#and going along in the moment with the behavior they projected onto you instead; trauma does that sometimes

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

there needs to be a term for the thing terfs do where they:

a) take a boundary you have the right to exercise, and if someone is pressuring you personally to cross that boundary, then regardless of context that's not okay

b) bundle it in with nasty, hurtful, bigoted, unacceptable, and unnecessary behavior of their own toward you

c) when you say 'okay, well, you have a right to that boundary, but you're being a huge dick about the context and the way you enforce it, can you stop that,' they completely ignore the first part to go WOW LOOK WHAT A BOUNDARY-CROSSING ENTITLED CREEP THEY ARE I'M BEING VICTIMIZED HERE

because increasingly over time i've observed that this tactic is not at all limited to terfs, and it's fucking insidious--whether they '''call it out''' from the start, or behave initially like someone capitulating to a boundary-crosser so that as soon as they decide it's time to turn on you they can Tearfully Realize They Were Being Victimized All Along--and it is incredibly traumatizing to be on the receiving end of, as well as a horribly effective tool for abuse both during and after the relationship. and i think it's really, really important to have conversations about what that looks like, and how to distinguish it from someone using manipulation, intimidation, inconsistency, and soft pressure to make someone feel unsafe to enforce boundaries they're nominally being encouraged to set.

(and how to distinguish that from trying very hard to make someone feel safe to set and enforce boundaries, but accidentally making them feel unsafe because you didn't realize what might come across that way, and at what point it stops being in your court to anticipate and accommodate for every possible vector for that, and what to do when that threshold has been reached.)

[mantarobin]

Mm, that it's all for the best (of course it is)

(lots of yapping below)

So, Petro and childhood trauma. Woohoo! (episode 16 & petro character analysis)

I find his relationship with the Wisp very interesting, with how she treats him and his responses to it. There’s a lot of little details with childhood trauma and motherhood that I find very interesting. I’m mainly gonna be discussing their dynamic, then symptoms of childhood trauma and emotional abuse.

In EP16, Wisp has a lot of traits similar to a controlling or abusive parent. She blames Mark’s death on Petro, despite none of it being his fault. She states things along the lines of, “look what you made me do.” and, “I’m sorry for breaking your toy.”

The toy line really sticks out to me. It’s both dehumanizing Mark, and dismissing Petro’s grief. It’s equating Mark to a toy, and makes his sadness sound silly and overdramatic. Of course, there’s obviously the parallels of a mother breaking a toy, then brushing it off.

Generally, the Wisp has a lot of moments that feel like a mother belittling their child. One example is how she mentions disappointments- a lot. She explains how she doesn’t approve of them, doesn’t tolerate them, and projects these expectations onto Petro. She expects him to do perfect work, and when he does, all is well.

However, if he messes up, if he disobeys in the slightest, she switches up instantly. She becomes cold, begins to demean him and remind him of his place. It’s abusive, and keeps Petro constantly worried about her. He can’t afford to mess up because he can’t deal with her punishments, her threats, her switchups and anger.

It’s also worth noting she looks similar to Allay’s, which we saw in EP15, and they look fairly cute and, well, child-friendly. Even now, the Wisp doesn’t necessarily look scary at first glance. Ironically, when she was first spotted, a lot of the fandom thought she was just a little buddy or creature. Take that how you will.

Now, moving onto Petro’s responses to this. Not just in the situations where she’s mad, but how he reacts in general.

In general, he has a very brash, blunt attitude. Something interesting is that he seems to always want the upper hand on people. Now, this could just be explained as “well he’s evil of course” but I’m delving deeper. His urges to constantly want control could be explained by how helpless he feels when around the Wisp. It’s the only way he can have the illusion that he has a choice; he can manipulate people, he can make his own relationships and distractions from the cruel situation he’s stuck in.

While it’s not really the most serious scene, I do keep it in mind. Alux is joking about holding Petro’s hand while they escape, and Petro’s first response is “I’m not a child.”. Interesting to keep in mind.

Now!!! Delving into symptoms. Obligatory reminder I am not a therapist or psychiatrist so I apologize if the info is off.

For starters, childhood trauma. Common symptoms of lingering childhood trauma are: difficulty controlling emotions, impulsiveness, an increased response to stress, relationship instability, dissociation, avoidance, and heightened anger.

I’ll go over these. Not all of them apply to Petro, or have no proof that it applies, so I’ll go over the clear ones I can prove and discuss.

Impulsiveness: While Petro comes off as calculated at first, he does have quite a few moments where he does things without thinking. This is shown more when his emotions are heightened, either for good or bad. The first scenario I can think of is when he finds the scroll, and his first instinct is to just immediately climb the bookshelf instead of just… looking for a ladder.

He also demonstrates this a few more times when he’s hanging out with Mark. He does the majority of the ritual without really thinking about his own well-being, brings the stone guards to life before Mark can even process anything, and his behavior in the first few minutes of the recent episode comes off as him not thinking much. He’s put off about being ordered to kill Mark, and isn’t thinking clearly.

Oh yeah also in the very first episode when he defends Alux from the guard!

Relationship Instability: Pretty much all his relationships have some form of risk, at least in Petro’s perspective. Becoming friends with anyone is already a risk of his identity. Pretty much all the relationships he has or had are risky for his safety or hostile. I don't have as much to say about this segment, the unstable connections he makes are made very clear by the series.

Dissociation and Avoidance: I’m putting these two together because I don’t have too much to say for either, and I can link them both together. The main example is at the end of EP16, where Petro’s eyes go blank. Other than that, there’s not many examples of him dissociating. The same can apply to avoidance, the best example is the most recent episode when it comes to Mark.

Heightened anger: Petro gets annoyed quickly. It’s a pretty notable part of his character. He faces almost everyone with annoyance, anger and irritation. Almost everytime something goes wrong in the slightest, he ends up irritated and frustrated (unless it’s the wisp). I don’t really need to explain this one a lot, he… he’s a pretty angry guy yeah.

NOW!! Before getting into all this, I also want to go over signs of psychological abuse.

- Helplessness.

- Hesitation to talk openly.

- Implausible stories.

- Anger without apparent cause.

- Sudden change in behavior.

- Emotionally upset or agitated.

- Unusual behavior

- Unexplained fear.

- Denial of a situation.

- Extremely withdrawn and non-communicative or non-responsive.

​Now. Like. Most of this applies to him. Mainly in the recent episode when we see him at his most vulnerable.

Hesitation to talk openly, unexplained fear, unusual behavior, denial of a situation and helplessness are all traits that are very explicitly shown in EP16. He tries to dance around his mood change, and refuses to tell Mark anything. When Mark keeps pushing, he is incredibly hesitant and scared to talk about his life and what’s going on.

The helplessness kicks in the moment the Wisp begins messing with Petro’s head. Once that happens, he’s completely vulnerable to anything that happens. Everything that happens from that point forward is entirely out of his control. Near the end of it, he becomes unresponsive and withdrawn, as stated in the list.

The anger is like what I stated before. He’s just generally someone filled with anger, not gonna repeat myself.

Implausible stories could be seen as him just. Well. Generally being a liar. 😭

With all this said, there’s a lot of signs and symbolism of Petro and childhood trauma. I didn’t even mention that he explicitly mentions his mother dying in a fire. Considering she died when he was young, leaving him alone in an anti-magic kingdom… yeah.

I'm super curious to see how his relationship with the Wisp develops, and where his character will go. Anyways uhm yapyap yap Petro is for the trans fans with parental issues fr

I'm so sleepy thanks for reading gang

[bibbykins]

Moonlight Reign Ch.1

A/N: Instead of forcing myself to focus on one series at a time, I'm planning to write what sparks joy to write in the moment and post it as I go! Hopefully this will clear some wips and help me feel less disorganized lmao! Not to say I'm not working on THB, I def am I just want to have something to post as I work on THB and the bigger projects like the LWAB fics among other things! So (hopefully) I'll keep these chapters limited to 5-7k, but we'll see lol pls enjoy and send me asks I thrive on them and so does my motivation!

And a huge thank you to my wonderful B @rapline-heaux for beta-reading ily!!

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: crime, sensory flashbacks, trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior not rlly in this part but soon, pining, violence, past abuse, past neglect, academic neglect, stitches, drunk Jungkook, tackling, pinning someone down, mention of open relationship, poly is the norm is this au

“It’s time to go now.” 

1, 2, 3, 4

“Five years after the fall of the underground power family, Moon Corporation, people still suspect an even more powerful company has taken their place since…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“It’s… so red…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“The exposure beheld more answers than questions, but on the five-year anniversary of the suicidal explosion that killed the head, Moon Byungyeol and his daughter, the elusive green-haired girl who was 18 at the time, colleagues mourn in secret and establishments fear an anniversary heist or something worst than last year as the date rapidly approaches…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“Locals have several theories on the big conglomerate that now controls Seoul’s business, underground and above, with the mafia organizations and gangs running rampant, people fear the government is under their thumb as well…”

1, 2- SHUT UP

You inhaled deeply as if just surfacing from the drowning body of water residing in your brain. Your fingers stilled from the tapping, a  desperate attempt to make you surface, a sorry technique your brief stint in therapy drilled into you. Maybe having nothing led to illogical personal connections with a number. Of all your training as an heir, it was the mundane basic curriculum lessons that fascinated you the most. You were never good at math, but you loved to be perplexed by the numbers. It was a humbling experience, and in your fruitless calculations, four was always the easiest to wrap your head around. Of course, you didn’t know how humbled you’d be until you were a 20 year old trying to figure out how to do middle school math. Your education left much to be desired growing up, but you still enjoyed learning. 

You used to be convinced four was too perfect of a number for such an ugly world, and though you let go of the notion with your past life, it didn’t change that it was a world you had to feign blind to now. In your youth, four was a beautiful result of a simple equation, a funny origin to big numbers. It was a warm hug among the violent reactions when you’d get questions far below your intended grade level wrong. In a world where stuffed animals were banned from your childhood room, the number four was all you had. You didn’t particularly like how pathetic that made you feel, but it didn’t change how much it helped you on days like these.

Your palms retracted from their firm placement on the wall you leaned on, relaxing you. Releasing your slightly curled fingers, you stifled a bitter laugh at the desperate attempt to grasp onto something. It was always so degrading to scrub off the marks your acrylics made along the wall, but the stiletto nails made taps loud enough to bring you back. It was an absolute mystery how the school you worked at let you get away with these. 

Your little episode was finished as you settled your mind with the news continuing to drone on. You massaged your jaw, sore from the subconscious clench you were cursed with. You blew out a sigh as you felt your face and nodded when no tears were felt. Your phone buzzed, alerting you to the time and you groaned. Your damn neighbor would be here any minute now.

Jungkook wasn’t a mean guy by any means, quite the opposite. He was extremely insistent on your well-being, so much so it bordered on doting, and such behavior made you clam up. You didn’t know how to respond to his fussing over you. Hell, you didn’t know how to respond to most interactions outside of your old family business for a long while. That was just one of the many things he taught you, and he never once lost his cool doing so. He was patient with you, and you didn’t know how to thank him for it. 

You both had been in the same class when you attended university, and while you were fine with letting your temporary acquaintanceship go no further than asking for notes or the occasional study session, he was a force to be reckoned with. You just kept running into him and when you moved here and found he was your next-door neighbor, you knew there was no getting out of it. He was going to be your friend. Although, you never understood why he wanted to be so bad. 

Cut to a whole year after you both graduated, and it still didn’t make any sense. You both were polar opposites in a lot of ways. He was the regular party boy always at clubs and coming home at ungodly hours of the night. Meanwhile, you were usually in bed by 11:00 pm and only left your apartment for the job that barely covered your rent. Needless to say, you weren't exactly a social butterfly, so if you found one friend in Jungkook, you figured it wouldn't be such a crime.

However, having Jungkook as a friend meant having a weekly dinner with him as he mooched off of your TV and you mooched off of the food he paid for. It was an even enough exchange. Plus, it was nice to talk freely, or well, as free as you've ever been able to, even if just for a little bit.

You faced the mirror, patting down your hair, thankful for how much healthier it was without the cheap dye job you had done yourself when you were 14, “That green didn’t suit me at all,” You mused, fixing your hair, “Plus it nearly ruined my hair.” You murmured to no one in particular, keeping track of your speeding thoughts as you settled back into Earth. 

Jungkook knocked on the door and you nodded to yourself, “It’s open!” You called and sat down at the table as he walked in, take-away bags in his hands.

“You really shouldn’t leave your door open like that, you know.” He tsked like he always did. It just made sense to leave it unlocked when you knew he was coming, especially if you needed to run to the bathroom so you could finish crying before facing him. Of course, you haven't had to do that in a while, but better safe than sorry. Your issues, for lack of better term, were no secret to Jungkook, and you both knew it, but you liked to avoid having him see you at your most vulnerable when you could help it.

You simply shrugged as you helped him unpack the food, “We’re the only ones on the top floor.” You reminded him, “it would be quite silly of a criminal to come all the way up to the 20th floor.” You chided.

“Still.” He tried to argue but quickly gave up. Jungkook knew by now that you could take care of yourself, but sometimes you wished you’d let him do it for you more often. However, he let this potential argument go, this time. He looked around and narrowed his gaze at the TV, “Why do you still have the news on?” 

You paused and looked up from your food as it prattled on about your family, “I guess I forgot,” You forced your casual tone, “Did you get-”

“Syndicates, huh…?” He echoed the news reporter’s words, eyes fixated on the screen with a curious look, “The news is so weird with this stuff.”

The chopsticks in your hand stilled. You wanted to say that the syndicates were even weirder since they were the ones that probably signed off on the script. As a little girl, that was the first thing you had learned, how to play chess outside on a park bench, how to play chess crushing people in your hands as you moved them. It had all been the same to you for far too long. 

“Like I care, it’s just background noise.” A lie, you hated lying, but it was something you had to get used to doing for the sake of your safety.

“You aren't scared of these guys at all?” Jungkook looked at you like you were crazy, although his eyes didn't match the rest of his face's intensity.

Shaking off the weird notion, you rolled your eyes, “A world without you buying me dinner is pretty spooky but that,” You gestured to the TV, “Is a cheap haunted house in comparison to the hell of making dinner or worse, ordering it myself, on a Friday night.” You giggled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Is that all I am to you? A sugar daddy?” He asked in mock offense and you nearly spit out your drink.

You swallowed roughly before glaring at him as he laughed, “If you’re my sugar daddy, I need a new one.” You retorted and his laugh died while a childish pout settled on his face, “I mean, all I get is a measly dinner once a week and I still have to work and pay my bills?” 

“Well, what do I get, huh?” He crossed his arms, and it made you chuckle. Laughter had never come easy to you growing up, and it still had a hard time coming to you but after years by Jungkook’s side it was easier than ever to do, “Where’s my sugar?” He thrusted his cheek toward you, tapping on it with his index finger.

You rolled your eyes in spite of the flutter in the pit of your stomach and pushed his face away with your index finger, “My presence is your sugar, dummy.” You teased and how easy it was to be human around him made you smile wider, “Plus I let you watch your silly little shirtless men.” 

He clicked his tongue, “First of all, if you’re going to call them shirtless men, at least call them hot because look at him.” He pressed a button on your remote and his favorite fighter, Park Jimin filled the screen, “Second of all, it’s literally fewer syllables to just say MMA fights.”

You took a bite of your food and shrugged, “Don’t you have, like, a million boyfriends? Wouldn’t you make them jealous drooling all over Jimin?” You challenged, vaguely remembering Jungkook saying he had more than three boyfriends at some point. Not that it was surprising, most people had at least two significant others. Unless they were you, of course. You had no one to talk to but the man sitting in front of you, forget about a significant other. “He would make me pretty damn insecure.” You chuckled.

Jungkook scrunched his brows at you, “Six.” He corrected, mirth filling his eyes already.

You looked from the TV to him, “Hm?” You tilted your head to the side.

“I have six boyfriends, thank you very much.” He stated matter-of-factly, and you rolled your eyes at his tone, “Why? Are you trying to give me seven significant others?” He feigned a scandalous gasp, “Well, the relationship is open, you know, so I guess I could pencil you in–” You cut him off by shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth with a glare. The teasing made your chest seize for a split moment when faced with his teasing smirk, so this had been the best way to shut him up. 

Jungkook had always been a flirt, he often relished in teasing you to see how embarrassed you would get. Thankfully, over the years you had gotten used to it. You had already known his relationship was open since he mentioned how often they’re all apart, but you didn’t care to entertain that kind of intimacy with Jungkook even in your thoughts these days. It was just better that way.

“Ha, ha, we got a comedian.” You deadpanned and before you could say anything else, something on the screen caught your eyes, “What the fuck?” You mumbled.

“What?” Jungkook inquired as he looked at the TV, swallowing the food you fed him.

The camera had panned over the crowd and over an eerily familiar face poorly covered with sunglasses. The etching of a scar peeking out of the cheap frames told you all you needed, though. That was your uncle. 

What the hell was he doing showing his face? Let alone this close to the five-year anniversary of everything. The new syndicate in charge took great joy in celebrating the fall of your family, no doubt they’re itching for someone to make an example of someone. Worry tried to leak its way into your veins, but you fought it. Why should you care about him? If he wanted to sign his death certificate, that was on him.

Still, the sight of a man you were almost positive you’d never see again made you feel uneasy. You’d acclimated to regular life quite well, so one of the few remnants of your past life appearing like a ghost was ominous. In spite of your unease, you couldn’t look away. Almost as if you were waiting for him to poof away. You kinda wished he would. 

The camera changed and you finally blinked.

“N-Nothing.” You finally said, shaking your head, “I just thought I recognized someone, that’s all.” Your hands trembled for the briefest of moments as you lifted food to your mouth.

“Oh really, who?” Your only friend asked curiously and you shrugged as you chewed.

“Just some teacher that called in today.” You lied and it made your food taste sour for a moment. It was for the best you lied, you had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

“Hell, I’d call in too if it meant I could see the fight live.” You were thankful Jungkook dropped the topic and let your shoulders relax. You shouldn’t feel bad for lying, really. An unspoken rule between you both was that you never pried about private details. Jungkook led his life and you led yours. Hell, you don’t even know what he does for a living, but it wouldn’t surprise you if it was living off of his boyfriends’ income. Not to mention you didn’t even know if he lived with anyone else next door or if that was just a place of his own to use on occasions. Though, you couldn’t help being a little jealous at the idea of being so pampered. 

“Yeah, I could go for a silly little shirtless man fight on occasion.” You shrugged with a cheeky grin. 

“Silly?!” Jungkook guffawed, “I’ll have you know if he wins this fight, he’ll qualify for the championship, so this is pretty high stakes.” He toted his knowledge of the sport.

“Hasn’t he already been champion like a few times now?” You asked, barely following.

“Yeah, but, he’s been off his game this season for… personal reasons, so he’s never been this close to not qualifying.” He admitted, and your brows scrunched at the melancholy in his eyes. 

“Damn.” You mustered, “How do you know all this?” You asked, genuine curiosity lighting your eyes.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s cheeks reddened as he tore his eyes from you, “Interviews and stuff, you know.” He waved his hand dismissively and you rolled your eyes. 

“Nothing wrong with being a fanboy.” You chided, “I’m certainly in no place to judge.” You offered, reminding him of your fixation on TV dramas, making him snort before you both honed in on the TV.

These fights were quite fascinating and allowed you to at least tap into some of your training. It was how you knew that Jimin was going to win this fight from the first calculated punch, his form was immaculate and instead of going for the face, he drove his fist into his opponent’s ear. It was a dirty trick, but it was more than enough to give him an opening. 

“Holy shit, I think he might win this.” The fanboy across from you breathed. 

“No way he isn’t going to win.” You confirmed.

“Don’t get my hopes too far up.” He all but squeaked out, basically on the edge of his seat.

After a couple of rounds and idle chitchat, the fight ended with Jimin as the victor. You clapped lightly, but Jungkook was so elated he hugged you as he let out a celebratory roar. The first couple of times he did this shocked you so bad your hands almost went to snap his neck. Now that you were both years into the friendship though, the gesture just made you chuckle. Soon after, just like it did every match, Jungkook’s phone vibrated and he had to leave. He always left you with some kind of affection and this time it was a kiss on the cheek, a rare one, but not a huge step from the common forehead kisses he gave you.

“Don’t drink too much.” You warned and he flashed you a cheeky smile, “At least don’t get into trouble.”

“We’ll see.” He chuckled,  and you rolled your eyes.

“Well then don’t make it my problem!” You yelled and he waved a hand as he closed your door behind him. 

—

“Father?” You whimpered as a strong hand patted your head to calm you, or soften the blow of what was to come, you couldn’t quite tell, “Tell me you didn't.” Your voice was in shambles as you trembled beneath his palm.

The news mocked you as panic took a hold of your body, shaking it out of the shred of blissful ignorance you had clung onto. Ever since your father took you in, you had many responsibilities, but the comfort of not needing to keep up with the public facade kept you going. You hated the public, all the pleasantries, and honeyed words. None of it made sense, and now, now you felt foolish for not involving yourself more. For not ensuring that something like this could never happen and crumble the only world you’ve known. 

Still, even as despair monopolized your nerves, a tear wouldn’t fall. You weren’t sure if you knew how to shed them, but you knew it would only piss off your father. 

Moon Byungyeol was a rough man and calling him father teetered between feeling genuine and like a formality. He was a boss first, but sometimes he wore the mask of a dad. Sometimes, but it was enough times with enough gusto that you couldn’t tell which side of him best represented his true self– or if he even had a truthful bone within himself. 

He may have been rough, but he was all you had. He and the family he brought you into had been your first priority all your life, even when you had never really been his priority at all.

Not unless you could be used as currency. 

“Y/n, it's time for us to go,” His voice was somber, but even. You’d never seen him so outwardly upset, but even so, he didn’t so much as let his eyes water as his life’s work shattered before his eyes. He was left with a subdued longing as he looked at the TV, melancholic defeat infecting his usually strong posture, “I let this greed consume me, and I'm afraid it's begun eating not just me alive now.” He admitted and it made you feel ill. 

“...such evidence is linking the Moon Corporation to heinous organized crime activities painting them as a possible syndicate, but no arrests have been made nor has a formal criminal investigation on Moon Byungyeol himself been launched, but many workers under the company are being investigated due to possible involvement…”

Everything was dying. The realization that everything you did, all the lives you took, all the training you had suffered through, had never been for some prosperous empire you were promised. All of it had been to supply the lining of your father’s and uncle’s pockets. You should’ve been angry, shocked, or even appalled, but you weren't. You were numb to the fact that you were raised on lies. Fear resided in your veins about what that meant for you. 

“If I just cash out and retire, we could never live in peace,” He shook his head as he switched off the TV before he placed his hands on your shoulder, catching your attention, “But Uncle Byungjoo has a plan that I think might just work.” You swallowed hard at this. Anything Byungjoo could think seldom meant good things for you. On your best days with him, you were a mere afterthought, but on the worst days– most days– you were–”The only thing is that you and I will have to… separate…”

He was going to abandon it. No, he was going to abandon you. The only thing more pitiful than your fear had to be your shock. What reason did you truly have to be surprised that he was throwing you away just as easily as he picked you? He was going to cash out one last time, and leave like this whole operation meant nothing to him. All the while you had put an inkling of faith in his heart to love this empire, like a fool. At the very least, it was the closest thing to love that you knew. This entire place was all you knew. When was the last time you had gone out on your own as anything but his daughter?

“But…” Your mouth was woefully dry, “The empire, just like you said, it’s-”

“We were never an empire,” His self-loathing clung to each word and disgust curled in your stomach as you looked at his solemn face, “I treated this organization as a bank, a money maker, it was inevitable that the paper I cradled would catch fire.” The roundabout way he was speaking began to grate at your nerve. The pseudo-poeticism of his words did nothing to save his dignity, but you didn’t tell him that. 

You didn't scream, yell, or cry. 

At least you hadn't, yet.

“Then who will rule Seoul?” You wondered aloud.

“That’s not my problem anymore.” He said as if it were the easiest thing to come to terms with.

“Who will stay with me?” You asked meekly, immediately regretting it as you watched his previous words dance on his lips before he decided against it.

He smiled warmly at you and it brought a chill down your spine, “Some of us are meant to be alone.” He patted your shoulder and you wanted so badly to break into pieces from the impact. 

No one would stay with you. Not him, not anyone, and he didn't care.

That wasn't the answer you had hoped for. You hung your head in shame, shame that you expected anything other than a cold answer from a man on fire. The request for him to just kill you was on the time of your tongue before he turned around, ready to attend his last hurrah.

////

You woke up with a start from a bang outside, but considering the fact that it was 4 am, you chalked it up to city noise. Now awake, you stared at the ceiling and blew out an annoyed sigh. You were constantly plagued with flashbacks both in and out of your dreams, and you wished the rancid memories would choose one state of consciousness to haunt you in. Your therapist a couple of years back told you it's normal for people who have gone through what you have to constantly see what you were then in trying to dissect where you are now. Essentially, it was a constant cloud that hung over your head, and no matter how far you removed yourself from that life, its consequences would stay etched into your skin.

Another bang sounded outside your window and you grimaced. Anniversary week was beginning, and you felt more on edge than usual.

Five years ago exactly, you saw the match light. In four days, it will have officially been five years since you saw the flames engulf your home, your family, and everything you were. Each year, this week was chaos for the city of Seoul. Each day was accompanied by an event that slowly grew more and more above ground. It was almost mocking the past, the surfacing of dirty secrets. Secrets the world knew, but never wanted to see, cowards.

The new syndicate at the top of the kingdom was known as Bangtan to the underground scene, but with a “Group” tacked on after the ominous name, they were also the kings of the business world. They were much better at actually hiding their identities, hence why most average people assumed there was no such syndicate anymore or that the “law” took care of it. As if the “law” wasn’t under the thumb of the kings. 

Even so, your information could very well be outdated. The whispers from the underground, also known as the Underworld or even more to the point, Hell, reached your ears less and less as you removed yourself from the lives of anyone who knew who you were. No longer working at the diner your previous nanny ran shut you off from the underground so much so you seldom became aware of Anniversary Week’s events until two days before the main event. 

Another bang, but this time on your door, startled you out of your thoughts, “I can’t believe you went to the bar on a day like today- where are your keys?!” An unfamiliar voice spoke through your door.

“Ask, y/n,” Jungkook’s slurred voice rang out in a yell as you flinched at the volume, “Y/n! I need stitches!” 

This wasn't the first time Jungkook was yelling outside your door, demanding your assistance. This was just another facet of your friendship that you both silently agreed was fine. You never really asked questions, you just patched him up and left him on your couch. It really wasn't any of your business, nor did you have any desire for it to be. Jungkook was an MMA fan, and you knew he was big on that scene and the fitness scene, so it just made sense he would get into fights. You could only hope these fights were agreed upon prior to alcohol, but you weren't naive enough to actually assume that was the case.

“This isn’t even your door, baby, come on.” The voice grunted and your attention peaked. You had encountered a few men trying to help Jungkook home, but you seldom got such an obvious confirmation of their relationship with him, “What? Are you trying to booty call your neighbor?” The unknown man teased and you rolled your eyes. Were they all like this?

“I wish!” Jungkook shouted in response and you were fine with leaving your door closed this time until he spoke, “Ew, I’m dripping on the doormat.”

This made you huff as you hopped out of bed in your large t-shirt and shorts and ripped the door open. You were faced with a man with perfectly styled black hair in a three-piece suit accompanied by a trashed Jungkook with a short, but deep, cut on the corner of his forehead. The man that looked a few years older than you and Jungkook stopped struggling with your neighbor as he looked at you with the most pristine and exasperated face.Everything about this man was polished. Even as your neighbor lazily draped around the man, his suit had barely begun to wrinkle. 

Meanwhile, he looked you up and down with contempt before sighing, “Look, just forget we were-”

“Y/n!” Jungkook cheered before he passed out.

“No booty calls here, sorry.” You remarked flatly, “He usually keeps his keys in his wallet for some reason.” You nodded to his pocket before you looked at his forehead again, “But he does need stitches.” You opened your door a little more, gesturing for them to come in.

The man narrowed his eyes at you, “Do you usually play nurse for him?” You bit your tongue and swallowed his condescending tone with a sigh. You couldn’t tell if he was jealous at the thought of his boyfriend having some neighbor who treats his wounds in the dead of night or if he simply didn’t like you. Although looking at his face, there was no way this man was jealous of you. His gaze was sharp nonetheless, sharp and vaguely familiar, but his eyes held no recognition for you, so you let it go.

“Only when his blood is dripping on my doormat, for the third time this month,” You pointed to the sullied mat that you had just cleaned fully this week, “Bring him in, this isn’t that uncommon-” 

“But-” He tried to object, noticeably a little clammy at the unspoken knowledge of their relationship. 

“Any more blood on that mat and I'm making you pay for it, now come on,” You snapped as he walked in and sat Jungkook in a chair around your table. You shut the door as you pulled your first aid kit out, “You have to sit him on the floor or the couch.”

He complied to the couch, and though he didn’t say anything, you could see the question floating around his mind.

“When he wakes up, he attacks whoever is in front of him,” You spoke, preparing the needle and thread, and you had to ignore the curiosity peaking within you when you saw the other man shift uncomfortably at your comment,  “And I can't stitch and hold him down at the table,” You explained, settling your knees to lock on both sides of Jungkook’s legs and your elbows pressing on his shoulders.

“Aren't you scared he'll hurt you?” The man asked as you began stitching.

You scoffed, “I can play scared if that's what you want, but certainly not for free.” You chuckled, but he remained straight-faced. Tough crowd. You worked very hard to develop your banter skills these past five years, but he paid them no mind making your smile drop. 

Eventually, you just went on stitching in silence until the man broke the silence, “Who are you?” The man spoke mid-way through your stitching.

You paused for a moment, “Didn't you hear Jungkook? I’m y/n, and who are you?”

“None of your concern,” He clipped.

You snorted a chuckle, “You're bleeding on my hardwood floor, that has me pretty concerned.” You gestured to your hand to show him the small cut on his and he slowly grabbed a napkin to press against his hand with his mouth in a thin line, “Concerned for my floor I mean.” You clarified, “But a word of advice? If you don’t want to be suspicious of you, don’t act suspicious.” 

He sighed, “My name is Namjoon-”

You were tying the final knot when Jungkook snapped his eyes open, “Shit.” Was all you were able to get out. He immediately dove at you, pushing you to the floor, making the needle in your hand scratch your forearm before you threw it across the room to avoid the tempting notion of stabbing him with it. You sucked in a breath through your teeth at the burning sensation while you struggled to shake him out of it. 

It didn’t take a genius to deduce why Jungkook’s fight or flight was so concentrated, he’d obviously grown up with a reason to be. Nevertheless, it has never been your place to pry or judge, if anything, it’d be quite hypocritical. He'd seen you in a less-than-ideal mental state plenty of times, to put it lightly. Plus, you knew he didn’t mean any harm, and he was always pretty apologetic after the fact. Although, you were sure the struggle looked pretty concerning as you saw Namjoon scramble to his feet. 

Namjoon was trying to find an opening to cut in between the battle as Jungkook was sloppily throwing his fist down and you were moving your head to dodge each blow. Though his moves were sloppy, they were still fast and you could only dodge for so long. With no other option left, you sighed before slamming your forehead on his fresh stitches to make him stop to register the pain. You took advantage of the opening as you effortlessly pinned his arms down with your knees planted on his upper arms, “Jungkook!” You snapped as Namjoon watched his younger friend finally recognize you in his drunken haze.

“Y-Y/n?” He questioned, his tongue thick in his mouth, “You hurt my head- hey, you’re bleeding on my shirt!”

Your arm had a scratch about half the length of your forearm, it was shallow and oozing blood, but you didn’t flinch, “Wonder who made me hurt both my arm and their head, dumbass,” You muttered, examining his stitches to make sure the impact didn’t affect the new suture, “And you got your blood on my doormat and my forehead, so let’s call it a draw.” You grunted as you fixed the suture.

The sight of someone towering over his boyfriend after headbutting them made Namjoon on edge. Jungkook talked for days and days about how much he loved spending time with his neighbor, but something was… off about you. Why would a school nurse be that skilled in combat? Jungkook was a ruthless fighter and you hardly flinched. 

This string of thoughts prompted his mistake of grasping your wounded forearm to make you stand so he could properly question you. What he didn’t calculate in that movement was the fact that he grasped your fresh cut, which hurt like a bitch. This pain made you bring your other forearm to his neck, pressing firmly into his trachea as his back hit the wall with a bang. You both looked at each other in surprise at your reflex. You gasped softly before releasing him, “Don’t ever manhandle a lady, Namjoon,” You mumbled as you brought distance between the two of you, “I don’t do well being frightened.”

Namjoon regained his composure, impressed by your reaction time and ability to weaken his pride in such a short matter of seconds, “Who are you?” His tone was rougher in comparison to when he first asked the question.

“None of your concern,” You mocked his voice cartoonishly, becoming more and more irritated with his line of questioning, “Now take him, an alcohol pad, and go.” You hissed, unceremoniously tossing the package at him.

He gave you a sharp glare but complied, hauling Jungkook over his shoulder and leaving.  The door shut and you let a relieved sigh escape you. You shut your eyes tightly, frustrated that you let your instincts take over like that. Namjoon was undoubtedly suspicious and that’s the last thing you needed. You opened your eyes and caught sight of the clock nearing 5 am, and it was a Saturday now, so you were going to sleep in as much as you could.

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Masterlist

[nikakistos]

Mikasa will kill Eren

With the series ending in only three chapters at the time of writing this meta/prediction post, i want to share my thoughts about how the battle between the Alliance and Eren will conclude. More specifically, i will analyze all the reasons that make me believe that Mikasa will kill Eren and put an end to this battle.

Mikasa’s character arc

The first important reason that made me reach to that conclusion is non other than Mikasa’s phenomenal and, in my opinion, underrated character arc. So, let’s get to know Mikasa.

Mikasa starts the story as a sheltered kid. She lives in the mountains, far away from any other kids, with her mom and dad being her only company. Her mom and dad were her entire world. She was a naive, innocent little girl who used to overlook the cruel nature of the world, focusing entirely on it’s beauty. She was content living like that with the people she loved the most, without having any grandiose dreams of her own.

And then, reality ensues. Three human traffickers kill her family and try to sell her as a sex slave. Mikasa, being only a child and alone was about to surrender. Without her family she didn’t have a place in the world. She didn’t know how to live without them.

Until Eren comes to save her. Out of the blue he kills the first two of the traffickers and unties her. However, the third one appears and disarms Eren. Before blacking out, the young boy tells Mikasa the words that later became her mantra “Fight! If you don’t win, you die. If you win, you live. If you can’t fight, you can’t win!”

That is the moment that Mikasa’s survival instincts awaken her Ackerman powers. The moment that she accepts that this world is kill or be killed and realizes it’s true nature. And the moment she learns the truth of the world she finds the strngth to kill her assailant. Mikasa kills so that she won’t be killed. And the moment her enemy falls, the old Mikasa dies. 

Broken and homeless, Mikasa asks Dr.Yeager what she should do now that she had no one. How could she live on her own? She never learned how to do that. Mikasa, from the very beginning of her life, is a codependent person. She thinks that she can’t go on alone. And at this moment of sadness comes Eren and wraps a muffler around her neck to protect her from the cold. Both from the physical cold, but also from the cold, hard world that took her happiness away. He offers her a home. Their home.

From that moment onwards Eren became Mikasa’s world. He replaced her parents as her new family, alongside with his mom and dad. Mikasa, realizing that Eren was no more than a troublesome kid with a knack for getting into troubles, decides to be by his side forever and protect him. Partly out of gratitude for saving her and giving her a home, parly because it was his mom’s wish, partly because she is in love with him, but also in order to protect herself and her own peace of mind Mikasa latches onto Eren. And she makes the same mistake as before. She starts viewing Eren as a wholly good person. She keeps the image of the scarf and forgets the violence that came before. She projects onto Eren all of the beauty in the world. 

After Carla’s death, Mikasa’s overprotective attitude only worsens. She resolves to follow Eren at all times and be there for him, without considering his feelings. She actually had a habit of misinterpreting his sentiments about her clingy nature quite often. Whoever threatens her life with Eren becomes an enemy. So, Mikasa, who never got over her trauma, thinks that Eren is the most important part of the world and that without him she can’t go own. To that end she joins the military, when in reality she never cared about humanity’s struggle against the titans. Mikasa was fine living an uneventful life with Eren and Armin. 

However, those sentiments are not fit for a soldier. As a person who dedicated her heart for humanity’s survival, her first priority being Eren becomes a hindrance. A soldier should always put his feelings second. Fulfilling the mission should always be first. While Mikasa proves herself to be extremely effective in the Battle of Trost initially, with her stoic and direct nature saving hundreds of lives, when news of Eren’s death reach her she breaks down completely. She convinces the rest of the cadets to fight, while not being prepared to do her duty. She gives up and she is ready to die, until Eren’s memory and her desire to not forget him help her pull through and fight for her life. This marks the first instance of Mikasa’s growing maturity. She finds a reason to keep moving forward even without her family. 

Mikasa is a survivor. Keep carrying on and living even after the deaths of her beloved people has always been a part of her. And this is not something that comes directly from Eren, but from her own self and love of life. Her Ackerman powers only activated due to her own survival instincts. Not from Eren’s orders. While she hasn’t realized it yet, Mikasa takes pride in being alive. In a world where only the strong survive, she feels proud of counting herself amongst them.

Of course, the revelation of Eren being alive makes Mikasa regress. She continues with her overprotective behavior and with her reckless, emotional behavior. Her desire to exact vengeance on Annie causes her to jeopardize the mission to retrieve Eren and sideline Levi. Mikasa was hurt by Annie, becaue Annie exposed her again. She showed her that she is not entirely capable of protecting Eren. She also showed her once more that fighting impulsively and allowing feelings to interfere when in a mission puts her life at risk. The first time, she was saved by Eren. The second, by Levi. So, Mikasa resolves to do better next time. She resolves to become a better soldier. Her sense of responsibility over Levi’s injury pains her and she tries to make up for it. She scolds Eren for not fighting her, despite her having killed numerous Survey Corps members. Her effots pay off and this eventually leads to Annie getting captured.

Unfortunately, Mikasa’s feelings have continued to resurface in critical moments. And those feelings did not concern Eren entirely. Despite Mikasa claiming that she only cares about a small amount of lives, specifically Armin and Eren, perhaps she hadn’t realize that she cares for far more people than she initially believed. Even after promising Levi to not make any more blunders, the only reason that Reiner and Bertholt escaped from her was the bonds she had created with them. She saw them as her comradres.  She later tries to make up for her failure by trying to make the rest of her comrades see Reiner and Bertholt as enemies of humanity and prevent them from hesitating like she did and putting a tough front against Ymir, but again, the damage had already been done. 

Mikasa had grown to care for more people than Eren and Armin. Mikasa during the Battle of Trost threatened Dimo Reeves who was delaying the evacuation process, because he was getting more of her comrades killed. She saved innocents and civilians. She was angry at the Female Titan for killing so many of her comrades. She created strong bonds within the 104th unit. She even showed consideration for Levi, even though she disliked him for beating up Eren. More importantly, as the series progress, Mikasa starts caring more about the world in general. The little girl who only cared about herself and her family members has now become a soldier who fights for the entire world. She even develops a sense of belonging to Paradis, viewing it as her homeland, when she wasn’t even willing to fight for the island 4 years ago. Her cold exterior starts to crumble and she opens up. She protects a child who killed one of her best friends, a stark contrast to the earlier version of Mikasa who nearly ruined a mission by trying to have her vengeance against Annie. The Mikasa who simply cared for her small world and had no ambitions of exploring the outside world easily embraces the volunteers from Marley and becomes optimistic about their intergration to Paradis. The exact opposite of Eren.

This gradual “defrosting” of Mikasa and her repeated failures, along with the realization of the inferiority feelings she was causing him to have, force Mikasa to alter her treatment of Eren. While she was constantly nagging and smothering him, she starts to become more supportive of him, encouraging him and helping him believe in himself, just like she did with Armin. Not only that, this enables her to become a better soldier as well. While the Mikasa of the first few chapters was willing to disobey orders if that meant being close to Eren, she starts trusting the leadership of Levi, whom she resented, and entrusts Eren to Armin in the Battle of Shiganshina. She understands that she has a role to play as a soldier and that Eren can take care of himself either alone or with the help of other people, without her being near. This results in a huge victory in Shiganshina.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that she has changed completely. Mikasa still refused to obey Levi’s orders and attacked him when he tried to revive Erwin instead of Armin, Despite all, her feelings for the people who are closer to her, Eren and Armin are still too strong sometimes and overpower her better judgement. However, it was at this point exactly, that Mikasa received her second warning. She has to keep moving forward with the knowledge that all the people she knows will eventually die. And she did. Mikasa did give up in the end during the Serumbowl. She has matured.

Unfortunately, Mikasa’s love for Eren is still hindering her. Even now, after all that, Mikasa’s sole dream is living with him forever. She is in love with him, even though he has commited horrible crimes that go against her values. Her introverted, shy nature plus her fear of losing him do not allow her to express her true feelings, but she does have them.

And here comes Mikasa’s greatest flaw. Despite all of her development, she still thinks that without Eren she is lost. She has no goal left. She never learned how to live as an individual and as an independent person. That’s why she believes his lies so easily. She doesn’t recognize her sense of self without him. She still ties her identity to Eren. She has all of the foundations for living as a complete and healthy human being, but her inability to separate herself from Eren is destroying her and clouding her judgement. That’s why she asks Armin what to do in chapter 125, that’s why she tries to stop Pieck from killing Eren in chapter 135, that’s why she says she won’t kill him. And most importantly for her, that’s why she couldn’t admit that she is in love with him in chapter 123. Mikasa simply cannot handle rejection from Eren. She can’t think of a future for her without him by her side. She almost reconsiles herself to loving him from afar.

It is very evident and telling from her reaction to Louise and her first talk to Annie that Mikasa is actually ashamed for prioritizing Eren over anything else and simply following his footsteps. In reality, Mikasa doesn’t want that. She wants to be her own person. She wants to be Eren’s equal, not his follower. That’s why she doesn’t wear the scarf anymore.

Well all these need to and will change. Mikasa has to put her feelings aside one more time and act as a soldier and finish off the threat to humanity. She needs to stop tying so much of herself to Eren and realize for good that she can live without him, despite wanting to be by his side forever. And in order to do all that, she has to stop lying to herself for good. She has to admit her feelings, her true feelings not solely to her, but to him as well. And judging by her own regrets, she will.

Mikasa’s character arc has her going from a happy, naive little girl, to a broken,  gloomy, stoic person who only cares about a couple of people to a proper soldier who cares and fights for the entire world, friends and foes included. She opens up, makes friendships, develops a more pacifistic worldview compared to her survival mindset of old. But most importantly, she will become a normal, functioning human being.

Nature of the conflict

Moving on from Mikasa’s characters arc, i believe that the nature of the conflict of the series in and of itself points out towars Mikasa killing Eren. The first and primary conflict in the series is the fight between Humans and Titans. The world has expanded since the first chapter. The series has become more complex. And yet, in the final battle we see some people fighting to protect humanity from the hordes of titans that want to trample the remaining human race outside the walls of Paradis.

In this exact setting we have the Survey Corps, the group of people that from day one fights for humanity’s survival and liberation from the terror of the titans fughting against the biggest symbol of oppression and enslavement in the entire series. The Wall Titans.

The Scouts dreamt of an idealized world when fighting against the titans. And still, even after this world was revealed to be quiet different than they imagined, more disappointing, they still don’t give up. Because they understand that the world is a cruel place, but it also very beautiful. The person who best represents this theme in the series is none other than Mikasa Ackerman. And she is fighting for the Scouting Legion against the person who showed her both sides of the world in the same day. That person has renounced all the beauty in this world and focused only on the ugly side. And he fights for the Titans.

In a series about humans fighting against titans, Mikasa is a character associated with human strength. 

While Mikasa (and the Survey Corps in general) is associated with human strength, Eren on the other hand has been constantly referred to as a monster. A devil. Something inhuman. Now of course, technically speaking Mikasa is also part titan and Eren is also part human, however this symbolism still exists.

Judging by the narrative and the themes of the series, an Eren victory is downright impossible. It just doesn’t fit for the titans to defeat humanity. The story has put so much emphasis on the creation of a better world, free of curses and hate. Eren, being the physical manifestation of both can’t win. He has to die. And in such a story, is there a better way to topple the biggest titan of all time, using the trademark weapon of humanity? That it the ODMG.

Foreshadowing

In this part, i will let the pictures do the talking. It is evident from all of them and from my previous analysis of Mikasa’s arc that a full blown conflict between her and Eren is bound to happen. And Mikasa killing Eren has been referenced way too many times for that to be a coincidence.

Every single time in this latest arc that Eren being killed is mentioned, Mikasa is at the forefront. Isayama focuses on her too much in these scenes. Considering the fact that now that Gabi has realized what the true nature of the titans is, the fact that they have wrapped the explosives around Eren’s neck, Armin going Colossal being foreshadowed over a billion times, Eren seems to be in huge danger. Killing the Source of the Titans would likely kill Eren, seeing as how he is nothing but a head without a body. And it doesn’t look like he can regenerate. Stopping the Colossals might only be possible by killing the centipede that is tied to Eren’s survival. And for all the reasons i have mentioned, i believe that Mikasa will be the one to kill it.

[ectonurites]

My least favorite type of fic!Tim is when he’s portrayed as depressed/very mentally and emotionally unstable, but also at the same time as someone who is like lauded as being super dangerous/the most skilled or something like that?? Those fics where Tim is chugging caffeine and barely sleeping, but characters are still like “oh I wouldn’t wanna piss off Tim he is Dangerous” and that’s annoying enough but then there are fics that at the same time as that portray him as like on the edge of a breakdown. It’s very irritating even if I’m not sure I can articulate exactly why, it just really rubs me the wrong way. Like, I definitely do think Tim has some issues with depression and stuff, but in fics like those it’s treated more like a quirk sort of instead of a serious issue

LMAOO I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT i’m not a fan of that either. I’m apologizing in advance if I sound mean in any of this critique i’m about to give of that fanon version of him. I want to preface this by saying that people can write whatever the hell they want, like, they’re allowed to! And I’m not referencing/calling out any specific works here. Just trends. But I’m gonna bitch about some things I’ve noticed that annoy me, personally. (so again, not saying other people can’t enjoy this stuff! just. not for me)

so like sorry if im mean but this is just me ranting and also this is my blog anyways so:

(nobody take this as an attack on them please because it’s really not)

The problem is a lot of those fics seem to interpret Tim’s behavior in Red Robin (& especially like that last whole arc of his Robin run also by FabNic) as if that’s his normal, rather than the result of a few years of CONSTANT traumatic incidents pushing him to a breaking point (because while all the shit he went through with his Dad, Steph, Kon, Bart, and then Bruce dying was spread out over several years for us as readers, it’s regarded as like within two years in canon! It all happens when he’s 16 and 17. According to the Batman comic right after War Games, Jack was murdered only days after Steph died.

(Batman #634)

That’s a LOT to process for one kid jesus christ) 

I love Red Robin honestly, I do, but it is about Tim at the lowest points in his life. It’s the grand finale of Tim’s story, and everything crumbles, that’s kinda the point! The end leaves him in a position to either rebuild himself or fall apart. It’s all about how he chooses to continue after this point!

(Red Robin #26)

The way he acts and the things he does in that comic should be regarded as such. He can’t live the way he does in Red Robin forever or he will literally burn himself out/become something unrecognizable, like, jesus it’s kinda even acknowledged in the comic when he thinks about what his potential futures would be if he keeps it up like he’s doing:

(Red Robin #25)

He sees himself as dead, as Batman (which he has countless times said he doesn’t want to be and at this point in his history almost every time he’s seen a future he became Batman in he had become a killer), or needing to retire and taking over an Oracle-esque role, likely because he exerted himself too much to continue. 

When you look at him around this same timeframe when he’s not isolating himself/too deep into the mission and is instead working with his friends back on the Titans, you can see that he is starting to heal and work in a more positive direction. He’s choosing to work on coming out of this rough period by being together with his friends who he loves.

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

Not to say that you can’t write about situations in which he doesn’t start to come out of it, but if you are doing so it’s something you should be taking seriously because that’s the idea you want to explore, not just acting like it’s perfectly okay or normal? (And again, there are a lot of works that do explore it in good ways, there’s just also a LOT that don’t)

Like, so much content I see just make any sadness and depression and tendency to over-work himself that’s rooted in his traumas (which! those do have a basis in canon!) into a quirky personality trait rather than a response to trauma. Acting as if he’s always been this way and it’s normal for him. That’s what bothers me. If people want to seriously explore the effects of all these incidents and how that plays into his ability to do his job as a hero, then hell yes do it! But when it all gets brushed off as ‘oh thats just tim, he just doesnt eat or sleep or feel any happiness but like its fine he’s just always been like that’ I feel my blood boil. 

This also often strikes me as related/tied to fanon’s seemingly never-ending quest to make Tim into this victim of so many things he really wasn’t. They make his childhood 10x worse than it actually was (yes he was lonely because he was sent to boarding schools rather than having his parents around, but he was NOT just left home alone all the time as a child. 

(Batman #441)

He snuck away during a school vacation week to follow Bruce one (1) time and to then track down Dick. This is established in his introduction story! PLEASE read Lonely Place of Dying!) and it just... going with those fanon assumptions as being true changes so much of how people characterize him! 

Some people will also (not to call out tim/kon shippers especially because I  literally am also one but) vilify the shit out of Steph and make their relationship out to be some abusive thing rather than just... a messy teen relationship between vigilantes because they had really complicated lives and baggage with one another? Which they both acknowledge they made mistakes in!

(Red Robin #10)

Or people will vilify the shit out of Dick in regards to the situation at the start of Red Robin, or literally just make anyone who Tim ever had a disagreement with out to be the bad guy despite the actual situations always being way more complex and multi-faceted than that.

And then on top of all that, aside from making him into this ‘im broken 24/7 and not doing anything to fix it also everyone around me is terrible to me’ type of character, because he’s a lot of people’s favorite, they also want him to be as cool and strong as he is at his high points. So they’re projecting all this stuff onto him that makes him what should be a barely functioning person but then also act like that’s fine and he’s able to be a dangerous badass on top of it. 

Like I’m sorry but someone who is going out and actively acting as a vigilante like that which is incredibly physically taxing is NOT surviving on coffee alone and no sleep. That’s literally not possible, he’d fucking collapse. (And like, again, if you want to explore him pushing himself to that point, that’s one thing! but acting like he can manage all of that for more than a few days at a time/maybe while working on one really tough case is nuts!) and like, even canon can be a little guilty of this type of thing particularly since the New 52 (Detective Comics 2016 had more than a few references to him barely sleeping, but at least they also made references to him eating normally/healthily and he wasn’t completely self isolating or anything) (and also that comic had him be so self sacrificial he was ready to die to save everyone and only didn’t die because of Mr.Oz’s interference, he’s definitely not in his best place there) but usually it’s still within some realm of possibility.

Also like. The fanon ‘chugging coffee to survive thing’ just annoys the shit out of me because, like, yes there’s a few moments in canon where he’s under a lot of pressure and pushing himself further than he normally would and had some coffee (one of the only times I can even remember him having it on panel is... oh... during that last Robin arc I just mentioned a little while ago shouldn’t be where you source your normal characterization of him because it’s a very difficult situation that pushes him further than he normally would go! huh!) But the thing is like, people play it off for laughs, or like it’s a normal thing he would do at any time in his life! If you want to explore him pushing himself and using coffee as a crutch, like, there’s ways you can write it that takes it seriously, but almost every time I see it come up in fics it is like a core part of his personality and just ‘oh haha silly tim always with his entire pot of coffee he must chug every morning or he’ll die :^)’ And that bothers the hell out of me. 

In general it’s just... people treat Tim so weird. They want him to be so many different things that he’s shown himself to be at different times for very specific reasons, except they want him to do all of it at the same time which just doesn’t work. A person can’t function like that, and it’s not even close to who he is in canon. 

Again, people can do what they want, and this is just my opinion obviously, but yeah. My two cents on the matter.  Read Lonely Place of Dying, read Young Justice, read his Robin run. Read his comics and get a feel for who he was before all the rest of his trauma, and see how he canonically reacts to it along the way. I know reading comics can be tough for some people but so much stuff just echo chambers and becomes barely recognizable in this fandom and it’s just... a shame when it happens with a character ya love. 

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter two - “bucky”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.4k

summary: after arriving in wakanda, (Y/N) figures out who and what she’s there for (with the help of our fav young genius)

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my photo

"Christ, you're astonishingly intelligent. How could you possibly need my help?" (Y/N) asked. "I'm kind of a joke compared to your big brain."

As the young Wakandan princess showed (Y/N) around her extremely impressive laboratory, she thought back to her conversation with Sharon.

***

"I'm needed? In Wakanda?" she said, dumbfounded. "What am I gonna do? Help them hunt for food?"

"Well, that's the thing," Sharon began. "Wakanda isn't what you think it is. The third world country we all thought we knew is just a facade to protect the true nature of Wakanda."

(Y/N) stared, not following. Sharon continued.

"It's actually a highly advanced, technologically progressive metropolis. They have some of the smartest people and most exceptional innovations in the world. It was all a cover up."

She nodded, finally understanding, "Well, I can't say that I blame them for hiding from the world. I can only imagine what would happen, especially from the hands of America."

Sharon chuckled. "Steve settled things with T'Challa, the former prince, and the royal family are allowing him and Barnes to take refuge there until further notice. Evidently, they have the tech and the minds to undo whatever damage Hydra did to Barnes."

***

"Well, I could do this by myself, but my focus is predominantly on electromagnetism, quantum mechanics, and high-energy particle physics," the young princess explained, gesturing to various pieces of state-of-the-art tech around her lab. "I'm not really an expert in social sciences just yet; that would be you. I was told you were exceptional. Oh, and Captain Rogers needed someone he could trust on short notice. So, here you are, on account of a Sharon Carter, right?"

"Absolutely correct... your highness?" (Y/N) replied, though it was more of a question than anything else.

The princess laughed a genuine laugh, "Oh, no need for formalities! We're colleagues now and we're going to be working collaboratively. Please, call me Shuri."

"Got it," she nodded, smiling and slightly embarrassed. "...so, not to sound like more of an idiot than I probably already seem, but what exactly is this project we're working on? No one really thought it would be a good idea to tell me before I took the plane ride to another continent- which is lovely by the way."

"Well," Shuri started, gesturing her to follow along as they walked through the rest of the lab, "you know that man who allegedly bombed the UN conference in Vienna, consequently killing my father and forcing my brother to assume his place as king?"

(Y/N) gulped. "Yes."

"Yeah, he's here. He's the project. But don't worry! He didn't actually set off the bomb; he was framed."

Oh. Okay. What was she supposed to say to that? (Y/N) couldn't figure out an answer so she continued to nod and try not to look too idiotic.

"As you already know, he has suffered greatly. He's not in control of his own mind. Our job is to dismantle whatever programming Hydra drilled into his poor brain through years of abuse and torture."

(Y/N) remembered the horrible things she read in his file. The trauma, the cruelty, the destruction of humanity. Suddenly, she was no longer at a loss of words... or thoughts. She was going to help an innocent man. Well, the truly innocent man who was locked inside Hydra's homemade killer.

What was done to him was a monstrosity; it was, up to date, the worst thing she had ever seen done to a human being. And, if she can do anything to help take away or relieve some of that pain, she was happy to play her part. A good way to do that was probably to zone back in to what Shuri was saying.

"...and there's two main components to this. Number one is his physical pain. Meaning the biochemicals and neurons in his brain in addition to his arm and the nerve endings and anything else of his that they broke: the stuff I will take care of. Number two is his mental pain. Meaning his psyche, trauma, behavior, emotions, and all that other fun psychology stuff that you will take care of."

"So, I'm basically operating as a therapist?"

"Basically. Among other things."

(Y/N) stared at the floor in front of her, letting it all sink in. She was going to therapize the Winter Soldier. Whatever that was going to entail was a mystery to her. He was nothing she'd ever heard of. Of course she was extraordinary at her job, but this was new territory for her.

Unaware of what else to say, (Y/N) blurted out, "So... you said he's here..."

"Yes. Follow me, you can come meet him."

Maybe that wasn't the best thing to blurt. He is innocent, but that doesn't stop him from scaring her a bit... even though she's never actually met him in the person.

She followed behind as Shuri led her out of the lab and through a multitude of different rooms and hallways. She was nervous, indeed. She was in a place she'd never been with people she'd never met about to see a person with a caliber she'd of never imagined.

(Y/N) wondered what he'd be like. Would she be meeting who he was before Hydra sunk their claws into him? Or would she be meeting some hybrid of the man he used to be and the pain he's been forced to endure? She wasn't sure what to expect. But she didn't have time to imagine another scenario when Shuri opened a door and they were greeted by a freezing cold breeze.

"Don't mind the cold. It's supposed to be like that," Shuri said as she held the door open and walked inside.

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around her midsection before her mouth dropped. In the middle of the room stood a giant glass chamber holding no other than James Barnes inside. It looked so strange to her, surreal even. He was frozen? Suspended animation. She didn't think humans were supposed to look like that. He almost looked dead. The slightest shiver ran down her spine.

"He's in a state of cryogenic sleep," Shuri explained. "Completely alive, but the chamber reduces his metabolism to its lowest possible level, allowing his body to be preserved for long periods of time."

"That's... slightly horrifying. I've heard of cryogenics, but I've never seen it first hand. How does it even work?" (Y/N) inquired as she ran her hand lightly across the glass.

It's so cold. She couldn't imagine being in there.

"In cryogenic sleep, an antifreeze agent is added, replacing the water in his cells. Then, the tissue is cooled to -220 degrees Fahrenheit, but instead of crystallizing into ice, the chemicals clump together and become solid. They're actually molecularly similar to glass. This new glass form prevents the cells from bursting and, theoretically, this could hold him in stasis forever."*

"Wow," she mused, still awestruck, staring at the chamber.

"Something wrong?"

"No, I'm good," (Y/N) chuckled, "it's just that advanced science is just shocking sometimes. And when you said I was going to meet him, I didn't think you meant like this."

Shuri smiled. "Oh, I didn't."

And with that, all it took was the push of a button and the chamber came out of dormancy. It was whirring and hissing, and (Y/N) could feel the temperature slowly start to rise. She glanced up and witnessed what looked like a miracle as color began to bloom onto his previously blanched features. He too was coming out of dormancy; he was coming alive.

(Y/N) almost startled when his eyes opened, but remained completely still when the chamber door opened. James blinked a couple times, taking in his surroundings. He looked anxious; she could understand why. She tried not to meet his eyes.

I'll let Shuri take the lead on this one, she thought.

As if on queue, Shuri gave him a polite smile and started to undo his restraints.

"Hello Sergeant Barnes. Welcome back! My name is Shuri, T'Challa's younger and much smarter sister. This," she gestured to (Y/N), "is Dr. (Y/L/N). Together, we'll be conducting your treatment plan."

He stepped out of the chamber, shaking Shuri's hand. He had almost a foot over her but towered over both of them regardless. Then, he turned to (Y/N). She wasn't sure what to think.

"It's nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes," she said with a curt smile, as she shook his hand. Cold. She pretended not to notice.

He looked down at her and for a moment she thought he looked docile. Benevolent and soft.

His eyes are very blue.

"Please," he said, a kindhearted gentleness coating his voice, "call me Bucky."

- - -

* = info on cryogenics from inverse.com

[nezumiismissing]

Overcoming Similarities and Fear of the Self: A Lesson in Socialization

Ok so I'd like to start out by saying that this isn't going to be nearly as pretentious and academic as the title makes it sound, but I couldn't let go of how good it sounded (and since it’s me it’s at least a little pretentious and academic), so here we are. But anyways, onto the topic at hand.

Like most stories, No.6 focuses immensely on fundamental differences between people and places, and how those differences lead to conflict that either brings those groups together or destroys one or both of them. On a large scale, No.6 tells the story of the conflict between the West Block and lower classes of citizens, and the institution of No.6 itself as created by the city's elites. On a small scale, we see this larger issue of sociopolitical conflict reflected in Nezumi and Shion and their relationship as it develops throughout the story. This individual conflict is mostly philosophical, with each character having their own experiences with No.6 and therefore differing opinions as to what, if anything, needs to be done about it. However, these differences in experiences, and how Nezumi and Shion were taught to view the world, function not only as a reflection of larger scale issues, but also reveal how they form their opinions about both the world, and especially in Nezumi's case, each other.

Right from the beginning of the story, we are shown, and expected to accept, that Nezumi and Shion are fundamentally different, that their experiences are so drastically different from each other that outside of a certain level of compromise, they will never philosophically align with one another. But I think there’s more to it than that. Because even though this difference is what drives the entirety of the plot forward, acting as a micro level version of the wider sociopolitical conflict, one of the overarching themes of the story, that humans are fundamentally the same, or at least equal, no matter their experiences and beliefs, directly contradicts what is otherwise a story of dichotomies, creating not a grey area open to interpretation, but a single truth that must be accepted in order to accept the events of the story.

And here is where we get to the part where I ramble on about the complexity of Nezumi’s character and how it informs not only his actions, but his emotions as well. Specifically, Nezumi’s “fear” of Shion that develops throughout the story on the surface appears to be based on the fact that not only have they had vastly different experiences, and therefore view No.6 and its issues significantly differently, but also that because of these differences Nezumi is, for the first time, recognizing that there are things about the world and other people that he does not fully understand. By defying Nezumi’s expectations of what a citizen of No.6 should be like, and demonstrating his individuality and ability to defend himself, Shion proves that people are more complex than they often first appear, have motives outside of basic survival or corruption, and can behave in ways that to an outsider seem completely irrational. Looking at it this way, Nezumi’s discomfort with and eventual fear of Shion make perfect sense, as he appears to Nezumi to be someone who is now completely unknowable and irrational. However, Shion’s insistence on that theme, that humans are fundamentally the same, highlights a completely different idea: Nezumi is not afraid of Shion only because of their differences, or because he is an unknown entity, but also because through his interactions with Shion, Nezumi is forced to face the fact that perhaps they are actually quite similar, and that the one who was unknown all along was himself.

Throughout the story, we get very few, if any, chances to see Nezumi do any kind of self reflection. He has already figured himself out, he knows how the world works and what kind of people inhabit it, and no matter what may happen, he is able to approach it calmly and make completely rational choices. Except when it comes to Shion. From the beginning, Shion is so drastically different from what Nezumi is used to that there is no rational approach to take other than to simply observe him and try to decipher what he may be thinking at any given moment. Unfortunately for Nezumi, this is a task that remains impossible for him until he recognizes that there is a crucial part of his understanding of the world that he is missing, and why it is that he does not have it. This lack of understanding ties into many of Nezumi’s actions that to Shion, and us as the audience, appear irrational, specifically relating to why he leaves at the end of the story, as well as why he spends the majority of the story constantly contradicting himself and acting in ways that go directly against what he preaches earlier on to Shion.

This is especially apparent as we approach the end of the end of the story, when Nezumi’s focus on Shion shifts away from teaching him to survive, and instead towards preventing him from becoming too much like Nezumi. Part of this is of course, as the story points out, because to a certain extent Nezumi still sees Shion as an outsider, one who should not be enacting violence and should instead be protected. This is obviously uh, not a good and healthy way to think about another person that is supposed to be equal to you, but I think it also speaks to how Nezumi has grown through the process of self-reflection, even though this process remains unfinished even after the events in Beyond. Because I don’t think that Nezumi’s insistence on keeping Shion the same as he’s always been (which obviously also shows a lack of understanding of Shion as a person, and just people in general) is just about his desire to protect him, but rather a fear that if Shion becomes too much like him, then Nezumi’s actions and beliefs will have become externalized and projected in a way that forces him to face himself and all that he has done in his life. By this point in the story Nezumi has realized that some part of who Shion is as a person is also a part of himself, and Shion’s actions have shown that the reverse may also be true. Thus the possibility that further similarities will arise becomes likely, and out of fear that he does not actually fully understand himself, as well as an inability to self-reflect in a constructive way, this fear is taken out on Shion in the form of attempting to prevent him from changing in any way, in the hope that it will prevent the revealing of any more similarities, and therefore the further deconstruction of Nezumi’s sense of self. In other words, Nezumi’s desire to see Shion not change in the Correctional Facility is less an attempt to protect Shion from “reality” (which yes he does also want to do), and more a coping mechanism for Nezumi as he struggles with his own identity.

Now this is not to say that Nezumi and Shion are exactly the same, or that they should be interpreted as such, or that they will ever become exactly alike. Rather, it is more about the idea that all humans (with some exceptions of course) have the same or similar capacity for certain emotions/understandings of the world, and that what differentiates us from each other is not some innate difference that can never be overcome, but instead a result of socialization that, while not entirely able to be reversed, can be in many cases overwritten and changed through a continued process. In this specific case, for example, we see that Nezumi and Shion are both capable of strong feelings of empathy for other people. However, whereas Shion is entirely comfortable with processing this emotion, because of the way he was socialized (raised) by both the old woman and Rou, as well as a result of severe trauma, Nezumi has no real foundation for understanding human empathy, and so when he does experience it, his immediate reaction is to reject and rationalize it rather than attempt to process it, which would result in him having to fundamentally change his world views. Nezumi’s socialization also forms his conceptualization of the unknown as something to be feared, as the environments he was raised in required things that were unknown (such as No.6) to be seen as a threat rather than an opportunity to learn and develop. Thus the appearance of Shion, as well as his “strange” behavior brought over from No.6, serves as both a deep fascination for Nezumi as something that questions his construction of “humanity”, as well as something to be feared due to its existence outside of this construction.

Just to tie it all together, this is a huge part of why Nezumi ultimately has to leave at the end of the story. Just like every other person who has written about the ending has stated, Nezumi needs time to reflect and heal from his trauma, and that is something that is fundamentally impossible for him to do in the presence of either Shion or the remnants of No.6. After spending the majority of his life crushed under the weight of (and then forced to question) something that is both unknown and the source of his suffering, what he needs is the comfort of an unknown that fundamentally still fits into his preexisting world views while still leaving room for exploration that is free from the influence of others. Most of his life has been spent under the strict influence of those who raised him, who taught him that the world is ultimately a place of suffering, violence, and tragedy, that his trauma was justified, but normal, and nothing would ever fundamentally change about that world. The short period he did spend alone was time when he was too young to really be able to question that idea, and it instead became cemented in his mind as the “reality” he presents to Shion. Shion, on the other hand, so significantly disrupts this pattern that Nezumi is unable to rationally respond, and instead of taking the new information into account, resists it in self defense, not wanting to recognize that what he thought was reality only really existed in his mind. He needs an in-between place, a place where he can be alone with his thoughts and reflect on his life without the interference of people who he feels strongly connected to, who might influence his processing. He needs a place where he can not only recover from his trauma, but also the fear his socialization has resulted in that ultimately ended up only being the fear of his own humanity.

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Once in a Lifetime Ch.2

You didn't say anything further as you gestured for them to follow. Gavin looked like he was about to get up but after glancing at Connor, thought better of it and remained.

"Y/n, what happened?" Connor asked, desperation in his voice. He needed to know. You continued to look down, refusing to look his way. He felt torn, the pain in his heart only getting worse. He needed to know Nines was going to be okay. He wanted to tell you that everything was going to be okay, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do anything. He didn’t even know what was going on. He never felt so powerless, so useless before.

"We'll talk once we're somewhere more private." You sounded like you wanted to be reassuring, but it was too much to ask of you in this state, sounding emotionless. His heart ached.

They entered into what looked like a small office. A desk with a few papers stacked neatly on top along with a datapad, a bookshelf with various medical books lined the shelves, and a few leather chairs. Standing beside the desk was Markus, giving a small sympathetic smile as he nodded to his friend. In the chair behind the desk was Elijah Kamski.

"What the fuck are you doin' here?" Hank asked before even fully entering the room.

"Please, sit down, and we'll explain everything." Kamski spoke in that same condescending voice that Hank came to hate. Still, Hank sat down in one of the seats. Connor looked to you and gestured for you to take the seat, but you acted as if you didn't see him, you stared ahead but you weren't looking at anything. Connor placed his hand on your shoulder, rubbing the back of your neck with his thumb soothingly. You slightly flinched at the contact before relaxing into it. The repetitive motions calming him as well, if only a little.

Once the door was shut, Markus began. "To start with, right now, Nines is in a stable condition." Hank let out a relieved sigh and Connor momentarily felt a weight lift off him, but the look on Markus' face told him there was more. "However, his body was damaged beyond what we can repair right now. In all honesty, I don't know how he even made it here."

He thought he was going to fall over as his legs threatened to give out on him. He gripped your shoulder a little tighter, prompting you to rest your hand on his. He didn’t want to dwell on the the possibilities.

"Several biocomponents were destroyed from the bullets, and because Nines is a unique model with specialized parts, we can't replace them. We tried using similar parts, including parts from one of the destroyed RK800's, but they were incompatible."

"Don't we have the blueprints for his model? Can't we make more?" Connor spoke softly, his voice stained.

"We do, but the blueprints are encrypted, and even if they weren't, we don't have all the materials here to replicate them. It could take anywhere between a couple of weeks to a month or two just to get the necessary materials, and another week to make the parts."

"Was it really that bad?" He whispered.

For the first time since entering the room, you spoke up. You sounded so out of it, it was like listening to a voice recording. He hated that voice. You only used it when you were locked in panic and fear, running on a strange form of autopilot. "He was shot several times in the abdomen, and one of the shots ricocheted throughout his torso. He had a crack in his thirium pump regulator so we put him on a specialized machine that can act as an external thirium pump, and we replaced several thirium lines, but the bullet tore through his ventilation system and his artificial lungs, so he started to overheat. We put him in low power mode and currently have nurses packing ice around him, but he won't last much longer if we don't do something."

"And that is when I received a phone call asking for help," Kamski smiled.

"What the hell can you do? Nines was made after you left Cyberlife." Hank crossed his arms over his chest, not bothering to hide his hatred of the man. "Well, while that is true, I'm still the one who wrote the basis to all androids, and it's my code that they continued to use to encrypt classified files. I also know where to get the needed material and can pull a few strings to get it here faster. I'd say I have a lot to offer."

Connor finally sat down, breathing a resigned sigh as he drew his hand down his face. Kamski wasn’t the type to do anything if he couldn’t get something out of it. "What do you want?" Kamski smiled. "Nothing excessive. I merely request to study Nines and the effects of deviancy in androids. As you said, the RK900 was created after I left and with its advancements, I'd like to see just what Cyberlife was capable of. It might even help with a side project I'm working on."

"That's great and all, but from the sounds of it, Nines can't wait that long," Hank cut in. Markus spoke up this time.

"Well, much like Connor, Nines has the ability to transfer himself between androids."

"Shit, Connor, I didn't know you could do that."

"Yes, though he is restricted to only other RK800 models. The RK900 model was designed to transfer between most models, in the event he needs to go undercover. However, Cyberlife never had the chance to create more RK900 models before the revolution and any android that can operate independently was awakened and sent to New Jericho. As it was deemed unethical to activate YK models without a guardian, there is an overstock available. The plan is to transfer Nines into one of these models until repairs can be done to his original body."

Kamski stood up, holding a microchip. "While in this body, I will have this installed in the YK model. It's going to record how Nines reacts and adapts to a model that is ill equipped to handle the tasks he usually performs, along with his emotional range and stress levels to better understand deviancy.  Y/n will also be required to report on any behavior changes. Additional tests will be ran as well, but we can deal with the minor details later."

"Can I get this in English, please?"

"They're going to put Nine's into the body of a child android while y/n and Kamski observe his behavior." Connor ground out. He couldn't believe his ears. His brother wasn't some science experiment! He didn’t deserve to be poked and prodded. If it had been anyone else that agreed to this, Connor would never agree, but it had been you. Things had to be dire for you to agree with such ludicrous demands, but he trusted you wholeheartedly.

"When can we do the transfer?"

"Connor! You're actually agreeing to this?" Hank gave him an incredulous look, voice full of disbelief.

"What choice do I have? You said it yourself, Nines doesn't have long, and the longer we sit here and discuss it, the less time he has. This is the only way to save him."

"I had Simon go down and choose a model close to his appearance. He's going to meet us in the trauma ward." Markus left the room, followed by Kamski and Hank. As you turned to head out, Connor grabbed ahold of your wrist. He stood up and pulled you in. You sagged against him, like a marionette with its strings severed, trembling. He ran his fingers through your hair as he held you. "There was so much blood, and all I could think was how devastated you would be if he died," you whispered into his chest.

"Shh, you saved him. He's going to be ok. We are going to get through this." You continued to avoid looking at him, staring at the ground instead. He cupped your chin and pulled your head up, forcing you to look into his eyes. His eyes held sadness, but also so much understanding and forgiveness, your own scrunched up in pain. You grasped onto the back of his shirt, holding him tightly. The pressure and warmth helped to melt the ice that settled in his chest. We were going to make it through this, somehow.

After a few peaceful moments, he pulled away. Some of the thirium from your clothes stained his shirt. He ignored it for now. Nines was going to be alright. He will not be losing his little brother. You wiped a stray tear from his face he had not known was there. Still, you were shaking even more, the adrenaline that you had been relying on for the past few hours draining away.

"How about, after all this, we order some greasy, not at all healthy for you, pizza, and then take a bath together?" You nodded with a soft smile, suddenly looking much more tired and worn. He laced his hand with yours and headed towards the trauma ward.

[ofravensandgenesis]

The Investment of an Antagonist - Part Three

Entry 04 continued. [Trigger warning content: post contains discussion of Far Cry 5 details for the main villains including violence, brainwashing, torture, child abuse, neglect, emotional manipulation, dark backstories, drug use, cult content, etc. Spoilers for Far Cry 5 inherent. Part 03 of 03.] [Link to part one here.] [Link to part two here.]

— Faith —

Lastly we have Faith, née Rachel Jessop, the youngest of the Seed family. The easiest themes to assign to her are unsurprisingly drug-use and escapism. She is an intriguing and complex character with some very beautifully done layers, in particular playing with gender expectations of behavior both in-world and on the meta in what may have been either intended brilliance of foresight or fridge brilliance by the dev team.

Thematically speaking though, as with the other Seeds, she is projecting her past experiences onto others and turning into the abuser in the recreation of her trauma. In this case, it could be taking up the role of a manipulator using soft-coded presentation and masking shaming techniques with positive wording and oblique expectation-pressures to get people to go along with what she’s saying...as well as making them more pliable via the Bliss. It could be that part of her escapism theme manifests as disassociation, separating one’s self and in this case Rachel from Faith, her followers from their worries and problems, and at the most extreme end the Angels from essentially their entire personality and past. In contrast to John, Faith seems to be much more so about forgetting/burying/separating one self from one’s past problems, sins, unhappiness, etc rather than facing it head on. In a way, it could potentially be interpreted as a denial of those aspects of a person, and herself, through the Bliss. This could be a better parallel to how Jacob also breaks the unwilling down in his Trials, albeit for more specifically war-like purposes than Faith. We don’t get to hear if John has opinions on how the “new recruits” up in Jacob’s neck of the woods are treated well or not, but he doesn’t include Jacob in his jab. The absence could be used to infer that John has either separate issues, less issues, or no issues with how Jacob runs things, but that’s the problem with this kind of absence: it lacks definite, concrete matter to build with. We hear only a very vague telling of the details of Faith’s life from Faith directly, which in this instance is going to be presumed to be true, albeit perhaps glossing over the details and told from a carefully crafted perspective for a desired end result. Others also have their own opinions to fill in on the details of Faith as she is and was, and her life before, including but potentially not limited to Tracey and Sheriff Whitehorse, as far as I’m aware at this time. What’s really interesting is the almost split presentation we get at times with Faith: in some moments she is the epitome of her title the siren, bright, friendly, seemingly warm and enticing. Other times she has some lines that cast very long, dark shadows. Three of the phone calls one can find in the Henbane are particularly dark, if one assumes the call with the sounds of a crying woman on the other end to be Faith. Even disregarding that third one, the other two show more of Faith’s darker aspects, as noted below: “Rachel’s so sad and alone. Once was lost, never found. She lead a faithless life and it brought her low. Faith rose up in her, but Rachel stayed low, down. Faith flies divine, and Rachel...Rachel gropes around in the darkness. I left her there, a long time ago.”

The second phone call text:

“A baby is a sack of screaming, shitting, crying impulses with no personality, no thoughts, no understanding of the world beyond feelings. It has no soul. You have to give it one. The only soul we ever have, we receive from others. And it is only others, who can take it away.” One possible interpretation from these two comments from Faith would be that she was very strongly shaped by her family and friends before she ran away with Tracey to join a commune out west. Not into total obedience without personality, but perhaps instead placation and appeasement behaviors, attempting to make the other people in her life “happy” as a form of self-protection coping mechanism to deal with living in an abusive home environment, and later on refined into intentional choices as these lines from her might strongly suggest: "All my life I dealt with people like you. People who underestimate sweet, innocent Faith. You see what you wanna see... a playful butterfly, a delicate flower... a child with childish thoughts. It's easier to disregard a child. Tracey made the same mistake as you. While you all ignored me, I walked right through every one of you." From Faith’s wiki page, it also states that Sheriff Whitehorse talked about “Tracey and Rachel, who were friends, 'joined a free spirit movement in the west, smoking doobies, banging on drums’. But Rachel and Tracey fell on harder drugs and fell out of favor with their community. Tracey searched for a new home and found the Project at Eden's Gate, and Faith decided to return with her to Hope County to join the cult.” From there, with Rachel going through the painful and dangerous process of withdrawal symptoms while attempting to end her addiction, it might be that she also felt that her new self, Faith, or Faith-to-be, was shaped by Joseph and the Project. That this new self was a new soul, and that her old soul, her old identity, Rachel, had been cast away. Perhaps that was another motivation for her to possibly split with Tracey, staying with the cult over staying with her best friend whom she had left her home behind with once before—the friend she’d run away with into the unknown at what was likely a rather young age. Perhaps staying with Tracey, Faith felt too much of Rachel remained. Rachel, the addict. Rachel, the powerless. Rachel, the abused. Perhaps those reminders were too painful for Faith, and she wanted to separate from them as much as possible. If she wanted Tracey to stay though...perhaps she had also hoped Tracey would have a fresh start. That Tracey would be “happier” at the Project. That the two of them would be born anew and cleansed of their sins, as the Project promises. All of the Seeds are in this interpretation trying to cope with their traumas. Faith in this aspect is perhaps the one closest chronologically in time to her trauma, being the youngest, and thus perhaps still emotionally rawer at times underneath it all. Rawer in a more youthful sense, not related to the innocence she tries to project as a front, so much as how she cries out in panic and fear during her boss fight’s finale, when the Deputy strikes the final blow, and how her tone changes when she’s threatened during the fight, talking about how Joseph threatened her and plied her with drugs. In this regard, it is very easy to read Faith as still placating, still coping, still appeasing the powers that be in her life, in this case the Project, Joseph, and the other Seeds to a degree. With being Faith, and not even the first and only Faith but at the very least the third in a series of adopted “sisters,” the danger of being killed, cast aside, or deemed unsatisfactory for whatever reason is very real, and could echo possible fears she’d harbored of her parents, other friends, and community members in her past. How much danger she was in from her parents is unstated as far as I’m aware, but that she was abused and likely was afraid is enough. Fear itself is real enough and a weighty factor in any situation where it exists, as it was meant to be by biological design. So in recreation of that potential trauma-build, Faith placates all of her followers with the Bliss and gentle words, making some members of the Resistance note in commentary that they feel special, loved, cared for. Drawn in to become a part of Faith’s idealized dream of everyone being predictably calm, and open to suggestion. While it is still technically appeasing behavior, with Faith being in control of the Bliss’s drug production and seemingly also the hallucinatory effect it has on people, she is also master of the realm and thus the one with the keys to the kingdom, and I daresay enjoys her power with how she mocks the Deputy upon their return to the Jail after the cutscene of her reasserting control over Burke and the ensuing happenings. Her methods on the surface are soft and appealing seemingly, but she is ultimately now able to control those in her region and under her power with a far more beautifully beguiling and insidious form of puppeteering. She makes a splendid contrast in that regard with how Jacob brainwashes people, with making Angels versus the brainwashed fighters of Jacob’s. Another piece of interesting dialogue regarding the Angels as mentioned by Faith in I believe the Whistling Beaver Brewery is as follows: "Have you seen their faces? On the Pilgrimage? Oh, you should see it. To see the sin fly from their heads and their faces slacken to peace. The vanity shaved from their heads, evil taken from their lips. Never to speak a sinful word, any word, again. It gives me life. Every time a bell rings..." Combining that with the above comment about how Faith believes people don’t have souls until given them and shaped by the others around them, Faith certainly seems to have grabbed the reins on shaping who people are, with the intent to “smooth out” any disagreeable parts. To the point of perhaps erasing a person’s individuality entirely, thus producing an Angel. She like her brothers is also driven by purpose, as she mentions in her first cutscene of being given purpose, and from the random encounter line below: “I’m going to tell you a secret... Eden’s Gate is not here to fix your life. That’s your own selfish dream... No! Eden’s Gate exists to save something greater than you and me. It is here for the Father to bring salvation to the world’s very existence, and you’re trying to destroy that. I put so much hope in you. I thought you’d be special. Was I wrong?” That first bit about not fixing one’s life feels like a potentially open admittance that the Project is not trying to fix people at least in her region, so much as to re-purpose them to the Project’s own ends, and Faith fulfills that with a gentle kind of at-times-gaslit brutality that she selectively applies more forcefully when someone isn’t playing according to Faith’s own preferences. While the doubting may also be real in her case in the later lines, it also serves as shame-based social pressure to not disappoint her, directed at the Deputy as an attempt to erode any resistance they have to conforming to doing the “right” or “sympathetic” thing—as defined by Faith anyway. Its a good bit of manipulation, leaving it blurry whether its outright just intended to influence the Deputy or if she indeed has any doubts. I lean towards the latter for added nuance of emotion, though I do think she’s more than capable and willing of violence and brutality when desired. One minor example among others that comes to mind would be the signs of violence and likely death in the Chan residence, with the implication that Faith sent some of her people to deal with Jasmine and likely kill her, per the blood on the floor and the unsent note contents: “To whom it may concern, Thank you for addressing my complaints about all that noise coming from that Eden’s Gate construction site. One of your representatives (I think her name was Faith, not sure) passed by and said she’d have a word with the people building the statue. She even said she’d make them come by to apologize in person. Although we may disagree on some philosophical matters, it’s nice to see some neighborly etiquette. I look forward to resolving this amicably. -Jasmine Chan” Aside from that, there are also other mentions such as Ethan Minkler overdosing on the Bliss (while that may be a possible accident, the point likely remains that he either died or became an Angel, much to the mayor Virgil Minkler’s grief,) comments by Resistance NPCs about how forced-pilgrims on the Path are sometimes made to crawl on their hands and knees until they bleed, the ones made to jump from the Statue of Joseph and land among the littered bodies of those who did not survive, etc. Ultimately what all of that might be mirroring is her own treatment at the hands of her family and other people in her past, as well as perhaps what Joseph, the Seeds, and the Project asked of her: not to be fixed, but re-purposed. It was never about her, but what she could do for someone, be it her family, friends, or the Project. In that, the Angels are an elegantly simple solution: they are obedient to the wishes of the Project, and are loyal to a fault without any chance of wanting anything to the contrary than what is asked of them, provided they are provided with a steady supply of Bliss (presuming they require it as a continued addiction, though that is purely speculation.) The Angel’s Grave in the Horned Serpent Cave seems to be a lake of boiling muck that is implied to be a mass grave for Angels, per the Grieving Note found therein: “Lana. Christ in heaven what they did to you. The fact that they could make you believe all that nonsense, make you forget yourself so hard. Forget your own name? How, Lana? What did he say to you? What kind of fucking dirtbag blood ritual could make you think your name was “Faith”? Doesn’t matter how, I guess. He told you you were special, but in the end he threw your body in here to disintegrate in the boiling muck, like a common Angel.” This certainly shows the Project has little to no respect for the dead, or at the very least those turned into mindlessly loyal Angel minions. It echoes back to the lack of individuality Faith may struggle with internally as a theme—it may also be that her parents abused her through the unrealistic-expectations archetype of wanting and pressuring her to be what they wanted, without any regard of who she was as an individual or what she wanted out of her life. Perhaps during her life she was treated as nothing more than a commodity, trying to forever appease and live up to her parents’ expectations. I sadly have very little on the Jessop family as a whole, so this is all once again pure fabricated speculation. This lack of personal worth through individuality does thread through the recurring instance of there being multiple Faiths before Rachel, and it is shown in the notes to the two known previous Faiths, Lana and Selena (both referenced from Faith’s article the wiki.) “You’re not the first one, Selena. You’re not the first woman he’s used up and thrown away. For years I’d been hearing this Faith Seed was tall as her brother, with black hair. Couldn’t miss her. And then I saw you in one of their trucks last week, yellow hair in the breeze, and heard them calling you Faith. He thinks he can just SWAP YOU OUT. Like you don’t got a brain of your own. God knows who you are, and so do you. Selena. I love you. Don’t lose yourself to this.” Both of the above notes have mentions to identity issues with taking on the new name of Faith, of losing oneself or forgetting oneself. With the note to Lana and the last note from one of the Faiths there is also the double mention of “being special.” “I just wanted to be special. When Joseph came into my life, I felt like you’d given me a true gift, Lord. That a man who talks to you would bring me in on your holy conversation..? And so I too the name that you gave me, Lord, through Joseph: “Faith.” And I am a woman made anew. But now, I’m ashamed to say, even though I carry this name, my devotion to the Project is..plagued. By Doubt. What do I do? I know you will forgive me, dear Lord. I don’t know if Joseph will.“ The above note titled “A Confession” on Faith’s wiki page is possibly from Rachel, though the wording has me contemplating that it’s likely from someone a bit older, and the style I’m uncertain if I’d attribute to Rachel though I acknowledge that writing and speaking can present very differently. I would expect her to write with a more direct style of wording since presumably she had internet access and was familiar with texting, speculating off of Tracey’s note in the convent that mentioned Tracey being “tired of this 19th-century-ass writing shit.” The pauses via commas and more formal-yet-casual feel of the written cadence, along with more talk of God feels like someone else’s voice rather than Rachel’s, but I could be wrong. But that’s also fitting with the theme of uncertainty of who’s who beneath the name of Faith. Therein lies the loss of individuality and lack of clear denoting of which Faith this was, or is.

—  Conclusion —

What I find absolutely fascinating about all of these villains is how they tell the story of the trauma and past experiences through their actions, dialogue, beliefs, and all while moving the main story forward. We do have some direct story telling in the sense of them telling us about those key moments that lead to their revelation and some backstory details, but the fact that even afterwards in a lot of what they do if not all of what they do we can potentially draw more inferences of how they came to be who they are? That is some very beautiful story and character construction in my opinion. In how the past influences their present and relatively speaking future events, so too does their present and future come circling back to tie to their past. This possible feedback loop of influence is just so neat in my opinion and is particularly pronounced here with the Seed family and how they are presented in-game. I feel it works exceptionally well for antagonists but could in theory also work for any main character. The sheer weight of how their past influences them so profoundly is really interesting, and while we all are shaped by our past, it’s particularly highlighted here with the Seeds. Often the trope of a character having a dark backstory is presented as the reason they’re doing X, or are prone to behaving in a certain way (one such popular demeanor being say brooding,) and is particularly common for villains. What I think makes the Seeds for me more interesting in that regard is how individualized their processing of their traumas is. It’s not just out to do evil because they are simply evil and have a backstory to facilitate handwaving as to why they are evil, they’re going about it in a particular way, and have all developed a nuanced system of belief relating to that and likely significantly influenced by those around them as well, with the Seeds all I would say influence each other to varying degrees. Them being a group of villains is part of that complexity with the layers of them having a family dynamic, the cult hierarchy, significantly different styles of managing their affairs while still sharing some core elements, and being such diverse personalities. The Seeds in their entirety as a group are what make or break the story in my opinion, since to have really good conflict I would say you need excellent villains or antagonists, and the Seed family fits that bill in my personal opinion very well. It feels like there was a lot of time and care put into each of the Seeds in different ways and in crafting their stories as well as fitting those stories to the main story of Far Cry 5. The speculation I personally take away from this in terms of developing interesting characters is that sometimes having a very detailed background and having it influence a character heavily and actively both in-scene and on the meta of writing the scene can be really interesting. Obviously sometimes not knowing a character’s past and leaving it a mystery works very well too. But if there’s been care put into how the character is developed and there are in-world, albeit unknown backstory reasons for their actions, words, and beliefs? Then even if we the audience don’t know the reasons, that can make for a very compelling character for audience members to speculate and fill in the blanks about. Obviously there are other builds and exceptions and such for making compelling characters and in particular villains and antagonists, but I do think this style of character construction in relation to the overarching plot is honestly quite gorgeous as a story infrastructure element in its own right and worth taking a look at should it appeal to one to examine it. It’s a really lovely echo of how much investment the dev team’s put into the characters themselves that those characters in-world also care and are heavily invested in what they’re doing and saying too, as an added accent to it all. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, hope you all have a good day/night! [Link to part one here.] [Link to part two here.]

[gibsonmusicart]

Turning Your Story From Pain to Profits

People often ask me how I got started writing one-person shows and I’ve never been able to quite, definitively nail down a concrete answer. Oftentimes I’ve said, "out of artistic necessity," and while that is an absolute truth, it’s only part of the answer. Although I had been a professional actor in Los Angeles, for many, many, many years, I felt like I wasn’t landing the caliber of roles that showcased my unique set of skills. I was an actor who could sing. I had superb comedic timing and I could conjure up such emotional depth in characters that allows me the ability to be totally present, and if need be, authentically cry on a dime. I also possess the rare ability to portray many different walks-of-life from the seediest of characters to the noblest of gentlemen. Why wasn’t I working? Early in my career I had booked a few leads in several independent films, and guest-starred in many television shows, but most of those roles did not lead to more fulfilling parts or a steady acting career. I was at a stalemate and did not know how to dig myself out of the trenches. It wasn’t until a former acting teacher, who knew I was also a writer, asked, "Why aren’t you writing material for yourself?" I thought about the question a while, and honestly didn’t have a concrete answer. So, I responded by saying, "I don’t know." I had never really thought about it. I had written a few books, articles and plays for others, but the thought of writing something specifically for me never crossed my mind. In fact, my first thought was that it seemed a little bit egocentric. Then I started thinking about film actors/directors I admired like Sylvester Stallone, Robert Townsend, Matt Damon, Barbara Streisand, and Spike Lee. These artists had the tenacity to create film projects for themselves when Hollywood wasn’t banging down their doors. But I didn’t have any money or the knowledge of how to get a film script made into a movie. However, I did innately understand theatre, so I set out to develop a stage play for myself. That turned out to be a daunting task as well. It wasn’t until I was introduced to the works of Roger Guenveur Smith, Whoopi Goldberg, Lilli Tomlin and John Leguizamo that a light bulb went off in my head and I thought, "I could do that." However, that "Ah ha," moment was easier said, then done. First off, who wants to perform an hour and a half long monologue? The thought of trying to memorize pages and pages of the dialogue was intimidating enough to make me want to give up before I even started. Especially since, even though I was an actor and trained to memorize lines, I didn’t have the best long-term memory. As I continued to "toy," with the idea, I relaxed my racing mind and finally got around to, "What would I write about?" What I discovered was; I had a lot to say and even more to write. I started thinking about the essays and emails I had written and the topics I passionately spoke about with family and friends. Then it became clear that I would write about the plight of urban education. Alas, my first solo show, Did You Do Your Homework? was born. However, crafting it wasn’t easy. I knew I had something important to say and that getting it out of my head onto the page would be vital in developing the story, but I really had no clue how to start. Everything seemed to be jumbled up and every time I sat sit down to begin, I always found myself getting stuck in a "brain freeze." Frustrated, because I knew I had a story to tell, I almost allowed myself to give up. Then I thought to myself, "I need to approach writing this piece from a different perspective." I can’t start by simply writing the story from beginning to end. I have to first, alleviate my frustration by purging my head and hashing out all the ideas I have in it. Then I thought, "How do I do that?" The answer, "brainstorming." Once I got all my ideas on paper, I could physically see them and go about organizing and arranging them, piece by piece, into an "outline," that was cohesive and chronological. It was only then, that I could begin writing my story. But it didn’t stop there, because what I found, after my first couple of drafts, was that even though my story had a lot of content and interesting characters, it had no heart. It had no deep, pressing purpose or reason why I was telling the story and what made this story so uniquely personal to me. It had no depth. What I discovered was that I had not made the story deeply personal to me. It did not contain what made me a uniquely giving and passionate individual and artist. Even though I intellectually knew that by doing so, would make my story stronger and more affable to audiences, I didn’t want to be that vulnerable. I didn’t want to risk opening up my heart and letting complete strangers in. I wrote, Did You Do Your Homework? out of a need to talk about urban education. Most importantly I wrote this show so that educators could recognize, that although urban kids sometimes come to school with a myriad of social, economic and physical issues, at their core, many of them want the same things out of life as everyone else. They just may not know how to access their own feelings and ambitions because of the trauma they may be dealing with on a daily basis. They haven’t been taught to dream. I was once one of those urban kids who had gone through and survived trauma. I was physically and mentally abused and as a result used drugs and alcohol to numb my pain through middle and high school. In high school, I would go to school all bruised up and sleep through my first-period class because I had been up all night, taking extreme blows to my chest, in order to keep my step-father off of my mom. I would then sleep through the sixth period because I needed the rest and the strength for the night to come. I suffered in silence. My ninth-grade teacher would constantly kick me out of class if I showed up late or slept in her first period. It wasn’t until I got to tenth grade and had a teacher by the name of Jim Underhill who recognized that there was more to me than just the appearance of defiant behavior. He lifted my spirits by encouraging me to be and do more than what I thought was physically possible. He, along with my mom, constantly reinforced the notion that there’s greatness inside me, even when I didn’t believe it. Once I actualized my perspective on why I needed to tell this story and how teachers needed to remove all preconceived notions of who and what urban students are, then I had a way into the hearts and minds of my audiences. They could relate to the struggles and pains of physical and substance abuse and how a man struggling with his own demons is trying to make a difference in the world. At first glance Did You Do Your Homework? is a 12-character solo show about the bureaucracy of urban education and one substitute teacher’s journey through the inner dealings of an urban classroom. However, once you peel back the onion, it becomes a human being’s way of recognizing pain and using it as a catalyst to heal and inspire students going through seemingly insurmountable odds. I wrote this play having been a former teacher. Initially, it was a means to an end. A way to showcase my talents as an actor, singer, and writer. It was also a way for me to use social commentary to perform and talk about issues that were important to me. What I discovered during the writing process was the more it became deeply personal the more authentic and profound my script became. The result; a show, that was slated for one weekend, ran 9 months at the Beverly Hills Playhouse, making it the longest-running show in the history of that organization. It also amassed national and international, critical acclaim, and garnered several awards, including an International Gala Star from Bacau, Romania, a Roar of the Crowd recognition from Goldstar, and an NAACP Theatre Award. This came to fruition because I made a conscious decision to open my heart and let the story I had inside me out. By telling my own deeply personal narrative, from my perspective, in a voice that was uniquely mine, I unleashed my own power, motivated others, and authentically moved audiences. I said, "YES!" took a leap of faith and jumped. It is the best decision I have ever made involving the empowered trajectory of my career. Sometimes you have to get out of your own way and forge your own path in order to fulfill your true passion. You’ve got to, "Jump without a net, and let your conscious passion guide your subconscious dreams into figuring out how you are going to fly." Everyone has a story. What is yours? Whether you feel your life has been ordinary, extraordinary or somewhere in between, you have a life experience that warrants the probability of connecting with and inspiring others. Most people think they have nothing to say. They think their lives are boring, monotonous, or mundane. That there is nothing special about them that would warrant people paying attention, let alone paying money, to sit and watch their story unfold. When I hear people say, "I don’t have anything to write about," "I have nothing to say," or "My life is boring," it drives me nuts because those statements cannot be further from the truth. They’re unreal and firmly rooted in fear. Storytelling is an art that encourages personal narrative. How many people think they do not have anything to write about? How many think they have nothing to say? How many think their lives are boring, meaningless or mundane? Millions! Saying, "I have nothing…," connects you with a community of folks who feel invisible, isolated, undervalued, and even worthless. How many of us have felt this way at one time or another in our lives? I know I have. How many people have said, "There, but for the grace of God…," in recognition that other’s misfortune could have been our own? That statement alone connects us with the experiences of others. So, instead, start with, "I have nothing to say." What you will discover is that you will instantly connect and draw in people who will hear that statement tugging at their heartstrings. The reason; so many people feel that way. It is that simple. What is the story you want to tell and how do you authentically want to create it from your perspective? You are unique. Whatever the topic or subject matter, no one has your life experiences or point of view. No one can tell your story, from your perspective, better than YOU. The real purpose of your life is to fulfill your dreams. Your only responsibility in this process is to fully commit to your own joy and challenge yourself to go beyond what is comfortable. The time is "now," to develop your creative abilities and finally step into your true artistic greatness. Exercise your mind to get out of its own way and turn your "pain," from "passion," to "profits."

Source: ArticleBiz .com

[pickupthepen]

I’m Not From Here

I’m gonna be honest with you,

I don’t always like this life. I don’t mean my life, but the stark coldness of real life. 

The banality of it all can feel so pointless and awful. I was never able to tell which pieces of my psyche made me think this way, but, oh, the annoyance- I look around at everyone in the world, wondering if they’re playing out their roles and never questioning who they are and what they’re doing. Are they all on autopilot? Some righteous thing inside of me looks down upon people who place importance in what I would deem the lesser things in life, like diets and workout plans, like TV shows. I have very little patience for people that never talk about their pain, that never explore the corners of their own minds in a way that is more connected to the self than simply studying information in order to regurgitate political and scientific facts at dinner parties. All to seem like someone who is an intellectual, even in the rare instances in which they already are. 

I look around at the girls on my morning commute and wonder how many of them wake up, put on their makeup, buckle into perfect heels and wrap themselves in the same tan pea coats in order to match this city’s stylistic flare. I think to myself that maybe they’re trying to eventually find themselves in a relationship with a good enough man, to move into a modest home, have a couple kids and settle into life only to spend their days looking forward to this season’s Starbucks flavor or yet another version of the Apple Watch. I wonder if they’re drowning out an inability to know thyself, or if I’m projecting my own resistance to reality onto them and they’re really just happy droning along, asleep, reading the lines in their scripts about brunch, their boyfriends and overpriced pillows at West Elm.

I wonder why I have such a visceral reaction to their presence in my window into life. Perhaps I’m scared of caving toward complacency. Perhaps I’m terrified that I’ll give in, become like them, one among many, forgettable.

I’ve always believed that quests for a grandiose, beautiful love and self expression in the form of magnificent art was the most noble thing we can do as human beings in this lifetime. I’ve wondered if it’s the Libra in me, although many laugh when I explain that the more basic nature in my desire to be adorned in the most glamorous and opulent elements of this world may be attributed to something arguably pseudoscientific. They tell me that the placement of the stars at the moment of my birth has nothing to do with why I am the way that I am, but every description of a Libra woman has always fit me, when it was done right. Whether or not it truly explains my nature, I’d rather live in a world where the stars and the moon have an impact on my spirit than to give full credit to an organized resume about the pragmatism of my becoming. That’s a choice that I’ve made for myself, and I reserve the right to take on whatever perspectives and outlooks on life that I choose. Doesn’t everyone? Do the tan pea coat girls deserve that as well? 

Maybe I really do live halfway in this plane and halfway in another. I don’t give a fuck about worldly banality. I like witnessing myself as a goddess. I like believing that there are ways to communicate with the universe, and I like being one with the trees and the rain, as sisters. 

And so, interestingly, believing that I've already been granted access to the beginnings of my ability to express and appreciate artwork, I’ve spent my entire adult life in search of an indescribable, beautiful love. A magical love. A love that feels like something, a love that can be written about, a love that is hung up there, with the moon and the stars. And I’ve come to realize that I’m willing to make an exchange on my reputation to find a love like that. I was willing to pursue women instead of men because I put true love above societal pressure to be “normal”. And I started following leads where I felt my heartstrings tugging instead of settling for potential partners that felt safe and “healthy”. Likely a problem, though- when I meet women who spark inspiration in me, I become completely submerged, I am untied. 

I am engulfed in the waves of fiery romance, and then, because these relationships often have no grounds in reality, and aren’t stable or safe, they inevitably end. When they do, I am thrusted back into reality, no longer toeing the line between realms. Suddenly, I see the world without its magic filter and it disgusts me. Then, I look at those girls on the bus and I hate them, and I desperately fear becoming like them, and terror takes me into its dark caverns as I worry that the universe’s will for me is to release the spiritual pieces of myself and fall into the tan peacoat army line. 

I become disgusted by my own reality that involves sidewalks in Mission Bay, slow progression in gyms, long walks alone in neighborhoods with houses that I will never afford and a familiarity with my bedroom that never seems to truly change at all, and the elements of day to day life dissolve into god damn insufficiency. I resent trash days and the dishwasher and Netflix and grocery stores and every human that wants to talk to me that doesn’t remind me of my spirit world. I am angry with them for making it seem like this plane’s vapid reality is the only one that exists, for arguing that it is and attempting to convince me that the true joys in life come from a friendship with it’s most boring moments. And so I embark on love again and again and again, perhaps in an attempt to escape myself, and definitely in an attempt to escape reality. And I beg whatever god there might be to not let reality be all there is. And I hate you for trying to pull me down toward Earth- I want the stars. 

Months ago, as I grieved the ending of yet another romance, I begged my friend Brynn, through tears, to not ask me to be less. She looked at me, perplexed and asked what made me think that anyone wanted me to be “less”, whatever that means. “Don’t ask me to change, don’t ask me to give up on this piece of myself.” I felt as though love would never stay if I were a spirit monkey from forest realms, and I came to believe that I must eventually choose between two roads that diverge- to be who I am, to wander the earth with freedom, but to know heartbreak countless times over, or to love modestly, to put on a tan peacoat and forego all the wonderful corners of my spirit realm. I incorrectly came to believe, probably from this particular mindset, that the Earth itself was asking me to give up my hunt for explosive love and grandiose art and to take my head out of the clouds. “But I like being in the clouds”. Brynn made herself clear as I went on- she was asking only that I walk away from any love when pain outweighs joy, when what is being taken from me outbids what is being given- something I could never quite do.

“Could they ever live together-” I asked, “magic and reality?” I really wanted to know if deep, grandiose, wonderful love had a place in the same realm as Netflix and laundry.

“I think so,” she answered.

As time passed, as my worlds shifted and I diligently sorted through which cracks in my heart needed to be healed from the inside out and which human beings from earth needed to be let go of, I caught a metaphorical glimpse of myself in the mirror- hunched and tired. I saw for the first time that disappointment is inevitable and that it’s not the fault of my lofty spirit that romances have ended for me. I also learned that it’s okay to be changed by these things, it’s okay to carry them with us like battle scars, it’s okay to talk to other people about them for our own comfort and for the benefit of shared experience, but it’s not necessary to become reduced by them, or to even consider that we must as a rule of thumb.

After yet another heartache, I didn’t want to be asked to be less because I didn’t want to be less. I didn’t want to willingly become a girl that was bruised and broken by her experiences- or rather a sad girl that let life minimize her, a girl that wasn’t more than having been abandoned by those she wanted to love. I didn’t want to hide in the shadows, away from the world, sinking into my own body simply because I couldn’t face standing up and fearlessly looking directly in the eye of the dragon, my future. I didn’t want to become girl that never glitters because I have known disappointment, never having taken time to appreciate and love all the happiness in my life. I didn’t want to be nothing more than my trauma, my sicknesses and the painful moments from my past. I wanted to be more than that, and I wondered if I could take a deep breath, stand back up, lift my skirt, and dip one foot right back into the spirit realm.

And so I did.

There are just some things about us that cannot be taken away, no matter what. 

I thought of those girls, sitting across the Muni aisle, eyes deep in a book about love. Do you want what I want, tan pea coat girl? Are you more like me than I think, or are you just as firmly planted in reality as I have guessed? I wondered how many of them have fallen into line unwillingly, questioning if a spirit realm exists, if there’s a way to access it, feeling stuck without a direction in which to move, and so, marching forward in their fixed position. I wondered how many of them have fallen into line unknowingly, how many are complacent, how many believe that there is nothing more, and so will never look, will never question, will never dive. I wonder if I used the word “complacent” just then to take a sword to the word “happy”, because I’ve been unable to see that “happy” does not have a ubiquitous definition.

Maybe they don’t want this. Maybe they don’t need to be like me. I don’t want to be like them, but I am already unlike them. And so, I released the grip on my righteous throne, because perhaps no one would be any better if they were different, not star women, not girls in tan pea coats, not you, not I.

Can you breathe, star woman? Can you just breathe? Can you write poems about lost love without standing on a soapbox about knowing thyself? Can you know sadness without begging to not become “less”? Can you wrap yourself in silk scarves and intricate patterns without arraigning staple fashion items and the women who choose to wear them? Can you let your light seep out of your cracks and shine onto others who might understand and feel the same, with little regard for those who don’t and can’t? Can you embrace the straddle between realms, and witness the divine birth of goddesses who have, until this very moment, been afraid to glitter without recourse? Can you please unbutton your blouse, and just breathe?

If you’re reading this and you think I'm crazy, I welcome you and I see why you may not understand. My deepest apologies to anyone who owns a tan pea coat. If you are like me, I’m sure you already know what I mean. If you want to be more like me, I don’t know, my friend, maybe you should try and be more like you.

Best wishes.