#I literally cannot be apart of the reading community anymore if these are the thoughts people are having | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lizzylucky · 2 years

Text

WHY CAN'T I SAY NO

WHY CAN'T I COMMUNICATE

WHY CAN'T I EXPRESS MYSELF OR MY FRUSTRATIONS OR MY NEEDS TO REAL PEOPLE

I'm so tired, how come I can't express to people just how tired I am so they STOP giving me things to do 😭

It's been so many things this week and last week and the week before and in spite of the many "breaks" I've gotten it's all been too much. What happened that over the last half year I've become completely dysfunctional? Why can't I work even a part time job? Why can't I take care of myself? Why does none of my experience have permanence enough for me to share it with my therapist? Why do I feel like a literal child so much of the time?

I'm so overloaded today especially that I went partially non-verbal, and I don't even know if that's real enough a thing for it to be an excuse. I still talk! I DON'T WANT TO TALK! I DON'T WANT TO! WHY DO I? WHY IS MY DYSFUNCTION ITSELF DYSFUNCTIONAL?

I am not an angry person, typically. But I'm so close to lashing out. My adoptive sister, whom I love but whom I also probably have PTSD from, asked to borrow my black boots for a Halloween party my family is going to tomorrow. I wanted to wear those boots. They're my boots. She has black shoes, as she said she needed, I'm sure, somewhere.

WHY DID I SAY YES? WHY DID I SAY OKAY? Everytime she comes over to me to talk, to comment on it, to ask for the umpteenth time if it's okay, I say "yes", all monotone and unbothered. WHY?

WHY CAN'T I SAY NO?

I want to scream. I want to yell. No, some little internal monster wants to, because I don't scream and yell.

That same little monster wants to yell at my mom to stop treating me like an adult because I don't feel like one anymore, even though she has been nothing but kind and understanding. Another Something inside me wants to cry and hold onto her and ask for a day just she and I because people are too much. And I can do NEITHER because I can't communicate anything.

I have been so emotionally guarded, so professionally masked, for SO LONG, that I've locked those traits into place and I can't get rid of them! Even when I've broken something to the point that I am a different person now than I was months ago, even when I cannot function, even when I cannot recognize myself and no longer feel like a real person, those stupid mechanisms are rigid and stubborn to stay where they are.

Now I'm unable to function AND unable to get help. I don't want to blow up at anyone. I "can't" cry in front of people or show vulnerability, and I seem never to have developed the ability to communicate when something is wrong to real people. So. Here I am. Venting on Tumblr because the guilt of going to anyone specific irl would push me overboard.

My best hope right now is that I remember this post next time I go to therapy, and maybe I can have my therapist read it. Because I'm so tired of not really being okay. And So tired of not being able to ask for help or say that I'm not okay. I'm building a new kind of mask in place of the last one I broke, and this time it's shoving me into a world of dissociation beyond any level I've experienced in past years.

I swear if I were a child I'd have more than one person developing and living in my head, because the stress and loneliness and disconnection I feel all the time are tearing me apart in ways I can't truly explain.

Too many times now I've seen a stranger in the mirror, thought "I miss her" when coming upon old photos of myself, and felt something unrecognized yet undeniable that I've only ever associated with being a very small child.

Something is. So wrong. I've never been gripped so tightly by anhedonia in my life. I can't imagine any form of success or happiness in the future, no hope whatsoever. I don't want to die, but I don't want to live either, because I'm not living, and nothing at all feels like living anymore.

I miss talking to people. I miss involving myself in fandoms. I used to read, write, draw, hike, sing, play piano, drive, work, care about things, take care of myself and my health. I feel nothing about any of those things except loss in a way that can't be fixed by readministering myself to them.

Loss and guilt and anxiety and hopelessness. I don't know if I believe it possible to just. Be happy. For no reason, all the time, without effort. It sounds like a myth at this point.

No one has to read this or care about it. I know I'm not the only person in the world who's felt this way; there are too many people on this planet for that to even be somewhat likely. You don't have to worry about me saying Last Goodbyes because I'm not going that route, ever. But man I don't know if there's any other way right now that I would ever be able to make myself say these things outside of my own head. I'm so lost. I'm so broken. I cannot even imagine the life I had only months ago. I don't know who I am anymore.

I'm trying.

#personal stuff #depression #potentially triggering #vent #rant #anxiety #autism #idek #do i really need to tag this stuff?#i half hope someone who feels like me sees it and feels a little less alone #but i also really hope no one feels like me #not fandom related #just life sucking big time ig #ptsd #idk #i gotta get the big disorders outta the way in case some people have this kinda stuffed filtered #dissociation #this is a lotta nonsense tbh

3 notes · View notes

girlfrandletters · 2 years

Text

How To Accurately and Not Concisely Explain the Turmoil of Thoughts In My Head

It's 2:21am on July 20, 2022, and I cannot sleep. Maybe it's the 24oz of coffee I drank at 6pm, or the maelstrom of thoughts blowing around in my mind, or the anxiety that's hit me from our imminent move or... no. It's definitely the coffee. Remind me to never drink coffee after about 2pm. I'm sure you've said it before, but here is my note to you to remind you to remind me again. I know I shouldn't drink it because it sets my mind down the path of cycling thoughts that shouldn't be thought or ones that are better left mentioned once, set aside (after being fully examined, turned over, and with careful discussion) and ignored for the Once-Important-Topic-But-No-Longer-Consequential subject it is. But here I am anyway.

Tonight's spiraling thoughts (and let me take this moment to mention that I say "spiraling thoughts" without the usual negative connotation we have both placed on it previously. Spiraling thoughts tonight consist merely of things I want to say to you, or about you, about us and our life together that have me lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, unable to close my eyes for more than a few seconds before flying open again. But none of these are bad, negative, upsetting, or saddening. In fact, they're all... exceptionally positive. Overwhelmingly exciting and happy thoughts) stem from a combination of Memory Lane Waltzing, a fleeting moment of worry and insecurity about how I came off tonight, and the thrill of emotion that I got when I happened to catch your sleepy eye as you fell asleep listening to me prattling off.

(Speaking of prattling...)

We are in the final few days of the big move. The transition from two homes to one communal living space. The mingling of one living breathing human, their current lifestyle, their history, their relationships and personality, their job, their routine, their every. waking. minute. with another creature, with their own parts of life. This is a huge step for anyone, of course, but two individuals in their mid-20s, after a slow development of a relationship and partnership unlike any either has experienced before... This is major. Or maybe it's just me. You've moved in with other partners before so maybe you don't have the same hesitations now, but you understand mine at least. Or maybe you do have the same concerns, since your previous moves haven't been ideal either. Regardless, this is a big step for us in the direction of our future. But I'm not scared, not anymore. I was, for a while, and the closer it gets to the day we actually spend in our new home together, the more panicked I got. But after tonight, after literally just sitting here in the bubble of peace and harmony we had, I have no reservations, no secret terrors, or fears not yet placated.

Today I was supposed to do the final packing of my apartment. Instead I had an IUD placed and was in severe cramping pain and could do no more than lie on the couch like a pile of goo. And when you came home, I did nothing other than hold a trash bag for you while you went through your closets. But in one of those boxes, you pulled out some cards written to you by your ex. I, being one of nosy inclinations, asked to read them. I asked for a couple reasons, which I want to say I explained to you, but I'm more inclined to say I told you, and didn't fully let you grasp what I mean.

I asked to read those letters because I have this weird desire to see what it was like for you before. I've heard you say it, I've listened to your stories, but somehow hearing it and seeing it are completely different. Not saying I didn't believe you, but reading those cards hit me differently. Somehow makes it more tangible in my brain, something I can touch and process. I wasn't lying when I say it was also a way for me to help see the perspective that you had, why you stayed, and have more empathy for the situation. It's easy for me, as a third party hearing everything, to immediately hate her and everyone involved, to call her a selfish, manipulative, horrible bitch and think of the most violent ways to punish her for what she did to you. But seeing those words, written in her own hand, helped me see that she was sick in a way that, while you could never have "fixed" her, you tried for her sake and I understand it. And having those on hand, for you to look back at and remind yourself of where you were, how far you've come, I get it. Not in a way of "I completely understand wanting to have these around forever" type of way, but in a "I understand that you process things differently and this helps you come to terms with what happened and what is happening now." Did I have a slight hiccup watching you put those cards back in a box instead of a trash bag? Sure. But not in a jealous way or out of fear that you'd read them, realize you put so much effort into her and still loved her and would go back. That fear hasn't been around for at least a year. That hiccup was more of the inherent female reaction of "I'm here and I'm better and I won so I want to remove any reminder that there was someone before me."

But I have this tendency to suppress those inherent reactions 99.98% of the time, and that 0.02% when it comes out never turns into anything more than a "I'm being stupid, stfu." That being said, I absolutely also asked to read those cards as a way to somehow prove to myself, solidify to myself that she wasn't better than me. Despite all that I've heard, there was (apparently) this little itch in the back of my brain that thought maybe what you said was an exaggeration. She couldn't be nearly as bad as you said. Not that you were lying about it, but sometimes these things get blown up to be just a little bigger than they were. I know thought I've done it with my previous relationships - yes they were terrible, but were they really as bad as I remember or am I just bitter about what happened? Did I make a mountain out of many molehills? And I guess I was worried that you did the same a little. Back when our feelings were still tentative (but slowly growing), I did have a fear that I wasn't nearly as good as you said I was. I couldn't possibly be this wonderfully supportive, loving, great girlfriend that you made me out to be. I was just average. Surely your last relationship had these aspects too. But reading those letters, seeing how many there were, more or less solidified to me that no, it wasn't like that for you. Everything I've given you has not been given to you before to the extent I've given it - and I don't mean that in a conceited "I'm the best" kind of way. They were a way for me to see that this other woman, this historical, life altering human you loved before was not a goddess and perfection incarnate, despite her flaws. I sit here feeling silly for the way my mind compared myself to her, as if I was pitting myself against her and trying to be better so you wouldn't leave me and go back. I see now that there was no competition. I have my own flaws, but if you're staying with me, it's not because I'm just someone to fill a spot, to replace her. I'm here because of what I offer and provide you, all on my own.

Spending the rest of the night on the couch, you watching Netflix, me going through old photos, was relaxing, peaceful, and utterly comforting. The silence between us, with only the noise from the TV (and my raging commentary) was nothing short of blissful. I didn't feel like we needed to fill the air between us with words, either loving or joking, or sarcastic. We didn't need to have a conversation in order to enjoy each other's company. We didn't need to be totally ensconced in each other's arms, groping and feeling. I scrolled through my facebook photos, you rubbed my toes. We spent the night in pure marital happiness (sans marriage). And when the night was over, when it was time to lie down and sleep, I panicked. You thought it was cute, but I was truly, genuinely worried.

Because we just spent a night not embracing, kissing, talking, or fucking. We spent it together, but not... TOGETHER. But... we did. And it threw me off. I was worried that by not talking, by not reminding you every 5 minutes with a touch, or a look, or a word, you'd forget that I loved you. I thought you might be upset with me, or mad that I ignored you. I didn't mean to ignore you, intentionally or not. I was scared that if this is what we did tonight, maybe it was the sign that things were already starting to go downhill and you were bored and tired of me already. And then secondarily panicking because maybe I was just overreacting and you were utterly fine and this is why I've never had a good lasting relationship because I had these kinds of nights before and worried so much about everything falling apart that I couldn't see that everything was fine - then THIRDARILY panicking because what if I was doing the same exact thing and then we fell apart because I couldn't see that everything was fine and you were sick of it.

So stressed and worried was I that I literally came up with a word to describe the 3 back to back mild panics.

But... you, in your infinite patience and reassuring smiles and crinkley-eyed-laughs, let me know that all of that, that whole previous parasgraph there, was not true and in my head and I was being crazy and not to worry. But you didn't say it like that. You said it with a smile and a tight embrace, a forehead kiss and a nose kiss, and fingers through my hair. You reminded me, as you have multiple times over the last 16 months, that you love me, you love my little inexplicable panics, and nothing was wrong. I must have asked you about 13 times in 4 minutes if you were upset or mad or if I'd done anything wrong and you only held me tighter and reassured me that everything was, in fact, okay.

And now I'm sitting here (3:22am now) with you sprawled out on your half of the couch, facing me, elbow touching me, my foot on your thigh, and I'm laughing at myself. Because you're so at peace with everything I am and everything we are and I'm so worried that I'm doing something wrong. You make me feel sane when I feel like I'm going crazy - and I know I'm crazy sometimes and I say stupid things, but you've never once made me actually FEEL crazy or (outwardly) said I'm being stupid. You've only ever loved me, unconditionally and wholeheartedly. I always say "Oh this is the thing that makes me understand you love me" or "You said this and now I can officially feel comfortable." And whatever it is you say or do that makes me say that I'm sure helps me come to terms with that one particular insecurity, whatever that is.

But this... this is a whole new level of "I get it now."

We are about to spend the rest of our lives together. We have been living together for the last 3 weeks now, sure, but I still have "My Apartment" and you have "Your Apartment." Come Saturday, we will only have "Our Apartment." We are going to sit on this couch every night together, some nights talking, other nights just brushing fingers and staring at the TV. Maybe we will even spend nights in two separate rooms. And those nights will be like tonight - comfortable, safe, Together-But-Not. And I'm ready for it. How can I not be when I look at you now, think of how we sat together today, and be happy. I'm not scared of spending an evening not talking every minute because I know that it's not a bad silence. It doesn't forebode a big discussion or argument, or signify a silent treatment, or general malcontent. It indicates comfort and happiness. And if there ever is something to talk about or hash out, I know that you and I will sit and talk it over together until we sort it all out, and end the night in each other's company again. Regardless of whatever comes out way, we will always end the night content with our relationship, our home, our life together.

I am not afraid to be open with you, whether that's about real topics or made up insecurities. I am not afraid of us and our future. I am not afraid of you, because I love you.

~Girlfrand

0 notes

dramaticskeleton · 2 years

Text

How To Accurately and Not Concisely Explain the Turmoil of Thoughts In My Head

(Speaking of prattling...)

So stressed and worried was I that I literally came up with a word to describe the 3 back to back mild panics.

But this... this is a whole new level of "I get it now."

I am not afraid to be open with you, whether that's about real topics or made up insecurities. I am not afraid of us and our future. I am not afraid of you, because I love you.

0 notes

impalementation · 3 years

Text

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 1

I said a long ways back that I thought the switch from Angel to Spike as Buffy’s primary love interest represented an interesting evolution in the show’s attitude towards—and interrogation of—romanticism, and I finally felt like expanding on what I meant by that. This is very long, very meandering, and not terribly academic or well-edited, but I hope there’s something of interest in it nonetheless. It is about 20,000 words in total, and will discuss, in more or less chronological order, the arc of the show’s attitude towards romanticism as it is embodied in Spike, Angel, Buffy and Buffy’s relationships with both of them. I was going to release it as one long post, but because it’s so long, I figured a series of posts might be more readable. Here’s the first one.

“When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

Both Spike and Angel are at once capital-R Romantic figures, and lower-case romantic interests, and in both cases that Romantic/romantic duality is what makes them such effective avatars for ideas around romanticism. In the case of Angel, the show is aware from the beginning that he is very much a Romantic idea of something. In “Welcome to the Hellmouth” Buffy describes him as “dark” and “gorgeous”, evoking the “tall, dark and handsome” cliche. He’s mysterious. He gives her a necklace and his coat, gestures out of high school romance fiction.* In “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” Giles lampshades the romance of him: “A vampire in love with a Slayer. It’s rather poetic, in a maudlin sort of way.” Initially, Angel is basically designed to be a teenage girl fantasy, and it’s no coincidence that his successors like Edward Cullen or Stefan Salvatore conform to similar tropes.

*(Think of how five seasons later, a vampire will give Dawn his letterman jacket in “All the Way”. It’s hard not to read as a deliberate echo of Angel’s gift in season one. Once again, a vampire makes romantic gestures towards a high school version of “Buffy”, and later turns on her. But more on this much later in the series.)

The difference between Angel and those other, more typical Supernatural Romance love interests however, is that the show ultimately attempts to subvert the romance of him. As part of its commentary on Gothic themes, season two makes Angel more Romantic than ever (the Claddagh, the tormented past), and makes the romance between him and Buffy central to the story in a way it wasn’t in season one. And then, of course, the season tears it all apart. The first time we learn what Angel did to Drusilla it’s horrifying, but still somehow abstract. Something that seems more like it’s meant to contribute to Angel’s dangerous, Byronic image. As in, something to make him more Romantic. And then suddenly it becomes real. Suddenly, it’s something that Angel could do to Buffy, or the people Buffy cares about. It turns out that his darkly romantic aura was not just an aura, but genuinely dark all along.

In turn, Angel’s devastating transformation is a metaphor for broader disillusionment about romantic ideas. It’s less to me about a “guy going bad after sex”, and more about what it means and feels like to have the scales fall from one’s eyes in that sort of situation. As Buffy copes with the fallout of Angel’s transformation, and later is forced to kill him, I see it as being about the tragedy of having to see the world in ways that are less simple, easy, or pretty as one gets older. As Buffy and Giles say in “Lie To Me”:

BUFFY: Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just, like, the more I know, the more confused I get.

GILES: I believe that's called growing up.

For more on this, I recommend this livejournal post on “Lie To Me”, which goes into great depth on the way season two frames stories as pretty lies that one needs to look beneath, and how Buffy’s romanticization of Angel symbolizes that.

The whole arc of the season is Buffy’s failure to see the danger presented by Angel. In this opening scene that danger is foreshadowed. More to the point for this essay, Angel goes on to lie to Buffy about having encountered Drusilla. He doesn’t want Buffy to know about the nature of Angelus – which means that his first inclination is to mask the danger he presents to Buffy. This is one episode after Halloween, where Buffy’s romantic fantasies about what Angel wants (a damsel) nearly get her killed. Nor is she completely over those fantasies, as she notes that the mystery woman talking to Angel had a pretty old-fashioned dress. So against the backdrop of Buffy’s fantasies about her dark and mysterious boyfriend we have the truth about what he is, which is quite horrifying.

Season three then takes this to another level, by not just pointing out the darkness of the romance of Angel, but in fact puncturing his romantic image. Instead of emphasizing his dangerousness, as season two did, season three emphasizes his adulthood. It emphasizes the way that Angel is someone Buffy sees in secret, or away from her friends. He’s not integrated with her teenage, high school life, and doesn’t fit with the peppy, high school movie aesthetic that characterizes a lot of season three. By doing this, the writing indicates that at this point in their lives, Buffy and Angel are ultimately incompatible and holding each other back. Regardless of however much they might care for each other, Angel can’t fully appreciate her teenage longings like dances, and college, and having a boyfriend. And Buffy can’t fully appreciate his adult need to find himself on his own terms. By the end of season three, Angel is less of a shadowy, tragic figure, and more just an adult man who needs to finally grow up a bit.

Season three also starts making jokes where the punchline is that Angel isn’t living up to the romantic aesthetic he embodied in seasons one and two. In “Helpless”, for example, he and Buffy have an exchange where he waxes sincerely about wanting to “keep [her heart] safe, to warm it with [his own]” and although Buffy says the sentiment is beautiful, a second later she deadpans: “Or taken literally, incredibly gross.” To which Angel replies, “I was just thinking that, too.” Or in “Graduation Day, Part 1”, Angel trips on a doorway instead of making a silent entrance and Buffy again deadpans: “Stealthy.” Angel’s romance slips at moments when Buffy herself is feeling weak, either because she has lost her Slayer powers, or she’s investigating the scene of her sister Slayer’s crime. Her Romantic Slayer half is betraying her, and her romantic girlish half is feeling insecure. This is echoed by the reminder that Angel is no longer a straightforward fantasy man--or a terrifying, larger-than-life villain--but a guy who is sometimes both verbally and physically inelegant.

(Notice how one of the few times season two makes similar jokes about Angel it’s in “Lie to Me”, the very same episode that begins to peel off the layers of deceptions and unknowns about him. Angel slumps around Willow’s bedroom and jokes about “honing [his] brooding skills”, he insists that the vampire wannabes know nothing about vampires right before a guy walks by wearing his exact outfit, and Xander runs color commentary, saying “you’re not wrong” after each of Ford’s observations. In “Lie to Me” one of Angel’s hidden faces is his dangerousness, yes. But another hidden face is simply his human awkwardness.)

There’s an interesting Slayage piece by Elizabeth Gilliland that discusses the idea of Angel as a Gothic double for Buffy, specifically connecting him to the story of Jekyll and Hyde. It argues that Angel’s split identities represent Buffy’s fears that her human and Slayer halves are irreconcilable, and she cannot fully control either half. In season three, the fact that Buffy and Angel must continuously resist a loss of control with each other, and are treated as romantically incompatible, reflects this fear.

In Season Three, replete with various factors in Buffy’s life that threaten to put her role as Slayer and girl into imbalance once more [...] Angel once again returns [...]. The season culminates in an attempted attack on Buffy’s classmates during graduation, which essentially forces her to “out” herself to her community and combine her roles as Slayer and daughter, classmate, and friend for the first time publicly (“Graduation Day: Part 2” 3.22). The worst has happened: her secret has been revealed, the entire school knows about both of her personas, and she has not only survived, but emerged with a stronger sense of self [...] Buffy has conquered her first Gothic fear, and proven to herself that she can not only exercise control over both dualities of her persona, but allow them to peacefully co-exist. Thus, Angel’s continuing struggle with Angelus can no longer act as her shadow, and he literally and metaphorically leaves her to continue the rest of her journey.

It’s an interpretation I mostly agree with, and see a lot of evidence for. But in keeping with the focus of this series, I think you could also read Angel as embodying a duality between the romantic and the unromantic. In this view, Buffy’s struggle between her human and her Slayer halves is not just a struggle between personas, but a struggle to see the world correctly. In season one, it’s not Angel that revives Buffy in “Prophecy Girl”, because Angel is a vampire trope just like the Master. He cannot help her, because he is exactly the kind of traditional romantic concept--like a candle-lit cavern, an ancient Nosferatu-looking vampire, or a Chosen Hero duty--that Buffy is trying to escape. In season two, loss of control is specifically associated with passion, romance, and romanticism. Buffy’s human half longs for the romantic, but her Slayer half, and Angel’s vampire half, prove that sometimes the romantic is something dangerous and violent. The fact that Buffy’s Slayer identity and Angel’s Angelus identity both end up being outed by the end of the season (especially to Joyce, a figure of Buffy’s human home life), echoes Buffy’s loss of innocence. Season three then continues this suspicion of passion. Buffy fears that like Faith, enjoying the violence and power and desire of being a Slayer, means that she will go down a dark path. She also fears that indulging in her sexual and romantic desire for Angel will unleash Angelus. To some extent, these fears are even borne out, given that her love for Angel results in her attempted murder of Faith, and near death at Angel’s hands. But to some extent they also aren’t, given that she, Faith and Angel all live.

To me, what really gets resolved at the end of season three is not quite the issue of Buffy’s human and Slayer halves, given that Buffy will continue to struggle with that duality until the end of the show. Rather, what gets resolved is the need for binaries. Binaries are romantic things. When Giles gives his speech to Buffy at the end of “Lie To Me”, it is the language of binaries that he uses:

GILES: Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.

BUFFY: Liar.

In season three, Buffy thinks she must resist both Faith and Angel. She thinks she can only be either a human girl or a Slayer leader. Many plots in season three have to do with the danger of binaries, whether that’s the witch-hunting parents in “Gingerbread”, Willow dealing with her vampire self in “Doppelgangland”, the various alter-egos in “Beauty and the Beasts”, or Cordy choosing a Buffy-less world in “The Wish”. And no character in the Buffyverse embodies the concept of binaries so starkly as Angel does. Thus by the end of season three, Buffy collapses the binaries within herself by merging the human and Slayer parts of her life, as Gilliland observes, and taking on Faith’s traits. She acknowledges her shadow by kissing her tenderly on the forehead, and bids farewell to the illusions and binaries that Angel embodies. Buffy is leaving that part of her life behind, and starting a new chapter where she can no longer split either the world, or herself, into any one thing or another.

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

#romanticism series #buffy #angel #s1 #s2 #s3 #s6 #gen #spike #btvs

172 notes · View notes

symptoms-syndrome · 4 years

Text

Alters and Race in White-Bodied Systems

I said I was going to write something up, so I’m going to try. I will try to make this as easily understandable as possible, so please let me know if parts are unclear. This will be a little long because it’s a complex topic, but I hope you try to read it if you can. I’ve broken things up into chunks and made the text large for each header so that it is more ADHD-friendly, and tried to use layman’s terms whenever possible.

Things I’m going to be talking about in this post will be:

What is race?

What are the types of racial oppression?

How do people in DID communities/spaces perpetuate racism?

How can I check myself and avoid perpetuating racism?

Final notes

When I can, I will link to sources. For transparency, I am a nonblack/indigenous, Korean-American mixed race person with diagnosed DID. When I use the term “DID” in this post I am referring to both DID and OSDD.

#1: What is Race?

Race is a social construct, created by white people. It is not based in any science, as science has disproven there are significant genetic markers that differ between different races. “Whiteness,“ especially, has been an idea that has changed wildly over time. (A good book to read about this is called How The Irish Became White.)

Socially, people are divided along lines of race, which are blurry at best. Things like “the one drop rule“ make it so that no person of color (POC, a noun not an adjective) can fully claim whiteness. Whiteness is primarily defined by “not being a POC.”

‘Whiteness,’ like ‘colour' and ‘Blackness,' are essentially social constructs applied to human beings rather than veritable truths that have universal validity. The power of Whiteness, however, is manifested by the ways in which racialized Whiteness becomes transformed into social, political, economic, and cultural behaviour. White culture, norms, and values in all these areas become normative natural. They become the standard against which all other cultures, groups, and individuals are measured and usually found to be inferior (Henry & Tator, 2006, p. 46-47).

(In layman’s terms: Whiteness is created by society, and is now defined as “normal” and “default,” while actively oppressing people of color. People of color, by not being white, are seen as inferior. It’s a catch 22 of not being enough, and when you ARE enough, you’re not considered a person of color anymore, which is exactly what happened to the Irish.)

#2: What is Racial Oppression?

“Oppression” is a word a lot of folks throw around these days, and is commonly defined by what are called the “four Is of oppression.” These four Is are:

Internalized: This is oppression instilled in POC. Thoughts like “if I am more like my white peers, I will be more respected,” “I’m not like those people of color,” and pitting different POC against each other are all examples of internalized racism.

Interpersonal: This is oppression that is between individuals, and the most recognized form of racism. Interpersonal racism can look like calling people slurs, expecting POC to conform to stereotypes, etc.

Institutional: This is oppression built into the society and systems we live in. It can look like schools with higher percentages of POC getting less funding, differing descriptions for the same behavior (hyperactive white children being described as “outgoing” while a child of color is described as “disruptive”,) income inequality, and police brutality.

Ideological: Probably the hardest for people to recognize, ideological racism exists within our very thought processes. White people are told, directly and indirectly, that they are harder working, more deserving, more capable, more advanced, and so on. The inverse is applied to POC. A good example of this is the idea of “welfare queens,” or the idea that someone only got to where they are “by playing the race card.”

All of these interact with each other. Ideological racism is the basis of institutional racism, institutional racism is enforced by interpersonal racism, and progress towards liberation is inhibited by internalized racism, which is instilled in us by all of the above. Oftentimes, these are perpetuated in ways white folks don’t even notice or intend. Offhand comments and other microaggressions (more about those here, in a 2 minute video) can reinforce racism in ways that seem small or insignificant.

Now, onto the part folks are most likely here for:

#3: How Does This Relate to DID?

In DID, alters form for all sorts of reasons, and can look like anything. From demons to angels, fictional characters to animals or objects, the ways parts form can tell someone a lot about that parts beliefs, particularly when they differ from the body. In The Haunted Self, an example is given of a part that believes they are Superman because they cannot be hurt.

When race is involved with this, ideological biases come into play. Though you may not consciously make the decision to have an alter appear a certain way, ultimately, an alter is created by your brain and your brain alone (apart from, of course, the society that your brain/body exist in.) When you are a white person, and your brain creates an alter that appears to be of color, there is a reason. Even “positive” reasons can carry racism, such as splitting an Asian-appearing alter to help with schoolwork. Oftentimes, even without knowing, that reason is due to biases regarding race.

When an alter is created, it does not magically gain the experiences of someone who would actually live in that body. An alter that appears to be a POC has no idea what it’s actually like to be a POC, has no experience with racism, and does not experience any racism. Any racial experiences they may seem to carry with them are a white person’s perception of them, it’s a lot like claiming you know a show because you watched it through a neighbor’s window.

#4: How Can I Check Myself?

So, how do you never do anything racist ever again?

I’m sorry to say, but it just isn’t possible to be 100% non-racist. Even POC cannot be 100% non-racist or anti-racist, because we unfortunately live in a society that is constantly upholding white supremacy and white supremacist beliefs.

However, the next best step is being an anti-racist! Checking yourself for biases you’re upholding or racism you’re perpetuating is an important first step. This is an often uncomfortable and confronting process, and one that never has an end, but an important one. There are a LOT of ways you can do this, but I’ll just list a few that are relevant to DID.

Familiarize yourself with common stereotypes.

The easiest way to find where your internalized biases are with alters that appear to be a different race is familiarizing yourself with common stereotypes and ideas that our society has about POC. These are often tied to things like violence, hypersexualization, drug use, and other negative attributes, but can also be things that on the surface appear to be positive, such as being studious, people-pleasing, or frugal. Regardless of whether the stereotype seems positive or negative, either way it’s still perpetuating racism.

Ask yourself: Is my POC-appearing alter more sexual than others? Are they aggressive? Is my POC-appearing alter a monster (such as a demon or a zombie,) or otherwise less human, like an animal?

Keep an eye on your language

Obviously, if you follow my blog, I don’t support talking negatively about my parts. But in addition to this, when race is involved, it’s even more important. Words like “feral,” “aggressive,“ “sassy,” “soft,” and others can have a more racist impact when used on POC than when used on white folks. Additionally, your POC-appearing alter is not an actual person of color, so avoiding language like “my Asian alter” and replacing it with (when race is relevant,) “my alter that appears Asian” can be also a helpful change. Lastly, and I would hope this goes without saying, but language like AAVE, slurs, and “broken” English are not yours to use if you have a white body. If you wouldn’t let a white person say it, you should not let an alter in a white body say it.

Ask yourself: Would I use this word if this alter appeared white? If I saw another white person talking like this, would I be okay with that?

Avoid cultural appropriation, be aware of culture

A lot of this may seem obvious, such as not wearing native regalia if you are not native, but other aspects of cultural appropriation may not be as obvious. Asian names, for example, are both incredibly personal, important, and significant in Asian culture, and stigmatized against in white society. I don’t know of any Asian folks who do not have a white name they used in school because teachers literally refuse to try and learn our real names. The issue of cultural appropriation is, at its core, that white people are treated differently for doing the same things that POC do, even when it’s originally something that POC created.

Ask yourself: Would someone of x race be treated differently from me doing this? Is this something that POC have been told they cannot do, even though I can?

#5: Final Notes

As I say whenever I do equity workshops, learning does not end here. I encourage you, if possible, to do more research on your own about racial equity! Clicking the links I’ve included throughout my writing would be a good start, and those links may lead you to others. Getting involved with local activism groups, meeting diverse groups of people with varying ideas, and reading would also be excellent ways to further your learning at your own pace.

Reading this may have made you uncomfortable. You might’ve read something and cringed, thinking to yourself “oh no, I do/did that!” in which case, forgive yourself. Learning is always a process, and no one is ever perfect. As long as you keep in mind what you’ve learned going forward, you are not a bad person for having done something racist in the past. We live in a society that at best doesn’t punish, and at worst rewards upholding the racist beliefs we all live with. Discomfort is a part of learning, and if you were uncomfortable and kept reading, I commend you. That’s hard.

This is all written by one person, with one experience and one life story. You may at some point in time talk to someone with an entirely different experience who may say totally different things than me. Use your best judgement.

If you read all the way through and found something useful, and you can spare any change, my cashapp is $beepollen98. Money would be used to prepare for my upcoming gender surgery! Obviously no pressure, I hope you learned something and feel a little more educated, and maybe even enjoyed reading!

As always, my DMs and asks are open if you found anything confusing, and/or have suggestions/questions.

#actuallydid #actuallyosdd #did/osdd #dissociative identity disorder #other specified dissociative disorder #actuallydissociative #did #osdd #race and DID

470 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

the worst case scenario 2

i did decide to make this a little parter thing, but really want to be as sensitive as poss (honestly using this as a sort of therapy for what I see myself ah). So please do not read if anything in the warnings may trigger. I very much am not trying to ‘romanticise’ these sorts of situations in any way but also be aware medically this is NOT accurate.This part is short but I think there will be more.

warnings: hospital - ICU, respirators / mention of death , maternal mortality / talk of family dynamics and abandonment of a child

[previous part]

The sight Nikki walked into is something that as a parent you never want to see. Walking into this cold and otherwise empty ‘relatives room’ to see her son collapsed in a world of pain onto his best mates chest. Tom was too busy sobbing to even notice her entrance but her and Harrison instantly locked eyes . Not even able to muster up a greeting smile, Harrison just nodded her in, admitting her entrance to the most horrific situation.

It was about half an hour since she had been texting Haz, arranging when they’d be able to come and visit the newborn in hospital or whether it would be better to just wait till the new family got settled back at home, when Nikki had got a call from Tom’s number. With an excited grin she had instantly whipped her phone off the kitchen counter within one ring- a facial expression that didn’t last long at all.

Met with the distant sound of crying first, Harrison’s deeper voice then emitted itself from her phones speaker, alerting her to the fact everything was very not right. He’d asked her to come to the hospital, said it was Y/n, that the baby was fine and then hung up. Dom immediately agreed to come with her but right now he was still parking the car, having dropped Nikki off right at the front. It had sounded that bad.

Now, she knelt down infront of Haz and Tom, the latter who still was leaning over the arm rest and currently silently crying into his friends chest. Haz didn’t miss Nikki’s hands shaking as she reached out and rubbed up and down her sons back, the action prompting him to suddenly lean up to face her. He was broken. Totally and completely broken. Wordlessly, Nikki looked up for a second, communicating with Harrison so as if rehearsed he stood up and Nikki took his place in the chair - giving him a break from being Tom’s support. Beyond appreciative of how well Nikki could read a situation, Haz quietly but still in a hurried fashion made his way to the door.

Because he was about to crack too - Tom couldn’t see him like that, not right now at least. And so his legs, completely of their own volition, carried him down the hallways. He had absolutely no idea what time it was, all sense of time passing had completely been thrown off earlier in the morning. He was oblivious to a lot, very much in his own thoughts and only realised where he had ended up when a nurse he vaguely recognised managed to garner his attention.

“You’re here for baby Holland? She’s just round here.”

“I-“ He couldn’t respond but the nurse just nodded and then started off down the hallway, practically forcing the blonde to follow a couple of meters till they got to a perspex viewing window.

“She’s the little cutie in the far corner over there.” The brunette middle aged lady softly spoke as she pointed through the glass to the incubator in the corner. “ Don’t worry about all the equipment, the doctors already come round and cleared her. She’s good to go home when you guys are…are ready.” Her words had trailed off, Harrison guessed she didn’t know how to phrase the current ‘situation’ Tom and Y/n were in either. After a couple of moments, the nurse placed a gentle hand on Harrison’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You want to have a cuddle? I know your not dad but…”

“Yeh-yeh…please.”

Harrison just felt awful. The little girl was barely hours into life and yet she wasn’t receiving nearly as much as love as she should be. Instead unnamed and alone in a cold and clinical setting. So he silently nodded away, taking in all the instructions the nurse gave as she sat him down in the arm chair next to the incubator.

Once she placed the little blanket wrapped bundle in his arms the nurse smiled gently up at Haz “You want to feed her? I’m sure she’d prefer it from you than me love?” Ah. Now Haz really was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She’d never been given a feed before - except presumably the midwifes.

“I-uh Y/n hasn’t even so I probably shouldn’t…”

“I can promise you Miss Y/l/n would probably want her baby to be cared for by someone that loves her and that Miss Y/l/n trusts herself.” Ooof. How were nurses so intuitive? She literally read his mind and broken down all the ill-founded ideas Harrison had built up.

“I’m not her Dad.”

“But you care.” Looking down once and briefly at the squished little face that wormed herself into Harrisons broad chest a little more, he then immediately nodded in agreement. Looking almost relieved, the nurse handed him a bottle and directed him as to how to hold it. After mere moments she gasped happily, leaning back whilst the blonde boy waited for her input.

“She’s latched on easy peasy. You’re doing great, I can leave you to it if you want - I’ll only be round the corner.”

“Can you check if there’s any news on Y/n?” The kind lady nodded, before promptly exiting the room - leaving the two actually alone for the first time ever.

He didn’t even think about it, whilst Haz cradled her in one arm and held the bottle up at the angle shown by the nurse, he quietly spoke to the little bundle.

“I’m sorry you were lonely… your mum and dad love you lots and lots… we all do.” Not realising he was crying, Harrison almost scared himself when a single strangled and repressed sob escaped from his chest. “ You’re mum…. She’s a pain in the arse right?” Haz laughed a little wetly “ She’s sarky as hell and she always has an answer… you’d probably think she’s a badass… she is. And-and…. Your dad is just scared… He loves you I promise, he just… he’s worried about you mum.” Now there was actual tears welling up and overflowing his lower lash line, not matter how much he tried to blink them away. “But whatever… whatever happens. You got all of us kiddo… you got me.”

Jolted out of his thoughts by the ladies knuckles rapping twice on the door, Harrison immediately shook himself out of it, wiping his face on his arm to hopefully remove all the evidence of the slight emotional breakdown.

“Mr Osterfield… the doctor wanted me to let you know he’s on his way to talk to Mr Holland.”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Harrison managed to get back to Tom, Nikki and now Dom before Dr Webber returned, so with a greeting nod to Dom he too took a seat opposite Nikki and Tom. His best mate wasn’t crying anymore, which could be considered a positive were it not for the sinisterly empty look in his eye. He looked almost robotic, staring almost straight ahead at the light grey wall, sat straight and rigidly except for his one hand clasped in Nikki’s.

“You went to see the baby?” Nikki broke the silence, making Harrison smile sadly over at her with a nod. It didn’t even look as though Tpm heard his mum speak, even if he was sat right next to her. “She’s okay?”

“Yeh…I gave her a bottle. She-she’s very cute.” Harrison could see Nikki’s face morph into one of kindness before she looked left toward her son. Nikki was still yet to see to unnamed girl but just thinking about her made her heart flutter. And then stop when she thought about what that little girl was already going through, barely hours into existence.

“You hear that Tom? Maybe you could go down and see her soon? After we’ve spoken to the doctor?” Nikki was only trying to do the best thing, Harrison knew it and deep down Tom did know it too. But now really really wasn’t the time for some gently encouragement from his mother, it wasn’t just Tom being a little stubborn. This was his whole entire world falling apart around him. He didnt have the energy or focus to even shoot down his mother, instead Tom chose to stay completely still - engrossed in his own thoughts.

From the outset, when you take that leap and say to a person ‘I think we should try for kids now’ you are completely putting yourself at the mercy of the other. But when they agree? Then it’s a commitment. Not it the same way marriage is - because that’s a completely selfish gesture, you get married because YOU want to be married to each other. Rather, agreeing to have a kid is a promise, a promise of something more. Promising that you are bringing this life into the world - and half of that life is yours. You create it together and it becomes a joint responsibility. You can never, no matter what people think, ever stop being a parent. At the end of it all there will be another person that knows, scientifically, it is half you. Even if they never met you - they still ‘knew’ you. They would know you had to exist, they would see things in themselves that cannot be explained rather than the influence of their creator.

And sure, it didn’t always work out that way. A parent would up and leave, a child always with questions and a sense of betrayal. But that child… they know you. Because there is half of you in them.

So it was Y/n and Tom together that was slumbering blissfully on a ward downstairs. That was the scary thing. Tom was so sure he didn’t have it in him. He wouldn’t do this without her. He couldn’t be a dad to a baby without a mum. He couldn’t be a parent without Y/n.

Almost thankfully for the atmosphere in the room, a soft know had them all snatching their heads up the very same grey slightly potato like doctor waddled in, this time followed by 2 others; a tall, dark haired woman with a soft and empathetic smile; then another man but this one tall and slender, unlike the other two who were wearing professional clothes, he was donned in scrubs (with the scrub hate too).

“Mr Holland and uh… family” Dr Webber awkwardly greeted the new arrivals of Nikki and Dom, somehow apparently sensing they were Tom’s and not Y/n’s parents who were hours away. Oh fuck, Tom hadn’t even phoned them yet.

“This is Dr Alison Goodwell and then Dr Rohan Avinash, he is Y/n’s surgeon.” They filed in and took seats surrounding them, Dom and Harrison standing up to stand off to the side, not wanting to get in the way of the doctors. All Tom could do though was overanalyse everything. Why was the surgeon here? What was this other lady doing here? A pathologist? — no, he wasn’t going to think like that. Then the taller and most scary looking of the three inched forward, commanding the attention of the whole room.

“Mr Holland, I just wanted to go over what happened. Ms Y/l/n developed plactental accreta, which was the cause of the what we call here a post partum haemorrhage. When you raised the alarm she had already lost, at best guess, 3 pints of blood which is a lot, there’s no denying. Dr Webber and his team quickly brought her up to my team in surgery. We transfused her with blood but we couldn’t stabilise her and the bleeding didn’t show any signs of stopping so we had to perform emergency surgery….” Dr Avinash slowed down as he took in how close Tom looked to bursting out in tears once again, offering him the chance to have a moment to collect himself. Vehemently shaking his head in refusal, Tom crung his hands together furiously. He just needed to know. “Okay… Now the nature of the surgery, because we had to be so quick…it is quite invasive and is a lot of stress to put on anyones body. That and the amount of blood she had already lost makes the situation very dangerous. Sometimes when this happens a persons heart-“ Tom’s breath halted in his throat at the mention of her heart, Harrison sharing the bleak trigger which made him shift uncomfortable between his two feet. “-notices this, it goes into what we call hypovoloemic shock, this just basically means its not getting enough volume of blood to pump properly. So we have had to stimulate Ms Y/l/n’s heart with electricity to keep it pumping-“

“You shocked her?” He felt so numb and now adrenalin was coursing through his own veins, images like you see on TV shows of her body arching up not he table from the volts of electricity.

“I’m afraid we did have to but it meant we could keep her stable enough to fix the bleed. I am sorry to say this but we’ve had to remove her whole womb because it was so damaged.”

“But Y/n?” Again Harrison lost all willpower of control, though to be fair he wasn’t sure if he was being impatient or not - this doctor appeared to be delivering this news painfully slowly, as if to torture everyone as much as possible.

“Your fiancé lost a lot of blood and her body went through a lot” The towering doctor kept his focus on Tom the whole time, Harrison’s interjection seemingly falling on selectively deaf ears. “We’ve had to use a machine to control her breathing and for the moment she is still in a very dangerous place. Right now she is stable but I don’t want to make any promises to you. We are nowhere close to out of the woods yet.” Seemingly, feeling compelled to add in, the brunette doctor spoke for the first time since entering.

“But it’s still one hurdle she has got through… Now that the surgeons are finished with Ms Y/l/n me and the other intensive care doctors will be keeping a very close eye on her okay? We are all going to be working with you and your family 24/7, to keep Y/n as comfortable as possible.” Her soft smile managed to somehow break through to Tom, who jerkily nodded while Nikki squeezed his hand tight. There had been a lot of that going on today and even if Tom would say he wished nothing more that it was Y/n rather than his mums grip - he still appreciated it. The doctor continued, leaning forward so her elbows were resting on the tops of her thighs. “Right now she’s asleep and probably will be for quite a while. We first want to be sure she’s not in any pain, so she is sedated. Now assuming everything goes okay tonight and she stays stable we might want to think about possibly reducing that sedation, however for right now I hope you are all in agreement that we just want to make sure she’s comfortable?” The whole room nodded steadily in response which the doctor acknowledged with a satisfied smile.

“And we are all aware this is a lot to take in so if you have any questions or think of any please just let us know - it’s important that you guys are all fully in the know… How is your daughter?” Dr Webber started off so well, Tom was almost going to smile thankfully at him, until he mentioned it. Instantly, the cold and empty look reappeared behind Tom’s eyes as the room was held in silence for long enough to be uncomfortable. To be fair, the doctor wasn’t to know that recently Tom had taken to refusing to acknowledge he even had a child.

“I-she’s really good… the nurse there said she’s ready to leave whenever” Harrison had to show that at least someone was looking out for her, he couldn’t not.

“Okay” sharing a knowing look with Harrison, Dr Webber pitifully clasped his hands together, before looking back to Tom. “Would you like Dr Alison take you up to see her, sir?”

again pls let me know if anyone is very not okay with this, i can take it down and not write any more!

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #Tom Holland angst #angst

157 notes · View notes

thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Note

What do you think of JM’s updated Spotify? I don’t normally read into things, but his song choices makes me sad. “At my worst” “I can’t be myself (excuse me while I cry) & “When was it over?” With the lyrics “was it that fight we didn’t have when I came in? Was it the first time you saw me drunk? Second time I said I’m sorry?” It sounds like a replay of Vmins dumpling incident and it worries me. JM looked off in the recent live, almost sad and pouty lately. Do you think I’m over analyzing it?

Admin 1: The short answer to this would be: yes, you are over analyzing things.

The longer one would be that, for example, Pink Sweat$'s At My Worst isn't a sad song, it's actually the exact opposite. It's a very cute and romantic song. Just look at the first verse:

Can I call you baby? Can you be my friend? Can you be my lover up until the very end? Let me show you love, oh, no pretend Stick by my side even when the world is caving in, yeah

I'd actually argue this kinda sounds like a mixture between Sweet Night and Friends when it comes to the sentiment of those words. I’ve seen some people even claim that this will replace Ed Sheeran’s romantic songs that have so far been used at every wedding ever because of how sweet it is.

Then we have Justin Bieber’s I can’t be myself which I believe you probably only looked at the title and jumped to conclusions because, again, this isn’t a sad song either. The lyrics are more about how Justin (or whoever) cannot be himself when you (I’d guess he likely means his wife) isn’t by his side, thus wanting to say that he is happiest and most himself when they are together. It’s sweet and lovely, not sad.

I could travel any place But without you, it's just runnin' around (Girl, I'm just runnin' around) They could open Heaven's gates But without you, I'm just stuck in the clouds (Yeah, yeah)

Lastly, from the songs you specifically highlighted, is Sasha Sloan’s when was it over? which yes, I’ll admit this one is a sad song about not being able to let go even though you know there is nothing left. The song though has a very calm sound, something you’d listen to in the evening, and something I could see both him and Tae like listening to, not because Jimin relates to the lyrics but because it’s simply a pretty song.

On my current playlist I have Stromae’s Formidable, a song about a heartbroken man getting wasted after a breakup. I’ve neither gotten my heart broken nor am I sad and yet I still love this song because it’s just a really good song. Sometimes that’s the only reason we need to listen to a song. Nothing more to it.

All that to say that I don’t believe there is any correlation whatsoever to be made here, especially since Tae and Jimin look more than happy in recent months (did you notice Jimin happily smiling at Tae during their most recent performance of Butter for Colbert at the beginning of their subunit dance?) and there is nothing that could indicate to us that something went wrong between them, or that Jimin could be sad or something bad going on with him. I mean, look at JKs playlist and the fact that he has Billie Eilish’s Your Power on it, applying your thought process, does that mean that JK is trying to tell us he went through something similar to Billie? That he is sad? Or do you think he simply recommended that song because he likes Billie’s music? The last one seems the most likely, doesn’t it?

So, to sum it all up, there is absolutely no need to worry, seriously.

Admin 2: In the evenings, when it's very quiet and my big city has fallen asleep, I really enjoy listening to Sweet Night. I also like to go back to 4 O'Clock from time to time (although I know I will cry). Does that mean I missed my chance in life to be with my beloved? No and no again! I've never been in a situation like this, I wasn't unhappy or "fragily" in love, no one abandoned me or cheated on me. I listen to these songs because I love them. They match the mood of the evening and calm me down despite the sad lyrics and let me fall asleep peacefully.

I am a person who listens to a lot of songs from the past; Songs that remind me of situations, remind me of years of studying, enable me to relive certain situations.

Dear Anon, thank you very much for your question (confession), but I admit that I see it as "looking for some kind of backdoor" so to speak, a way to create a loophole and deny everything after all.

I don't know who you are, I don't know if you really are a Vminnie, but I think you are clinging to any possibility of a situation to undermine the reality or existence of Vmin. That's how I see it, if I offend you, I apologize. The more we get new materials about Tae and Jimin every day, like them being cute in the McDonald's behind the scenes, the more such "sad thoughts" we get sent to us through asks every day.

Firstly, I'm not sure if Jimin (and Taehyung) is fluent enough in English to capture the accuracy of the lyrics and understand its message. Of course, you can translate it, but for that to happen first the song has to catch your attention, and usually it's the melody and the overall feeling of a song that does it, and not the lyrics. And that is the point!

I think Jimin picked these tracks because he simply likes them. Perhaps he first paid attention to the melodies and the mood and only then understood the lyrics sometime later.

A lot of people (including me) hear some kind of song instead of another because they are intrigued by the melody or the association with a particular situation. The mood that fits the moment, the weather, the time of day or many other things which lead us to choose this song and not another.

Maybe Jimin and Taehyung were driving at night and listening to the song on the radio, maybe they were in a romantic mood back then, just having dinner together or taking a half bath together. Ha ha, I know I am deceiving and romanticizing what I am saying to reflect the vast possibilities and reasons why you listen to music like this and no other. Jimin putting together this list of songs for his spotify playlist doesn't mean he listens to it all the time, every day, but that he has the songs he likes on his list and chose the ones he wants to hear right now, or that he thought ARMY could like.

Of course, I'm sure he listens to very different songs during exercising than the one lying in bed before falling asleep. Maybe he's listening to this list, just like we hear the songs from BTS? We know individual words after repeating them several times, and we generally know (as we decide to read translations) what is going on in a particular song, but we don't understand all the words accurately. Not all of us are in the same situation as described in a particular song, but still we listen to it because we like it, because BTS sings it, because we are waiting for a solo from Suga etc. etc. etc.

For some time now we have been seeing (I see) Vmin happy, even very happy, as if "after the night the day came and after the storm came peace" (by the way, these are the words of one of my favorite songs), I have the impression that Vmin have finished fighting all their fights and they are just happy now, finally. Taehyung looks like a million dollars, he's literally glowing and far more lively than he was a year ago.

To him, Jimin is like smooch like butter and someone he likes the most. Taehyung is a handsome and hot chingu for Jimin who he also likes him the most as well. Tell me dear Anon, where is there room for fear and doubt in the love they share? Why and on what basis do you suspect that Vmin has broken up, or is having problems, or that either of them is unhappy? Besides, if one of them has an off day or is simply tired after a packet schedule and thus doesn't look as animated, why is that immediately read as "Jimin and Tae aren't together anymore" or "they are drifting apart" when chances are far more likely that it has nothing to do with their bond? Based on the playlist, or based on Vlive, or maybe based on both of these events, what is the correlation?

I've seen the Vlive. To tell the truth, I didn't see a sad and pouty Jimin there. Instead, I saw Taehyung smiling and content, and Jimin smiled and admired Tae's new hairstyle. I watched the latest BTS interviews. Vmin stared at each other, Jimin stared at Tae with a big smile that only grew in size and the two communicated with their eyes.

Jimin caressed Taehyung's back/butt in the Butter MV making Episode and said there’s butter here (though it wasn’t translated in the subs).

In the McD ad they were together and standing next to each other, even with Jimin resting his head on Tae's shoulder and then Jimin eating Tae's chicken nugget from his hand.

Honestly, I don't know what else Vmin would have to do to keep people from doubting their bond and happiness. They have shown us so much, I think they have reached the limit of what can be said without saying it bluntly.

Most importantly, this is a very interesting situation as we have never had as much "dubious news/content" (not meant negatively at all) as we have now after Taehyung's interview with his ‘confession’/clarification about Sweet Night. To me it smells a bit like someone wants to cause fear or plant the seed of doubt, or be like a trojan horse with the underlying idea of course being that "well...we must be wrong" even though there’s no reason for us to believe/think that.

#Jimin #Taehyung #vmin #song analysis #answered ask

48 notes · View notes

thespoonisvictory · 3 years

Text

“Techno and Wilbur make Cave Better” Key Conversations

Hi, so I’m doing a big Pogtopida Wilbur analysis rn, mainly of this stream, and I basically decided to transcribe all major events, conversations, and quotes for the masses, to reference during said analysis.

This was such a good stream to look at, and there’s some really interesting stuff to analyze, as Wilbur interacts with almost every portion of the story and develops his character in a really interesting way. I definitely recommend watching the stream if you want to understand Wilbur’s character, or at least read this. If you like to write meta, have fun with this oh boy.

Major quotes and full conversations are bolded for clarity, timestamps are added, and names are shortened when writing dialogue. If the character is not tagged Wilbur is the one speaking (W = Wilbur, TU = Tubbo, F = Fundy, S = Schlatt, and TO = Tommy).

“Hey Techno. I’m in a better mood today. I’m in a better- do you know I’m- I’m over fucking losing Manburg y’know.” 11.08

“The revolution is coming. the only difference is I’m not gonna be sad while doing it. I’m gonna be happy, while revolting.” 11.20

“Hey Techno, do you wanna see how over Manburg I am, dude? How over L’Manburg I am? You ready for this? *reveals Pogtopia skin*” 11.25

“That filthy, dirty, coat. I didn’t wash it once, I’ll be honest with you, Technoblade.” 11.40

*Techno shows him the farm, Wilbur is concerned but a little frightened by the amount of time he’s spent on this lol*

“First, I think, I wanna make this place look nicer, cause I won’t be able to work in this cavern if it’s just like, if it’s natural generation, y’know?” 14.33

*they join vc with tubbo*

“Tubbo’s one of the few people I trust, Technoblade. Like, I’m still figuring you out right now, but, at the moment, Tubbo seems to be pretty on the ball. He seems pretty keen on the whole spying thing.” 16.13

“See the thing is, Tubster, can I call you Tubster? Cool, cool. See the thing is Tubbony, I need help, today. Tubbo, do you know anything about super smelters.” 16.53

*they meet up in Manburg to go to Pogtopia, Wilbur doesn’t feel safe coming too close*

“Tubbo. You’ve lost the revolutionary gear. I’m so proud of you man, I’m so proud of you. We’ve finally moved on. It’s the next part!” 19.32

*Wilbur is visibly upset by Tubbo wearing the suit, despite it being a “disguise” and him saying Schlatt’s name, however*

“I was sleeping last night, before I changed my clothes, and I thought to myself, I thought to myself Tubbo you’ve done so much for our great nation.”20.17

“Have you heard of the Sunk Cost Fallacy?” *Wilbur explains the fallacy* “So, in that logic, I think you are physically incapable of giving up. I think you’re physcially incapable of giving up L’manburg. Because you’ve put in so much effort! You’ve put in so much work, y’know. So that’s why...” 22.12

*Wilbur shows Tubbo Pogtopia*

“Pogtopia isn’t a nation, as much as Tommy seems to think it is. We’re a commune, now. Don’t call me Mr President anymore, Tubbo, you’ve gotta call me, uh, Wilbs... In the commune, we’re all equal, we’re all comrades. We’re all equal” 24.24

*Wilbur compares them to Russian revolutionaries*

“Except with this Russian revolution, we’re not all gonna die. And also the nation we’re gonna make afterwards will not fail.” (oh god I’m sad) 25.15

*they talk about the super smelter, wilbur and tubbo are wholesome :(*

W: “Welcome to the commune, welcome to Pogtopia. Now, I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking Wilbur- Wilbur-”

TU: “I think it looks lovely”

W: “oh, see I thought you were gonna say ‘Wilbur Wilbur this looks like shit’, and I was gonna say ‘yes Tubbo, yes it does look shit’”

TU: “I mean, you obviously- I don’t think you’ve seem Manburg lately.”

Wilbur’s tone becomes serious, maybe angry “I haven’t seen Manburg lately. Why do you rub this in.”

TU: “What- no- I didn’t mean it like that-”

W: “No- I heard you man-”

TU: “No, it’s really gone quite in the opposite direction-”

Wilbur’s tone cheers up a bit. “Oh- it’s bad? It looks bad?

TU: “Yeah”

W: “Oh, that’s brilliant, that’s great news, Tubbo, thank you, I-, that means that when we go and fix it- let me show you...” 27.40

*Wilbur wants to add more people to Pogtopia, tells Techno to get more food*

*Wilbur talks about possibly exporting “Pogtopia Potatoes” to L’manburg, and poisoning them. This is never brought up again though and isn’t treated seriously*

“I wanna make sure it looks nice for when the gang gets on.” 31.35

*Schlatt joins the game, and joins vc. Wilbur is immediately panicked, telling him to make an alibi*

“How’s running L’man-Manburg going for you?” “It’s going great.” “Yeah, it’s a lovely place isn’t it, nice situation.” 34.30

*this continues a bit, Wilbur is very obviously not a big fan of this conversation. Schlatt talks about demolishing things. Wilbur’s tone is soft and somber*

W: “Oh- What are you demolishing.”

S: “The Elton John house.”

W: “Oh- that was-”

S: “I reckon we’ll take the rocket down as well, and maybe uh-”

W: “oh- ok”

S:“what is this thing, whad’you call this thing, Tubbo?”

T: “This is that cAHmrvan van”

W: *quietly* “the camARvan”

S: “The cAHmarvan?”

W: *quietly* “The camARvan”

S: “That’s a stupid name, I reckon we put a big apartment building right over it.”

*Wilbur moves away from his desk in shock, the conversation continues, Wilbur is shocked by the dress code being suits as Schlatt insults the revolutionary uniforms, leaves vc*

“Techno- I fucking hate him, Technoblade. He’s the fucking worst, you get it, you get it don’t you? He’s everything- he’s everything I cannot stand.” 37.32

*Wilbur talks about dismantling the oppressive government, and quotes Spongebob. They chat for bit, both misunderstanding anarchy dear god*

“One thing I really want to make sure of, cause as much as I’m still not entirely trustful of Tubbo, because he said it was a disguise... Tubbo said that he was wearing the suit as a disguise, right. Turns out that’s true. Turns out it’s the dresscode. So, Tubbo lied to me, which is not the best start for our political relationship, but y’know it’s cool, at least he’s actually online today, unlike- unlike one of my right hand men.”40.26

“Whilst I’m not entirely trustful of Tubbo, I would- still don’t wanna see him get hurt by Schlatt” 41.19

*Wilbur rejoins Schlatt’s vc. He’s still really bitter about being removed from Manburg. The whole Schlatt has diamonds in his furnace conversation happens. Schlatt asks where Niki lives, and Wilbur immediately leaves vc*

“Techno we need to get to the docks, this is your first mission under us, please comrade, please. armor. armor. We need to get to Manburg quickly, this isn’t a drill, this is first thing. We’re not gonna attack we’re just gonna watch, and then see what happens.”45.06

*Techno is mining, and Wilbur says he’ll get there on his own time before leaving. Wilbur arrives in Manburg and is disgusted by the apartment buildings, venturing in while Techno has no clue where Manburg is*

*Wilbur goes into Niki’s bakery* “I think Schlatt’s just mugged Niki” 49.14

“Which is why I need you here, Technoblade. You’re kinda my last resort.” 50.00

*Wilbur looks over Manburg and watches Niki, Fundy, Schlatt, and Tubbo interact. They join Niki’s vc, Techno isn’t keeping hidden well and Wilbur is stressed. Wilbur is trying to balance both of them and making all the calls.*

W: “Niki I’ve gotta go, Niki I’ve gotta go, I promise- I- look- if- we’re in too much of a hot position right now to take in everyone from every sort of like person we need into our new cave. So you’re gonna have to hold out in Manburg a bit longer. Is that ok?”

N: “Of course. I will.”

W: “Mm k.”

N: “Take care, Wil.”

W: “Thank you.”

W is obviously distraught at leaving her behind, but leaves vc. 55.05

Techno isn’t in vc, and Wilbur just softly goes “Comrade Technoblade? Is he- I’m on my own. I’m on my own.” 55.38

*Tommy joins the game and Techno joins vc* “I thought he was gone, no it’s Tommy. I didn’t think he’d be coming on, I didn’t think he’d- oh thank god!”

*they join vc with Tubbo Punz and Schlatt. Techno offers to “initiate order Kennedy” and Wilbur freaks out*

*Fundy joins vc*

S: “Fundy- Fundy- I y’know I wasn’t gonna do this so early into my reign, but I think you should have a promotion. I mean this is just such a good idea, this is just such a good idea.”

F: “You’re being very generous here Schlatt.”

W panics. “Don’t give him promotions, he’s too young, he doesn’t understand, he’s- he needs to learn more. No- he needs to learn more, I should know he’s my son.”

S: “I’m promoting him.”

F: “Wilbur, Imma need you to shut up for a second.”

W: “Don’t you speak like that to me, Fundy. Don’t forget where you came from, Fundy.”

S: “What’s the relationship between you and Wilbur, Fundy?”

F: *sigh* “Wilbur, he’s just a founder, and I was born here, and nothing else. It’s literally everything there is to is to it.”

W, softly and sadly: “You know that’s not-”

Schlatt interrupts: “See, it’s so great to have natural-born citizens of Manburg, taking the country direction into their own hands. I mean, I really over this purple stripe, instead of that ugly blue one.”

*Wilbur has hand over his mouth in disbelief and sadness

F: “I must agree.”

*F and S continue to talk*

W, seemingly on the verge of tears: “I don’t know who you are anymore, Fundy, I don’t know who you are anymore.” he leaves the vc and joins Tommy.

“I couldn’t be there anymore.” 1.01.36

*Immediately, Tommy tries to talk to him, while Wilbur is obviously angry and upset. Tommy is waiting for his command to burn down the flag.”

TO:“I’m stood here, by the flag with a flint and steel, Wilbur.”

W, panicked. “Tommy control yourself, control yourself, it’s not worth it.”

TO: “Do I take my shot?”

W: “Tommy do not take your shot.”

TO: “Wilbur he disrespected you!”

W, even more panicked: “He disrespected me, yes but we’ve talked about this Tommy. Tommy, if we cast the first stone-”

TO: “Wilbur, I wanna do it Wilbur.”

*now Tubbo shows up, holding a book*

W: “Tubbo, what is that book?”

TO: “I wanna do it!”

TU: “It’s, um, it’s nothing much, it’s not really anything worth worrying about.”

W, softly: “What is it. Why are you holding it.”

TU: “It’s- Schlatt has given me- It’s the papers Schlatt made me. Yeah, it’s what he, yeah.”

W: “Give it to me.”

TU: “Are you sure?”

TO at the same time: “Wilbur tell me now Fundy’s coming up. Do I light the fires of victory, of independence?”

*W is reading the book MANBURG TO-DO*

TU: “Uh- I’m gonna need that back”

TO at the same time: I could do with a clear yes or no, this isn’t a- as much as silence is-

W interrupts, suddenly angry: “Tommy burn that place to the ground. Burn that place to the ground and try to as many people trapped in it as possible.”

TO laughs

TU: “I’m gonna need that book back- oh- oo.”

*W throws the book back*

TO: “Wilbur do I kill your son?”

W, no longer distracted: “Keep him alive, Tommy.”

TO: “Again- I could do, I’m actually-”

W: “Tommy, we’re comrades here.”

TO: “Wilbur, take one look at Manburg, cause it ain’t no more!”

W: “Tubbo, take me to Manburg.”

TU: “Ok.”

TO: “I could kill Schlatt and Big Q right now.”

W: “Keep them alive, we need them alive Tommy.”

TO: “Can I just shoot em once?”

W, exasperated: “If you want.”

TO: “Yeah, I did. It’s more of my own self fulfillment.”

W: *sighs* “We’ve cast the first stone. Our little ravine is now, it’s now in a difficult spot.” 1.03.30

*Wilbur meets Tubbo at Manburg and they head back to Pogtopia*

TO: “The flags gone, and your son is corrupt.”

W: “I know he is, and I don’t need reminding of that, Tommy.” 1.06.30

*Schlatt joins vc and tells Tommy to leave Manburg, and leaves again. Wilbur tells Tommy again not to burn down the forest, and is legitimately upset at the idea. He says it’s the thing they’re fighting against. Techno rejoins vc*

“Tommy, if you don’t fix the mistake you’ve made here, I don’t know if you’re the best fit for Pogtopia.” 1.10.46

*Wilbur asks Tubbo and Techno if they’ve checked the forest, but they’re both busy*

W: “Alright well I’ll go and looking for the fucking forest, I guess. I have to do everything around here.”

*Tubbo and Techno protest.*

W: “No no no, it’s fine you two are doing much harder work than I am.” 1.12.37

*Tubbo and Wilbur talk about how Quackity isn’t happy under Schlatt, how he’s protesting a lot of Schlatt’s measures.*

“He’s a man who I thought, really cared about his nation, but, hey y’know, I’ve been wrong before.” 1.13.55

*the conversation shifts to Fundy, and Wilbur recounts what Fundy said, clearly upset. Tubbo is shocked by this*

“It’s ok, it’s ok, y’know, cause, it’s fine! I- y’know, bonds are formed in blood, not family blood, the other blood, the blood where you stab shit. Yeah, that’s where bonds are formed.”1.14.55

*Tubbo, Techno, and Wilbur chat more, Schlatt joins vc for a bit. Tubbo and Wilbur keep up the bit that Tubbo is loyal to Schlatt until he leaves. Tubbo says explained his absence to Schlatt*

“Tubbo, you’re- see with Technoblade, right, I have no doubt that Technoblade is on my side, right. Cause with Technoblade, with Technoblade, right, I know that he wants blood, and he wants war. Cause that’s how Technoblade works y’know. He just wants to fight and he wants to kill bad guys, right. Yeah, look at him, he a little libertarian- little anarchist, right. So here’s what I’m saying, right: you however- little, I can’t tell if you’re cozying up to Schlatt to help spy, or if you’re cozying up to Schlatt because you quite like how he treats you. I mean look, Tubbo, I’ll be the first one to say it, I didn’t always treat you the best, on L’Manburg, and I know I didn’t, I- I- I was somewhat of a distant ruler- I pretty much only- don’t agree that fucking excitedly, man- look I wasn’t the best ruler I know I wasn’t. Well I think I was a good ruler, but I, I- Tubbo I don’t know if you are just prefering his rule over mine, and I feel like I gotta win you over.”

TU seems to disagree, but says ok.

TU: “Well I’m making this farm, I wouldn’t be putting in this much time if I wasn’t.”

W: No I know, I know, but that’s probably what’d you be saying to Schlatt as well if you were doing work for him.”

TU: “That is- that is very- yeah that is very true, actually.” 1.25.07

*Tubbo says his excuse is that he was pregnant in the name of being transparent. They discuss plans for the farm, and the stream ends*

Wilbur, raiding Niki: “Now, Niki is currently probably the last person who I know is on our side,, who I know is definitely on our side right now. And she, basically, is just sort of trapped in Manburg, cause I can’t get her out, cause we’ve got Tubbo out that’s fine, but I can’t get Niki out for a while. She’s being taxed and she’s being watched very closely by Schlatt. More closely than Tubbo, weirdly, and Schlatt is just being a horrible person to her as you know. So I’m gonna need you to go over there and I’m gonna need you to give her some love. “ <3 1.31.52

#wilbur soot #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #technoblade #tubbo #tommyinnit #meta #long post #transcripts #this took so long my hands hurt

44 notes · View notes

buckleysjareau · 3 years

Text

double vision wrapped in last night’s party clothes

"I have always been honest with you." When Eddie's voice cracks, Buck's composure almost cracks with it. "Why can't you just be honest with me?"

When Buck is let in on a long kept family secret, he doesn't know what to do. He almost ruins things with the one person that keeps him from feeling like he's floating away with no way to land, but it ultimately turns out okay with help of a little communication.

for @cirrius-akiyo

Read on AO3

TW; descriptions of anxiety, emetophobia to be safe, car accidents and death of a very minor original character

From the moment he woke up with a pounding headache and an arm wrapped around his waist, Buck knows he fucked up. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, waking up hungover in someone else’s bed, not being able to remember a thing. The feeling of knowing he fucked up, it was nothing new.

But that wasn’t him anymore. He doesn’t drink until he can’t remember anything except the sensual touch of whoever’s finger tips, not anymore. He doesn’t do one night stands anymore. That was all Buck 1.0. That wasn’t who Buck was anymore, so before even opening his eyes to see what kind of room he’s in and who he’s with, he feels enough shame to make him nauseous.

Dread consumes him when his eyes flicker open to the all too familiar plaid blankets and the toned, tattooed arm around him.

Eddie Diaz. Eddie fucking Diaz. Edmundo Diaz. His best friend. His partner. His entirely platonic other half. Oh, fuck. He truly did fuck up. Eddie didn’t do one night stands, ever, so maybe this was an entirely platonic and clothed cuddle. He doesn’t have to freak out just yet.

Then his eyes fall on his boxers on the floor and—

What the fuck happened?

He swallows down his need to vomit and winces slightly as he tries to lift Eddie’s arm off of him without waking him up. He can’t believe he’s sneaking out of his best friend’s house, a house that he’s never really felt like a guest in. The thought sends a shock of pain through his heart, realizing how truly bad he fucked up.

As he quickly and quietly dresses, his phone buzzes on the floor loud enough to make Eddie stir. He cringes and grabs his phone as quick as possible, letting out a breath of relief when Eddie doesn’t wake.

The second he catches sight of the multiple missed calls and texts notifications on his phone, he freezes as everything comes back to him.

“Nothing I ever did was good enough… now I know why.”

Bile rises to his throat as everything rushes back to him and he books it out of Eddie’s house, barely making it to his car before he empties his stomach of all the alcohol and absolutely none of the shame.

He’s in his car and on the road by the time he realizes it’s hard to catch his breath and tears are blurring the road ahead of him.

Name five things you can see, he hears Eddie’s voice in his head. Eddie is one of the sources of his anxiety right now, but he’d helped the last time so Buck goes through it in his head as he pulls over.

Five things you can see. The red truck he’s parked behind. A woman walking her dog. House with pink shutters. Halloween decorations. The pool in someone’s backyard.

Four things you can feel. His steering wheel vibrating under his hands. The air from his vents. Sweat soaking his back. His head against the headrest.

Three things you can hear…

By the time he’s through with listing things, he can breathe normally and his vision is cleared enough to drive the rest of his way home. He’s not very religious, but he prays that no one is waiting for him when he enters his apartment.

His heart clenches when his phone buzzes with a text from Eddie and shuts his phone off before he can see what he had to say.

“Buck? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at Chimney’s with your parents?”

Before Eddie can ask anymore questions, Buck shakes his head. “Do you have any alcohol?”

“You came here for a beer?” Eddie asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

“I was thinking something stronger.”

His head pounds as he makes his way into the station, a half hour before his shift, and he immediately wants to leave. He knows Eddie is going to walk in any minute now, and Chimney, too. He doesn’t know if he can look at either of them right now.

“You knew?” Buck spits out at Chimney, the betrayal he’s feeling so strong he steps back as if he was physically struck.

“Buck—”

“No… don’t…”

“Have a good morning, Buck?” Bobby asks as Buck enters the loft. What does he know?

“Why?” He asks defensively, causing his captain to sit up a little straighter with his eyebrow raised.

“You okay?”

“There’s something I need to show you…”

“What is this? Who is this?”

“Evan…”

“Yeah, of course.” He tries to smile but he knows it’s a grimace. He’s usually okay at faking smiles and acting like everything is fine when it’s not, but now absolutely nothing is okay, he realizes. Everything that he found comfort in when things were falling apart has been tainted by this secret now.

Chimney had known something about Buck that he hadn’t known about himself and continued to look him in the eyes like he wasn’t keeping something huge. He feels nauseous all over again at the thought of seeing him today, and he’s not even mad, he’s just hurt.

Eddie should be walking in right about now and Buck’s heart is in his throat when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs and he’s just not ready for the Eddie confrontation so he’s the tiniest bit relieved when it’s Chimney instead.

“Oh, thank God you’re alive,” is not what he expects to come out of Chimney’s mouth but Buck’s heart clenches in a way that hurts.

“I told him because I was trying to protect you,”

“That doesn’t make it any better!”

Eddie just reaches the top step when Bobby starts the beginning of shift announcements and Buck thanks his lucky stars that there wasn’t time for a confrontation between announcements and chore assignments.

He looks up for one second to meet Eddie’s eye before averting eye contact in less than a second.

“Buckley, you’re with me on getting lunch started!”

He’s relieved he’s not with Eddie or Chimney, but he has a feeling he knows why Bobby is assigning him to lunch duties, and that was so he could pry whatever out of him. He’d done it a few times, and normally Buck didn’t mind but this wasn’t something he wanted to even admit, let alone tell his Captain about it.

“Don’t you dare walk out that door!” His dad’s voice boomed around the apartment, reminding him of all of the times talks about his grades and his future turned into screaming matches.

“Buck!” His head snaps up at the sound of Bobby’s voice.

“Yeah?”

Bobby gestures with his eyes at his hand that was currently covered in the tomato he didn’t realize he was squishing in his hands.

“Oh.”

Bobby clears his throat from behind Buck as he rinses off his hands. “Alright, what’s going with you? Where’s your head at? Is it the bomb threat call that’s got you so bothered?”

Buck shakes his head. “It’s nothing, Bobby.”

“It’s not nothing, Buck. Is it your parents?” Bobby knows he’s onto something when Buck tenses. “You don’t have to talk to me about it but you do have to let me know if you’re not in the headspace to—”

The alarm blares and Buck jumps into action before Bobby can even finish his sentence. He’s fine to go out on calls, he has to be, he cannot sit there at the station with the storm that’s raging in his head. He needs to do the one thing he can’t fuck up.

Bobby gives him a look as he gears up but he just gives him a thumbs up and hops into the truck.

Eddie is across from him, trying to meet his eye yet again but Buck continues to stare out the window. He knows he’s being a coward, he does, but his stomach drops whenever he thinks of meeting Eddie’s eyes, dreads seeing the ‘it was a mistake' eyes. He dreads seeing the inevitable.

“What do you want, Buck?” Eddie pants above him, eyes dark and searching.

“Make me forget.” He sounds desperate and he is, he’s desperate to forget and he’s desperate for Eddie.

“Make you forget what?”

“Just make me forget, please, Eddie. Please.”

“Will you look at me?” Eddie’s voice filters in through the headset.

Buck takes a deep breath in and releases it before he looks to Eddie. Brown eyes meet his blue and Buck immediately sees the frustration in the way his eyebrows scrunch, but he can also see the fear and he did this.

“Are we okay?”

The grimace returns. “Of course, Eds, why wouldn’t we be?”

“You left before–”

“Buck… please don’t leave. We can talk about this.”

“You didn’t talk about it for twenty-nine years, why do we have to talk about it now?”

“Buck, let’s go!” Hen shouts as she shuts the door and Buck really needs to get in the right head space because if Bobby benches him now, after quite literally everything in his life is falling apart, he might not be able to recover from this.

His heart is beating erratically as he uses the K-12 to get the door off of the T-boned car, Eddie by his side with the Jaws. The girl in the driver’s seat, probably not even eighteen yet, is hysterical and Eddie tries to calm her down but the door won’t budge with just the Jaws.

Her screams get louder the second the door is pulled off and when a name tears through her gut wrenching sobs, Buck notices Hen about three feet away giving CPR to a middle aged woman.

“Julia!”

“Ma’am, I need you to stay still for me while I get this on you,” Eddie’s controlled tone echoes through Buck’s ears.

“Please don’t let her die, please, this is my fault!”

Buck swallows the lump in his throat before he focuses his full attention on the girl. “Miss, listen to me,” he tries so she won’t turn her head to him. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Samantha.” She chokes out but it seems like she’s calming down enough for Eddie to put the C-Collar on while Chimney keeps her head stabilized. “Please, you have to save her, she–”

She starts shaking her head again, as best as she can between Chimney’s hands and Buck is so worried she’s going to cause more possible damage to her spine so he blurts out the first thing he can think of to keep her calm. “Tell me about Julia.”

“What? You have to save her.”

Buck sighs. “We’ve got the best paramedic in the LAFD working on her right now, okay? Can you tell me about her?”

Samantha sniffles. “I- I don’t know anything about her. She’s my b-birth-” she chokes on a sob.

“She’s my birth mother.”

“Maddie… who is this?”

“It’s you… with your birth mother.”

Of fucking course.

His heart stutters a beat before his eyes glance up at Chimney in the back and meets his eye before focusing his attention back on Samantha who’s still talking.

“...and I was just giving her a ride home. I thought that was the nice thing to do and now she’s dead. She gave me life and I killed her!”

“Hey, no, you didn’t kill her. This isn’t your fault.” Buck promises vehemently, because he can. The accident wasn’t her fault, it was the drunk driver who had T-boned them and tried to flee the scene.

“I… I found the records when I was cleaning out the garage during quarantine. My parents don’t even know I was meeting with her and I should have listened to them because she’s-she’s-”

“It’s okay, Samantha. We’re getting you out of here now.” Buck keeps his tone calm and controlled even though his emotions are tearing him apart from the inside out.

They get her on the ambulance when Bobby calls it on Julia. Hen falls back to sit on her haunches and defeatedly sighs, wiping the sweat away from her head.

Buck feels numb.

The ride back to the station is one big blur and before he knows it, he’s out of his gear and walking to the locker room when he’s stopped.

By Chimney.

“Buck, can we please talk?”

Buck clenches his fists and takes in a deep breath before shaking his head. “No.”

“Buck, c’mon–”

“I can’t right now, man. I said no.” He starts off weak, his voice catching, but ends strong. Putting his foot down.

He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding when he hears Chimney walking away. He grabs his work out clothes from his locker and slams the locker door shut, too many emotions coursing through him that needed to be let out somehow.

The punches to the bag start slow, controlled, but soon, the hurt takes over. The anger takes over.

A particularly hard swing echoes through the station, following the growl that rips loose from his throat. Buck pays no attention to the footsteps sounding from the staircase behind him.

He gives a quick glance at Eddie as he plants himself against the wall to the side of Buck but leaves it at that and continues to swing.

“You wanna tell me what the hell is going on with you, Buck?” Eddie’s voice is tinged with concern, frustration, and desperation and Buck doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t know what to say, how to get the words out. Like Dr. Copeland pointed out, he hides his true feelings from people and he thinks nothing’s ever been more true.

“Nothing’s going on, Eddie.”

Eddie huffs. “Right. You promised me we’d talk last night and then when I woke up, you were gone.”

“Eds, please, hurry up. Make me-”

“Forget, yeah, I got you, Buck. Just… promise me we’ll talk after?”

“I had plans with Chimney.” He huffs out the lie.

“Really? That’s funny, because Chimney says he hasn’t seen you since last night.” Eddie’s voice raises just a little but it’s enough to make Buck freeze. He blinks, takes off the gloves, and turns to leave. How hypocritical he is, talking about how everyone always leaves, when here he is, literally running away from every little problem.

He makes it to the locker room before he realizes Eddie followed him.

“If you think it was a mistake then please just tell me instead of lying to me and shutting me out.”

The hurt in Eddie’s voice is so strong Buck completely freezes. When he goes to take in a deep breath, it gets caught in his throat and he can’t bring himself to move or try again.

“I have always been honest with you.” When Eddie’s voice cracks, Buck’s composure almost cracks with it. “Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

The tears Buck tried to keep in started to fall and he should really breathe, he’s getting dizzy, he should breathe but he’s scared of the sound that’s going to come when he tries.

“Buck.”

The sob erupts from the back of his throat before he can stop it and the force of it has him gasping for a breath he can’t quite catch.

“Shit, Buck?” He hears before Eddie’s in front of him. “Hey, man, it’s okay. It’s okay. Just, talk to me, Buck.”

Another breath gets caught in his throat and the only thing Buck can think to do is bring his shaking hand up to his chest as if he could rub away the agony.

Eddie goes to catch him before he even realizes he’s keeling over, his hand still trying to clutch at his chest, and Buck can only imagine how scary this must seem to Eddie. He tries to calm himself down for the sake of Eddie but breaths just keep getting stuck.

“Is this another panic attack or is something else going on, Buck? Do I need to call Hen and Chimney down here? 9-1-1?” He can tell Eddie’s trying not to panic for the sake of not freaking Buck out even more.

“Don’t g-g-get Chimney,” He stutters out, he can barely get the words out of his mouth. “I- I don’t need med-medic-medical attention.”

Once Eddie believes that Buck is just overwhelmed, he jumps right into the only grounding exercise that ever seems to work for Buck and once he can feel something other than the mind-numbing pain that came along with the secret, he turns to apologize.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, you already know this.” Eddie reassures.

Buck shakes his head. “No… I’m sorry for leaving. I just, Eddie, I- I love you, and I felt like I’d just messed up the only place I’d felt at home in. Everything came rushing back and- and I couldn’t face it when I was being forced to face everything else. I’m sorry.”

Eddie smiled as Buck admitted he loved him, cheeks tinged pink, but listened intently to the rest.

“Hey, you didn’t mess up anything. I love you, too, Buck. So much. You’re always going to have a place in our home, last night didn’t change that. I actually kind of thought it solidified that, but I guess I didn’t do too great of a job showing you just how much you belong there.”

The knowledge that Eddie loves him back both thrills and scares him.

“Eddie. I-I, you have to know, I’m not ready for anything ri-right now. I love you, shit, I love you so much. I’m just a mess right now and I don’t even know who I am, not anymore, not ever and I feel like I’m just floating with no way to land and I can’t… put that on you. I can’t- I mean, before I came to you last night…”

“Hey, it’s okay, we can talk through everything later. I’ve still got your back, ready or not.” He sees Eddie hesitate and the nausea comes back. Please don’t take it back. “Can you tell me why you came to me in the first place?”

It’s tense, quiet for a minute, as Buck decides to tell his best friend, his person, the secret that came into his life like a bomb to blow up everything he thought he knew about himself and his life.

“They told me I was adopted.”

It’s so quiet in there, he could practically hear the crickets chirp. Though, he’s pretty sure that might be his heart.

“I, wow, Buck.” He clears his throat. “I don’t even know what to say. What can I do? To help, I mean.”

Buck, ever the one to deflect, smirks sadly at Eddie’s wording. “There he is.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been too good with your words, I was starting to think alien possession made its way into our 2020.” He snorts.

Eddie feigns offense. “Man, you know when it comes to you, I’ve almost always been good with words. You, on the other hand?”

“Hey now,” Buck tries to fight back the first real smile since his parents had gotten into town, but gives up fighting it. “To answer your question, you’ve already done the only thing that can help me now.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You stayed.”

#my writing #my fics #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 on fox #buck begins #i always liked the adoption theory so here it is

53 notes · View notes

a-secret-bolton-vampire · 3 years

Text

Brief Thought on Theon in TWOW

Theon has been a huge mystery for me and a lot of people, because his story could go just about anywhere. He's currently held prisoner by Stannis, who plans on executing him (after interrogating him, of course). Although he is to be executed by fire, Asha comes in to tell Stannis to instead execute Theon himself with Lightbringer at the weirwood islet, all the while the caged ravens scream "Theon" and "tree"... hello Bran, hello Bloodraven.

Now, the fact the ravens are screaming about the tree and Asha mentions executing Theon at the tree to me is a clear indication that it is going to be an important location. Now, I don't quite think Theon is gonna die here (see below), but rather Bran is going to find a way to keep him around. He already called to Theon when Theon went to beg absolution in the Winterfell godswood. Summon some ravens to interrupt the execution, maybe even appear in the tree like he did to Theon at Winterfell.

Such a display from the old gods might make the northmen think it is a sign that Theon has paid for his sins. Stannis might not really care, although... if you get a sign like that, I'm not entirely sure what Stannis would think. Regardless, I think Theon is going to survive, and Bran wants him to. Why? Well, I don't actually think Bran is manipulating Theon here. It's been months at this point since we've had a Bran POV, and who knows what he's been doing this whole time. However, if he has been focused on Winterfell, he probably has seen Theon being tormented by Ramsay.

Theon betrayed the Starks. He took Winterfell. He killed two boys and passed them off as Bran and Rickon. He is a traitor and a turncloak and a murderer. But seeing Theon in this light might change Bran's perspective on him. He's suffered so much. He may have deserved execution for his crimes, but the torture he endured from Ramsay was not justice.

At the end of ADWD/beginning of TWOW, Theon is pretty resigned to dying. He wants to die, and he feels immense guilt for what he did. Bran is tapping into the power of the old gods and communicates to a broken Theon at Winterfell. Even though Theon has prayed to the old gods (really praying to Bran) and gotten some sort of reply, he doesn't know what it means. If Bran stays Theon's execution, that's a huge change for Theon. He believes he deserves to die for what he did.

If the old gods show some sort of presence that stops Theon from being killed, that changes everything for him. If the gods don't want him to die, what is his purpose now? What reason is there for him to be around? Does he truly deserve to be killed? Can he redeem himself? Part of the reason why I don't believe Theon is going to be executed here is because I think there is much more rich narrative and thematic depth to explore than him simply resigning to his fate and getting it.

As for what he will do in TWOW, apart from the theories that he simply just dies, some people also believe he might stay Stannis's prisoner, or be used by Asha to undo the kingsmoot on the Iron Islands. The latter theory is based on the mention of Torgon the Latecomer, by Rodrik Harlaw and later Tristifer Botely.

"When you put your name before the captains you submitted yourself to their judgment. You cannot go against that judgment now. Only once has the choice of a kingsmoot been overthrown. Read Haereg."

Archmaester Haereg wrote History of the Ironborn. And what was this one time the kingsmoot was overthrown? Well, Tris explains it the very chapter Asha has this memory of Rodrik.

"Torgon Greyiron was the king's eldest son. But the king was old and Torgon restless, so it happened that when his father died he was raiding along the Mander from his stronghold on Greyshield. His brothers sent no word to him but instead quickly called a kingsmoot, thinking that one of them would be chosen to wear the driftwood crown. But the captains and the kings chose Urragon Goodbrother to rule instead. The first thing the new king did was command that all the sons of the old king be put to death, and so they were. After that men called him Badbrother, though in truth they'd been no kin of his. He ruled for almost two years." Asha remembered now. "Torgon came home …" "… and said the kingsmoot was unlawful since he had not been there to make his claim. Badbrother had proved to be as mean as he was cruel and had few friends left upon the isles. The priests denounced him, the lords rose against him, and his own captains hacked him into pieces. Torgon the Latecomer became the king and ruled for forty years."

This is often used as evidence that Asha will use Theon in a similar manner; since he was presumed dead but is actually still alive, he did not put his claim forth, and thus the kingsmoot is invalid, as is Euron's ascension to the Seastone Chair. Theon the Latecomer will be Euron's undoing. While Theon is in no fit enough state to even be considered king, perhaps his presence will be enough to assuage Euron's control on the Iron Isles.

I think that the fact this is mentioned is important, and something like this might happen. Personally, I think that when the battle of ice turned against Stannis's favour, Theon escaped with the help of Asha and her supporters, and they grouped together at Torrhen's Square, which is held currently by Dagmer Cleftjaw, master-at-arms at Pyke, whom Theon had a close relationship with. And the idea will be to use Theon as a tool to invalidate the kingsmoot and Euron's role. Also, it would be very neat to see Theon reunite with Dagmer after all he's been through, since Dagmer was an important figure in his childhood.

The problem is that I don't think Theon Latecomer is going to change anything. For one, although he doesn't need to be king, just be used as a way to invalidate the kingsmoot because he never pressed his claim, what is that going to change? Is Theon really going to press his claim? And if he did, he would be laughed out. He has no interest in kingship, and he is not in any state to rule as one. So he's definitely not going to be elected. Who does that leave?

Well, Victarion is away in Meereen. Asha might have supporters but her gender works against her. Perhaps old Erik Ironmaker might try his hand again, but I doubt that will work any better. Aeron is supposedly in hiding (although really he's being tortured by Euron). Gylbert Farwynd wanted to sail beyond the Sunset Sea and see what lands lie west of Westeros.

Meanwhile, Euron is bringing the Old Way back to the ironborn in a way Balon never accomplished. He took the Shields and gave lordships to the raiders there. He has been sending ships up and down the Mander, in the Whispering Sound, even sacking the Arbor. He is giving the ironborn a great deal of wealth. What's even more, it appears that some of the things he wouldn't have dared before are a lot safer to do now. For instance, at the kingsmoot, he put on his facade as doing everything for the Drowned God. Now look at how his captains talk about the Drowned God in The Forsaken:

"Your curses have no power here, priest,” said Left-Hand Lucas Codd. “The Crow’s Eye has fed your Drowned God well, and he has grown fast with sacrifice. Words are wind, but blood is power. We have given thousands to the sea, and he has given us victories!”

It's not "the Drowned God" but "your Drowned God". They don't care anymore. They don't care if it's different or against their traditions. Euron has been giving them victories and riches and glory, and that's all that matters. This is something that is easy to see in the real world too (just look at what Donald Trump did in office and how the GOP reacted to his actions). Euron has taken the bulk of the Iron Islands military strength with him, and is living up to what he's promised so far. Why would they want to go back?

However, the most important part, for me anyways, is that ultimately, Euron doesn't care. He doesn't care about the Iron Isles. His goal is Westeros and the Iron Throne. The islands mean nothing to him. He loses some people there, so what? What's there for him to use? He's gonna try to become a god-king anyways so the Iron Islands aren't important.

In the end, even if Asha wanted to use Theon for these purposes, it won't do anything. The ironborn are in southern Westeros having the time of their lives, why would they return here? Now, if this is doomed to do anything against Euron, then why mention Torgon? Why have Theon go through that? I think it's all part of his internal journey of identity and allegiance.

He's always been stuck between Greyjoy and Stark. He didn't feel like he belonged with the Starks, but he wanted to. When Balon rebelled against Robb and insulted him, Theon wanted to prove himself to his father, so he betrayed the Starks. He was outsmarted and captured by Ramsay, however, and now regrets doing what he did. But he still hasn't chosen, Greyjoy or Stark. He wants to simply die.

I think that this journey for him is him recovering from Ramsay and finally finding his true self again. Theon has been a puppet of Ramsay's, and is poised to become a puppet for Asha and her followers. It's time he start to make his own decisions. I think this journey as Theon Latecomer (whether he literally returns to the isles or not) is him dealing with his own internal struggle, before finally resolving it. My theory is that he will decide to choose the Starks, because they are his true family, and there is nothing for him that he wants or can do with the Greyjoys.

#theon greyjoy #bran stark #the winds of winter predictions #asoiaf meta #euron greyjoy

14 notes · View notes

cammmerrroniii · 4 years

Text

Fever Dream

The night air is crisp and cool as usual at the Jorhouse. The mighty Nein have recently returned from Eissel Cross and were recovering from the events that had unfolded there.

Caduceus, in an attempt to comfort everyone but mostly himself, immediately busied himself in the kitchen making some of his special tea. The Willinghams, he thought to himself, they should make the perfect brew to settle these rascals. He looked back through the door leading into the foyer and saw Jester, so excited to see Essik tomorrow, bouncing around the room adding her own touches to the house to make it feel more homey since they’d be here a while.

Caleb sat in the corner pouring over a book, as usual, but every now and then you could see his eyes just glazing over the top of his worn and slightly yellowed pages to watch this little blue teifling work her “magic”. Veth was in her room, preparing little presents for Yeza, apparently their anniversary was coming up soon and of course Fjord was up there teasing her as he does.

Meanwhile, Yasha was sitting cross-legged on the second story balcony looking over the street, processing everything that had happened. The things that had occurred that she never thought possible. Seeing that coat had brought back so many memories; memories that she’d tried so desperately to bury with the others. She knew blaming herself never helped anything but she couldn’t help it. And then there was Beau. Oh Beau. Beau, Beau. What have you done to me, she thought while watching the neighbor’s peeking out their windows at their house for the fifth time.

She let out a sigh and thought about why she had acted the way she did around Beauregard. She felt that itch begin to rise once more inside of her. It always started this way, her toes would tingle and make her legs ache to run. The sensation would travel through her muscles like a ripple, until she found herself clenching and unclenching her fists and looking around for an exit. But Beau, with her captivating blue eyes and crooked smile, had complicated things.

Unbeknownst to Yasha, Beau was up on the roof staring down at the Aasimar woman. She knew she needed to talk to her about the poem, but she also knew that she sucks with feelings. She’d been watching her from afar for a while now, and, thinking about it, she thought about how stalkerish she probably seems. She took a deep inhale and deftly got to her feet without making a sound.

“Hey Yasha! I was wondering where you were hiding” she called out acting like she had just stumbled upon her.

“Oh!” Yasha jumped slightly in surprise, “Hallo, Beau. I’m sorry. I thought I had told everyone I’d be up here. Were you looking for me?” She had said where she would be. They all heard her.

“Yeah! I mean, no, well I mean not for like a long time or anything I mean, don’t worry about it, aha!” Gods why is she so weird all the time. Beau parkoured down to the balcony and leaned awkwardly against the rails for a second. “So, Yash....” Fuck, why didn’t she think of something to say first?!

Yasha looked up at Beauregard through her lashes expectantly. “What is it, Beau?”

Beau swallowed hard. “Um, ah. So that, ah, poem.. I uh gave it a read”, quite a few times, though she neglected to mention that part. A surprised look that was a mix of nervousness and horror spread across Yasha’s face. With everything going on, she had forgotten about that silly little poem.

“Oh, uh, that’s.. good. Yeah I, um, Jester gave me the idea and um she thought... I mean, uh, I-I thought that you know I,” she chewed on her words for a second. “I have been thinking about you- I mean, thinking about telling you how I feel, that is. So.. what did you think?” She bit her last few words off sharply and held her breath.

Beau knew that something had changed in Yasha since she had gotten her wings back. She saw it more and more as the barbarian woman continued to slowly open herself up to the group. She looked her over for a second and did, in fact, notice just the faintest bit of white at her roots and her skin held a light shine to it. She was literally glowing, and radiating beauty. Beau shook herself for a moment and realized she had been staring at Yasha awkwardly for a few seconds while she was clearly anxiously awaiting her reply.

“Um,” she cleared her throat and sat down beside Yasha, their knees brushing against each other as she did so; the slight intake of breath Yasha did at the contact did not go unnoticed. “I think that you definitely have a way with words that is unique. And I wanted to tell you that, if I understood your poem correctly, I’ve felt the same way since the first day I saw you.” She told her honestly and unabashedly, though her heart was hammering into her ribcage.

Yasha stared back at Beau, looking a bit stunned. They sat in silence for a few moments, though it wasn’t as awkward now that they’ve both discussed somethings out loud.

“Beauregard,” Yasha started slowly. “I care very deeply for you. And I don’t want you to end up hurt again because of me.” Beau looked like she was going to say something but Yasha cut her off. “I’ve been going through big changes recently and accepting everything has been a big part of that. And I forgive myself. For Zuala, and Molly, and you most of all. I-I need to go for a little while, not very long, I promised you I wouldn’t leave and I’m going to keep that promise but I just need to go and commune with the Storm Lord. He sent me these visions in my dreams and I know I must go there in order to complete my change and prove myself worthy. I didn’t want to tell anyone, old habits die hard I guess. But, I cannot hide things from you. Not anymore.” She opened her eyes that she wasn’t aware she had closed and looked back over to Beau. She was thinking. Yasha could tell because of the way the tip of her tongue just slightly glazed over the corner of her mouth repeatedly.

She’s going to feel betrayed, that I’ve lied to her. She’ll never forgive me, Yasha let herself think.

“I understand,” Beau finally said. Yasha looked at her in surprise. Of course she understood. As blind as Yasha is, even she could tell that underneath all of that bravado - and abs, oh gods so many abs - Beauregard understood Yasha on a far deeper level than anyone ever had. Beau connected eyes with Yasha and grinned. “But I’ll be expecting a kiss when you come back to me.” Yasha heart did a back flip just thinking about kissing Beau. She couldn’t form words as her brain got all goopy, so she simply nodded.

They both got to their feet slowly and stood facing one another. Yasha leaned down and gently laid her lips onto Beaus forehead. Beau was grinning like an idiot when Yasha pulled back.

“One for now, and the other when I come back. I promise.”

“Good luck.”

And with that, Yasha hopped the railing and landed perfectly on her feet. She began walking to her destination, already planning the kiss. She looked back one last time just in time to see Beau fist pump the air and do a little happy shimmy before she saw Yasha looking and froze, sheepishly waving goodbye to her before ducking into the house.

—————-

It was late, Beau would guess around 3AM. The witching hour, she thought to herself. Yasha had left some two or three weeks ago and Beau hadn’t been able to sleep very well after about the first week of her absence. They were still at the Jorhouse and everyone was fast asleep.

She quietly crawled out of bed and slid out onto the balcony, looking out in the direction Yasha had left.

The group did not take the news of her leaving well at first, mainly because they were concerned for Yasha’s safety. But, they all understood and came to the resounding conclusion that she could take care of herself.

“Who in their right mind would mess with Yasha,” Fjord had said. “She could bench press all of us with one arm if she wanted to.” Beau let some dirty thoughts of Yasha bench pressing her seep into her gutter of a mind and Fjord had scoffed at her while Jester wiggled her eyebrows and cackled at Beau’s expression.

“Ja, our Aasimar friend will be fine. She has a new belt that I’m sure she’s itching to add some notches to.” Caleb had remarked.

“And I can send her a message!!” Jester squealed, about to do just that. Beau had grasped her blue friend gently and advised against it.

“Yasha just needs some time alone, I think. Just her and the Storm Lord. She’ll be back soon.” Beau gave a small smile to Jester, who grinned knowingly back and gave her a small nod in understanding.

Looking out over the cool and quiet streets thinking back to the day Yasha had left and the conversation they had had, Beau couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. She heard a thud and spun around to see a tall figure standing over her. Long white hair, glowing eyes boring through her, and though covered in dirt her skin shone through dimly.

“Yasha!” Beau startled out. She didn’t have much time to process before Yasha enveloped Beau with her arms, pulling her into a warm hug. They stood like this for a few moments, just basking in each other’s embrace.

“I missed you Beau. I mean, I missed all of you. But, you know what I mean.” Her voice sounded faintly of angelic chimes and hums. They pulled apart though staying very close as Beau looked up in awe.

“You look.. different. Still very beautiful, though.” She blushed at the fact that she just straight up said Yasha was beautiful to her face which was literally only a few inches away, oh my gods. “I’ve never seen someone after a change like this before.”

Yasha just smiled softly, and gazed at Beau for a moment. “You’re beautiful, too.” And then she leaned down and captured Beauregard in a mind blowing kiss. For both of them, it felt as if this were the first time they have ever kissed another person. It was electrifying.

As Yasha was welcomed back into the Nein, her family, there was something there in the back of her head that was just overwhelmed with joy and love that she had finally found her soulmate. And as she connected eyes with Beau across the living room of the Jorhouse surrounded by their family and friends, she knew that Beau felt it too.

I know this is super long and I’m so sorry. But this is the dream I had and was told to write so I wrote it for you guys. I hope it’s okay, like I said, I’ve never written fan fiction before. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If it’s terrible, also please feel free to DM me, I always accept criticism so long as you’re not being, like, a huge dick. :)

#beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #beauyasha #critical role #fanfic #fan fiction #it’s a lot longer than I thought it would be #that’s what she said #I’m so sorry #hope you like it #fluff?#just soft things

72 notes · View notes

wizardofahz · 4 years

Text

Introducing Grim

A/N: Just a little bit of silly to get back into writing. This is a follow up to Fulfilling the Lie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I think someone’s going to die.”

The panic in Nia’s voice has Kara shooting straight up out of bed though she manages to stop before crashing into the ceiling. Still hovering in the air, she asks, “Did you have a dream? Are you okay? Where are you?”

It’s the middle of the night--3:52 AM according to her phone--which makes the dream scenario most likely. Hopefully that means Nia is safe at home. Still, Kara mentally prepares herself to change into her super suit and fly out the window.

“I’m at home,” Nia responds, speaking a mile a minute. “I dreamed that there was this big black dog, like you know the Grim in Harry Potter? The omen of death? And I think Alex was there, but I don’t-- I didn’t get the sense that she was in danger? But I don’t know. It’s the Grim, right? I keep thinking about Ron’s Uncle Bilius and how he saw a Grim and died. And I know that’s Harry Potter, but, I mean, the messages in my dreams come in symbols, right? So maybe my powers are finally trying to communicate with me in a language that I’ll understand, and maybe that means that someone else is going to die even though I saw Alex, and--”

“Oh,” Kara says once Nia’s words register. All the adrenaline dissipates from Kara’s body, and she sinks back down onto her bed. “No, you dreamed about Alex’s cat.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Nia sighs with relief. “I was really worried. Like I said, I didn’t think Alex was going to die, but I’d really hate to be wrong about that. You know how hard it can be to interpret my dreams.”

“I get it,” Kara says, and she means it. If there was any sign that something would happen to Alex, anything at all, and there was something Kara could do to stop it, she would. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me too,” Nia says with a shaky laugh. “All that freaking out, and it was just Alex’s cat.” A brief silence. “Kara?”

“Yeah?”

“Since when does Alex have a cat?”

Oh, right. After they left the animal shelter, their day had been a whirlwind of pet supply shops and cat-proofing the apartment, and with Alex and Grim’s matching lack of enthusiasm for attention, they hadn’t really told anyone other than Eliza, J’onn, and Kelly. Oops. Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. Almost literally. “Today, or I guess, technically yesterday. It’s a long story, but his name is Grim.”

“Okay,” Nia says in a tone that indicates that she doesn’t really understand but she’s willing to go along with it for the moment. “No one’s going to get hurt, and that’s what matters.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kara mutters, thinking about the unfortunate mismatch between sharp claws and soft human flesh.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

...

Kara’s breakthrough moment with Grim comes entirely by accident.

Her mission for the evening is to keep Grim away from the kitchen while Alex and Kelly finish preparing dinner. Unaware that Kara is an invulnerable Kryptonian, Kelly had given her an apologetic look upon hearing her assignment. Kara doesn’t mind the teeth and the claws. She just hopes Grim doesn’t get too mad at her. She’s still trying to get on his good side.

“I’m sorry. You can’t,” Kara says, intercepting Grim as he wanders in the direction of the kitchen. She crouches in front of him and tries to redirect him. “Alex is busy. How about the cat tower? Want to climb on that instead?”

He does not.

After a few repetitions of this, Kara brings Grim to the couch, holding him in her lap as he tries to wiggle free. He meows his discontent and begins to claw at her.

“No, no, no,” Kara whispers quickly, grabbing a blanket and pushing it between them. “You can’t. Kelly doesn’t know.”

Normally accustomed to a Kara who’s willing to play scratching post, Grim looks up at her in consternation. He paws at her tentatively, testing her reaction. His claws sink into the blanket instead. He pushes into her and then pauses as if processing the feeling. He flexes, stretching his toes out before grabbing the soft material again.

Kara joins him, running her hands through the blanket as well. “I know. It’s nice, right?”

Grim begins to knead the blanket in earnest.

“They’re so cute,” Kara hears Kelly whisper from the other side of the kitchen island.

“Yeah,” Alex whispers back.

It’s one word, and a quiet one at that, but it’s so full of love and happiness. Kara knows how important family harmony is to Alex, and Grim is part of the family now. She knows, without Alex having to say anything, that Alex has been waiting for this moment.

She is going to hug Alex as soon as she can.

...

J’onn J’onzz is a cheater. Of this, Alex is convinced.

After meeting Grim, he initially keeps his distance, but after a while, J’onn seems to know exactly when Grim will tolerate being pet--not to mention exactly where he wants to be pet--and when he’s feeling antisocial. Alex has no doubt that J’onn is reading Grim’s mind.

Because of this, J’onn and Grim establish an understanding faster than anyone other than Alex.

That is until her mom arrives.

“Mom, this is Grim,” Alex says. Grim is currently in her arms for everyone’s safety and comfort, but Alex kneels and places him on the ground between them.

Eliza kneels opposite her. “Hi, Grim. It’s nice to meet you.”

Grim looks to Alex, who nods with approval. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s just Mom.”

Grim takes a tentative step towards Eliza. She reaches out a hand to let him sniff her, and it’s not long before she’s allowed to pet him, scratching him gently behind the ears.

“What? How?” Kara whines. “That’s not fair.”

“Apparently Alex is only deferential to Eliza,” J’onn says. “He can sense it.”

Alex’s eyes narrow. There it is, evidence of her suspicions. “How do you know that? Are you reading my cat’s mind?”

“I may not work for the DEO anymore, but I still find it prudent to investigate and track potential threats.”

“Hey!”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Eliza says, joining Alex in coming to Grim’s defense. Years of raising Alex has taught Eliza to recognize when someone is reaching their limit. “It’s okay, sweetie. You can go.”

Grim scampers off for the moment, but he returns to her regularly throughout her visit for more head scratchings.

...

Trust has to be earned.

As a therapist, Kelly is very well aware of this. She has a lot of practice ensuring that her patients grow to trust that they will be listened to and not judged.

The problem is that she has done this by communicating in English, a language that Alex’s cat Grim does not speak, and Kelly, being allergic to cats as she is, does not have a lot of experience speaking cat.

“I’m not trying to hurt her,” she insists to Grim, who is scowling at her from Alex’s side.

Kelly is using her lunch break to check on Alex, who has had a long couple of days vigilante-ing. Sure enough, upon letting herself into the apartment, she was met with the sight of Alex asleep on the couch, still in her outfit with the tight suit and boots on.

Kelly had simply thought to wake Alex just long enough to get her to change and into bed, but Grim seems to be taking offense to the idea of disturbing Alex’s rest.

Ironically one of his growls nudges Alex into consciousness. She drowsily blinks a couple of times before recognizing her visitor.

“Kelly?”

“Hey,” Kelly says gently. “I thought you might want to change out of that outfit and get into bed. You know, be more comfortable?”

Alex looks down the length of her body. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea.” She instinctively reaches for Grim. “Come on, dude.”

When she slides into bed, Grim settles beside her again.

“Do you need anything?” Kelly asks before she leaves. “I can refill Grim’s bowl. I noticed it was empty.”

“Ye--” Alex yawns. “--ah, that’d be great. Thanks. You’re the best.”

After several repeat occurrences, Kelly can tell that Grim is growing to trust her more.

The ultimate show of acceptance comes when she’s staying at Alex’s because of a cold. She wakes up feeling better but with a weight on her chest. That weight is Grim, curled up and purring up a storm.

Kelly smiles and reaches out a hand to pet him. “Thanks, Grim.”

...

Grim backs away from Nia with a hiss.

“Maybe try again with a little less enthusiasm,” Kelly says. “Less is better with him.”

Alex keeps an eye on the three as she talks to Brainy. She has finally been coaxed into bringing Grim to game night to meet the rest of the Super Friends. She trusts Kelly to make sure Grim is all right, the only reason she isn’t glued to his side.

Brainy is a question machine. He asks if Alex met Streaky, the differences between Grim and Streaky, the differences in cat personalities, inherent cat behaviors, and the logistics of cat care. Alex is sure Brainy has additional questions, but Kara and J’onn are approaching from the kitchen area with the drinks, and Grim is starting to look overwhelmed by all the people.

Alex is about to rescue him when she catches the look on Lena’s face.

Lena is looking at Grim with an expression of horror in multiple senses of the word, maybe half foreboding horror like one watching a horror movie and half distasteful horror like someone being given a rancid fruit and being told it is an exquisite solid wine.

Alex finds that latter half offensive.

“You cannot use my cat as an excuse to restart Non Nocere,” Alex says, startling Lena.

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Lena says, her voice entirely lacking in conviction. In fact, her face says that if she hadn’t been thinking about it before, she’s started thinking about it now.

William is running late, and by the time he arrives, Grim has disappeared into the shadows.

That’s not to say that William doesn’t meet him.

Sort of.

When William goes to the bathroom, the sound of the door closing is followed by a scream of surprise from William and a series of yowls from Grim.

Kara and Alex run for the bathroom and skid to a stop as William stumbles out of it.

“Kara, you were right about the cat.”

...

By the time Andrea comes to her first game night, Grim has gotten used to socializing and learned how to let people know he’s had enough in a non-threatening manner.

Kara helps Lena welcome her to the group and introduce her to the few people she has yet to meet. Alex and Grim give Andrea identical wary looks. It is one of the cutest things Kara’s ever seen. That doesn’t stop her from steering Andrea to the other side of the room.

“Uh, maybe you should sit over here.”

#supergirl #alex danvers #kara danvers #nia nal #eliza danvers #j'onn j'onzz #kelly olsen #et al.#moments in the life of superfam #i'm sorry i barely stopped being lazy enough to write this #i still have enough laziness to not tag all appropriate parties

54 notes · View notes

kenology · 3 years

Note

hi about your bible verse post im gonna out myself as someone who has willingly read (parts of) the bible but. the very next verse after corinthians 13:12 is arguably one of The most famous bible verses, "and now these three remain: faith, hope and love. but the greatest of these is love" and idk what this means but i feel like it means Something. i cannot believe i am doing theological analysis for jarchie

THANK U FOR ADDING THIS!!! im so...WAIT im sorry. this is literally going to make me sound so insane but i just had a thought

veronica is the only member of the core four whose faith has been a major part of her character (iirc), her confirmation and catholic traditions have been referenced a few times and i don’t think any of the other characters have ever discussed religion.

ultimately, though, i feel like veronica abandons this value to some degree because obviously her actions in later seasons are very...not in accordance with catholicism.

jughead’s relationship with betty in s1 served as a pretty big source of hope for him imo. because his big break with archie happened right before s1, jughead started off the season in need of hope for his own future, his survival in riverdale, his belonging, and for the future of his family. (although i don’t think they needed to date to accomplish this) betty did really help him feel like he was worthy of being a part of the town’s community and helping solve jason’s murder in the first season gave him some hope -- that if they solved the crime, maybe riverdale would be fixed and everything would be okay again.

as we see, though, this hope ends up being futile to some degree because the serpents become even more ostracized and hated (within the short term) and jughead’s family continues to come together and fall apart throughout the later seasons.

and then we get to archie. i don’t even need to argue that archie brings love into jughead’s life, he’s been jughead’s core pillar of support for so many years and they take care of each other, and even when they’re apart, they come back together eventually. they understand each other on a deeper level than anyone else does, and their love for each other is exactly what stokes the conflict in s3 -- they’re both doing the most dramatic things possible just to say “i love you, i miss you, i don’t know who you are anymore, and i’m scared”

and as we leave for the timeskip, the core four comes back together to say goodbye. maybe some ppl are shocked that jughead splits with betty and goes after archie, but jughead had two choices.

1: the person who promised him, again and again, that she only loved him, who gave him hope that he did have value in friendships and romantic relationships and then ultimately crushed those promises by betraying him. his relationship with betty always felt a little precarious; her love for him was predicated on him doing the right thing in the right situation and being the right person, and it’s not healthy to stay in a relationship that’s only surviving because the other person hopes you’ll eventually become someone they want to love.

2: the person who fucked up multiple times and definitely screwed jughead over, but did it honestly, because he was trying to do the right thing and he couldn’t figure out how to distribute all the love he felt without hurting anyone. their relationship was far from perfect, and god knows they went long stretches of time without seeing each other or even talking, but archie never wanted jughead to be anyone other than who he was. archie met him on his level no matter where he was -- homeless and needing a place to stay, blackmailed into a drug run, in charge of a gang in the midst of a war -- and he said i’m here. i love you. how can i help?

so it’s no wonder that the greatest of those was love. love is the undercurrent for hope and faith. love is the fabric holding together two extremely fucked up people who mess up from time to time, and sometimes make things harder for one another, but who know, ultimately, that they are okay and always will be.

#sorry for this literal insanity i was about to answer this like a normal person and then had a thought #myrvd #riverdale #jarchie #jughead #ask #glownery

15 notes · View notes

transgamerthoughts · 3 years

Text

What I Found In The Leaves

Last August, as the lease to my apartment was about to end, the roof began to smolder until the place I lived was full of smoke. When all was settled and done, my apartment had no roof. My room was spared and most of my things were okay—this part of the story being set in late capitalism, I am required to assure you that the things I purchased were okay too—and I decided to leave New York City to return to New England with my family. One of the first things I did when I arrived was look at the sky and imagine I was up there. Falling or sailing or flying. It didn’t really matter. I wanted to touch a cloud, to feel the whipping wind.

I promise… this is leading to something. In the months since, in spite of comfort and proximity to my family… in spite of the arrival of my nephew into this world—a child I would climb a mountain and punch God for if I needed to—and in spite of a happy job… I have spiraled into depression. My solution was work and writing. To throw myself into my job and to, somewhat foolishly, take on the task of novelizing my favorite game: Skies of Arcadia. Because if you’ve read my work long enough, it always comes back to Arcadia. I am proud of that project but it sparked a yearning in me. To truly connect to the world I was writing. It lit a fire. Before we proceed, let me be clear that by depression I don’t mean the woes of pandemic living or some disaffection with the reality of entering my 30s. I mean a deep and painful darkness with all the implications therein. Regardless to say, my efforts to combat it drained me. To the point that I burnt myself out and with some prodding from my boss, took a vacation. Which I am currently on. This is not the first time this series of events has played out. I made a promise to myself when I started vacation: no writing. I am breaking it because I have found, yet again, a moment where I must desperately drain the wonder in my heart and attempt to explain to you that I think there are magical things in the world, and that I believe there is some type of magic in art—in that strange alchemic or shamanistic way—that transfers to us. This will be my second attempt to explain it, and to explain what it has to do with video games. (Forgive the indulgence of this introduction by the way; an editor would surely have cut it all but I need you to understand two things: I am in pain and there's a part of that pain which I think points to something important.) This is a story of ritual and tea. Of how my senses and imagination came together to send me on a journey around a fictional world, in search of heroes who both do and do not exist. As part of my love for Skies of Arcadia, I’ve become something of a paraphernalia collector. I bought an old light novel from ebay, I used my rudimentary Japanese skills to set up a warehouse dropbox so that two fan magazines could be sent there and then subsequently shipped to America, and I have drank tea based off the game. At the time, I wanted to collect the little tins the tea came in; they seemed excellent collector’s items. What I found with my first round of tea was art unto itself; balances of flavor and spice and blends that symbolized characters and connected me to them. These were crafted by a dedicated fan and fellow writer. I don’t have the time to sit and research all the ways in which tea is used in ritual. Because I am tired and older and depressed and writing a blog post that perhaps thirty people will read. Regardless, to my delight I found that the tea-maker had created blends based off the various moons that dot Arcadia’s skies. For those who do not know the game, which I assume is many of you: each nation of the world rests under a magical moon. There are six, with one—a Black Moon—theorized to have gone missing. Here was my opportunity for a journey.

I bought teas based on each moon, and one based on the world itself. I will post a separate collection of all my individual tastings and reviews later. The important thing is this: I had been given an amazing gift. With these teas, I had something of that digital world which was actual. When we play games, we hear them and see them. Perhaps with certain haptics we can feel them. But we do not smell them or taste them or literally consume them. Eight teas, eight chances to smell and taste that wonderful world. To touch the clouds. Quem quaeritis? This is a famous question asked by an angel to the three Marys visiting Christ's tomb: his mother the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene, and Mary, who is the sister of Lazarus—the man Christ brought back to life after his death. It means: “whom to do you seek?” I was journeying, one tea cup at a time, around Arcadia. From continent to continent, I tasted their spices and experienced hints of their values, their cultures as expressed through the tea. The question played in my mind: Quem quaeritis? Whom was I seeking? The answer is complicated. First, I was seeking something of myself. The part of me that understood magic and wonder. The part of me that believes in the soul and believes that art, in allowing the complex interaction of creators and characters with players, performs some type of soul-magic. It impresses upon us, real and actual changes. I was seeking that piece of me; that part of me that understood that each cup was a ritual that brought about a communion with a distant world. I was searching for the younger part of me that believed in wonderful things.

I drank the teas in the order our heroes travel the world, and in doing so I was performing a sort of perseveration of their journey. I communed with some place distant and followed in their footsteps. Which answers another half of the question. Whom did I seek? I sought my heroes. I sought the adventurous Vyse and his dogged determinism, I sought the firecracker Aika and her swift rushes to action, and I sought Fina. The woman I wish I could be: feminine, slight, beautiful, kind, brave. Quem quaeritis? All of this sounds like nonsense and when I try to explain the nonsense, I feel a deep embarrassment. To care in the 21th century, particularly in America, is to be weak. To be publicly vulnerable is to make yourself a target. You must be hard and solid as a rock. You cannot believe in magic or else you are doomed. But here I was, chasing myself and my heroes one cup at a time. And I need you to know that it hurt to do that.

I went to the corner store today to buy some energy drinks. When I got back home, my father asked: “did you find what you were looking for?” I told him “That’s a very complicated question.”

Let me explain. Let me do the thing that I feel I cannot do well anymore; let me do some game criticism. In the world of games, the entities we control exist as two things. They are actors; manipulatable bodies, guided by code and controller inputs, that we guide around as we see fit. In this way, players have extraordinary power. In some ways, it is a… fraught power. We can, as Soulja Boy did, leave Braid’s protagonist in a perpetual flux state: jumping and rewinding. Back and forth, forth and back. Eternal puppets for our amusement, avatars for our power fantasies. Sometimes, as in the case of a game like Skyrim, our controllable actors are little more than flesh suits But actors are, more than anything, just… avatars. Video game actors are also characters. Within their worlds, which are fictional, they have motivations and wants and desires and dreams. They want to live and grow and succeed. Cloud Strife wants to defeat Sephiroth and uncover the truth about himself, Joel wants to protect Ellie and survive in a cruel world. Arthur Morgan wants to find a calmer life and redemption for his sins. They are, as characters, people. But since they are also actors, we can deny them their hopes and dreams whenever we want. We can have Cloud while away his days gambling at the Gold Saucer and, if we want, we can force Arthur Morgan to murder to population of an entire town. The core truth of a player's relationship to the character is this: we decide if their dreams are fulfilled. I find that troubling and I will try to explain why. But first let’s be clear: I do not think the character in games are sentient entities. I outlined this relationship of players and characters in a GDC talk a few years ago, using highly rhetorical terms and my reward was the ridicule of countless gamers who questioned my sanity. Some made videos about my presentation. It was hell. To be a woman, perhaps especially a progressively minded trans-woman, in games is to know a very real hell. To this day, I cannot go a week without some type of horrid experience on the internet. Some judgment of my worth, some assumption about my competency, or in the worst cases some proclamation about my right to live. No doubt this is part of why I needed my vacation. But here is why I find the player/character/actor relationship troubling. It is not merely the abstract notion, the thought experiment that elicits fun but meaningless philosophical natter. The reason I find that relationship troubling or at least complicated is because for all of their fiction, the characters in games can give us real things. They can, through some type of power—a deep power found in the act of story-telling itself—impart aspects of themselves on us. For instance, they can teach us lessons which we then carry into the rest of our lives. My father, for reasons I can’t recall, once told me: “the meaning of life is to serve others.” Though he does not know it, that truism has been etched into my soul. It is a “thing” that my father has given me. But my father is not the only person who has etched something into my soul. Vyse, that dashing pirate, has etched many things into my soul. For instance: “impossible is just a word people use to make themselves feel better when they quit.” That is etched on my soul too. Just as much as anything my father has taught. So we come to the heart of it: what does it mean that Vyse can so alter my being and values, and that he can do it with the same strength and “realness” of my father? What does it mean for a character, who is also often an actor that I guide, to give me such a powerful gift? Because let us be clear: values are “real” things. When I tried to explain that I believe that certain things are actually true, for instance that looking at landscapes does mean that we are looking at something real…. I spent an afternoon with former Jeopardy! contestant Arthur Chu and a cohort of Twitteristas attacking my philosophical surety. So, again, fuck the internet… I digress.. Let’s explore: I believe in the realness of things because of the depth of the emotions those things make me feel, and I refuse to believe that life is just endorphins, hormones, and instinct. That music or games or anything else can make us weep for joy is proof-positive to me of the existence of a soul; of an ineffable thing that is “us.” Not necessarily all enduring but certainly extant. And if this thing exists, it can be acted upon. I know this because my father, with his truism, changed my soul. Changed the core of me. I know this because Vyse and the others did so as well.

I’ve written that games criticism is a kindness; that it seeks the good in art and attacks the banal explicitly because art is beautiful. I write today to suggest this: art is magical. It alters us, not metaphorically, but in the ways it can affect our souls. Which brings us back to character and actors. I control Vyse since he is an actor and I am a player; but he is a character with dreams and hopes and personality. And values. Wonderful values which he shared with me. So what does it mean now that I can send actors to their doom? What does it mean that I can control them utterly when I know for a fact that they can affect and change me? I do not have clean answers for this. Perhaps there are none. Perhaps all I have written is silliness, even as I beg you to please understand. Please.

Understand the power of stories, understand it in the way that Tolkein did when he said: “Creative fantasy, because it is mainly trying to do something else … may open your hoard and let all the locked things fly away like cage-birds.” Understand that I am telling you that the locked thing is your heart and soul, and that just as a lover or parent or mentor can open that thing… so can the people we meet in our fictional journeys. Vyse is not just the captain of a ship. He is my captain. That means something. Art is ritual and play is ritual. In creation, we place something of ourselves in another thing. In play, we allow ourselves to be transmuted and changed. This is magic, of a sort. I am left wanting however. I followed the path of my heroes in as literal a way as I could, pulling on new senses to understand the world they live in and touch their skies for a fleeting moment. But I cannot reach them; I am Tantalus in the mire. Ever reaching, ever chasing. For that moment I can be the person that my heroes trusted me to become. Note by musical note, word for written word, tea cup by tea cup, I am chasing my captain. When I went back to my apartment the day after the fire, I looked up at the spot where the roof used to be. All I could see was blue sky and I thought I might fall into it. Perhaps in superficial ways I have shared something with my heroes; I have tasted something they have, even though the tea is not actually from Arcadia. It was merely a conduit to my imagination, to the transformed parts of my souls. Yet, I did not find him and I could not find myself. Which is why it hurts, in spite of how wonderful it was. Quem quaeritis? He is not here. So I will keep sailing after him.

#skies of arcadia #games criticism #tea #dreams

9 notes · View notes

myriadnarratives · 3 years

Text

Netflix’s Shadow and Bone: My Fangirling Thought-dump

Fair Warning: I’m a darklina, so leave now if you’re not going to be decent (I don’t bash on Mal, though, so you’re safe there)

So I binged Shadow and Bone without reading the books (judgmental people, leave now), and let me tell you, I love the show. True, there were some things I wish were different based on what I’ve been spoiled on about the books, but as a show in and of itself, it’s strong.

So here’s just a dump of my thoughts and fangirling (I use *chef’s kiss* a lot). And obviously, spoilers ahead.

***SPOILERS AHEAD***

WHAT I LOVED

- The storytelling, both narrative and visual, is exquisite. How the dialogue contributes to the storytelling, answering the audience’s questions and doubts clearly even before they’re brought up; how the visual arrangement contributes to informing the audience of what they need to know and how that timeline of knowing helps the audience in piecing together the story, the characterization, and the timeline; the tying in of characters’ storylines so audiences are not confused as to why we’re spending so much time watching the goings-on with a character. *super chef’s kiss*

The show is so organically unified in terms of characterization, visual media, dialogue contribution, and so much more that I just, uh, I cannot even! I LOVE THE ART OF IT!

- How the show dealt with race, identity, prejudice, politics, social acceptance, individual needs, personal wants, the desire for security and safety that mean differently for each character *raises both hands to the heavens in thanks* The show’s concepts hit close to home for me in terms of race, prejudice, mixed biological identity that informs social perceptions, the desire for belonging and safety and acceptance, and I think this show would hold a special place in my heart for its portrayal of these issues.

- How different sexualities and genders are portrayed so casually, as if it’s an everyday normal thing (as it should be).

- The Crows (of course) and how their story intersected with Alina’s, and how the storytelling (I’ll keep going on about the visual storytelling until I run out of breath) shows the intersections and develops the diverging stories to meld into each other

- How they showed how brilliant Kaz’s mind is. The visual storytelling of showing one scene without explanation, leading the audience to create their own assumptions on what Kaz was seeing, then having the scene turn out different once it has been explained later when things have unfolded *chef’s kiss*: the meeting between the Conductor and the First Army General, the hidden changing room, the lynx flush assignments

- How Inej’s faith is portrayed neither negatively or positively; it’s just a thing that is not contrived but contributes to the plot, not some sort of moral policing inside or outside of the story.

- Mal! I heard he’s a jerk in the books, that’s why I didn’t want to read the books before watching the show. But god, his first scenes with the sparring, and the way Archie moved in that fight. Also how Mal’s overall storyline progressed, how his ties to Alina was shown, how his feelings got revealed to the audience even before it got revealed to Alina so the sincerity is not questioned. That True North thing! *heart eyes*

- How the issue of consent in the sexual sense is highlighted as important. The darkling literally asks “Are you sure?” before he proceeds. (Of course, this is very different from his take on non-sexual consent later in the show - like really, you literally put a control button on your hand to control her powers! Dude...)

- The exploration of Alina’s overall consent and agency. They even literally have her say her lack of it when she was in the final episodes. Even Kaz shoves it in the Darkling’s face that she doesn’t want to be a captive anymore. And throughout the show, the thought processes behind her decisions are clearly communicated, giving her agency a lot more weight as the audience can understand and sympathize with her decisions. And she’s not just a “victim” of the story; she pushes the story along with her actions, from her decision to burn the maps so that she could come with Mal, to her childhood decision to cheat the Grisha test, to something as visually simple (yet strongly narrative-affecting) as choosing the left or right path in Baghra’s escape route.

- The exploration of want. What each character wants, how one want like “security” could mean an entirely different thing for each character (i.e. the Darkling’s want of security for the Grisha, Alina’s want of security for herself, Inej’s want of security in the form of freedom, etc.). The show, being well-written, is a smorgasbord of academic analysis. Again, if I haven’t said it yet, I LOVE THE ART OF IT!

- NINA!!! God, I really like how the actress looks! There’s just something about her face that I really, really like. And then there’s Nina’s lines, the delivery, the attitude *chef’s kiss* One caveat though: I wish she wasn’t made to say “Please” when she was hanging off the ice ledge. Even though she had already warmed up to Matthias (and him to her), I would have wanted the scene to be a clash of his pride and her dignity: just like in the ship earlier, her not submitting even to his kindness (sincere or otherwise), and him having a moral crisis on helping a “witch.”

- Genya’s hand-to-hand fight *absolutely beautiful*

- The overall fight choreographies. It’s not just people punching each other and brawling; the jiu-jitsu locks and judo throws hold a special place in my practitioner’s heart, and the fights look really good, either it be for the women (Hello, Genya and Inej) or the men (Mal and Aleksander’s fight looked so different from usual brawls because of the throws).

- How the different Grishas, even the usually non-combat ones, can weaponize their abilities: Healers can, obviously, break bones; Heartrenders can stop your heart; and even the Sun Summoner can blind you.

- Jesper and Milo the goat. “Grab the goat. Hug the goat. Shut the fuck up.” And how Jesper tearfully parted with Milo LOL

- How Alina just climbed right into the get away carriage’s literal trunk. LOL!

- Kaz and the Darkling meeting. I know it’s not in the books (they’re not even in the same trilogy/duology), so having these two characters with so much gravitas meet and actually verbally spar is *chef’s kiss*

- Inej’s first kill is to save Kaz *heart eyes*

- The Darkling’s humor! “Yes, David?” and “I’ll have to give that speech again” were hilarious!

Of course, there’s many more, generally because of how they contribute to, again, the visual and narrative storytelling and the characterizations and the plot progression and, ugh, I'll stop now or else I'll just keep going on about how much I love how this show was crafted.

NEUTRAL

- I heard that Alina was supposed to be funny in the books, but apart from the “No pressure” and “My tailbone is killing me” lines, there wasn’t really much of that humor in there--most of the humor came from Jesper’s scenes or Mal’s friends. Honestly, I think the show Alina fits the story, so I don’t really care if her humor is not as evident.

WHAT I DIDN’T LIKE

- Gosh, Netflix and the showrunners really know how to market the show. They were right when they said the first step is to cast Ben Barnes. Then the focus on the General/Darkling and Alina’s story and relationship, that sort of dark and brooding archetype getting with the green and pure protagonist, is so delicious. But of course, endgame is not meant to be. The Darkling is a manipulative, controlling, toxic person, and should be nowhere near Alina if not on equal ground. I just wish they didn't put that much focus on it in the marketing (i.e. the extra clips distributed to media sources) to make it seem like darklina could happen, especially with the story changes the show was reportedly doing. Oh well, that’s what fanfiction is for. And I guess there’s a chance for redemption in the following season? *puts on clown nose*

MY QUESTIONS AND...WISHES?

So since the show has changed the story quite a bit from the books, I'm so stoked to see where the characters’ stories lead to. I’m sure there would be similarities to the books (Nikolai and Weylan would show up, for sure), but there would be a lot of changes, I'm sure (Alina’s a Saint now, so how would that affect her life on the run and her relationship with Mal? There’s no great reveal for Aleksander’s name, so perhaps he doesn’t die? At least not that way?).

- I wish we’d see more of that internal/thought connection the Darkling and Alina seemed to have. And I wish they’d highlight further the idea of balancing, of being the only two in the world, and of how each needs/complements the other in terms of power. I just really wish they’d explore more darklina, and perhaps have it open to have a darklina ending (I’m not holding my breath for that one at all, but hey, membership to clownverse is free). At the very least, would there be a change in the Darkling’s ending (does he get stuck in the tree)? Does he get a redemption arc? Would he utter the “I do not repent” line? Would Alina and him have the shared connection, I-can-see-you-even-if-you’re-far-away bond? Would Alina somehow forgive him (hopefully only if he has changed and is not controlling and toxic anymore)? Would Alina and him have a showdown as he tries to expand the fold and she tries to close it? He has command of even the volcra now, so what would that mean for Alina’s side? Does she get an army, too? Maybe there’d be creatures of light, too? Perhaps other animal amplifiers?

- Now that Mal and Alina have more or less confessed to each other and ended up together, what would be the next hurdle in their relationship? They can’t just stay static, after all, otherwise the story of their relationship won’t be a good narrative. Season 1 touched on Mal’s fear of the Grisha (with Alina literally asking him out loud), so perhaps as Alina’s powers grow, Mal’s discomfort with her powers would show more (I hope the show doesn’t make Alina do a Slip-into-the-Darkside trope, or at least not too much to the detriment of her agency and core characterization)? Or perhaps going from that conversation with the Darkling and Mal, when Aleksander seemed to have gotten under Mal’s skin when he pointed out that due to their immortality, Aleks and Alina are endgame: maybe Mal would have that rivalry with the Darkling again and, considering Alina’s kind of psychic bond to Aleks (if they add that in), would feel that Alina might choose the Darkling in the end? I just hope the characters aren’t reduced to stereotypes of 1-girl-2-guys-and-girl-can’t-choose love triangle. Even season 1 explicitly had Alina cut off ties with Mal first (because she mistakenly thought he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore since he’s not replying to her letters) before she went to the Darkling romantically.

- What’s next for the Crows? Would Inej eventually go to Sankta Alina? Perhaps the Ice Court heist is next for the Crows. Nikolai has to show up some time, right? How would that tie in with Alina’s storyline?

I have a lot of other questions on what happens to the characters and the overall story, and I'm really glad that the show has diverged from the books to an extent that a lot of things could be possible. I hope Season 2 does happen, and I hope it’s as good as Season 1, especially since COVID is still happening and filming and filming options are limited. If Season 2 does happen, I hope it gets release soon :P

#meta #kinda #alarkling #sab #sab spoilers #shadow and bone spoilers #netflix shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone

4 notes · View notes