacation spot in the library episode, she picked the misty palms oasis because it sounded relaxing, but that didn’t even go the way she wanted it to because the oasis was no longer an oasis. there are so many times where katara wants to just be a kid and relax, and the narrative seems to almost punish her for it.

(quick note: i can think of some moments where katara isn’t necessarily levelheaded and is impulsive and that’s in the cases when she’s actively trying to fight to protect and help people in need, which still kind of proves my point because she’s not impulsive for herself and for the sake of acting her own age; it’s to fight oppression and injustice. and that’s not childish at all.)

this extremely long ramble brings me to my Thought about how katara is a perfect example about how quickly we expect young girls, especially brown girls, to grow up. katara is a kid just like the rest of them. she’s a powerful warrior just like the rest of them. she is a war hero just like the rest of them. but she also has to be the The Mom Friend. and i think, despite the fact that she’s able to fight the gender roles forced on her by becoming a warrior, she’s unable to escape them entirely. this isn’t to say she can’t enjoy being the caretaker and being the mom friend, but that doesn’t change the fact the writers wrote her that way in the first place.

that also leads to my dissatisfaction with katara’s life post-atla. it seemed to me that despite all of katara’s power, her accomplishments, and her drive to fight for what she believes in, ultimately, motherhood prevails. this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. i’m sure katara loves being a mom!! she’d be great at it!! and there is nothing wrong with a woman who wants to be a mother and only a mother!! nonetheless, from a narrative standpoint i can’t help but resent bryke a little for making it so.

i’ve had conversations about this and people have mentioned that the legend of korra is a show that should stand on its own so the less amount of contact with atla characters, the better, and i agree to some extent. but what strikes me is that they brought in zuko to participate in the action at one point. toph shows up as well to help her family. but we get very few interactions with katara as anything other than a healer, a wife, a mother, and a grandmother. that doesn’t sit right with me.

i can’t help but think about the episodes in the legend of korra season 1 when they’re dealing with Yakone, the bloodbender. katara doesn’t really come up at all even though the episode introducing bloodbending, the Puppetmaster, was one of the big katara-centric episodes. at one point toph mentions that katara hasn’t joined in on the action because she’s old and tired, so she’s ready to leave these things to the young ones. but even in the flashbacks to Yakone’s trial, sokka, toph, and aang are all there, and katara isn’t. you would think that when faced with a bloodbending enemy, katara would be there, but she’s nowhere to be seen. that will always bother me.

anyway, my point is that katara is the embodiment of what we want young girls to be. we want them to be mothers. we want them to be caretakers. we want them to act like grown women, and we punish them when they don’t. katara is The Mom Friend because she stopped being a child when her mother died. that’s why katara always talks about her mother’s death and why it had such a huge impact on her. when kya died, katara took over her role as a mother for her entire village and for her friends and later, for her own family. katara became a mother as soon as her own died. kya’s death forced katara into womanhood. kya’s death marked the death of her girlhood. kya’s death is when Katara became the Mom Friend.

i just really wish that the narrative gave katara more chances to be a child again and recover her lost girlhood just for a little while.

so yeah. those are my thoughts on katara as the mom friend. i hope this was satisfying in some way if u managed to get through this whole thing 😭 

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

17. A Song About Simon

Word Count: 4369. I don’t think that there’s any triggers in here besides the fact that Grace is still in the institution (which will be maybe another chapter or two, depending on how writing goes), and her and Hazel’s issues from previous chapters. I just want to announce here, like I’ve already told fandom familiars... I do not hold any of you to trying to read this story or any story that I may write. I do appreciate if someone reads, but I also understand that everything is not for everybody, I’m not for everybody, and my work isn’t either. At no time do I feel entitled to your reading and nobody should feel pressured to try to read anything that I write. I will love to hear from y’all and know that you enjoy reading, but if you can’t or don’t, that is your right, Folks. This is an ugly story with ugly content and hard topics, but even if it wasn’t, you still wouldn’t have to read, review, or reblog. I just want to make that clear for those of you in my space. Thanks for your time.

Previous

Whenever she first arrived, she was scared to get the help that she knew she needed. She always thought about how her parents had shot down the idea of it whenever her old driver was concerned. How they seemed to feel like it would mean that the work that they put into her as parents would be ruined if she needed mental help. Then, she would think about her 16th birthday, when her mother said that maybe he was right… the way it felt like her mother was saying that at that moment, she knew that Grace was a waste. “You’ll regret it…” her voice echoed in Grace’s mind. “If only someone had warned you…” The last day that she saw her. 

Months had passed. Her parents didn’t even visit. Someone still controlled her social media. Because videos of her singing at the facility and captions insisting that she was getting the help she needed would show up. Grace didn’t know who was responsible for that, at the time, but all of the comments were disabled on all of her accounts. She didn’t want to imagine what people would have to say about her trying to recover.

Eventually, she warmed up to her doctor and the staff. She warmed up to her treatment, to the fact that she had to get better before anybody would let her go anywhere. Her goals became forgiving Simon, accepting responsibility for the things that she did and potentially reaching out to him to suggest that he try to get help as well. She knew that the first and last ones would be the hardest for her, so focusing more on self growth and accountability became her brand of help, at the moment. At least, she went through the motions.

Some days were better than others. Sometimes, she got onto the computer in the library and searched his name. He seemed like he was doing fine, in terminology, but he didn’t look great. That was a lie. He looked great. He was a little more muscular and his hair had grown out. He looked like maybe he had tattoos, though she couldn’t see what. But, he didn’t look happy. Good, she told herself. Even if she wondered in the back of her mind if that was an accurate observation, wishful thinking or unconditional love causing her to worry. Sometimes, she checked his social media pages to see what he was talking about. 

She watched him receive badges, be crowned prom king, be valedictorian, travel to go to MIT… He really seemed like nothing was bothering him. He had thrown her to the wolves and just smoothly carried on… She would always be mad all over again, that he didn’t even care. It wasn’t even everything that he did to her! It was… but more importantly, it was the fact that he was able to do it and live like it was nothing to him. 

But, that usually made for a very progressive therapy day, and a productive music session. She’d asked her caregiver about the posts on her social media. That was who she eventually found out was responsible for curating the content during her stay in here. “What about my rights?” Grace wondered. She had been creating a lot lately and whenever something got posted, she didn’t know the copyright status or anything legal pertaining to her very personal art! 

“Your team takes care of all of the details like that. I basically just post and properly word updates about your healing process and progress. Your team decides which posts to make public or private. (I always post them privately, and sometimes someone comes in later to make things public).”

“It just doesn’t seem fair. I’m being my most authentic self, trying to be my best self and things that I use to get there are now being subjected to my mother and her team of handlers for me.”

“I can’t speak on feelings about it, but as of right now, you are still a minor and still in our care. That means that your welfare and decisions are decided by your parents, who are your legal guardians and us, who you’re a ward of. Whenever you turn 18, if you are mentally capable enough, you will be able to have more control over that type of thing.”

“I’m 18 pretty soon! But… mentally capable… I mean… I feel like I’m mentally capable enough to discuss my legal rights to my art, but I don’t know if I’m capable of like… rejoining society…”

“Well, whenever you do turn 18, we’ll talk about how you’re feeling and assess what you’re capable of. In the meantime, you can always tell me if there’s something that you just want to keep for you, and I promise, I won’t post it. But, your music and the fact that you’re creating in here is inspiring a lot of young people struggling with mental illness and it is warming people up to you since the scandal that led to you being here.”

“I… don’t care about those people right now. I just… want to heal and create.” 

“Fair enough.”

Stingray Lyrics

You were burrowed in the sand.

I didn't know that you were there.

I reached out my hand, 

only to connect with someone…

But you weren't prepared for my touch.

You didn't know that I would never hurt you.

I dug in a little too much,

And in your startled state you made me regret it.

Like a stingray, you were so cute.

Just living life, just doing you.

But I had to reach for something else, I HAD to have you for myself and it stung me.

Getting too close to you really stung me.

She scribbled the words down, humming the melody. She wasn’t sure if Simon was out there somewhere being bothered to even think about her, but if he was, she wanted him to have to see or hear things about himself.

There wasn’t sheet music in here, but she could use her notebook and sort of guess where the lines would be. She had requested sheet music weeks ago! She was trying to teach Hazel how to read music, too. They usually were able to spend time together twice a week. Technically, they weren’t assigned to the same areas, but one of the caretakers would always make an exception and help them to see each other, because they just seemed to be really good for each other. Neither of them had any other friends there. 

They weren’t antisocial, but they just only really clicked with each other, and Hazel had not been thinking she was a turtle nearly as much since she met Grace, and Grace’s almost entire first year there had been monotonous and for the most part stagnant until she met Hazel. Hazel seemed to make her want to be better, want to move forward on something other than the pendulum of attacking herself and defending herself for things she did and didn’t do. Hazel helped her to really seem to grasp empathy. 

.

They were stretching, silently, getting ready for the dance lessons that Grace would give her near the playground, during activity time. Grace was really quiet, with Hazel was singing to herself. Suddenly, she wondered, “Grace, did either of your parents sing to you when you were a child?”

Grace scoffed and shook her head, “No. Neither of my parents did any of the TV parent stuff. My dad was a lawyer, politician, and ambassador. My mom was a high paid performer turned model turned socialite, the daughter of someone just like my father. Most of their parenting was instilling a certain image on me, or having a nanny take me away if I didn’t quite fit the bill in time enough for guests or appearances.”

“What’s ‘appearances?’”

“It’s like when you have to go somewhere just to be seen. For my dad’s job, there were political or business meet and greets, sometimes charity functions, auctions and stuff like that, and at times it was simply an extremely elegant dinner party or some dignitary’s kid’s birthday event. My last birthday party was…” She frowned, thinking about how that night ended. The beginning of the end in her mind. She looked at the charm bracelet that she had managed to still never take off, despite everything. 

“Was what?” Hazel wondered.

“Too much. It was too much. I’ve always lived pretty extravagantly, but I think whenever I leave here, I might like to get an isolated place and sort of just live there with maybe a pet or something. I’m never going to have guests over for dinner parties or house any ambassadors.”

“Can I come over?” Hazel wondered, timidly.

“Yes! Of course, if your parents let you…”

“I’m never gonna have parents.”

“Hazel!” Grace called. The younger girl just shrugged her shoulders. Grace sputtered air out of her lips and shrugged too. “Well, who needs them, anyway?” 

Hazel threw her a look. “I do, Grace. I need them. I’m 6.”

Grace frowned. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re right. I have a really bad habit of saying whatever I think is gonna make people I care about feel better. It's one of the things that I need to work on. Of course you need parents. Every child needs parents… which is why I’ve gotta believe that you’ll get some! And whenever you do, they’ll hopefully let us be friends. We have a very big age gap, so I don’t know how comfortable they’ll be with you just coming over.” Hazel looked like she was thinking about something as she stared ahead, but she was still standing, so Grace figured she wasn’t a turtle right now. “Ready to learn our new hip hop routine?” Now, she blinked and looked at Grace with enthusiasm, nodding vigorously.

.

Making time to put together figures was hard, but Simon had all of his figures with him whenever he moved from his family house shortly after the clash with the void. The fame that he had risen to over his scandalous book deal and all of the allegations against it had gotten him a very comfortable situation. He was wealthy, in his own right, and schools that he might have needed Mr. Monroe to get into previously were no longer something to be dangled in front of his face. He actually missed the Monroes. Mrs. Monroe less than her husband, but both of them. They really weren’t as bad as she made them out to be. He believed that much. But… they belonged to her. He could have them on his side for a while, but not after all of this. He hated not having Mr. Monroe to bounce things off of. He’d sacrificed a mentor to get rid of the void. 

He had tried not to pull them into it, but eventually, the narrative began that her parents were using him, as well. That he was something to taper their wild-child and as soon as he stood up for himself was financially cut off. Mr. Monroe had been very public about the fact that unfortunately, they knew nothing of their daughter’s extreme condition until she viciously attacked her mother. Simon would have paid money to see that cat-fight. Simon felt bad for them, having lost their daughter to the void, so he withdrew accusations of the crimes, though several of them couldn’t be taken back, as the victims wanted to sue personally. But, the Monroes fared fine, after all of the settlements or wins. Simon wondered whatever happened to the charm bracelet, but he pushed that from his mind. 

He still carried the name The Apex, though many companies used that or had it in their name, so he couldn’t trademark it, but the general of his Apex was that if you were tagging The Apex, Simon Says was also there.

He took his book opportunity as his big chance to move forward with his other works. They didn’t sell as well, but he could say at 17 that he was a bestselling author for Free From Grace, and that by 18, he had published several books from throughout his adolescence and had a huge trilogy deal that he intended to have released by the time he was 20. 

Senior year in high school was a blast. He was worshiped and kids who had only held allegiance to him via the void either came around or were fun to alienate as nulls. Shana rose to popularity and the two of them continued their banter, a little will they won’t they brewing, as far as he was concerned. She got rid of her weave and replaced them with braids for going natural. Apparently, she was going to be going to an HBCU and she wanted to finally wear her hair “the way it was intended,” when she got there. It made her look ever more like Grace to him, despite the fact that Grace had never worn braids, only locs, and the full out afro she had whenever she left. 

Maybe he was just weakening again… missing her… “Hey, Shana - we should attend the prom together,” he said, as they sat across from each other at their desks in the newsroom.

She looked up at him with only her eyes, not lifting her head from her work, but he could still see the disdain in her eyebrows. “For what reason would I ever even consider something like that?” 

He laughed and leaned back in his seat. “We’re the apex of the student body.” She groaned at the word that she was BEYOND sick of hearing. “You’re the most popular girl in school now, and while not my equal, the best of what we have. We both know that you and I will be class favorites and prom king and queen. Might as well make an entire thing out of it.”

She raised her head now and he was confused by her expression, because it was still clearly disdainful. “Simon. I don’t care if I was going to win a cash prize of a million dollars. I would never even so much as think about attending anything with you. Thanks for asking.” She shook her head in disbelief and continued working.

“Why not? Did you not hear the reasons this works out perfectly?”

“I heard the reasons that you think I’m a status symbol that for whatever reason would actually want to be seen with you. They weren’t reasons that I would overlook who you are as a person and how I feel about you as such to put on some sort of publicity show for a bunch of kids that I’m never going to see again, because if I ever come to a class reunion, it would be to see if Grace showed up and how she’s doing.”

“Nothing that you said makes any sense. Me as a person? I…”

“You’re a bad person,” she said. He laughed, then stopped. Oh, she’s serious? “Simon… I, along with the entire student body watched you destroy a girl that we knew you were once like this with.” She crossed her fingers. “We watched you lie on her, make her out to be worse than she was, and bring her so low that she’s in an institution!”

“You hated Grace, and now you’ve taken her place as the boss bitch.”

“Grace and I did not get along. We argued. We dissed each other. We competed. We hurt each other. We were mean and nasty to each other, and even I can see that what you did to her was fucked up.”

“You didn’t try to stop me.”

“That’s not my business. But what IS my business is the company I keep. It would never be somebody who would turn on even his day 1. Nobody even would have cared about you if it wasn’t for Grace and I still to this day think that you’re the one who shared that video of you two. Your lost and found again laptop story was always corny to me.”

“You seemed to get a kick out of it at the time.”

“Yeah, of humiliation! She got a kick out of it whenever my father was arrested for white collar crime! Fucking with each other was our dynamic! But you were supposed to be the girl’s friend, and you didn’t just fuck with her, you fucked her up. Everybody thinks it’s so funny? They’re only amused because they’re scared that you might fuck them up too. If you did it to her, there’s no telling what you’d do. You’ve got people thinking that the old rumors are true..” He furrowed his eyebrows and glared at her. The old rumors. That he killed his sister. They were true, but it was an accident. “In short, I don’t care about any of your reasons. You asked me to prom. I decline. End of discussion.”

“So… you don’t like me anymore because I stood up to Grace, something you did all of the time. We’re on the same side now!”

She stared at him and for a moment, he saw fear. That wasn’t something that Shana showed very much. She cleared her throat and wondered, “When… When did it ever cross your mind that I would EVER like you, Simon? You have been a jerk the entire time that I’ve known you. When Grace and I were rivals, you were disgusting to me. You’ve called me out of my name, tried to tear me down about my looks and my family. Where in the world would you ever get an idea that I could possibly like you, even as just a person that I know of?”

“Because of our banter…”

“Arguing.”

“All of the flirting…”

“Clearly happened in your mind, but did not happen in mine.”

“The way that you always blush whenever we talk! I know what it looks like when somebody your skin tone blushes. I knew Grace like the back of my hand.”

“And you tossed her in the trash like nothing. I don’t like you. I have never liked you, and I have never BLUSHED when we talk. What you should know, as the young genius that everybody tries to make you out to be, because this is science related, biology, if you will… Is that what you’re describing as blushing, is actually heat rushing to one’s face. My heartbeat accelerates, I may even sweat a little as I get hot and my blood rushes. That’s not because I have a crush on you. It’s because you are one of the most infuriating people to have a conversation with. Because in addition to being a rude jackass, you are a delusional egotist. Every conversation I have with you makes me want to punch you in the face. And I know that if I do, they’ll toss my ass out of here and that will mess up me following my mother’s footsteps as a Spelman College Delta Sigma Theta! You, Simon Laurent have never been worth anything to me, certainly not my future. I’m sorry for Grace that she didn’t know that, but my parents raised me with the utmost love and confidence. I don’t need anybody like you to upgrade me, and I love myself too much to even entertain you as a friend. And my father, who you love to try to weaponize against me, after serving his time is still worth at least five times as much as yours…”

Simon threw over things from her desk and she jumped. His eyes went wide. He surprised himself with that outburst. Shana was moved for a moment, when she thought he was about to attack her, but when he didn’t, she got up. “Please pick up this mess, Simon. I will not mind reporting you for it.” She left the newsroom for a breather. Simon rushed to pick everything up before anybody else came in and wondered what happened, but a lot of Shana’s words cut him for a moment. She’s lying. Girls lie, he reminded himself as he picked things up from the floor. But, he wasn’t going to beg her to go out with him. She declined. Okay, whatever. He’d have been doing her a favor.

Sometimes, he thought about her words, though. Blushing because she was infuriated by him… That made sense after a while, especially when he conflated her with the void, who he knew never loved him. He and Shana were prom king and queen, but she declined dancing with him and said on the microphone, “We all know this is Grace Monroe’s sloppy seconds.” There was an uproar of laughter in his mind. 

Actually, only a few people laughed. Some looked shocked and horrified that Shana would make fun of who they believed to be an abuse survivor. Shana shrugged her shoulders like Kanye and doubled down, “You all know good and well that Grace never harmed a split ended hair on this boy’s head! She was as obsessed with him as he was with her. You’re all wild to go along with that narrative. You would never believe all that mess about a white girl..” The dean snatched the microphone from her and gave her some warning that the other students couldn’t hear. Simon was livid. He waited for her outside.

“Shana,” he said. Shana yelped in fear whenever she saw him at her car, then reached into her clutch for a weapon. She didn’t have much, but she did have a nail file. Whenever he came near her, she stuck him in the neck with it and he groaned. She set off her car alarm trying to get inside of the car before deactivating it and Simon just smiled at her as she did. Shana was driving and crying and that was the last time that Simon saw her. 

He was questioned about assaulting her in the parking lot, but informed them that he only wanted to talk to her about what she had said in front of everyone and that she actually assaulted him. Now… once, people might believe, and people might even have believed that Shana was entirely capable of it. But, most of the kids and staff knew that Shana was a mean girl, but never violent. The only physical exchanges she had were the ones with Grace Monroe and now Simon Laurent. She finished out the end of school how Grace had finished her junior year. Simon finished it out with people beginning to doubt some of his stories about Grace. But, that didn’t matter! 

He hated that school, those rich kids, the system that worked for them but made him work for it. He was on his way to becoming better than all of that. He still wanted to make time for his art - writing, photography, creating figures and scenes… but he had gotten really into the robotics program whenever he was in engineering and decided that was what he was going to focus his education on. MIT was his first choice and he had been accepted by the end of junior year. He got his small living space as close as he could, since he prepared on spending the bulk of his time enrolled. He knew that he was destined for greatness. 

But, sometimes, his social media would think he needed to see something, like today, when he opened a video of Grace, playing a piano at wherever the undisclosed facility she had been at was, singing something captioned as “Stingray,” and looking… beautiful. He watched it more times than he would ever admit. 

He opened his own treasure chest and pulled out images of her, them… things that he had made and just didn’t have the strength to destroy when he purged the void. He picked up a photo from the pumpkin patch, when they were 14. She had her tongue stuck out at him and he was blushing. It was one of his favorite photos of them. 

“You should take every photo of me, from now on!” She said, looking at her ones on her page that had gotten her the deal. “You always seem to make me look my absolute best in every photo you take of me. Like, you have a real eye for it.”

“I have an eye for you,” he corrected. “Two…” He blushed a lot. He hadn’t meant to say THAT.

“You’ve got eyes for me, Simon?” she teased, making him blush more and his heart rate speed up. And in the midst of him trying to collect himself, she grabbed on to him, pulled him into a hug and took another of her many selfies. She groaned, “I just can’t make any photos look as good as you can… but you’re adorable in this,” she said and showed it to him. “I’m putting this on my Christmas cards this year.” 

She didn’t lie about that. He tossed it back into the box and picked up the torn out foreword that she had written for his fantasy novel. He went through the entire box before locking it back up and throwing it into the trunk of his car. One day, he was going to find the strength to throw it in a river or burn it, or something. It’s just that… she was his entire world… for half of his life…

“And you tossed her in the trash like nothing,” he heard Shana’s voice say… or was it Grace’s voice? He was starting to forget it. Like… of course he knew what it sounded like, but his head couldn’t place it in the chorus of girls’ voices that haunted him: his sister, his mother, the void, Shana… Shana was interchangeable with the void. His brain kept trying to tie them together and perhaps that was why her words affected him. Or maybe it was because they sounded so true, when he knew that they couldn’t be. The Void betrayed him. He counterattacked. “Getting too close to you really stung me.” He heard her singing. Simon bit his lip, picked up his phone and took a deep breath before liking the Stingray post.

Next

[twitchesandstitches]

Rites of Passage Aboard the Fleet

(written some time ago, and may be out of date relative to more recent info; just go with whatever sounds better!)

The Endowed Fleet don’t have a uniform rite of passage into full adulthood; they’re too freeform to demand something as authoritarian as that. Every sub-set of the Fleet (ranging from individual splinter fleets, specific ships, worlds and regions, all with thier own particular cultural flavor and attitudes, to say nothing of the influence individual clans may have on all that) has their own rite of passage, assuming they have one at all.

However there is one universal aspect, and that is the ritual of giving someone their first superpower. Every member of the Fleet has at least one notable superpower that forms the basis of all other abilities they might gain; for example, those with consuming or pregnancy-themed abilities will have those powers relate to this first power in some way.

In the event of a fledgeling who already has powers of their own, such as human mutants, this process instead amplifies them to an extreme degree, effectively giving them immense potential they otherwise would not be able to use. Someone who can control an element but not create it may develop a mutation that produces it from their body, for example.

It is important to note that a superpower is defined here as an ability not native for the species of physiology; for example, a human’s ability to sweat and regulate body temperature (thus enabling impressive stamina by Earth-based standards) would not be considered such, while the aquatic adaptations of a violet or fuchsia-blooded troll would also not qualify. Amplifying these abilities to super degrees WOULD qualify, such as given a human superhuman stamina and regeneration, or a troll enhanced psionic powers. However this is fairly rare.

This is an ideal rite of passage for two reasons. Firstly, it allows the fledgeling to prove themselves and gain some experience, as the rite is carefully designed to be impossible to fail (To avoid the whole ‘stuck in perpetual uselessness forever’ thing), so they can succeed eventually. The second is that it ensures that they earn their power. The Fleet is leery of its powers being used maliciously or irresponsibly, and just dumping random powers onto someone who may not use them properly unnerves them. So the Rite ensures that, however they gain their powers, they must learn something about themselves and strive in order to gain them, maturing in the process. Strength, and it’s duties, must be earned.

The first stage of the rite generally involves a sponsor; an older matriarch, preferably one the fledgeling knows well. It may be one of the caretakers of the fledgeling’s creche, a local heroine, or simply someone who has taken a shine to the fledgeling. In preparation for the ritual, the fledgeling is put through a religious ceremony; often a baptism in the milk produced by the sponsor (often in a bath) is used for this, and then annointing the fledgeling in sacred paint with the sponsor’s blood mixed into it.

Given the hedonistic and casual attitudes of sex the Fleet has, it is extremely common for the fledgeling to mate at this time, often with the sponsor or a volunteer; a common romantic trope in Fleet stories involves a relationship consummated properly at this time, either between fledgelings of similar age (often as the culimanation of a mutual pining plotline) or between a sponsor and the daring junior she has grown to love. It is considered a rite unto itself, but is not strictly necessary and only done if the fledgeling explicitly agrees beforehand. If the lfedgeling does not (such as if asexual, or uncomfortable with mating with the sponsor in question), it is considered acceptable.

Some rites involve the fledgeling being temporarily rebirthed by the sponsor, and imbued with a considerable amount of power in order to succeed at the rite. This is considered both a taste of power and an exercise in mastering their future abilities. It also gives them the benefit of having enough power to win, in the case of a physical confrontation.

Then, the power is found. Sometimes it is gestated by the sponsor beforehand, in preparation for this event, and other times different methods are used, depending on the specific rite. Rites that put more focus on the bond of community will have the sponsor produce it, creating an unbroken line of power across many people, while more spiritual communities may elect to have the power somehow harnessed from the fledgeling themselves. Still others make it up on the spot, using specific chemicals and hormones to produce a mixture from everyone involved.

The power is administered. It typically resembles a consumable; a food or an elixir to be drunk. It can also be a raw orb of magical potential, a constructed machine, or even a puzzle. It can be virtually anything imaginable, and its specifically tailored to the task required of the fledgeling. IT should be noted that the power is almost never determined before hand; it is ideally a mass of mutagenic potential backed with enormous amounts of magic. At the conclusion of the rite, the superpower will manifest within the fledgeling, more or less at random and depending entirely on the fledgeling’s personality, the nature of the rite, their actions throughout, and personal wishes or self-image. Subject to a certain amount of pure luck, of course.

To earn this power, the fledgeling must accomplish a task based on their aptitudes. This can be nearly anything; those of a more martial bend may face a monster that the power transforms into, and be asked to hunt it down and slay it, making a meal from its meat before they can transform. Others of a more diplomatic bend may be tasked with also hunting down a power monster, but instead taming it, earning its trust, and then fusing with it. The intellectual may be faced with a very difficult puzzle, such as a huge machine that must be made to fully unlock. Others may be asked to contend with the sponsor for a certain amount of time, such as evading them in the woods for a certain amount of time, succeeding once enough time has passed without being captured.

They are given all the time that is required, and the rites are set up so that it is impossible to fail; the purpose of the rite is not to weed out the unworthy, but to instruct the fledgeling on the nature of powers and instill in them the responsibility to use it.

The sponsor is often expected to assist in subtle ways, though it is their choice how to go about this. The needs of the fledgeling must be considered; a hot-tempered and skilled adventurer in training will benefit little from a sponsor who attempts to save them from their own mistakes, while a relatively weak and frail youth who will not gain physical power until after the rite will benefit from a sponsor’s aid.

Once the rtite is completed, the fledgeling gains their power and transforms as the full impact of their deeds come upon them; they internalize what they have learned, understand something about themselves, and go through an apotheosis. This understanding is a very key part of the process; it CANNOT happen without them learning this! The actual change is brief: as mentioned earlier, it is completely random, but largely guided by what the fledgeling wants; their self-image determines the bulk of how they change. Complete sex transiition, species alteration and dramatic porportion shift are not unknown, and neither is extreme morph change; a masculine humanoid may abruptly become an insectoid mother-queen, if that is their true desire. Virtually any power may manifest, and even if they already have abilities, those powers may be magnified or transform into a completely different ability.

For example; a young woman with frog-themed powers may find the scope of those abilities increased. Her tongue able to change shape for many different tasks, her skin secrete not just itching toxins but any poison possible, and be able to breath underwater or sense things through exposed skin. Alternatively, her powers may mutate to encompass any ability demonstrated by all amphibians, not just frogs in general.

Finally, it is important to note that the particular aesthetics of the Endowed Fleet means that any powers will involve physical alterations. They are not subtle people and revel in monstrosity and mutation. They don’t just universally have gargantuan breast sizes and giant heights, but bizarre transformations. Someone who develops large claws from their hands will have very large and obvious swellings where the claws retract, and someone with fire powers will have magma-like transformations to their bodies where fire is produced. These transformations are not pretty, they are not easily hidden (if at all), but they are weird as hell and the Fleet LOVES it.

At the culmination of this, the fledgeling is given a week to recuperate and adjust to their transformation. Once they are considered to have recovered, they take part in the final judgement. This ritual takes many forms, usually focusing on respected and impartial matriarchs examining the events of the rite and testing the fledgeling in some way. Often this involves a short trial by combat instead, to examine the fledgeling’s new abilities; more intelllectual or social trials may be employed if the new power is not combat suitable. The purpose of this kind of challenge is to get them used to their new abilities, and satisfy the matriarch’s queries on the fledgeling’s progress.

Once it is complete, the matriarchs declare the fledgeling a full member of the Fleet in a ceremony, often symbolized by giving the fledeling a drink filled with a suitable liquid, and mixed into it the blood and/or milk of the matriarchs, sealing the covenant. This particular ceremony is prone to the most amount of local variation, with individual ships in the same splinter fleet have vastly different ones. Religious overtones are almost universal, however.

However it happens, at the conclusion, the fledgeling is no longer a fledgeling but a full member of the Fleet, complete with powers and a body that better suits their spirit. In the case of newly forged members who did opt to mate with their sponsors, it is traditional for them to do so again after being confirmed as legal adults; sometimes for the new hero’s first pregnancy litter or to give the sponsor a litter of their own (and thus keep the population growing), or to signify a growth on the relationship between the two, should they have a bond together. In the case of confirmed lovers who took the rites together, this is a deeply significant moment, and often the first pregnancy for any women involved (as mentioned above). Much romantic literature is a build up to this moment.

Finally, while most of the above applies to similar rituals done elsewhere, this applies specifically to those who were born into the Fleet and wish to become fully fledged members. Thos who immigrate to a Fleet world and wish to become full members and advance up the tiers of duty (or citizenship, as it might be put) may do so freely, and while the rites in question are similar, they function differently. As the sponsor in this case is unlikely to have been present for the growing up of the potential member and have an insight into them, the sponsor is also something of an inquisitor, judging the new members intentions and resolve.

It is not necessary to undergo the rite to be a legal citizen of a Fleet world. One must be a member in order to gain the most powerful transformations and gain full access to the devouring and pregnancy powers. And since the Fleet is so wary about the powers it grants being abused, combat-grade transformations, mods and powers are limited for those not of the Fleet. They are not barred from purchasing these abilities, but the mods in question are limited so that if someone who isn’t a confirmed Fleet member uses them, the resulting abilities have their more dangerous applications locked. They still work, but the user will not fully transform until certain conditions are met. The Fleet isn’t totally restrictive; combat-application mods will still activate if the user is in great peril or places themselves in danger, and mods that would otherwise be of use in other capacities but have dangerous applications if used freely (such as super strength or power tool limb mods, bough to be used in industrial work) will only operate at full capacity when in certain environments or situations; in the example case, when at work at the factory or construction site.

As a result of the rites of confirmation not actually being obligatory (merely encouraged), the Fleet is developing something of a population divide in some places between those who take the rite and accept its responsibilities, and those who are content not to. EFfectively it is similar to a distinction in a world of superheroes and the civilians they protect; the confirmed Fleet members have far more potential power and pregnancy/consuming abilities that allow them to grow stronger and larger indefinitely, while the civilians are growing in such number that they are the workforce of the Fleet. They are explicitly not a second class, as the Fleet affords no special rights or privileges to the confirmed members (beyond keeping full acess to dangerous powers to them alone, and that itself is hugely controversial within the Fleet), but thier numbers are growing and shifting the tone of the Fleet from a nomadic society of builders to a culture centered around immortal matriarch-heroines and the teeming multitudes who idolize them.

Due to the Fleet’s random mutations and open access to transformations, these less powerful protectorate are just as likely as Fleet members to be totally monstrous in appearance, though they will almost invariably be far smaller due to their weaker power levels, rarely growing beyond their biological scale. While they are content and cared for, living utopian lives, they present a growing concern for the Fleet; are they unknowingly breeding a working class, or even creating serfs? They are horrified at the notion, and yet, releasing the dangerous mods and combat powers to all would threaten enormous losses of life and abuses of power. Individual worlds and regions are implementing different ideas, ranging from offering less extreme versions of the rite for protectorate to gain access to limited but better versions of the powers without having to go through the full rite, to providing access to mods via complicated labyrinths and puzzles so they must earn all transformations and prove themselves to have the responsibility to handle them. This is producing even more interesting divergences across Fleet territory, but doesn’t address the core fears of producing a second-class who will wind up mostly being breeding stock to matriarchal goddesses and relish it.

The suggestion of making the rite of passage mandatory for all fully matured beings within the Fleet is controversial but viewed as the least damaging solution.

[originalwinnercheesecake]

Okay so I was going to wait to see if you had gotten to the Bane's actual backstory, and it seems you did. But there is a lot of key points you are missing or glossing over. First off Ripred was never The Bane's primary caretaker. He knew he could not love the Bane the parent should, so he gave him to other rats in the band to raise (Pg. 17 of book 4), and just tried to be the Bane's teacher. Those other rats you call The Bane's "Friends", Razor and then the other two, where his actual foster parents. Also the Bane did not simply "accidentally hurt them". He violently maimed and killed them, then yes tried to eat one of them, over not giving him what he wanted. (pgs 24-25 of book 4)

The Bane was mentioned to have a nearly insatiable appetite since book 3. From books 1-3 the rats lost their main fishing river to the humans so they went through a famien. Compound this with the Bane being born in the Labrynth, which was by a part of the ocean frequented by the Serpants (pg. 187 of book2); predators more Apex than the rats. So you they could not fish there without risking their lives. I.e. the Bane grew up hungry.

Now once The Bane moved away from Labrinth and into Ripred's band he was taken in by Razor, not Ripred yet, Razor, who set about trying to find ways to Feed his new pup to the point he went hungry himself to feed the Bane (pg. 25 of book 4). When the Razor struggled and the Bane could not learn to hunt other rats in the band shared food they caught with the Bane to take some of the slack off Razor. The Bane then grew 6 inches at a time and whaled louder next time (pg 38 of Book 3), as he now had more rats answering. When he got big enough he pushed Razor off a cliff over the bane wanting all of a crawler carcass. Then he went to Clawsin and Ratriff (pg, 17/25 of book 4) who he maimed (also on pg 17/25) for not getting his way with. This echo's back to Snare killing the Bane's litter mates so that the Bane could have full access to milk( instilling greed into the Bane in the process, and beating the Bane and Goldshard when they did not do what Snare wanted. This taught the Bane that violence was okay. please note that I am fully aware that Goldshard could not have simply run away from Snare and taken her little Pearlpelt with her, but The Bane was likely not, and though that since they stayed with and minded his father after these acts, then that meant what Snare did was okay. That's how children think.

By the time that you meet Bane in 6-7 months old. He has had lost his parents, and then gone through 3 care takers. He has been with Ripred full time for all of a week (Pg. 25 of book 4). The Rats have had their stream back for around 3 months. So for half The Banes life he starved. The Bane remembers this starvation, and now knows that the Humans caused it by taking away the rats main supply of fish after they won the last war, which the rats did declare first, but its not like they are not consistently declaring war on each other. The Bane learned from his bio father's actions that greed was good, which was also reinforced by the other rats giving him food anytime he cried for it, and not making him practice hunting/fishing more. He also believes that violence solves things.

Now The Bane has spent a week with his former teacher, who does not like him, wants him to believe they should make deals/ have peace with the humans (pg. 22 of book 4), the race that is responsible for the starvation The Bane spent the first part of his life in, and is just about the only person in his life who has ever held the Bane acountable for the greedy and violent things The Bane has done and called him out on them. Of course The Bane is confused, and unhappy with it. Teenagers do not like authority and often do not like to take responsiblity for their actions. But it is something you have to learn as part of growing up.

The Question is can the Bane learn the things he does not know: accountability, responsibility, and diplomacy from Ripred, or other rats that want a peaceful change? Or maybe from Gregor, who like the Bane grew up facing food insecurity, and who being a rager ha a natural inclination towards violence. But who shares everything he has, takes care of his sisters, and chooses hard work and peace whenever he can?

So I want to talk about The Bane/Pearlpelt, because his story is not going the direction I expected at all, and I have a lot of thoughts on it.

So when Gregor didn't kill Pearlpelt in book 2 I was like great good for him. I figured The Bane would grow up and we would see that Gregor and Nerissa were right, and The Bane would grow up to be a normal rat and everyone was freaking out for nothing. But this was not the case at all. But Suzanne Collins has taken this plotline in an entirely different direction. Instead, The Bane has grown up to be a violent, power-hungry, naive menace to society. I honestly didn't expect this at all given the anti-war themes of the books, but I do think it's interesting. Now, I'm only on chapter 4 of The Marks of Secret, so I don't know how this story ends yet. But I would like to share my thoughts on why I feel the Bane turned out like this. I think Ripred deliberately neglected The Bane, and now he's suffering the consequences for it.

When we first meet Pearlpelt, he's a sullen, angsty teenager. Gregor describes him as "an oversized, bullied child” (Collins, 24). This is pretty typical of any teenager. Pearlpelt also holds a particular hatred for Ripred, who has, despite his failings, been his primary caretaker. Also normal for your average caretaker. However, The Bane says of Ripred that he “‘hates me!’” (24). He says he humiliates him and treats him like a prisoner. Ripred argues that he has not abused the Bane, and reveals to Gregor that Pearlpelt has gotten in dangerous fights with other rats, (accidentally) killed his friend, and then proceeded to cannibalize his body to destroy the evidence (25). Pearlpelt has also fallen under the influence of other rats, who are trying to groom him into becoming king of the rats, and presumably overthrowing the humans (21-25). Ripred claims that he "got him too late” (28), and that the only option is to kill him so he doesn't become an even bigger threat. But I disagree. Ripred was not too late for Pearlpelt, he simply didn't bother to take proper care of him, and now he's trying to cover up his mistake.

One of the first things Gregor notes of Ripred's attitude toward The Bane is that he is being particularly cruel to him. He even asks Ripred to “lay off him” (24). Ripred does indeed humiliate him, making fun of his name (20), insult him (22), goad him (23), dismiss his feelings (24), and I would argue even emasculates him saying “‘King indeed! Do you really think anyone will take orders from someone who sucks on his tail?’” (26). He treats Pearlpelt like crap, and that’s when he’s around him. The Bane also reveals that he was mainly raised by a rat named Razor, which Ripred dismisses saying he spared his life, kept him fed, and protected him from the plague (24). This is a very common tactic of abusers, attempting to guilt their victims by bringing up all the positive things they’ve done for them.

Look, I love Ripred. He’s my morally gray dilf king, and I understand that being an asshole is just part of his personality. But he is genuinely abusing Pearlpelt right now, and it’s not okay. And, more importantly, his behavior is directly responsible for The Bane’s behavior. And that’s not even counting all the shit that happened before Ripred.

Ripred tells Gregor that Pearlpelt’s father killed his siblings so he wouldn’t have to compete for food, abused him and his mother, AND Pearlpelt witnessed his parents kill each other (28-29). That would fuck anybody up. We know Ripred has a soft side and he's capable of showing it. We also know he knows when it is and isn't okay to push people. Yet he doesn't apply this to The Bane. I understand that he got dropped on him out of nowhere, but he could have at least tried.

Again, I'm only on chapter 4. For all I know Suzzane may have Ripred take responsibility (nobody tell me). But right now, this is my assessment of the situation, and I'm really disappointed in Ripred.

[cesenvs3000f21]

My interpretation ethics

Everyone has their own sense of self and belief systems and it is important to reflect on those before you jump into the world of nature interpretation.  Our ethics guide how and why we share our knowledge with others, and this affects the people we share it with.  This is why me must be aware of our own beliefs and how they impact our philosophies of interpretation.  

Describe your personal ethic as you develop as a nature interpreter.

When thinking about my own personal ethics I thought of what areas of nature interpretation I am most passionate and enthusiastic about.  I was reading through our textbook and three principles and associated gifts stood out to me (Beck, Cable & Knudson, 2018, p. 85).  The first principle I think guides me and my work is “to spark an interest, interpreters must relate the subject to the lives of the people in the audience” with the associated gift being the gift of a spark.  The second guiding principle that I strive to achieve is that “interpreters should instill in people the ability, and the desire, to send the beauty of their surroundings” which can help encourage resource preservation which provides the gift of beauty.  Both of these “gifts” are very important to me so they are something I have thought of throughout the course and will keep with me as they guide who I am as an interpreter and what my goals are regarding interpretation.  

Cotton grass on top of a mountain from the Kluane lake region, southwestern Yukon.  

What beliefs do you bring?

One of my core beliefs is that humans and nature can peacefully interact if enough people are motivated too.  We often focus on the negatives of how humans are destroying the environment and I think this is a sad outlook.  I think one foundation of nature interpretation is about getting people to care about the environment and its conservation.  There are every day actions that we can take to coexist with nature and as nature interpreters we can share this information.  If we only scare people they wont want to experience the beauty of nature and all that it can offer but if we uplift people and encourage them to care about the environment for its protection.  

What responsibilities do you have?

I think that all nature interpreters have the responsibility to interpret nature in a sustainable and inclusive way.  I think we need to be cognizant of how our actions can affect the environment.  To me, this means making sure our audience can stick on trails, leaves no traces, and no harm is done to the environment while we interpret it.  If we leave a place with garbage it isn’t as beautiful and it isn’t fair to the people who want to enjoy this nature area in the future.  We also have a responsibility to ensure our interpretation is accessible to all.  This means there is lots of work ahead to make sure people of all abilities and financial backgrounds can access nature interpretation.  It is also a important responsibility of nature interpreters to include the original caretakers of the land in as many ways as possible and recognizing the important and ongoing relationships that indigenous peoples have with the land and water.  There are many other responsibilities, so many so they could deserve their own blog post, but those are the ones that stand out to me as the most important.  

Pisew falls provincial park.  I loved this photo because it looks like you are walking into the unknown.  

What approaches are most suitable for you as an individual?

For me when I think of how I want to interpret, I like to be in and surrounded by nature with “boots on the ground”.  I think that’s when I am most passionate about nature and that passion can translate into the way I share my knowledge.  My favorite way to share knowledge with others is to just be in nature and interpret as I go.  I love sharing the facts I know and the history of the land I am on.  

Although I think of nature walks as my ideal style of nature interpretation one quote from the textbook really resonated with me.  

“Interpretation can last a few seconds to a lifetime” (Beck et al., 2018, p. 4).

This quote resonated with me because it helped me realize that interpretation isn’t always about formal nature guided walks or a lecture in a big classroom, it can be spontaneous and part of a single moment.  Our own life experiences in nature and with others can provide interpretation opportunities and we can all learn from each other. One moment this reminds me of is when I was working this summer and a friend joined us for a hike up the mountain.  At the time he was so fascinated by all the different plants that we knew.  We thought he was just asking to be nice, but he was fascinated with the plant and said he had fallen in love with Senecio lugens which to us was a rather unremarkable plant species.  His passion and enthusiasm that he brought with him was so inspiring and uplifting to me in that moment.  Or my friend who is an ethnobotanist, even though my coworker and I were botanists we had no idea of the amazing medicinal and edible uses for the plants we saw every day.  When she came up with us and described all the uses for these amazing plants it made me interested in our research from a whole new perspective.  

This photo is from my high school environmental science field trip where we went on a nature walk.  Prior to this course if you asked me what nature interpretation was I would have shown you this photo.  Now I know that nature interpretation isn't about one thing or the other its about inspiring, teaching, and learning from others with the common goal of preserving the environment for ecological or cultural value.  

I guess what I am trying to say with these examples is that the ability to interpret nature is all around us even when we don’t notice. Before joining this course I had a lot of assumptions about what nature interpretation was, how it was performed and who nature interpretation was for and to be honest, I was completely wrong! This course and the class discussion have been so helpful at dismantling my own personal biases and challenging my previous thoughts.  I have learned so many different ways to interpret and how to reach and inspire new audiences who are traditionally left out of important conversations.  

What assumptions did you have about nature interpretation before joining this course?

Claire

Beck, L., Cable, T.T., & Knudson. D.M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage for a better world. Sagamore-Venture.

[mstonecollins]

A tribute to my Father

My Father passed away on Father’s Day, 4 weeks ago today.  on Friday June 22, I delivered a Eulogy at his funeral. It was the hardest public thing I’ve ever done--and I thought I would share it today in his honor.

------------

I’m honored to stand before you today to celebrate the life of my Father.  I promise to do my best, but I’ll ask your forgiveness in advance if I am unable to complete today’s mission.  

There are many “naming” associations in life I am proud of…Kim’s Husband; Lauren’s Father; John Junior’s Brother; Douglas and Rachel’s Uncle.   Family is truly all that matters in this life.  The greatest of these—and where it all started—is being known as John’s Son.

As some of you know I retired last December after more than 30 years in business.  Over the course of my career I was fortunate enough to rise to a position of responsibility beyond anything I’d ever imagined—one of the top 100+ executives of a Fortune 10 Global Company with more than 250,000 employees.

Any success I enjoyed in the business world started with the foundation my Father instilled in me -- leadership principles I utilized over these past 30+ years.   Absent his coaching and development, it simply wouldn’t have happened.  As a tribute to him, I’d like to share three of them with you today as a testament to the kind of Father, Leader, Husband, and Friend he was over the course of his 90 years on earth.

HUMILITY

According to Jim Collins-not my Uncle Jim, but a world-renowned professor at Stanford University, author of best-selling leadership books like “Good to Great” and “Built to Last”, the difference between a very good leader and a world class executive can be distilled down to the existence of a single trait:  Humility.  He explains it like this:  In the sports world, head coaches that personify these humble leaders credit the talent of their players when the team wins championships.  When the team loses, they shoulder the blame, and take the responsibility for providing the team with the necessary preparation or game plan that would allow them to be successful.

This principle is critical to get groups of people to work together for a common goal.  Whether people admit or not, human beings enjoy being recognized for their hard work and their role in achieving a goal. Leaders that attempt to take credit for their team’s success don’t have successful teams or talented players very long.  

As my brother can attest, Pop demanded humility from his boys during our formative years. No self-aggrandizing behaviors were tolerated in any way, shape or form!  Any inkling of hot-dogging, trash talking, bragging, or basking in the limelight on the basketball court or baseball field would be met afterward with a stern-and I mean stern! rebuke.  He knew what our young minds could not comprehend—business and life are team sports. You’ll rise and fall based on the capabilities of the people you surround yourself with. Be a good teammate-someone that values the individuals of the team and the overall team above yourself—and you can put yourself in a position to have the privilege to lead others, and be surrounded by great people that can lift you up.

SETTING EXPECTATIONS

Successful leaders set clear-and high expectations for performance.   If you don’t know what is expected of you, what are you supposed to do?  Show me a team or company that doesn’t have clear performance expectations, and I will show you a losing team or failing company. And, of course, expectations are pretty meaningless if you don’t put in the hard work it takes to achieve them. Perhaps Pop’s favorite mantras were “the harder I work, the luckier I get” and “Luck is when preparation meets Opportunity”.   I heard these words hundreds of times from him.

Pop set very clear and very high expectations for performance, whether it was work in the yard, personal behavior, academics, or athletics. I must confess that early on, I could get discouraged with his feedback.  No matter how many points I scored, games we won, or courses I succeeded in at school, he had the annoying ability to find something that I could improve upon.  He was never satisfied-or at least I didn’t think he was.  

At the time, I didn’t realize or appreciate the value of the gift he was giving me.  First, he was instilling the principle that all good leaders know well—people can always do more than they think they can. Left alone, as human beings we typically are content to reside within the confines of our comfort zones. Great leaders push us out of them-and get us to do more.  Second, expect the best from yourself, and then you can expect the best from everyone you work with.  Finally, it instilled self-confidence in me that I would need in the future to be successful.  My wife Kim would likely tell you that he outdid himself on that one!  In all seriousness, when he pushed me to do more—after I got over my anger and frustration and actually tried, I usually found success.  I gained confidence in knowing I could do more-and believed in myself, no longer needing a push from him. Over the course of my career, not once did I have a leader of mine have to ask me to do more.  I was trained by my Dad to set high expectations for myself and my teams, and more often than not, we out-distanced our internal and external competitors as a result.

Later in life, after he was satisfied that he’d done all he could do to shape me, he was always quick to let me know how proud he was of me…giving me reinforcement in my darkest hours, giving me the support and confidence I needed to keep moving forward.  Many Father’s Days over the last 15 years I would write him a simple note or tell him in a conversation—based on his leadership and the expectations that he set for me, that anything I did right in my life, he should take credit for; correspondingly, anything I did wrong he should be absolved from.  I knew what “right” was supposed to look like, which leads me to my final principle.

DEMONSTRATING THE DESIRED BEHAVIOR

People listen to what you say, but they watch what you do.

I’m sure you’ve heard this over the course of your life.  It means that people believe in you based on what they actually see you do.  Words, as we know, are just that.  But deeds matter.

I used to tell people that worked with me that when you’re in a position of leadership, what you do is on display 7x24x  365.  It’s a simple concept-they’re always watching you, whether you realize it or not.  What you actually do is far more impactful than what you say.  When faced with a crisis, do you remain calm or lose your cool?  Do you support people when they need time for a family member, or only when it is convenient for you?  When things go bad, do you take responsibility, or blame others?  When you are faced with illegal, immoral, or unethical behavior, do you join in, cover it up, or do the right thing?  When no one is looking, are you working hard or goofing off?  Can you be trusted to finish the job to the highest level even if no one stops by to inspect your work?

No man is perfect, but my Father consistently demonstrated the desired behaviors to me over the course of his 90 years on earth. Simple things he did spoke volumes—like the dedication he had to the company where he worked for more than 35 years, getting up every day and working hard-never complaining.  Not a single time-not once-did I ever hear him complain about his customers or co-workers.  Turning down job and career growth opportunities to keep his family centered in a place he knew was a good place to live and raise his sons.   Showing up for every single game of my high school basketball career, and hundreds of other sporting events over the course of my life growing up here in Clemmons.  Caring for our neighbor’s yard – the missionary daughter of the original property owners--for more than 20 years, never asking for anything in return. Offering support and assistance to another neighbor who tragically lost her husband with three small children; riding bicycles with the youngest child that lost her Father too young.  Being faithful to my Mother, and God, and the Churches that mattered to him – the Francisco Presbyterian Church, and the Clemmons United Methodist Church. Honoring my Mother with his presence at her bedside every day for the last two and half years of her life, navigating his way with the help of friends and his caretaker – and, as he referred to her, his “adopted daughter”—Bebee as he was unable to drive himself due to his vision challenges.  

In his later years, after my Mom died, in our conversations he’d often wonder why he was still here.   He knew his body was failing him, and he worried he was only a burden to those he loved. He’d then rebound and cheer himself up, thinking of all of his friends in the community, specifically the Clemmons Kitchen.  If he couldn’t do anything else, he thought God wanted him to show kindness to others, especially those who needed it most.  Based on how many people tell me “I love Mr. John”, I know he succeeded in what he thought God wanted him to do.   What I want you all to know is that he got more out of that than he gave, and he considered it a privilege to be able to give of himself to others.

A TRIBUTE

I’ll end with an anonymous writing that my Cost Accounting Professor at Duke provided to me back in the fall of 1993. As you can imagine, it must be pretty good if it was a Cost Accounting Professor-CJ Skender, a great guy -- not exactly my favorite subject-and it still resonates with me 25 years later.  I’ve often thought if Pop had written down his expectations, this might have articulated them.  More importantly, though, in my view, it’s what he actually did.  It’s titled “Live Each Day”.  It’s my tribute to him and my gift to all of you.

Live each day to the fullest.  Get the most from each hour, each day, and each age of your life.  Then you can look forward with confidence, and back without regrets.

Be yourself – but be your best self.  Dare to be different and follow your own star. Don’t be afraid to be happy. Enjoy what is beautiful.  Love with all your heart and soul.  Believe that those you love, love you.

Forget what you have done for your friends, and remember what they have done for you.  Disregard what the world owes you, and concentrate on what you owe the world. When faced with a decision, make that decision as wisely as possible – then forget it.  The moment of absolute certainty never arrives.

Above all, remember that God helps those who help themselves.  Act as if everything depended upon you, and pray as if everything depended on God.

Thank you, Pop for everything you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you.  I love you and will miss you more than I can say.

[chibieoushelvetica]

TELL ME WHY THIS IS WRITTEN SO BADLY OMG... I WANNA CRY... I JUST WANNA WRITE WOOZI ANGST PEOPLE

     We have always hated it here.  House to house, school to school, family to family.  He never talked to anyone.  He would only write.  I was his translator.  I spoke the words he never would, and he would thank me with small smiles and nice letters under my pillow.  He was the only thing that stayed constant.

     I met Jihoon when we were both ten years old.  When two people never speak, they learn to communicate on their own.  The home we were staying in was an empty one.  Only ten kids lived there at the time, including the two of us.  It was only a few weeks later, that we began moving from home to home.  In the first weeks, we were together in the home, I was the only one who made the effort to communicate with him.  Short notes back and forth across the dinner table, poems underneath pillows during hushed nights.

     It wasn’t until we were sitting in the eleventh house we had been to that year, that I spoke aloud.  My voice was raspy and disgusting.  It was untrained; like a kid riding a bike for the first time, it took practice.   My first words were meant to be said fiercely, instead they were stumbled over.  My first words were supposed to protect him from the harshness of the children in the new house, instead, it got us both beaten up.  It was that day that I vowed my silence would end and I would learn how to use my words as a sharpened sword.

     I had never apologized to someone with words before, but the night after we got our asses kicked, that was all I said. ‘I’m sorry,’ became my branding and ‘It’s okay,’ became the prettiest thing he would ever write.  Since I had never genuinely spoken, the importance of words was instilled in my being. I knew that certain phrases should only be said to certain people in certain ways. He knew that too. So, the night that all of us kids piled onto the bus to be transferred to another home and I told him I loved him, we were both taken aback.  We were only eleven years old, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t mean it. I think that is what scared me. I think that’s what scared him too. Nothing is as scary as the truth and because we had never had a reason to lie each other, he knew it was honest. His response was a dark ever spreading blush, a small smile, averting eyes, and a heart is drawn on to my hand in thick black Sharpie ink. He even wrote ‘Jihoon’s’ underneath it.

     That was six years ago today. The two of us have yet to be split up and we are on foster home number twenty-four. In a little less than two months, Jihoon will be seventeen and that means the caretaker of this house, or any other house we go to, will be pushing him on every family that shows up to get him a home before he is eighteen. I, however, have about four months before I am seventeen. Which means, if someone wants to take him home, I’ll be left alone. Being away from Jihoon is not what I want.

-T

[worldcakecakecake]

Good Luck Friedrich

A series of video diaries by Isabella Beilschmidt for her baby brother, Friedrich, where she details and explains the lives of their hectic family.

Once again, I deal with other things how I can. I hope you enjoy!

                                                    Video 4

“You’re now one month old Friedrich, and how did you celebrate it this morning? Well papa took you to the doctor and afterwards you’re going to visit Herakles, Kiku and Marianna, who really want to see you, but they live up in Davos which is an hour’s drive from here, so you’ll be gone for most of the day. Right now we have the house to ourselves and since papa is so responsibly smart, guess who he left in charge…” That very person walked by her room, in his hold a great supply of drinks and bags of chips. They were so much that they piled and were in danger of falling over, but Alessandro had some unique talent to keep them all together in an impressive balance.

“Sup,” he tried to greet with his teeth hanging to a smaller bag of popcorn.

“Are you really going to cram yourself and watch South Park all day?” Isabella hadn’t thought he’d be serious.

“Papa is not here, there’s no baby, Heinz went to Bern, I don’t have anything to do for the university ingression and I have the room to myself… I want to make use of it,” he winked and finger gunned before he continued down the hall to his room to start, the door shut and off was Alessandro, forgotten to the world.

“He’s doing such a great job,” she rolled her eyes, taking a standing to make her way through the halls and downstairs, taping what each of the available brothers and sisters were doing.

Analiese was on her laptop, cellphone on her ear as she scrolled through social media, surely with the latest gossip, chattering away in French to a friend from Paris. Aldrich was going through one of his animal books, hypnotized by the pictures to notice his older sister passing by. Giovanna was coloring on her books, singing songs and waving excitedly to Isabella as she passed by.

“The house is rarely this quiet and perhaps I should make use of it and finish those books uncle Roderich gave me for my last birthday, but I really wanted to record something for the diaries,” she told, reaching the terrace screen. She moved it aside to bring her to the open air, showing a rather misty day, not leaving much space for sunlight and blue to enter, cold and with hints of coming rain. It was summer.

She took sitting in one of the couches there, with a huff, a stretch and even a sigh as if ready to take a nap. It was siesta time she knew, yet she promised herself not to fall to that temptation, not when she had to do this recording, not when there were the books and even that jog around the hill afterwards.

“So, last time we were talking about how Analiese came into the family, and since we’re going in order it’s only obvious that I tell mine now.” She took her usual story telling position, placing the camera upon a stable surface that could keep its lenses only on her and the imagery she was to create.

“Before anything, I’d like to point out that I was one that papa and vatti actually planned to have… on baby nostalgia and slight jealousy…”

  The building was at the town center, of old and picturesque design in yellow, with a clock tower standing high and going along with the beauty of the Swiss scene. Feliciano parked the car in front, in heavy breaths, watching to the ordeal of parents arriving to bring their kids to their first day of kindergarten. Some hugged to their parents tightly not wanting to let go, others cried and others ran off with a simple wave in great bravery. Feliciano wished it could be that easy for him, that the worry wasn’t constraining his breath and accelerating the pace of his heart. He looked to the back, first meeting Analiese, his now one year old daughter biting and holding to a duck plush toy of hers, managing a bright and loud laugh once her eyes met with her papa’s. It was beautifully relieving for the situation.

At either side of her sat the twins, both wearing equal black sweaters, school bags ready on their backs, jeans and shoes specifically chosen for what they were to start. Their gazes remained on the bustling of people, on all the children their age, going on alone into the building, as they should, as their vatti and papa had told them that morning.

“Come on boys,” Feliciano decided, popping open the door to them help them in their dismount, taking Analiese in his arms as the twin took slow and nervous step in front of him, Feliciano’s legs constantly bumping into their backs.

“Boys, don’t feel so scared, this is a very nice place where you will learn many things and make many good friends,” Feliciano tried to excite them, if enough to have them continuing, albeit with nervous hands constantly tugging at their sweaters, as if trying to hide their presence from being there. The closer they moved, the closer they came into peeking the entrance, to bright colors, shouts, running, different kinds of teachers welcoming the children inside or talking to different kind of concerned parents. It was all wonderful…but also intimidating, they found themselves each hugging one of their papa’s legs, not wanting to be released alone into this.

Perhaps it wasn’t a moment for Feliciano to giggle at such adorability, but his twins were indeed scared and refused to let go with an assured tightness, even hiding their faces.

A young woman spotted them, recognizing the boys and the omega father from the pictures they had sent with the inscription. She readily came forward understanding the predicament, baring a gentle smile and a kind wave to which Feliciano replied with his own sweet grin and eyes.

“Hello, you must be Feliciano Valenti, I’m Claire Gotti and I will be your children’s teacher and caretaker,” she introduced.

“Wow, look Heinrich, Alessandro, she’s your teacher! Doesn’t she look so pretty and nice!” He impressed, rubbing on their hair enough confidence for them to peak and nod in admittance. She was indeed pretty and looked very nice.

“Ah, and whose Heinrich and Alessandro?” She leaned and tried to ask them as nicely as possible.

The both of them looked extremely alike and now Feliciano was wondering if accepting Ludwig’s idea to dress them in the same black sweater had been the right thing to do the first day of kindergarten.

The boys were still too shy, Feliciano had to intervene once again.

“This is Heinrich,” he introduced, petting his hair while also pointing to the purple little bracelet he wore. “And this is Alessandro,” he pointed to the yellow bracelet. He was lucky to have gotten this idea before heading out, knowing how people tended to confuse them, especially when both were wearing the same thing and people were meeting them for the first time.

She nodded and winked Feliciano’s directions as a thanks to the little detail. “Well it’s very nice to meet you Heinrich and Alessandro. I can’t wait to play and learn so many things with you two. Our class would love to have you both and would love to meet you as well. You’ll have all the toys and games to play with, plus lots of things for arts and craft. I’m sure you’re going to like it here,” she persuaded just enough for the boys to slowly release, indeed coaxed with all those wonders that they wanted to be immediate part of…but it meant letting go, it meant going alone, away from the hold of their family for the first time.

They slowly began to ease away, but a tight grasp continued on their papa’s leg, showing the still clear hesitation.

“Go on, go on,” Feliciano had to instill, leaning down to push them slightly, both continuing on their steps, looking upwards to their new teacher, awaiting for her to take them to what she promised.

“I’m so excited and I can’t wait to start,” she offered both her hands for each to take, and she inspired enough confidence for them to let themselves, for her to begin in her pull away, for them to begin their entrance, Feliciano watching with a proud smile as he held more caringly to Analiese in his arms, who looked on confused as to why her older brothers were leaving…and why did her papa look kind of sad?

Well…there they went. It was surely time to go, to turn around, make his way to his car. It was just as Heinrich turned.

“Papa…papa…PAPA!” He shouted, he cried, he ran in a dash towards him, holding with a harsh grasp to his legs, keeping him in place, not giving him the chance to turn away. “Papa! Papa! Papa!” He continued to shout as heavy tears began to fall down his face, reddening, jumping in great anguish to keep him there, to bring him along if he had to.

“Heinrich, Heinrich, my little Heinrich,” Feliciano had to lean down to soothe in whispers, to try and wrap an arm around him to hug close and pat while the other held to a very confused Analiese. “You have to be brave, you have to do this without me.”

“No! No! No! No! I don’t wanna!” He kept insisting as he kept a tighter hold, practically choking at the hold he kept of his father’s neck, trying to climb to even wrap his legs around his waist.

“Heinrich please,” he continued to soothe, kissing his head, but it only worsened Heinrich’s need in staying, to soothe himself more into his neck and hold.

“No, no, no,” he continued to insist.

“Heinrich…” Feliciano sighed, letting himself caress him, have his hold, his staying, until he could continue to speak. “You have to start learning to be with yourself, to be a big boy, meet your own people and find your own fun. You won’t really be by yourself, you’ll have Alessandro with you and Miss Gotti and whatever new friends you’ll meet. It’s only for a bit, I’ll be here to pick you up as soon as it’s time to go.”

He felt him ease, the tears subside, the blowing only those to relax, to sit up, rub away his tears as he tried to find speech. “Promise?” He wanted to be sure.

“Of course mio bello, I would never abandon you in such a way,” he truly made sure, kissing his head, a trusting caress on his back and one last hold truly conveying that promise.

“Now…do you think you can be brave enough?” Feliciano gazed to his face, the red now fading, and although his eyes watered, he tried to be strong enough to not let them fall, to release himself from his hold, rubbing his hands in what seemed some last preparation.

“I’ll be here at two to pick you up,” Feliciano made sure with one last smile, one Heinrich managed to bloom with his own, the grin showing the glow of a Valenti. 

“Now go on, be brave, have fun and make some new friends,” he excited, seeing as Heinrich flew off alone, reaching slowly to take Miss Gotti’s hand. Feliciano sent her an apologetic expression and shrug, but she smiled in understanding, having dealt with this kind of situation enough times.

Now they could go in, the three turning and ready for the warming glow of their class…or so they had thought.

It was Alessandro’s turn to turn as they came closer, as he could feel the cooling of the classroom and the presence of their father leaving.

“PAPA!” Came his cry, came his running this time, Heinrich started crying again, oh boy.

  After more convincing, finally the boys were in their classroom, Feliciano had Analiese on her car seat and he took his seat on the wheel, taking a breath of relief, a relax over the driver as he tried to get his calm back.

The car was too silent, there was no excited chatter, none of the boys trying on games and faces to make their younger sister laugh, no jump, no wondrous glamour as they would point to everything that took their interest along the road. He left his boys alone for the first time, not believing that they were already in kindergarten, all while his baby girl swung her feet in her car seat, trying to babble a song. Time just became too obvious that moment, he began to miss their presence, recalling how it felt like it had just been seconds ago when he held them both as little newborns in his arms. He looked down to that emptiness of his arms now…and that’s when the tears fell, that he noticed that they were already coating his cheek, in damp, in redness. The whimpering and moaning started, and before he knew it, he was once again over the wheel letting this new misery pour out, all while Analiese looked on to him with question, trying to move and see what could be the matter. He let himself that moment of tears, wondering what he could tell Analiese to calm her down, thinking about heading home and playing with her while he made them some lunch. Yes that thought made him feel slightly better, he could raise his head once again, give a smile to his young girl while he tried to rub off the tears. She smiled still just as beautiful, as eager for a game despite and Feliciano was going to give it to her.

It was then that he noticed the car parked next to his, a blond spiky haired gentleman surely whimpering, crying over his own wheel, holding tightly and surely trying to regain some sense. Feliciano lowered his side of the car window, trying to get his attention.

“Hello, sir,” he called, with a slight trace of his own sadness, one that the other instantly caught, relating and letting his green eyes be showed with a continuing fall of tears, his pale and freckled expression reddened but welcoming to his worry. There was no embarrassment in showing his tears when the other felt just the same.

“You left somebody too?” Feliciano asked.

“Yes…my son. He’s so big now, starting kindergarten…I…I miss him so much.” Back to the whimpering, new tears forming.

“I left my twins and…” he tried hard not to, but there he broke, a sob starting, “I miss them already too!”

“They grew up so fast!”

“They were once so tiny!”

“You could cradle them!”

“And hug all their bodies tightly!”

“And now they’re here!”

“All grown up!”

“We’re losing them!”

The rest were unintelligible exchanged sobs, tears and wallowing, leaving Analiese lost as she looked between them trying to find an answer.

  “Aw, she’s an absolute beauty. She looks just like you. Are the twins anything like you too?” The man who Feliciano now knew as Arthur asked after having cooed at the young baby girl enough, who had a comfortable sitting on her omega father’s lap.

They choose a quaint little café in the town, a gorgeous one that both had learned to adore in their time in St. Moritz, sharing good coffee and sweets.

“A little from both their parents, but since they’re both blond everyone quickly assumes Heinrich and Alessandro look more like my mate,” Feliciano rolled his eyes, earning a gentle smile from Arthur.

“Heinrich and Alessandro? Such sweet names. Is your mate Swiss?”

“Oh no, he’s German, but we’ve been living here for about five years now. What about you?”

“Alfred and I came about five years ago as well when he got a transfer, shortly afterwards Aaron was born.”

“Ah, so this cute little Aaron must be as old as my twins."

“Indeed, perhaps they’ll have their chance to meet today.”

They had indeed hoped so if it meant play dates where they could speak as lovely as they did today.

 Feliciano returned home as soon as he got his message from Ludwig, who was heading his way back after work and getting some groceries. Both wanted to meet to start getting ideas for dinner, arriving at the same time and quickly greeting in their usual kiss and heading inside. In the process of throwing stuff to the table and placing Analiese to crawl around the rugged floor with her toys, Feliciano told Ludwig about what had occurred on the twins’ first day of kindergarten.

“-so they started crying and well…” Feliciano was hesitant as he looked through the cards of recipes.

“Don’t tell me you started crying too,” Ludwig chuckled as he placed some items on the fridge from the groceries.

“Okay so…I did,” he had to admit, which earned a beautiful laugh from Ludwig. “And I met this nice Englishman today who left his son as well…we started crying together at the parking spot.” How easily he could make Ludwig laugh, smile and glow so delightfully.

“Feliciano, it’s only kindergarten, they’re still our little boys,” he convinced, letting his hands rub on his shoulder, a quick kiss on it as he then left to place things in other cabinets.

“Still, it reminded me of how much time is passing, how one moment they’re little babies and the next they’re going to kindergarten. One day they’ll be going to the Gymnasium and then they’re off to study and I won’t be seeing them as much and I’ll be crying some more.” His eyes watered yet again as he was decided on the recipe, saving the little box and showing the card to Ludwig, who nodded in acceptance.

“And we’ll be enjoying every step and process of watching them grow into their own men. It’s a kind of blessing that shouldn’t receive these tears, especially after we’re an important part of it,” Ludwig assured with his own confident smile, a brightening enough for Feliciano to receive and give him the same trust to his words.

“And since we’re cooking lasagne, I’ll go pick some tomatoes from the backyard.” Ludwig already began moving ahead.

“I’ll watch.”

They moved forward to the terrace, sliding open the door, Ludwig taking the route down to the slope of their hill where their garden was while Feliciano gazed from the terrace, leaning occasionally as he tried to take better sights of all the flowers, bushes, trees, fruits and vegetables they had grown, all beautiful and ready for their picking. The rush of the wind was a nice comfort, occasionally interrupted by Analiese’s babble as she played with her dolls, adorable, making Feliciano smile as he took occasional glances to her sitting in the living room.

Analiese mistook his leaning as her papa about to leave, and thus, trying to stop him or join him, she pulsed herself forward, standing, her little legs creating her first move towards him, wobbling and trying to call him. Feliciano, as he turned back to her, expected from her babbling to see her having crawled her way forward, instead saw her walking… she was walking…walking!

“Mio dio!” Feliciano loudly exclaimed, eyes widened as his expression and body, truly impressed and for a moment not noticing the way Analiese spread her arms hoping for a holding. She jumped, she continued with her sounds and yet Feliciano was too shocked to move his hands from the widening of his mouth, staring on to the sureness Analiese now stood in.

“What’s wrong?” Ludwig quickly wondered as he came back up to the terrace holding the tomatoes, almost dropping them as he met his little girl standing, giving him a smile and instead walking forward to him expecting his holding if her omega father wasn’t going to.

“Oh…” Ludwig understood, yet giving her a smile to show his pride.

“She’s walking! She’s walking!” Feliciano couldn’t believe, new tears brimming.

At her omega father’s sudden sadness, she moved forward to him once again, more intense in her jumps, in her arms extending, wanting to give him comfort and to just be in the warmth of his arms. This time Feliciano kneeled, taking her, raising her and giving her all the intensity of his love to her through a tight embrace, decorating her curls and little head with his kisses and she grinned and laughed.

Ludwig saw just how alike Analiese was to Feliciano, a copy of smiles that could be seen clearly…if Feliciano wasn’t crying.

  Many days on, Heinrich and Alessandro were slowly getting used to their kindergarten scheduling, especially after Feliciano started creating these wall arts for their calendars, exciting them and making them eager for their days of play at their school. No more tears, no more shouts in the morning begging for their return home, just a usual of smiles and jumps ready for whatever new activity.

As their routine became more established, as their presence was better known, Heinrich and Alessandro began making their own friends, of their age, interest, with games to play and toys to share. Between those many was Aaron Jones, who was to turn five years old and thus invited his new friends to come over to his birthday party at the Jones-Kirkland residence. Arthur insisted in the invitation for Feliciano to come, along with Ludwig who he hadn’t met yet and was eager to as Alfred wanted to properly meet them both.

Alfred and Arthur held a property as large as Ludwig and Feliciano’s, their green space more grounded than their own slope. It was perfect for the party, the space and opening enough for all the running, screaming and playing children who threw all kinds of things and let them remain on the ground for others to then use for their own games. The parents remained sitting at the terrace, enjoying in chats, food, drinks and laughs. Ludwig and Alfred got along splendidly, both talking of their love for dogs and how they hoped to adopt one soon to add to their own families. Analiese remained around Ludwig, running around him as other parents or teenagers cooed at her beauty and played what games they could with her. Ludwig kept a faithful watch on her as well as the twins who were with the rest of the kids running around the field. Feliciano helped Arthur with the food (It was direly needed), chatting and meeting other parents with who they shared their advice and experiences.

“Your house is wonderful. How much time did it take you to fix it?” Feliciano asked, loving the garden Arthur had told him he worked hard on.

The blond was confused at first, but then he remembered how Feliciano told him that his own house had been in ruins when they had first gotten it and how they were still working diligent to fix it to this day.

“None, it was just like this when Alfred and I got it.”

Alfred and Arthur were older, they had secured jobs, expenses and connections when they came to Switzerland…unlike Ludwig and Feliciano…who were nineteen and eighteen at the time, with nothing and having to deal with what they could get in their situation.

“How many rooms does the house have?” Feliciano quickly asked, not wanting to waddle in his uncomfort.

“Five.”

“Isn’t that a little too much for just the three of you?”

“Well um…” Arthur blushed, he had to show a grin, he couldn’t hide in his glee, “it won’t be just the three of us for much longer,”

“Huh?”

“I have something to announce later, then you will understand.” Arthur quickly changed the topic on other matters and Feliciano went along.

By the late afternoon, Aaron blew his candles after the birthday singing, joined in applauses, the little boy’s smile and then his congratulation from his own parents, coming to kiss his cheeks, holding him and posing for pictures. It was as much as the commotion had died down, now everybody eating their slices of cake, when Aaron remembered something.

“Dad, didn’t you say you will tell me about a special present by now?” The boy was truly curious, his big slice of cake almost forgotten in his wondering.

Arthur smiled and thought it time, calling out to Alfred to come near and for all to listen.

“I have an announcement to make about a change that is to take place, about…a new person that will come into our lives.”

Everyone had perked, but none more strongly than Alfred’s and Aaron’s.

“Aaron…you’re going to have a sibling, and Alfred, you’re going to be a father again, I’m pregnant.”

Everyone of course delighted in big smiles, Alfred screamed as Aaron did and they both came crashing into him showing their excitement, blabbering words that Arthur couldn’t understand. The room erupted into applauses and congratulations, Feliciano joining…but his excitement wasn’t as intonated, in fact it was weak, it died out while all were still in the midst. To Ludwig’s surprise, he didn’t barge into the family to wish his own congratulations, blessings and wishings, he stayed by his side, with a downcast in his eyes and a sadness that shouldn’t be present in a festivity, especially after that kind of announcement. Ludwig placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer, a kiss on his head hoping for a kind of relief, but Feliciano only leaned into his embrace with haunting thoughts still.

Alfred and Arthur had a beautiful house they got as it was, with a perfect view, standing and space. They didn’t rebuild it from the bottom, they didn’t hold it, they didn’t spend sleepless nights wondering if a piece of the ceiling could fall over their heads or their child’s, they didn’t have to exhale stinks of age, they didn’t have to worry about income or nightmares of it not being enough. The Jones came here with a touch of family, with no disgraces, no secrets, no rebellions and no disappointments. Aaron must probably know and see his grandparents often, gets invited to family reunions and can confide in them for anything. Heinrich, Alessandro and Analiese only had two uncles and four cousins of blood, the rest those who were close and could remain in their trust as to be family.

Heinrich and Alessandro were four years old and surely would remember the ruin they lived the first years of their lives, already running with laughter and confidence of what they could take leading away from their parents. Analiese, one year old, walking, jumping even as she took from the excitement around her, beginning her lead, her growth, if even with faithful watches from her parents and her heavy dependence on them still.

Soon they would have no babies at home, whatever time they had of them as such now gone and ready for a new phase.

They should be excited, they should be smiling, proud that their friends were soon going to have such a wonderful chance, and yet Ludwig and Feliciano soured, they envied for all that was to pass and of what they could not have anymore.

< Video 3.2                                                                                                                            Video 4.2 >

[neurohm-yoga]

Satya

As a general rule, I am not “nice”. You can ask any of my closest friends – if you’re looking for a sugar coated reality, I am definitely not your girl. It’s not that I am mean, per se, but I simply refuse to tell you what you want to hear if it isn’t true. I wear many hats in my social circle – sometimes I am an active listener, sometimes an adviser, but mostly, I am the reality check. I cannot count the number of times I have been sought out for communication prefaced by “I know you won’t lie to me” or “I need tough love right now”. I don’t mind, either. I would rather be known for my truth than my silver tongue.

I work in applied behavior analysis (ABA), which means that every day I am paid to tell children “no”. I block and redirect aberrant behavior, interrupt stimulatory behavior, hold items out of reach to elicit requests, and altogether manipulate the environment to create obstacles for my students to overcome. I have high standards, strict protocols, and no reward is given without expending some effort. This is difficult both for my student and for their family members who witness our sessions. It is emotionally exhausting to watch your child struggle to produce responses that don’t come naturally to them. Many times, my students engage in tantrums or aggressive behavior toward me, and their parents will try to intervene with bargains or apologies: “Do you want ice cream, Joey? You can have ice cream. Just stop crying. I’m so sorry”. Now, 9 out of 10 times the child will stop crying when offered ice cream, but what this does is reinforce the problem. The child learns that if he wants ice cream, he should cry. What he doesn’t learn is how to ask appropriately, or how to work for what he wants.

This is all a very long-winded example of why being nice isn’t productive; why satya is the better, though more difficult, path. If the parent in my example was honest, they would have said “If you want ice cream, you need to finish your puzzle”. While this contingency is more difficult for the child, it reinforces reality; we always have to work for what we want. Anything worth having is this lifetime does not come for free.

It is an excellent reflection of my personal philosophy that I work in ABA. I was raised in a family with terrible communication skills, impossibly high standards for me, and minimal privilege. My parents both worked full time, so I was trained as my brother’s caretaker at age 6. I went to public school, worked my ass off for good grades, and got a scholarship to college. No one ever told me I was a precious little snowflake, that I was a star just for trying, that I deserved a medal just for showing up that day. It makes sense that I chose a career that instills the same concepts into the younger generation.

I am an honest person. I expect everyone to be honest with me, and I in turn am honest with them. Whenever I meet a new person I let them know to tell me immediately if I make them uncomfortable or otherwise upset, because how can anyone change their behavior if they don’t know that it’s wrong? Years ago I met a new friend, Sammy, and we had many things in common; things that weren’t typically celebrated, like chronic pain and a difficult childhood. We joked about it incessantly and it made me feel better that someone shared my struggle. What I didn’t know was that every time I joked about my chronic pain, it diminished Sammy’s validity as a person with fibromyalgia. It wasn’t until a year had passed that she finally told me how she felt. I had spent an entire year making her feel invalidated as a human with invisible illness, and she never told me because she was being nice. Imagine how much better we both would have felt if she had been real with me instead.

I am not a nice person. I am a real person.

[dean-the-demon-hunter]

It’s little brother syndrome. Sam has never HAD to consider another person’s well-being because he was always the recipient of the consideration a la Dean. Whereas Dean has been shouldering the parental responsibilities from a ridiculously young age, Sammy has always been the sheltered one who only sees his brother’s shadow over him, not the bruises and cuts of Dean’s skin from all the beatings he’s taken as the kid’s (Sam’s) only shield. Dean has known nothing BUT thinking of others and taking charge, even if that’s not in his nature. It’s his training, and Sam has never had that training instilled because there was no need. There was even less so when he went off to Stanford on his own and was truly only looking out for himself. Jess was there, but we see no evidence of him supporting her in any way. If anything, SHE supported HIM.

Sam: What would I do without you?

Jess: Crash and burn.

We only get a glimpse into their dynamic, but this was likely presented to us as narrative shorthand to clue us in without needing to show examples or go into detail.

On the subject of ladies, what the hell, I’ll throw this out there as well. It’s been noted that Sam and Dean’s styles are polar opposites. Dean is more of a giver whereas Sam tears into his partners like a rabid dog shredding into fresh meat. This is actually quite indicative of their underlying roles and personalities. Dean gives and Sam takes. I don’t remember the exact scene but there was a flashback of Sam whining about the last of the mac and cheese, and Dean selflessly gives up the coveted last serving to his little brother and I think has cereal instead? Something like that. Again, Dean makes sacrifices that Sam has never even had to think about, much less undertake himself. I’m not saying Sam hasn’t thought of others ever in his life, because in the line of work yes, he has put greater good above himself. But on personal levels? Nothing comes to mind.

Oddly, Sam cares about people but Dean cares MORE. Dean doesn’t have Sam’s cold logic. Sam was attending law school. To be a lawyer. Lawyers can’t be hampered by personal convictions in cases where they may not happen to agree with their client. Now, this irony with Dean caring more is because Sam certainly reaches out more for personal connections and initiates talks about feelings, but I think it’s to make up for the fact that he doesn’t have many things to stir his emotions the way Dean does. He always probes Dean for emotional dialogue to, I believe, learn what it is to feel something so intensely. Again, not saying Sam never has intense feelings. But his don’t follow him around. He’s much better at processing his feelings and letting them go. Dean on the other hand is so truly soft that he HAS to put up this tough machismo front as his armor because he KNOWS he’s vulnerable af and he’s not about to risk that being used against him. He’s not emotionally constipated. He said himself he’s about 97% crap. Pun intended. Jensen and Jared have even pointed out that Sam is a thinker and Dean is a feeler. That Sam stops and plans whereas Dean shoots from the hip and reacts on emotion rather than reason.

I say all that to say Dean is a caretaker by nature, but dude has his limits. Just because he loves naturally, it doesn’t mean that proclivity should be abused to the point of becoming an obligation. Dean is only strong because he’s been broken so many times. His heart is made of bones that have been reset and healed. I feel that Sam is only strong because he’s never been broken like that. His heart was never that soft to begin with. That’s not to say he’s heartless and doesn’t love. Of course he does. But the intensity seems very different. Sam reminds me of all the people who give side hugs and then cringe away a bit when you try to hug them with both arms. Dean will squeeze you so hard you can feel each other’s heartbeat. Without hesitation. Without even shame. Sam can hug you, but it’s almost sterile in its awkward (emotional) distance. Granted, this could just be his coping mechanism, like Dean’s armor, but that remains to be seen. I’m pleased to be learning more about Sam and I hope it continues. I don’t mind if I’m proven entirely wrong. I could easily have overlooked some counterexamples, and the show’s own exposition may go on to open up new revelations into Sam’s character. I look forward to that.

Side note, to address this particular scene. (I’m salty, I’m sorry but) Oh yeah sure. It was totally Dean’s fault for being four years older. It was Dean’s fault that mom died before Sam got a chance to even know her. But Sam, what the fuck did you say in the pilot? On the bridge? What was it again? Something like “Mom’s dead, and she’s not coming back”? Something like “Who cares about mom? She’s as dead as shell ever be”, in effect? Dean rammed you up against the railing for that and had to collect his cool before saying “Don’t talk about her like that.” So yeah I guess you’re not wrong, he did have something with her that you didn’t. But don’t you fucking act like this has been a burden you’ve always carried. Dean loved and lost, but you never even knew her until she came back and you didn’t care in the meantime. So shut the fuck up. Try raising your ungrateful ass AND losing the mother you had a loving relationship with. You don’t know what you’re asking for. What you’re asking for is Dean’s pain. He lost his mother and her love and was left with a shell of a father who dealt with his grief by turning it into anger and vengeance.

I think it’s actually BECAUSE OF his relationship with Mary last season that he suddenly cares about mom’s attention. He had a taste of what a mother-son dynamic with Mary was like FOR HIM, not realizing for even a second that it WASN’T the same for Dean. He misses her and he’s taking it out on Dean because he needs somewhere to direct his own grief.

Sorry this has been long and rambly.

let it out 🖤

[eduardowarman3-blog]

How obtain A Cheap Hostel, Vacation

Mukteshwar could be the land's end with so named resorts and bare minimum facilities on the slope uphill. The accommodation is costly all around wherever we checked. PWD guest house requires booking from district magistrate's office in Nainital. Then we arrived in the IVRI PG hostel named as Edward hostel. I was told about this by the caretaker Jagat Singh, of PWD guesthouse. At the hostel, Bhatt, the care taker, made us write the application for accommodation and then asked us to figure it out signed using the warden who lived just across about the hostel. We waited for this Bengali warden to come outside his residence but the wife said he is going and might possibly be coming after half a session. We were tired and not sure whether continually get the accommodation in hostel. It is fine to establish a road and destroy several orchids. One gets a permit. It is not ok to think about an orchid out of the nation in a suitcase. 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She the recommended for restaurants that consider care of us, but assisted us several times before our reservation to make constant changes to our numbers. Each time we talked she was courteous, pleasant, helpful coupled with great responses. She loves her job and also the guests love her. So do we. New Yorkers are renowned for their lasagna. Thin crust, cheesy and delicious, by the slice possibly the pie, improbable go wrong when referring to wind up meal set at a pizzeria. The particular slice, Joe's right off Bleecker a West Village is popular. Sicilian style or original, you aren't going to be disappointed. The best pie is debatable. I'd personally recommend DiFara's at Avenue J off the Q train, but it is a hike for most tourists who aren't around the way to Coney Island. Grimaldi's, inside Brooklyn Bridge is a detailed second.

[nanniesonthegoblog]

Here’s How Busy Moms Make it Work

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How Busy Moms Get it All Done

mom by Cabodia4kids.org Beth fm Flickr

Whether you’re a busy professional mom or one who stays home with the kids, all of us have common ground: The requirement for childcare. Let’s face it, all of us are working, whether it is full-time, part-time, inside or outside the home, it all keeps us busy. Even if you’re the finest of mothers, there are moments when we all require a break. The issue is, how do you achieve that goal? With work and house demands, it is simple to get lost in all of your responsibilities!

Great Support System = Successful Busy Moms

Having an excellent support system, whether it is for your kids, your family pets or even your senior loved ones, makes us better moms. Understanding that you can get a break and relegate your most valuable responsibilities to a caretaker is a powerful thing. It eliminates for the most part feelings of mommy-guilt and permits you to focus on other items to enhance your family and relationships. No matter if it is work, a date night, or just a trip to the grocery store on your own – gaining this peace of mind is invaluable.

Check Your Options

checklist by Animated Heaven fm Flickr

There are various choices so ensure you examine them all thoroughly prior to making a final decision:

(1) At home care – Bringing a sitter, nanny, or pet caretaker into your house is by far the simplest and most convenient option. It can likewise be the most demanding. Having somebody you’re not familiar with enter your house, even for a night, can be stressful. Make certain, before taking that step, that you solicit a referral from a prior employer or have the prospect provide a resume with recommendations. Then, make certain you make contact with those references. You’ll be more comfortable with your choice, which will alleviate your stress considerably.

(2) Whether working inside or outside the home, think about a local trustworthy day care facility to use when required. There are lots of terrific businesses that are most likely near your home. Interview several and confirm schedule flexibility. Some do have provision for full-time, or perhaps part-time care options and there are even some that permit drop offs.

(3) There is likewise a third alternative of trusting a neighbor or friend to assist you. Think about changing off days with a neighbor that requires aid with her kids, pets or other care requirements. This can usually be the finest, and most economical option.

Do Your Research

Research by Thomas Haynie fm Flickr

Whichever option fits your household and your life, ensure you are making the effort to fully evaluate your option. Fully investigating your choices and checking all the boxes can be time consuming but will be for well worth the effort. As soon as you have actually made your decision and entrusted your loved ones with a care provider, it will allow you to catch your breath, concentrate on work, and get focused on exactly what’s on your list, instead of stressing over the care your children or pets need.

Finding an excellent, steady source of assistance is a resource that excellent moms make use of. Whether it is part-time or full-time care, or only an occasional babysitter or pet sitter, having a reliable source for care assistance pays big dividends!

Affecting the Future

It is amazing when you consider that the parenting we pass onto our children is not just going to impact them but also the future generations to follow. We directly affect future generations by how we love, educate and influence our own kids.

Passing on Values

Even if we don’t consciously plan to pass on our values, our kids absorb them through their immersion in our home. They enjoy, listen and copy our behavior and responses.

Understanding this helps us as parents decide whether we want their values to be discovered inadvertently or on purpose. What values do you want instilled in your kids as they mature?

Christopher Morris Personal Values by Christopher Morris fm Flickr

There are several areas we as parents can affect. Ultimately, the duty to our kids lies us – not on their teachers, their baby-sitter or other relatives. We should be conscious that we make a substantial distinction in our kids’ lives.

Teaching respect for people and their property is one of the important lessons we can communicate to our children. If you are easily angered in traffic jams, rude to telemarketers and do not like having individuals over to visit your house, take a moment to think about exactly what type of message that is offering on how we relate to people. If you over react when something of yours is damaged, or you don’t remember to return borrowed items, your child is simply learning to do the very same.

Children Hear and See Everything

Our kids take notice how we speak to others and will emulate that behavior themselves. The other day I reprimanded my daughter for her tone of voice only to realize that I may have taught her to speak that way by speaking to her the same way on occasion. The tone I disliked hearing from her was in fact one that came from me.

Encourage Strengths

Absolutely, our kids can make us crazy with their behavior sometimes. Often the things we clash with in our kids are the strengths they will exhibit as grownups. It is up to us to recognize these positive qualities and encourage them. Imagine how far they can go with that drive if your strong willed child has that drive directed properly! A child who is always asking ‘why’ may become a leading scientist with a desire to discover the truth.

Encouraging Quotes for Men Architecture of own future by Prabakaran Thirumalai fm Flickr

It is up to us as moms and dads to recognize and encourage our kids’ strengths and talents. Our kids are not blank slates at birth that we can shape into anything we prefer. Each are their own individual with unique strengths and weaknesses. Our job is to identify their strengths and enhance them. It can simply be a matter of having a good conversation with them. I was organizing my children’s upcoming activities and had devised a busy week planned. It occurred to me that I had not even checked with my daughter to see what she preferred. As it turns out, she didn’t want to do anything I had planned! Her plans only included art lessons. I had not even thought of that option! I need to remember I am here to enhance her strengths. Her future and the influence she may have on the world depends on it!

  This post Here’s How Busy Moms Make it Work was authored by site dev2

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