#but she did need that brutal wakeup call too

[theviolenttomboy]

Oh, but be sure to help out if you see anyone else who's weak or in trouble.

Looks like Scarlet really took Mela's words to heart, going out of her way to help people even though she left Team Star and has her own personal goals to reach.

[lets-try-some-writing]

okay but what about robots in disguise?? its not a favorite of mine but it’s still pretty good. russel and his dad are decent lol

Frag that show.

It disrespected TFP on every level and for that it has my eternal hatred and contempt. The humans were annoying, and I HATED how many interesting plot threads there were that were either done poorly or with so little tact that the writing team should have just scrapped it. The designs are tolerable, but I hate how canon TFP characters lost so much of their individuality in their designs (coughtheopticscough). Smokescreen is fricking GONE, which bothers me more than I care to admit. We see the rest of the team enough to be reasonable, but they all appear in ways that don't really make me happy.

Ratchet was done well enough in my opinion. I like his RID design. It suites him. Optimus's design can go die in a hole, they brutalized that mech. Same with Jazz. Frag those stupid shoulder pads.

Grimlock is fun, I appreciate Sideswipe, although his helm hair thingies I think need a redesign to make sense in relation to his alt mode. Strongarm was HORRIBLY underutilized and I hardly saw any character growth in her. Drift and his crew were interesting, but similarly not given much room to grow. I really liked Windblade for the most part, especially the episode where she tries to baby Optimus and comes out having relearned that Op is still a PRIME with MILLIONS OF YEARS OF WAR EXPERIENCE.

The Primes who've done nothing but sit on their rears had NO RIGHT to belittle Optimus at every turn. Nor did the show have the right to make him an idiot for the sake of making Bee look smarter. As @nova--spark has pointed out, the personality Bee got in the show matches Smokescreen better. Bumblebee wouldn't have SUCKED so much at the whole leadership shtick. What happened to all that skill shown in the movie huh? HUH WRITING TEAM????!??!?!

While I am on this train. OPTIMUS DIED SO GOSH DARN LEAVE HIM ALONE!!! He should have stayed deceased, or if they REALLY needed him back, he should have either returned as an Civi or came back with actual issues. Like dang hear me out mate.

Optimus is forcefully returned to life, beats the Fallen with his borrowed power, but then has to actually deal with the consequences of essentially being a walking bomb for a while. Make him start losing plating, make his frame HURT, make him slim down again into the TFP base design. Just, give him a reason to have to sit back and RECOVER. Not this whole half hearted limping around garbage. To add to that, don't baby the mech. Let him stay at base and fulfill the role Ratchet did in TFP. Let him use his knowledge to teach and offer wisdom, plan battles and locate enemies. For Primus's sake he could have gone undercover on Cybertron or something if they really needed him to go be useless elsewhere.

THEY COULD HAVE EVEN HAD AN ARC WITH HIM GIVING THE TEAM A WAKEUP CALL!!! SIdeswipe has no respect for the mission, Grimlock is a fool, Strongarm is too snarky, and Bee in this seems to have largely forgotten about the seriousness except for during key moments. They could have made Optimus a minor antagonist, forcing the team to follow wartime standards since they laid down this plot thread regarding issues between leadership styles and Optimus trying to take control of the operation more than once.

I would have paid money to see Optimus's wartime mentality show itself in the best and worst ways through how he worked with this group of non war vets on a Decepticon capture mission. Maybe even have him use lethal force once or twice, or at least hint at it so that people can be reminded that he is a mech who went to war, killed countless bots, and both drove their people to and saved their people from extinction.

Bee could have had to teach Optimus to calm down. He could have helped eased his leader out of his wartime mindset. Or following that whole council running Cybertron route, Optimus could have had his moment of being very much right when he points out WHY he fought at all and gestures towards the new council. There was SO MUCH potential in this show, so many good threads and interesting Decepticon character that could have given so much depth to the war and the aligned continuity as a whole, but they were almost ALL ignored.

*deep breath*

Alright, sorry about that. I have big feelings in regards to how dirty Optimus was done. Moving on, the Predacons were killed off supposedly and that pisses me off ESPECIALLY because it was done in a fricking offscreen setting. What the hell happened to Predaking??? WHERE DID HE GO????

Starscream's design was rad though, not going to lie.

Where is Shockwave? No seriously where is that fragger? After several years of the map he MUST have an army growing in a tank somewhere.

Soundwave. Why. ARe. YOU. HERE??!?!?!? I love you man but dang you are so out of place. He made sense in the context of trying to get to Megatron, but idk he felt like he deserved better. He should have been the big brain behind the Cons on Earth if you asked me. It would have made everything far more intense, especially if the Cons dont follow Decepticon creed as seen by Soundwave.

The humans were annoying. Sorry they just were.

Fixit is Primus's gift to RID and he's one of the few individuals who makes it less annoying. Idk, I just like him in reasonable doses.

WHERE ARE THE TFP KIDS?! WHY HAS BEE NOT CALLED THEM?? GOOD HEAVENS THERE IS A WHOLE SUBPLOT RIGHT THERE!!!

*yet another deep breath*

Apologies.

To put things simply, I would rather a group of fanfic writers put RID together than whoever the writing team was. They could have made a coherent story with deep characters that actually address the ramifications of millions of years of war and lingering functionalist mindsets. They would have done the lore and the world justice even if there were no main characters popping up.

I think RID has so much potential, but that almost all of it went right down the toilet due to either the higher ups sticking their noses where they don't belong or because the writing team couldn't go two minutes without retconning or otherwise destroying established everything.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

As per the poll Tuesday, we've got Gremlinverse (delayed to noon because of errands I had to run) shenanigans: specifically Jak discovering disadvantages to his new size.

At first, Jak had enjoyed the Underground's reaction to his new stature. He was used to being underestimated, but when what seemed to be a ten year old kid blew up a deathbot, their reactions were so much funnier. They were nicer to him, too. Well, that might’ve been because they were patronizing him. That's what Daxter seemed to think. Tess, on the other hand, was sure that it was more about guilt.

Seeing their tank so much smaller and more vulnerable, she insisted, was a wakeup call. It meant they had to come to terms with the fact that they'd repeatedly endangered the very people the Underground had been supposed to protect.

Jak thought it was a nice sentiment, but unlikely. After all, Torn hadn't thought twice before giving up little Mar’s location to Praxis when he thought Ashelin's life was on the line.

Besides, he didn't need hollow contrition. "We're sorry" was easy to say, but meaningless if they were still treating him like a glorified errand boy.

They hadn’t sent him on any real missions since he'd come back from the Nest, but that may have been because Sig was watching them like a glinthawk, just waiting for one of them to cross a line. But that brought Jak to a new problem: the longer he hung around headquarters, the more they started treating him like an actual kid.

He had almost seventeen-

Okay, that wasn't true. He had twelve years of memories and experience. Just because his body was small and his emotions were big didn't mean he suddenly didn't understand anything! And it certainly did not mean he required assistance getting up onto taller objects!

The first time it happened involved Jak dangling from the Underground leader’s grip. He glared, looking like he wanted to rip Torn's hair out. Coincidentally, Torn also looked like he wanted to rip Torn’s hair out.

"What, so Mar and Daxter can sit on your nasty table, but I'm not allowed?" Jak challenged.

"First of all-" Torn closed his eyes and took a calming breath. "Mar is a toddler and he was getting underfoot. Daxter was a rat and you would've stabbed me if I'd thrown him off the table."

From the spartan bunks along the wall, Daxter snorted and looked up from trying to remember how shoelaces worked.

"Well, he got an accurate read on that, at least."

Jak folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. It was actually a very endearing expression, but Torn had been around him too long to be swayed by it.

"Well you're the one who made me work for you guys, and technically I wouldn't have shrunk if you hadn't betrayed us to Praxis, so if I climb on stuff you're just going to have to deal with it."

Torn lifted Jak a little higher with a frosty look. "Watch it, brat. You cause trouble on purpose and I might just put you in the Junior Freedom League to straighten you out."

Clearly, this was the wrong thing to say.

The next thing Daxter knew, Torn had dropped Jak with a high-pitched wheeze of pain. The former KG was doubled over and in clear distress, and Jak was on the table again. The former ottsel shook his head and went back to fighting with the boot laces.

"Brutal," he commented, "but not unprovoked."

The next time someone tried to pick him up without permission, it was Brutter.

Compared to Torn, Jak was far more forgiving with Brutter. Most likely because Brutter had treated him like an equal from the very beginning, and even now acted as though nothing had changed. So when Daxter brought Jak with him to do a little pro bono pest control on Brutter's fishing boat, the Lurker hadn't had any objections to letting Jak crawl through the vents with the plasma swatter. (Jak could tell why Daxter liked the swatter so much. It made a really fun splat when hitting metalbugs.)

He'd chased the pests from one end of the cabin to the other, filling his pockets with metalbug gems as he went. Under normal circumstances they would have been Daxter's pay, but Jak was the one crawling through the dusty vents. If Dax wanted them, he'd have to come take them.

Almost unrecognizable with dust and bits of metalbug exoskeleton, Jak had finally crawled out and bumped into Brutter's leg. As if on instinct, Brutter reached down without looking and scooped Jak up off the floor.

"Hey!" Jak yelped.

Brutter's eyes snapped down to the filthy kid he was holding under the arms, and he blinked twice before letting out a loud hoot of laughter.

"Brother Jak!" he laughed, setting him down, "You not little baby Babak! You big kid! I forgot we not home with tribe for a moment."

He took off his glasses and wiped them on his coat, then squinted at Jak again.

"Oh, Jak really is that dirty. Was not imagining baby Babak hair then."

Jak rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah. No charge for the extra vent cleaning as long as you don't tell Daxter about this."

"My lips are sealing, Brother Jak," said Brutter agreeably. He stepped back and obligingly did not cough when Jak sent up a cloud of dust and lint while brushing himself off.

"Many thanks for stopping to help with buggy pests! I am not wanting to drag you two away from hero business."

Jak flashed a genuine smile at Brutter. "Hey, we can always make room in the schedule for a brother. That's what a tribe is for, right?"

Brutter laughed again. "Ah! Brother Jak and Orangey Pal should have been born Babak. Already you have the heart of one."

Jak’s smile widened. "Really? Uh, th- thanks, Brutter."

Alright. The rest of Haven's current leadership could go kick rocks, but "Captain" Brutter was okay. He still went out of his way to make Jak feel accepted.

Daxter's voice echoed up the hall as he made his way in from the deck.

"Found the problem! One of these fish swallowed a metalbug egg."

He dragged the offending carp behind him, wrinkling his nose the whole way. Between thumb and forefinger he held the split fish carcass out towards Brutter.

"Ugh," he gagged, "Now I gotta sweep the whole harbor and make sure there's no submerged nests. That's disgusting."

He glanced up and blanched.

"Speaking of disgusting: Jak! What happened to you?!"

Jak didn't think he was that dirty.

Daxter did not agree.

And unfortunately, Daxter was now bigger than Jak.

When they got back to the newly christened Naughty Ottsel and Daxter threatened "tub or dish pit sink", Jak remembered that being the smaller one came with some distinct disadvantages.

And that this was most likely karma coming back to bite him for all the times he'd (literally) dragged Daxter into his reckless exploration.

"Dax-" Jak ducked and slid behind a table. "Look, I'll just rinse off in the bay. It's fine."

"Fine?!" Daxter sputtered, "You're a walking health code violation! Hey-! Get your metalbug guts-coated hands off my tables! I have to sanitize those now!"

Tess watched with some amusement from behind the bar. "Hon, you're gonna need a real bath eventually. You have the kind of hair that requires regular maintenance if you don't want it to break."

Sitting on the counter, Mar waved a pudgy hand in front of his face. "Jak stinky," he agreed.

"Traitor!" Jak hissed from under the table.

That was all the distraction Daxter needed. The gangly teen stooped down and seized Jak by the ankle. What commenced was a skirmish that rivaled the fights Krew used to host in the Hip-hog's boxing ring. Chairs were knocked over, paintings fell from walls, and at least one table was overturned.

Mar watched with interest as Jak dodged and squirmed and overall did an excellent impression of a fluid. When the insults started getting particularly creative, Tess sighed and leaned forward to cover Mar's ears.

Several patrons entered, only to take one look at the two boys tussling amid upended chairs and immediately back out again.

"Sig!" Daxter hollered at the next person to enter the bar, "Sig, gimme a hand before he contaminates the whole establishment!"

Jak slid out of Daxter's grip and made for the door. "Don't you dare, Sig!"

Concerned, the Wastelander shut the door and turned to Tess for an explanation.

"It's Wash Day," she said with a shrug.

"Ah." Sig narrowed his eye. "What kind of product you got?"

"Um...I've got a hydrating brand from uptown," Tess answered, "And I have a little bit of that hair mask you use, but there's not much left."

"That's not bad." He snorted. "I thought you were gonna say bar soap with the way he's flippin' out."

Sig set down his Peacemaker and waded into the fray. He caught Jak by the back of the shirt and hefted him up under one arm like the world's angriest suitcase. Before Daxter had time to thank him, he'd been hoisted up by the scruff of the neck.

"Well cherry, if your plan was to take Daxter down with you, you've certainly managed," Sig said dryly. "Now you both need a wash."

Tess pushed off the counter. "I'm gonna go run a bubble bath. It'll do you good."

"No!" Jak kicked and squirmed, but Sig’s grip held firm. "I'm not a little kid! Nobody is bathing me! Besides, they're just gonna send me out to crawl through sewers again or something anyway. What's the point?!"

When he looked up, Sig was scowling.

"They better not send you back out today," Sig threatened. "I got some Wastelander friends coming by to make sure you and Mar are okay. If you aren't there when they turn up, they're liable to turn the city upside down looking for you."

Jak stopped squirming. "Huh?" He wrinkled his nose. "Why me? What do they want me to do?"

Sig took the moment of peace to hurry up the stairs behind the bar to Tess’s apartment. Gooseberry scented soap already drifted in occasional bubbles from the tiny bathroom.

"Well, most likely they're gonna want you to go home with them." Sig glanced down at Jak and prayed the spitfire would take it well. "It's where Mar was born. We were thinking you could stay for a while, y'know? There's room for you both."

Tess poked her head out of the bathroom. "Hey, sorry, but we've got kind of a bubble apocalypse in here. Mar got a little excited with the soap bottle."

Mar was not the slightest bit sorry.

With a snort, Sig finally set the boys down. "You see the state of these two? What can it hurt?"

Tess grimaced. "Yeah...you guys leave your clothes in my shower before you get in the tub, okay? I'll put out something clean you can change into."

Daxter nudged Jak. "You first, squirt."

Jak leveled a chilling glare at him. "Just so you know, I am going to use up all the hot water."

"This is why we use hot springs baths in Spargus," Sig sighed. "We don't have to bother with who gets the hot water. Jak, rinse your hair real good and when you get out I'll show you how to wash it without drying it out."

"Uh...it's supposed to dry out?" Jak raised an eyebrow at Sig. "That's what happens after you get out of water?"

Sig drew a hand down his face and groaned something that sounded like "Damas owes me for this", but they couldn’t be sure.

[munsster]

Just imagine Steve freaking out when you have your first baby but by the sixth he’s totally prepared and chilled because you guys have been through it so many times lol.

domestic!steve and his little family (3)

A/N: he totally would go from gelled hair, full suit and tie to like war vet wearing glasses and drinking a slurpee in sweats

Warnings: references to childbirth/labor!, hospital, panicked steve, dad!steve, fluff, afab!reader implied, cursing, pet names (sunshine)

part one part two part three part four

steve’s character development surrounding your labor 😭 pls

and the first time he’s totally helicopter mom-ing it

bringing two duffel bags full of literally anything and everything that you might need

(most of it is really for him though)

steve “ohgodpohffuckohmyggodwhat if i mmiss it” harrington vs. steve “ay, babe, im runnin’ to the store, what kinda M&M’s d’you want?” harrington

oh god that first time he’s so lost

i mean he had 9 months to prepare and now he’s floundering???

he works up a sweat before you can even say your water broke

both of you being so diligent the first time: playing music for your bump, going to lamaze classes, being really good about the pregnancy diet

oh man, that poor sixth baby…….

not that you two are any less caring about it, but you are hella tired and they can’t expect you to avoid caffeine the whole time😭😭

now as far as preparedness goes, MAN has there been a vast improvement

the first time, he did not know what to do once you had your first contraction

he SPED to the hospital only for them to be like “uhhh just wait here” and you’re there for two hours when you could’ve been home i-

he was so scared the first time too

you were ANNIHILATING his right hand tho

probly broke a couple of his fingers, but thats okay, he’ll forgive you

him being that dad with a video camera

oh he was so obsessed the first time

bringing you ice chips so so often

asking if you needed anything constantly

helping you breathe through the hard parts

moving your hair out of your face 🥺

telling you how good you’re doing

you being an absolute menace—seriously, full on excorist—but he understands because… well, childbirth!

and once that sucker pops out, he’s so excited and you look so so beautiful holding the baby

and the first time dad really kicks in

he is SO nervous while you’re just sitting with the baby

then the nurse comes to put him in the nursery

and you immediately go “are you okay, stevie? i can see you brooding over there” “‘m not brooding, i’m just—” “nervous?” “yeah” “me too”

and he looks at you so lovingly and kisses your forehead and goes “we got this”

🥺🥺 he is just a sweetheart

then along came the twins—a whole different ordeal—and then babygirl and her brother

and then the sixth

you got your first contraction at like 5 am

yikes

and evvvvvverybody woke up

whole house was absolutely bumping

all the little ones were SO excited and you were like

holy fukcing shit im never doing this again

and steve really groggily phoned the sitter and apologized for the wakeup call

but she was sweet about it and watched the kids while you two hobbled into the car and drove off

oh and all the babes were like “good luck!!!” “see you soon” “miss youuuououoou” and waving and chasing the car down the street as far as they could 🥺🥺🥺

this time steve brought nothing

no duffel bag

he’ll drive home if he needs to

he’s learned enough to know that he doesn’t know anything

what never changes is that he’s always holding your hand if he can

like he’ll just reach for you and let you crush his hand during a particularly brutal contraction

honestly, his gentleness never fades

he’s just a lot more tired now

and wearing his pajamas & slippers

and he forgot to shave

but no matter, you are in your hospital gown looking gracefully sweaty when he waltzes into the room eating a bag of potato chips

and you glare at him

“want some?” “there is a baby coming out of me” “understood”

and he’s perched on the same chair in the same room with his chip bag tossed aside

“y’look just as beautiful as you did the first time” “please murder me, steven” “i could never” “if you don’t, this baby will” “nah, i believe in you, sunshine, you got this”

bonus: dustin bringing balloons and flowers and toys like the good uncle he is

and he definitely gives steve the same pep talk each time about how great of a father he’s been/going to be

aww dustin 🥺😌

he really loves being a part of your guys’ little family

and once it’s over, steve’s hovering over your shoulder and watching the baby with a little smile

and once the nurse takes the baby

he gets in the bed with you

“d’you think they’ll let us sleep here?” and he has his arms around you, very quickly losing consciousness

“god i hope so” and you slump into him right as he starts snoring

the babies are SO EXCITED when you finally bring the sixth home

they’re all like “woahhh” and so eager to touch the baby but they don’t

one of the grouches being like “SEND IT BACK” and steve laughing his ass off before scolding him a little

and babygirl being all like “she’s so little….. i LOVE her!!!!!”

ughhh, you know you both promised to stop after this one but

i mean, come on

masterlist

[noethicalconsumptionunderdisney]

Ranked: Hannah Montana — Mamaw vs. Dolly

So this seemed like a fun one for me to do!  These are two of the most iconic recurring guest stars, so naturally I had to pit them against each other (or, well, pit their episodes against each other).  This competition isn’t particularly serious, but it is a nice excuse for me to talk about some of my favorite episodes on the show.  Like before, I’m going in reverse-order of how much I liked them, or Worst->Best, so I can save the best for last.  

“B-B-B-Bad to the Chrome” (Season Three)

It’s a testament to how awesome Vicki Lawrence is that even in the “worst” episode she’s in, she still brings it and is in many ways the strongest part of it.  This one loses out mainly on writing, and me fucking hating the subplot.  I’m sorry.  “You forgot some really arbitrary timestamp I decided to put on our relationship without telling you, which means you don’t love me” will just never be anything but annoying to me ever, no matter how much I like the couple involved.  Honestly, it was shit like that that made me glad I didn’t do a lot of dating in high school.

The main plot is kind of weak too tbh, but I’m still in some ways fond of it, because it’s very clear that it’s all coming from a place of love.  They replace her car because they love her, and they try to recreate the old crappy car because they love her, and she pretends not to notice because she loves them right back.  The best scenes are the one-on-one interactions between Miley and Mamaw, where you can see how much they understand each other.  It was because of those that I almost bumped this up one… but they weren’t quite enough to sell me on this episode.  Sorry again.

“You Give Lunch A Bad Name” (Season Three)

This one, again, not a very strong episode, but there are a few reasons I liked this one just a little bit more.  Part of it is I’m a sucker for Miley/Jackson centrics, and they strike such a perfect balance of brother-sister solidarity and sibling rivalry in this: the song in the beginning, the schemes, the mimic fights, them immediately pointing at each other when Mamaw asks them who the “guiltiest grandchild” is.  Another part is that weirdly, Lilly and Oliver seem to have more of their natural chemistry in this episode than they do in the one where they’re actually dating.  Case in point, their little quiet communication to leave in the middle of the siblings’ bickering without having to say a word to each other.

What’s interesting about this one is, Mamaw isn’t necessarily wrong that the kids are gonna take advantage of their dad being gone.  That’s exactly what they’re planning to do.  But then she takes it too far and holds on too hard, treating them like they’re 10 rather than 16 and 18 respectively.  There’s a classic conflict here of teenagers thinking they’re more mature than they really are, versus their family knowing they’re still kids but treating them like outright children instead of meeting them where they are. And I think it’s harder for her to accept they’re growing up than it is for Robby Ray because she isn’t around very much to see it happening.  While she recognizes in the end that they had good reason to be embarrassed, that theme of holding on to how things were because she’s afraid of losing them seems to be a consistent one with her in later seasons.

“I Am Mamaw, Hear Me Roar!” (Season Four)

First off, I just want to say that I think having a Dolly episode and a Mamaw episode after “I’ll Always Remember You,” and right after each other, was a really smart choice, especially the way they did it.  Dolly can help her embrace what it’s like to be all-celebrity, all the time, and Mamaw reminds her not to forget her family, and how hard that kind of life can actually be. Not just for Miley, but for the people around her.  They just tie really well into that whole, “She’s always had the best of both worlds, but now she’s gotta learn what living without her secret feels like” theme that late stage Season 4 has going for it.

One thing that always strikes me about this episode is how it puts so much of her actions in context, not just in this episode, but retroactively.  Of course Robby Ray forgot to visit her when he was younger and his own music career was in full swing.  Of course she would panic when the same seems to be happening to Miley, when they can’t take one picture or have one tea without Miley getting hounded by her fans, because she doesn’t have Hannah Montana to hide behind anymore. (Of course, I’m not so sure the timeline adds up there, but I’m gonna let that go because of the point it was trying to make.)  Being smacked in the face with Miley’s fame is really a wakeup call for all of them, but that makes Miley’s efforts to make sure Mamaw understands how much she cares all the more sweet.

“Good Golly, Miss Dolly” (Season One)

I’d initially put “Kiss It Goodbye” here, but I switched them when I realized I was underrating it— that episode was better than I remembered.  But I like this one, too!

This is Dolly’s first appearance and introduction, and she comes in with a bang.  The frou-frou, the flowers, and of course, the infamous camera that kickstarts the conflict of the episode.  Well, sort of— the real conflict is Miley’s confused feelings for Jake Ryan, torn between “falling all over him,” playing hard to get, and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable.  The way it ends up intersecting with Oliver’s subplot of trying to compile a goodbye video for the principal is brilliant, and that sneaking scene?  Just amazing.

Of course, this puts her right back where she started, and she ends up regretting it when it’s seemingly too late for her and Jake, but her ripping up the flowers is funny, and then Dolly gets to show off her singing chops a little when she and Robby Ray cheer her up in a really sweet scene.  Beyond that, the subplot is… fine.  It’s pretty forgettable, but I liked it okay.  It’s not frustrating like some of the subplots in previous episodes on this list, but not quite as awesome as…

#3: “Kiss It Goodbye” (Season Four)

And with that, we’ve cracked the top three!  This one surprised me upon rewatch.  I knew I liked it, I just didn’t know how much I liked it until I saw it again. I think part of it might be me attributing some of my own feelings about Cancel Culture as a whole and how that’s affected us for the worse overall, celebrity or not, as well as some meta-significance to Miley’s career, both at the time and afterwards.  But let me get into the episode itself rather than getting on those tangents.

Miley starts off being a little careless with her image… but this is understandable, as she’s used to having her privacy, and living without it’s gonna take some getting used to.  Dolly has this legendary entrance in a personalized helicopter, complete with a pink ladder.  She uses her own know-how about fame to help Miley navigate the paparazzi, reassures her after a brutal interview with Colin Lassiter, and then encourages both her and Robby Ray to sing with her at her performance.  While both of them object at first, Robby Ray eventually gets up the courage to go… which is the push Miley needs to get past her fears and get back on the horse herself.

Beyond the main plotline and overall message that I love, it’s really quotable, and has one of the best subplots this show has ever had.  Rico goes practically catatonic because the Stewarts, a family of “idiots” he looks down upon, fooled him, an evil genius with an ego that can’t handle that.  I also like that we see Lilly’s compassionate side coming back in this episode in both plotlines, it’s the one thing I felt season 4’s Lilly was lacking overall, and it was fun to see her point her sharp tongue towards herself for once this season.  And of course, Jackson enjoying Rico’s suffering, but ultimately being the one to help him out of it was perfect, and bringing back the choir from earlier that season was even better.

#2: “I Will Always Loathe You” (Season Two)

Before anyone gets mad that this wasn’t my #1 pick, let me just say for the record that this episode is AWESOME.  Mamaw and Dolly’s rivalry is so explosive and they play off each other so beautifully, and the culmination of that into the “Granny Smackdown” is so well-done.  And look, yeah, I know that there were stunt doubles and probably a mannequin or two involved, but I don’t care, it’s a fantastic scene.  I love Robby Ray trying to make peace and ending up getting dragged into it, I love Hannah Montana awkwardly trying to salvage the situation, and ultimately breaking them up, and I love Jackson and Lilly scarfing down popcorn and watching the whole thing unfold from home.

If I had to pick which one of these episodes was the funniest, it would be this one, no contest.  The subplot here is great too; simple yes, but I think the simplicity works in contrast to just how much is going on in the main plot, and Oliver’s shame at his own involvement in the end?  Wonderful.  The contrast between the two women picking clothes for Miley’s award show, and the decision to genuinely make up after seeing how much it hurt Miley were executed beautifully too.  We don’t get the sense that they’re going to be BFFs, but I do like that the ending scene shows promise, that they’re at least capable of getting along, when they want to.   As Miley says, “You’re trying.  That is all I’ve ever wanted.”

So yeah, this episode?  Amazing.  But… not quite my favorite.

#1: “Grandmas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Play Favorites” (Season One)

Remember when I said I’m a sucker for Miley/Jackson centrics?  Yeah.  This episode was probably where all of that began for me.  (Also the beginning of my feelings about Jackson going from “oh he’s pretty funny” to “LET ME LOVE YOU,” but I’ll try to keep my stanning to a minimum here.)

We start off with what appears to be a fairly straightforward story.  Hannah Montana is meeting the queen.  Jackson has a volleyball game.  Mamaw’s coming to visit, and she’s critical of Robby Ray, particularly his eating habits, she’s tepidly nice to Miley, but treats her as an afterthought, and she heaps praise and adoration and attention onto Jackson by the bucketload.  On the surface, it seems that this is about Mamaw unfairly favoring Jackson over Miley.  Right up until this happens:

“She’s gonna insult the queen and ruin my command performance all because of her ‘little Jackson.’  It’s always about you!”

“Me?!  Well, it’s never about me!  Everything in this family revolves around you!”

One comeback, and the tables are turned.  Yes, Mamaw hasn’t treated Hannah Montana getting to sing for the Queen of England with the respect and admiration it deserves.  But Robby Ray and Miley haven’t been treating Jackson with the respect and admiration he deserves.  When Miley snarks that Mamaw would rather go to Jackson’s volleyball game than her performance, she responds with, “Well, if I don’t, who will?  I don’t see either one of you heading for the door.”  She doesn’t ignore Miley because she loves her any less.  In an ironic turn of events, the reason she ignores Miley isn’t about her at all.

I do like, though, that the episode doesn’t treat this as “two wrongs make a right.”  Mamaw still apologizes for making Miley feel “invisible,” like her accomplishments don’t matter, like she doesn’t care.  Jackson feeling invisible because his dad and his sister and the whole rest of the world treat him that way, doesn’t excuse Mamaw treating Miley that way.  And the fact that all of it’s unintentional, and that the neglect is coming from someone who does, genuinely, love that person, doesn’t erase the harm it causes. This is a lesson for both of them, and Miley comes away with a greater understanding of what her brother goes through.

There is still a part of me that wishes this had gotten elaborated on more in the show?  Not that Jackson doesn’t bring up the favoritism issue multiple times afterward, but it’s not treated seriously very often after this, considering how often it comes up.  It saddens me to think that, for all the efforts they make in this episode to make sure they’re there for Jackson in the end, Miley and Robby Ray still end up falling into the same patterns with Jackson as the show goes on, and worse.   I can’t help but think this pattern of neglect and Jackson’s deterioration into “the family failure” are related, and while I don’t need every single episode to treat it as A Big Deal, the truth is, it is a big deal, and I wish the show had been more consistent in actually taking it seriously.

So that’s my list!  In the end, I think we can all agree Mamaw and Dolly are both pretty iconic characters, and made the show all the richer for being on it.  I’ve loved getting a chance to look at their episodes again, and make sure to stay tuned for my next Ranked post for this series, where I may be talking about another iconic recurring character on this show….  (Hint: one of these episodes is on that list, too.)  Until next time!

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 6

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​

He’s been sober for six months, two weeks, and four days.  

Completely cutting out all alcohol had been difficult. Far more than he’d thought it would be, the withdrawal both brutal and eye opening. He’d never considered himself an alcoholic, or even acknowledged that he had even the slightest bit of an addiction to booze. But the side effects of quitting had told him otherwise. Seventy-two hours of a near crippling headache, heart palpitations, extreme nausea and vomiting. Even excessive sweating and tremors in his hands.  It had been a huge wakeup call. The realization that his drinking had been taking over his life and he hadn’t even been aware of it.  That had he not stopped and continue down that path towards complete and utter dependency, he would have lost everything that mattered to him.

Most days and weeks he handles it well, too busy to even think about drinking, let alone indulge in it. They keep no alcohol in the house to avoid any chance of temptation, and Esme had quit right after she’d found out that they were expecting Addie and had vowed to never touch the stuff again. It was something they could do together; serving as one another’s support systems.

Yet there’s times where he does crave it. Not necessarily a need, but a want. And it’s not overwhelming; he’s not desperate enough to drop everything and run out to the store and stock up on booze. Just a lingering taste for it while spending time out in the sun or after a long and tiring day of working outside. Or when something or someone is irritating him to the point of needing an escape...even a mental one...from them.

Tonight is the latter. He’s agitated; with Ovi’s sudden interest in the job, with Chloe’s romanticizing of the life and putting it in his head that there’s something he needs to prove and that getting into it would somehow make him ‘more of a man’. As if somehow insinuating that Tyler himself is less of one because he’d walked away.  It’s bad enough that there’s times he views himself that way; that he’s broken and damaged and not even half of the person that he used to be. And he tries to ignore those thoughts; to remind himself that it’s just his fucked up brain talking and that the one person in the world whose opinion matters to him, doesn’t see him that way.  In her eyes, he’s even stronger for being able to recognize his issues and walk away. That he’s more of a man for choosing his own wellbeing and his family over the job.

For the most part he’s been able to ignore his growing resentment for Chloe. Everything suddenly seems to annoy him; from the way she dresses to the way she laughs, even the sound of her voice. Electing to avoid her company in favor of spending time with the kids; in and out of the water with them, helping them dig in the sand, taking them for walks to look for shells and beach glass.  Listening to them chattering on about their respective days at school, offering up the appropriate comments, laughing at the right times, and asking the questions that gets them talking even more.  He loves hearing those little voices; the Aussie accents that are already beginning to creep in, the sounds of their laughter, the way they tease and bicker with one another. They each have their own very distinct personalities but are so alike in other ways; appearance, mannerisms, facial expressions.   And he cherishes his time with them; teaching them to surf, taking them fishing and camping, those midafternoon naps when they’re all curled up next to him on the couch, lying on the beach once the sun sets and watching the stars with them, even reading the same damn bedtime stories over and over again. Because those moments are fleeting; they’ll grow up fast and become independent and then spending time with mom and dad won’t be exciting or fun anymore.  

He’d stayed silent through dinner –cooked over open flame on the beach- and tried not to snap at every little stupid thing Chloe said or her annoying, high pitched laugh, or the way Ovi waited on her hand and foot and looked at her as if she was the most incredible woman on the planet. Irrational of course, seeing as that's how he’s been looking at his own wife every day for the past six years.  But since the job conversation with Ovi, everything Chloe related just bugs the ever-loving shit out of him.  Prompting him to jump at the chance to be the one to put the kids to bed. Dragging his feet through the entire nighttime routine; baths, teeth brushing, reading stories, tucking them in. Hoping that if he stalls long enough, Chloe and Ovi will be long gone and he won’t have to worry about playing nice anymore.  And he’s disappointed –and even more irritated- when he still finds them there, sitting on the back patio, Chloe on her second bottle of wine.

“Everyone asleep?” Esme asks, as Tyler drops into the chair beside her, then leans in to press a kiss to her temple.  

He knows she can sense just how on edge he actually is; years ago, words had stopped being necessary and they’d become able to read one another’s facial expressions and body language. And she gives him a soft, reassuring smile and leans sideways in her seat, resting her head against him, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.  

“Everyone except this one,” he says, and nods down at Addie as she lays along her mother’s arm; so tiny and so perfect. A mixture of everything that’s good about him and everything that’s amazing about his wife. He feels blessed. That he’s been given this opportunity five times; to help create another human being. And he brings his hand to the side of his wife’s head as it lays against him and kisses her temple once again.

“She’s probably waiting for you. She always falls asleep better for daddy. These kids are traitors. All of them. Can’t I be someone’s favorite?”

She’s smiling as she says it, and he takes the baby from her, settling Addie against his chest; a forearm along her back, palm supporting her head.   And his free hand takes a hold of his wife’s, lacing their fingers together and placing their joined hands on his thigh. It will keep him grounded. Calm. If he can feel her.

“This was really nice,” Chloe gushes, as Ovi curls an around her shoulders and she leans into him. “Being able to spend time together like this. We should do it more often.”

Tyler wants to tell her that there’s no fucking way he wants to make it a regular occurrence. But he doesn’t. Instead he just nods and places a kiss to the side of Addie’s head and tightens his hold on Esme’s hand.  

“Well things get busy,” his wife says, and then winces and directs a light kick to the side of his calf when he grips her hand a little too hard.   “With the kids and their things and stuff we need to do around here. There’s not a lot of time to spare.”

“I could help out more,” Chloe offers. “With the kids.”

“It’s okay,” Tyler speaks up. A little too quickly and harshly. Earning a glare from Ovi and a clearing of the throat from Esme. “We’ve got it under control,” he adds, and then attempts a smile.

“Well I’m not far,” Chloe gives that laugh that grates on his nerves.  “You know where to find me.”

“She’ll be fine.,” he says. “We’ll be fine. But thanks.”

Chloe gives a tight-lipped smile; she knows she’s being dismissed.

Silence descends on the table, uncomfortable and tense. The only sounds the rustling of the trees surrounding the property and the waves rolling onto the shore. Esme shifts uncomfortably in her seat, reaching for a now lukewarm cup of tea that sits in front of her, and Tyler loosens his grip on her hand and repeatedly his fingertips along the smooth, cool metal of her wedding band. There’d never been the need or desire for anything more; his proposal had been nothing more than a simple ‘marry me’. It simply isn’t their style; grand, elaborate gestures and expensive pieces of jewelry.

“So did Ovi tell you about his business proposition?”  Chloe asks, and Tyler feels his entire body tense. This is not how he wanted Esme to find out; he’d planned on bringing it up to her when all their guests had left and the kids were asleep and he’d already given her two or three orgasms in a way to relax her and ‘lighten the mood’.

“Chloe...sweetie...” Ovi is clearly uncomfortable with the subject now at hand.  “This is not the time to talk about this.”

“What do you mean? This is the perfect time! We're all here. Together. There couldn’t possibly be a better time.”

“What business proposition?” Esme asks, glancing between her husband and Ovi. “What’s going on?”

“Ovi had an amazing idea,” Chloe gushes.  “About him and Tyler going into business together.”

“Okay...” Esme sounds suspicious. “...but what kind of business?”

“The job,” the other woman says it so cheerfully, as if that kind of career is so normal. That accepting money and putting your ass on the line for strangers -and even killing people- is the most natural thing in the world.  

“The job?” Esme frowns. “As in what Tyler used to do? That’s what you’re talking about, right? Being a mercenary? Because that’s what I think of when someone says ‘the job’.”

“This is really isn’t a good time,” Ovi mumbles. “This could have waited. Until a different night.”

Tyler shakes his head and forces himself to look away from both of him, dragging his top teeth over his bottom lip; feeling the rage that begins to simmer inside of him.  Concentrating on that little body that’s pressed tightly against him; those tiny fists that tightly grip his t-shirt, the smell that clings to her sleeper, the softness of her hair against his palm.  

“What the hell is going on?” Esme asks. “Why are you two even talking about the job? Never mind that, why are you...” she stares pointedly at Tyler. “...talking about the job?”

“I wasn’t talking about it,” he replies. “I mean, I was. But I wasn’t.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. You either were or you weren’t.”

“I brought it up,” Ovi comes to his defense. “It’s not like it was his idea to talk about it. He never talks about it.”

“So why were you talking about it?” Esme inquires. “There shouldn’t be a reason to talk about the job. We came here to get away from it. We gave up that life. Why is it getting brought back up? And there better be a good goddamn reason for it, too.”

“There’s no reason to freak out,” Chloe grumbles, and Esme glares at her.

“Listen little girl, you don’t come to my house and talk to me like that. You come here...under my roof, where my children are...and you bring up the job? After everything it put us through. And you expect me not to freak out? It doesn’t work that way.  This is between Ovi and I now. You can leave or you can sit there and listen.”

“Is that an option for me too?” Tyler asks. “Or...”

“You’re involved whether you want to be or not,” she replies. “So no. That’s not an option for you.”

“It was just an idea I had,”  Ovi attempts to explains.  

“An amazing idea,” Chloe jumps in.

“I’m not talking to you,” Esme snaps. “I don’t want to hear from you. So just sit there and be quiet and let me speak to Ovi. To my son.”

“He’s not your...”

“Don’t...” Tyler warns. “...even finish that sentence.”

Chloe throws her hands up in surrender, then leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest, angrily tapping her foot against the ground.

“Ovi...” Esme’s voice is low, calm. Almost too calm. Tyler knows that tone all too well; he’s been on the receiving end of it and knows what follows if you don’t tread lightly.  He’s made the mistake –more than once- of not watching where he steps and having to face the consequences. “...what the hell is going on? Why are you talking about the job? You know we left that behind. We all agreed on that. That once we left Colorado, that was it. That once Tyler decided he had enough, we’d never mention it again. So what is going on?”

“I had this idea,” he nervously begins. “That Tyler and I could do something together. Start a business. Outside of the one we already have.”

Chloe opens her mouth to speak and Esme holds her hand up to both silence her and warn her to keep quiet.

“And this has to do with the job how?”

“Because...” he chews on his bottom lip.  “...it is the job.”

“So you’re brilliant idea is to get my husband back into the job? Is that honestly what you’re trying to tell me? Despite everything he went through in Dhaka, despite nearly dying there, despite everything you saw him go through and everything you went through yourself.  You thought it was a good idea to get him back into it?”

Tyler clears his throat noisily and stands up; too anxious to sit still yet needing to remain calm for his daughter’s sake. Adjusting his hold on her and laying her along his forearm, her head resting securely in the crook of his elbow, feet not even reaching his palm.  Running his free hand over her hair, fingers fidgeting with the snap closures on her sleeper, then moving down to her feet; gently rubbing the soles and each of the tiny toes. Body swaying side to side, more an attempt to soothe himself than her.

“I thought it was something that we could do together,” Ovi says. “We could run things. Take on clients. Maybe even hire more people once we got things off the ground. I thought if we were together, it would be better. Easier.”

“So even knowing that he willingly walked away from things and has sworn up and down to never...ever...go back, you still tried to bring him into this? Why? Knowing everything it’s done to him. Everything it has done to us. You were there. You’ve been with us for more than five years now. You’ve seen what it’s done. How it almost ended us. More than once.  And you still thought it was a good idea?”

“I thought if we both got involved that it would be okay. That he wouldn’t be going alone and...”

“No, Ovi. It’s not okay.  It’s not okay in the slightest. What would make you think it was okay? He almost died once. That’s not enough for you? Because it was enough for me. More than enough. And that was back before we didn’t have any of this. This life. When we didn’t have kids to take care of. Five kids that need their father. How is it okay that you bring him back into this bullshit and leave my kids without their dad? Maybe that’s okay for the two of you. You don’t have anything to lose. But we do. We have so much to lose and I can’t believe you didn’t even care about any of that.”

“I wasn’t thinking that much into it,” he admits. “I was just thinking it would be fun to get into. Running a business like that ourselves.”

“Yeah, because it’s so much fun watching the person you love getting shot in the throat and having them bleed out all over you.  Does that sound like fun to you? Or you?” she directs the last question to Chloe. “Does that sound like it was fun? Because it was fucking hell on earth for me. Twenty minutes felt like twenty hours on that bridge. And as pissed off as I am right now...no, as disgusted as I am right now...I wouldn't wish that on you. Seeing that happen.   Holding someone while they’re choking on their own blood. Shoving your fingers in their throat to try to keep them alive. Does that sound like fucking fun to you?”

Both Ovi and Chloe shake their head.

“I’m done,” Esme shoves her chair away from the table and stands up, using the backs of her hands to clear away the tears that flow freely down her face. It’s been over six years and it sometimes still feels as if it were yesterday; the memory still so fresh and haunting that it is physically painful. Yet she always keeps it tightly bottled up inside, for the sake of her husband, the sake of her children. Even for the sake of her own sanity.  Because dealing with it is just too damn difficult.   “I’m done with you two. With this whole goddamn conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Ovi offers a feeble apology. “I never...”

“I have to get out of there,” she says to Tyler. “I’ll take her and give her last feeding and put her to bed.”

“Esme...”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, and attempts a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

He lays the baby in her arms, then uses the bottom of his t-shirt to clear away the last of her tears.

“Can you handle all of this?” she jerks her head in the direction of the cluttered table. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“I got it,” he assures her. “It’s fine. You gonna be okay?

She nods, and he lays a hand on the side of her face and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I just need to go.”

“It’s okay,” he pushes her hair away from her face, tucks it behind her ears. “I understand. I’ll be up in a little while. Once I handle things.”

She gives another weak smile, then rests her forehead briefly against his chest before heading into the house.

*****

“What the fuck have you two done?” Tyler keeps his voice low, but malice and contempt drip from every word.

“I’m sorry,” Ovi is quick to apologize. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I didn’t mean for it to come out at all.”

“She needed to know,” Chloe says, giving a flippant shrug. As if she didn’t just play a huge role in creating an epic shit show.

Dhaka is a sore spot. An extremely sore spot. One they didn’t like to visit often but always felt like pure and utter hell when they did. His memories aren’t that vivid or fresh; not one of those moments on the bridge after Fahrad had shot him. He only knows what he’s been told, or the little snippets that his brain has managed to piece together.  For Esme it’s much worse, she can remember every second of those final twenty minutes on the bridge. Every word, every noise, every smell. Even what the blood had felt like as it streamed through her fingers.  Yet she very rarely talks about it. She prefers to keep it inside and deal with it on her own. Not wanting to burden him with her issues when he’s so busy struggling with his own.

“No she didn’t,” Tyler snarls. “There was no fucking reason for her to know because I already told him I wasn’t interested. That I wasn’t going to talk about it, and he was going to forget all about it.”

“You can’t deal him what to do,” she bites back. “You’re not his father.”

“I’m the closest thing he has to one. I guess he didn’t tell you, huh? That I told he was an idiot for even considering the job and you’re an even bigger idiot for trying to talk him into it.”

Chloe leaps to her feet and clamps her hands on her hips. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but...”

“I’m the guy that nearly died saving his ass!” Tyler gestures towards Ovi. “I’m the one that gave him a home and a family because his real father is an evil prick who put his son in danger in the first place. You think he has what it takes to be a mercenary? Did he tell you how I had to give him a pair of pants because he pissed his own? I bet he didn’t tell you that part did he.”

“I know that he killed someone. To save your ass.”

“And what? It takes killing someone to make him a man in your eyes? You’re actually proud of that? That he’s done that? You’re fucked up. You have issues. You’re putting all this bullshit in his head. That he needs to prove something to you. That somehow the job is the only way for him to do that. You have no goddamn clue what that life is like. You’re just a delusional little girl. Get the fuck out of here with your bullshit.”

“Tyler...” Ovi attempts to diffuse the situation. “...if we just sit down and talk about this calmly...”

“We’re not talking about this. I said what I needed to say. I’m not getting involved in this. I left that life behind me. I’m not that guy anymore. He’s gone. I have a wife and kids. That’s my life now.”

“Pretty pathetic life,” Chloe mutters.

“You need to go. You need to get out of my face before I really say something I’ll regret. This is me being polite. If you’d rather I be a total asshole...”

“Are you just going to sit there and let him talk to me like this?!” Chloe turns her ire on Ovi, who just sighs in exasperation and puts his face in his hands. “You’re just going to sit back and let him act like this?!”

“This is my fucking house,” Tyler reminds her. “And if it wasn’t for me and my wife, you’d be stuck back in Colorado all by yourself. I’m the one who puts a roof over your head and food on your table. Yet you think you can come here and cause all this shit? You have no idea what any of us have been through. What things were like before you came along. So you need to need to know your place and just step off.”

“He’s right you know,” Ovi says. “You don’t know everything that happened before you came along. Especially what happened in Dhaka.”

“I know he fucked up,” Chloe nods in Tyler’s direction.

“That is not what happened,” Ovi argues. “He did not mess up. My father did. Tyler did what he had to do to keep me alive and get me out of there. Even when he knew there was no money. He could have just let me in the street, but he didn’t. I’m only here because he didn’t give up on me. Or himself.”

“And you’re going to pay for that for the rest of your life? Because he wants to be martyr? He gets to hold saving you over your head for the rest of your life? Expecting you to be constantly on your hands and knees, kissing his ass?”

“Jesus fuck,” Tyler gives a dry laugh and shakes his head, then begins gathering the dirty dishes and silverware from the table. “You’re really a piece of work, you know that? He should have left you behind in Colorado. I should have paid him to leave you there. And this is what you want to get yourself into?” he directs the question towards Ovi. “You want to spend the rest of your life with her? It couldn’t have just been a fuck and duck? Good like with that one, mate. You’re going to need it.”

Chloe opens her mouth to respond but stops when the sliding glass door opens and Tanner wanders out; clad in just a pair of Captain America pajama pants that are too short in the legs, his hair mussed from sleep, pressing the heels of his palms into his tired eyes.

“What are you doing up, mate?” Tyler asks. “It’s late and there’s school tomorrow.”

“I know.” he yawns loudly and wraps both arms around one of his dad’s thigh.  “But I’m thirsty and mommy said to tell you.”

“She did, did she?”

Tanner nods.  

“Alright, let’s go,” he sets the items in his hands down on the table, then uses one arm to effortlessly scoop his son up onto his hip. He’s long and lanky, but remarkably light. Fifteen pounds smaller than his mere minutes older brother.  And he presses a kiss to the side of Tanner’s head, who in turns curls both arms around his neck and nestles his face into his shoulder. Of the twins, he’s the sensitive and affectionate one. Not as much of a momma’s boy anymore, his relationship and bond with his father much stronger since Tyler returned from Ireland.  “What do you want?” he asks, as steps into the house, leaving Chloe and Ovi behind without even a farewell or ‘fuck off’. “Wine? Beer? Tequila?”

“No,” Tanner giggles into his neck. “Warm milk.”

“Warm milk? What if I don’t know how to use the stove?”

Another giggle. “Use the microwave.”

“What if I don’t know how to use that?”

“You know how to use the microwave, silly daddy. I seen you do it.”

“Well don’t tell your mum that, okay? Or she’ll expect me to do more around here.”

“I won’t tell. My lips are sealed.”  Tanner mimics locking up his mouth and throwing away the key.

Tyler grins. “How are you going to drink your milk if you can’t open your mouth?”

“I can open my mouth, daddy. I was just playin’. Come on now. Get it together.”

He chuckles at that. “You’re starting to sound like your mum.”

“She’s the smart one,” Tanner concludes.

“I don’t know how smart she can be when she hangs around the likes of me.”

“She probably thinks you’re cute!”

“Yeah, that’s probably it. You want down or....”

Tanner shakes his head, expertly wriggles his way around to father’s back, once again wrapping his arms around Tyler’s neck and clamping those long, skinny legs against his torso.  

“Your sister asleep?” he asks, as he fetches the milk from the fridge and a mug from the cupboard above the sink.  

“Which one?”

“The nice one.”

“Yeah, Addie’s asleep. Millie too. But she’s not nice. At all.”

“Not even sometimes?” he pours some milk into the mug and holds it up for Tanner go give his approval on whether or not it’s enough.  

“Maybe sometimes. Like when she beats up the bullies at school.”

“She does that a lot? Beats people up?”

“Once in a while. When they deserve it. Like when they call Teej stupid. I don’t like when they say mean things about him. He’s my brother. We were in mommy’s tummy at the same time, right daddy?”

“At the exact same time,” Tyler confirms, then lets his son push the buttons on the microwave to heat the milk.  

“How’d we get in there, tho’?”

“That’s something I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“How much older?”

“A lot older.”

“How much is a lot?” Tanner presses.

“I dunno. Ten or twenty years.”

“That’s a fucking lot.”

“Hey!” Tyler scolds. “Language.”

“You say it all the time!”

“I’m allowed. I’m older than you.”

“By how much?”

“Thirty-six years.”

“Holy shit! You’re old, daddy! Sorry,” he giggles when his dad scowls at him. “Potty mouth.”

“Yeah, you have a potty mouth, alright. Just make sure when people ask where you learned it from, you say mommy.”

“That’s a lie though. You said never to lie.”

“I’ll give you ten bucks for each time you say it.”

“Okay,” Tanner happily agrees, and then once more wriggles his body around to its original position on his dad’s hip so Tyler can sink down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table; settling his son on his lap, a palm running over his the five year old’s hair, then pressing a kiss to the back to the back of his head.  

“School was good today?”

Tanner shrugs and sips at his milk.

“What did you learn about?”

“Dinosaurs.”

“They were teaching you about dinosaurs?”

“I was reading about them. I dunno what everyone else was doing.”

“Look, I’m relying on you to be the smart one, mate. I need you to become a doctor or a lawyer so you that can be really rich when you’re my age and you can take care of me.”

“I don’t want to be a doctor or a lawyer, though.”

“What do you want to be?”

“I dunno. A vet. I like animals.”

“Be a big game vet. They make more money. I’m counting you. You need to be the one that steps it up at school. Because I think I’m going to be saving on college education for your brother. What was his day like? He have any problems?”

“Nope.  He was good all day. No one picked on him today.”

“Is that what causes his issues?” Tyler combs his fingers through his son’s hair; Tanner had insisted on his old haircut. The one that Esme had loved so much.  It has made the resemblance between them even more startling; all the kids look like him, but there’s something about Tanner that sets him apart from the others. Something stronger in those genes; the same mannerisms and facial expressions. Even the same way of saying certain words. “Someone picks on him?”

“Mostly ‘cause people pick on the other kids and he gets mad about it and wants to protect them.”

It doesn’t surprise Tyler; TJ is the one that will take on his sister if he feels Millie is being mean to Tanner or picking on Declan.  And he doesn’t care if he gets the beating of a lifetime. He’s more than willing to put himself on the line if it means sticking up for the underdog.

“Millie has a boyfriend,” Tanner abruptly announces.

Tyler frowns.  “Your sister what now?”

“She has a boyfriend,” he casually responds.  

“What do you mean she has a boyfriend? She’s not even six yet.”

“Not like boyfriend and girlfriend like you and mommy.”

“Your mom and I are married. We haven’t been boyfriend and girlfriend in a long time.” Where they ever really? They’d never actually put a label on things. Did they just skip that stage? Just going from fucking one another to finding out about Millie to getting married? It had just seemed normal to them. Things had started out unconventionally and the trend just continued. “Who’s the boyfriend?”

“I dunno. Some kid in her class.”

“What’s his name?”

Tanner shrugs.

“What’s he look like?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

Tyler chuckles and kisses his son’s cheek. “You are your mother’s son.”

“He’s just some kid. I dunno his name.”

“Is he nice? To your sister?”

“He must be. She hasn’t punched him in the face yet.”

Fair point.

“I’ll give you another ten bucks if you find out what his name is,” Tyler offers.

Tanner shakes his head.  “Twenty.”

“For twenty I want pictures of him and his address.”

Tanner throws a hand up in exasperation. “How am I supposed to do that? I’m five.”

“Fifteen and you get me his first and last name.”

Tanner considers it, a pensive frown on his face as he stares down at the now empty mug in his hands. “I can do that,” he eventually agrees. “But I want the money before school tomorrow. Or no deal.”

“You get half tomorrow and the other half when you get the job done and give me the information. That’s how it works. I get proof, you get the rest of the money. You can’t extort me, mate. Nice try though.”

“What’s extort?”

“We got a deal or not?”

“Fine,” Tanner sighs. “Half tomorrow and half later. You’re tough.”

“I’ve got more experience in this stuff than you do. Ready? All done?”

The five-year-old yawns loudly and nods.  “I gotta pee though.”

“Go,” he tousles Tanner’s hair. “Hurry up. It’s late. And stay on the deck. Don’t pee on it. Do that in the sand. But do not go any farther than the end of the deck. Got it?”

“Got it,” he agrees, and then jumps off his father’s lap and hurries through the kitchen and out the sliding door.  

Tyler stands; grimacing at the tightness in his shoulder and the pain that shoots through his knee and travels all the way down the calf.  And he grabs one of the prescription bottles from the highest shelf above the sink and shakes out three of the pain pills and swallows them dry, then adds Tanner’s dirty mug to the dishwasher and turns it on.  

“Done!” Tanner announces, and runs towards him, laughing hysterically when his father effortlessly catches him and turns him upside down, his legs wrapping around Tyler’s neck. “Don’t drop me daddy!” he pleads. “You got me?”

“I got you, mate,” he promises, an arm securely pressed against his son’s stomach, free hand turning off the lights to the kitchen go. “Always.”

[conchabae]

Greta Thunberg and Friday’s 4 Future

"I don't care about being popular. I care about climate justice."

This statement by Greta Thunberg is very powerful. Every generation has had youth that to some extent like the idea of and strive for success, fame and power, but these aspirations have been warped and are all too important amongst our younger generations today. This is directly linked to the nature of internet culture and social media which profits and promotes extreme beauty ideals, materialistic possessions and expressions of grandeur alongside a fixation on followers, likes and the analytics of online “popularity”. Yet, we still have cultural norms that view the youngest in society as the progressives, those who are responsible for shifting and building a better tomorrow. Many Western teens today spend their free-time on beauty tutorials, fashion and other forms of entertainment. There’s beauty in that Greta Thunberg, a well-off Swedish white girl, who could turn a blind eye to injustices in the world, fights to unlearn and speak up against climate injustice. In addition, she fights to spread awareness and put pressure on global governments to make needed systemic change. Greta claims she doesn't care about being popular, because she clearly does not do this for being liked and famous, she knows that fighting for climate justice and sustainability is not popular or “trendy”, she does it because it is what she cares about, and because it is right.

It is because of her honesty and dedication, that she has moved and awaken millions of other western people. Ironically, she has become an iconic and famous figure for defending the environment. It is admirable that even with a platform which has received millions of followers, praise from celebrities, as well as invites from famous politicians, she has never given up her principles to become more likable and her message stays the same, even when it is uncomfortable to those who know they do not do enough for the earth.

I did not live in NYC last year, but there was a climate strike in Foley Square in 2019 as well as strikes all across the world. I was inspired by Greta’s movement and participated in the school strike for climate in Stockholm. It was amazing to see so many people of all different backgrounds and ages participating in the city’s center to hear climate activists and my friends and I boycotted school to support the Friday’s 4 Future campaign.

The long term dedication and commitment movements like Friday’s 4 Future and Black Lives Matter have shown for years now, have woken me up to my complacency to my reality, when it does not align with the world I want to live in. I was 13 years old when the Black Lives Matter hashtag and conversation started. I was 18 when Greta Thunberg started striking for the climate. I realize now that it is not only the people we see highlighted in the news who can make important change, it is all of us. Greta Thunberg’s book No One Is Too Small To Make A Difference, really was a wakeup call on how climate change, which is inevitable with our current ways, is a crisis and an urgent issue that can only be resolved by facing it head on.

 Photos from the Stockholm strike taken by: Lotta Fernvall / AFTONBLADET

These are a selection of a few photos taken at the global Climate Strike in 2019, but these are all taken in front of the Swedish parliament, where the movement began. It is surreal how people in the thousands came to join her on this historical global strike in her home country and all over the world, when she started striking all by herself at this exact spot. Greta Thunberg has been the catalyst for heightened awareness and care about climate justice.

I think many people, including Greta Thunberg herself in the trailer for her Hulu documentary, attribute her hyper focus on the reality and danger of climate change to her having Asperger’s syndrome. While a common symptom of Asperger’s syndrome is to have an “obsessive” interest in a particular subject, I do think we should not dismiss her drive, passion and heart in climate justice just to her condition. Greta’s ability to push against her discomfort with social networking, to perform speeches in front of millions, and exchange awkward pleasantries with powerful public figures to access their platform, shows huge amounts of bravery and heart. It is a character strength that she has tunnel vision on the science of climate change and carbon emissions, and this helps her continue to educate herself on the topic. This is something that many of us locals do not show interest in, especially since most of the information is clouded in complicated and exclusionary scientific language, often in lengthy journals.

She does not just care about the environment for the knowledge, she wants to save the world, and save future generation’s right to fulfilling and happy lives. I have so much respect for her and trust in her intentions, and as Greta has said herself, she does not struggle with Asperger’s, she has it. Her journey to activism and contributions to the world should not be pigeon holed or minimized by her condition.

The COVID-19 pandemic, which has forced us all to experience a different state than our regular normal, has made it more clear than ever, that many of our customs and way of life are not sustainable. As the prevalence of police brutality and other systems of oppression are harder to ignore, I think we all are becoming more aware of daily injustices. In the first months of quarantine in Europe, reports were showing photographic evidence that wildlife and ecosystems were improving and thriving because of the reduced human activity that used to scare away wildlife and pollute ecosystems. The visual that is etched into my mind are the rivers in Venice, Italy. Because of the mandatory quarantine, no boats or gondolas were in use, and the rivers all over the water city cleared to a vibrant blue. It took me back to a trip there when I was 12, and how the waters were so green and muddy we joked that falling in would be a health risk. It was somewhat bittersweet to see this imagery, as it was beauty that was rare to see, and that it is rare because of us!

Photos taken of clear water in Italy, taken by @ikaveri on Twitter. 

In this same pandemic, we have also seen the red and orange skies of LA, filled with clouds and rainfalls of ash. This was heartbreaking for the world to witness, as we learned it was the cause of not some dreamy sunset or blood sun, but because of the massive forest wild fires that have devastated families and communities by burning down homes and making the air unbreathable in some places.

Photo credit: Brittany Hosea-Small / AFP VIA GETTY IMAGES

Photo by Josh Edelson / AFP VIA Getty Images

There is no quick fix for the climate and like all social issues, we need to be committed and address it from various angles. We need to vote in political representatives that acknowledge climate change as fact, which unfortunately is the first crucial step we must take unlike other democracies with the same quality of education and science. We need to then protest and put as much pressure as possible on local, state and national politics to enact policies that lead to reduced emissions. We must reduce the amount of influence and investments fossil fuel corporations receive from taxpayers, and invest federally into sustainable alternatives. Unfortunately, most Americans do not even realize how much their lifestyle destroys their land but also the global climate temperature. We need to create a social shift in attitudes around consumption in all forms and this starts with widespread education, so perhaps media and specifically social media is the strongest and quickest way to do this.

“If a few girls can get headlines all over the world just by not going to school for a few weeks, imagine what we could do together if we wanted to.”

I think this quote by Greta emphasizes the power of the people being unified and organized. When we are organized is when we are truly unstoppable and cannot be ignored by the appointed leaders that be. We outnumber them all. We need to organize and stay focused to make real and much needed change.

“Adults keep saying - We owe it to the young people to give them hope - but I don’t want your hope.

I don’t want you to be hopeful.

I want you to panic.”

- Greta Thunberg in her Our House is On Fire speech.

I think the discussion around Greta Thunberg and her activism is interesting and there are three camps with different receptions of her in online discourse. I think the first camp were responsible for her becoming a household name globally. People who felt overwhelmed about climate change, had made some attempts at doing their part, like only riding public transport and going vegan. The first camp mainly consists of the younger generations that were somewhat aware but overwhelmed with the amount of structural issues that contribute to climate change. They were the force that joined Greta at her strikes in Stockholm outside Swedish parliament, and the ones who organized strikes in their own home countries. The second camp, were those like me, who found out about her a bit later when a strong media buzz was already present and notably by media that did not intend to further her purpose and emphasize the importance of climate justice, but just used her for novelty, headlines and clickbait instead. Many marginalized people questioned some of Greta’s viral rhetoric that often spoke of her being “stolen of her childhood and dreams'' as we saw a European, well-off white girl, who was being invited to speak to the most influential politicians, embraced by Hollywood A-listers and was also being honored at protests around the globe for her strikes. What could she possibly know about struggle? We respected her passion for climate change, but convinced ourselves that she needs to scold politicians and those who actually hold power for change, so we carried on with our lives and continued to live in comfortable denial. The third camp consisted of active climate change deniers, and conservatives who weaponized her Asperger's and the fact that she was a young woman (can’t forget to add ageism and misogyny to edgy memes eh?) and aimed to assassinate her character and validity in the form of “jokes” and memes. The third camp often brought up her privilege not only as a critique, but as a means to silence her and the topic altogether. Many influential right-wing politicians, including Donald Trump, partook in this to distance their followers from having any interest in her, or climate justice.

“Greta Thunberg is the spark but we are the wildfire.” - Naomi Klein

As I mentioned earlier, Greta Thunberg’s book has taken away my criticisms of her global status. She has brilliant values, an in-depth scientific understanding of the subject she advocates for, and her emphasis on climate equity, which many white activists fail to acknowledge as an important factor, all made me a supporter of Greta. I do not care about the trolls and those who have tried to ridicule and minimize the honor in her life mission. She is probably one of the most inspiring individuals and change makers of my time. Her book and speeches have amazing rhetoric that unprogrammed a lot of my own learned helplessness about the environment. It also reminded me of my individual responsibility as well as my government's responsibility to stop global warming from happening and create a sustainable world. We need to put in the work, we only have so much time left before it is too late, whether we like that fact or not. Her stance that climate change is black and white is so effective and true: “either we reduce global emissions by 50%, or we do not.” It really is that simple. We need to activate so we can enact the needed solutions to meet that goal. Reading Thunberg’s book has inspired me to take more action and make more sustainable choices and unlearn a lot of U.S. consumerism culture. I have educated myself more throughout quarantine by learning about zero waste methods and the environmental benefits of veganism. However, while personal accountability is great, it is a form of privilege to be able to buy more sustainably, especially when the current market place mainly offers unsustainable products as the most affordable. We must also learn how to politically fight for actual policies and political change that force systemic and societal change .

“We have a new wave of contention in society that’s being led by women. … And the youth climate movement is leading this generational shift."

- Dana Fisher

In late 2019, The Washington Post conducted a poll that found that 46% of teen girls said the climate was “extremely important”, while only 23 % of teen boys said so. Furthermore, more than twice as many black and Hispanic teens participated in school strikes on climate change than their white peers, and girls were more likely to participate than boys. This data is one of several including Dana Fisher’s, a sociologist and researcher at the University of Maryland, who found similar ratios when studying the populations of activists and participants in the Washington, DC 2019 climate strike.

I think the ratio of who shows up for the environment points to social roles at large. The likelihood of caring about climate change can do with one’s privilege and ability to empathize with abstract or foreign problems that one may not be negatively affected with (right now). While we all hold some form of privilege, all women have experienced some form of sexism and misogyny, and therefore are more likely to be able to empathize with marginalized groups they do not belong to, and advocate for social movements that address injustices they may not themselves experience.

There is a correlation between those most marginalized in society, being the most active in social reform and revolution. Because when one is in the lowest or lower social casts of society, and has the least social freedoms and privileges, one has nothing to lose and everything to gain from change. This is why we can see in many social justice movements across the US, that black queer people and specifically black trans women, have consistently been at the forefront for important social progress.

When it comes to climate change, there is a certain amount of empathy required, especially when you live in a western country, or part of the world where you have an excess of resources at your disposal and you are comfortable with the status quo. That is something we all need to address and with that comes a checking of ego. Is my temporary happiness more important than other people’s well-being and lives? Am I contributing to the exploitation of people and the destruction of the planet? My planet?

I do not often see men on a large scale extending this type of self-reflection and empathy for social problems, either in small social settings or in positions of power. This is similar to how many men do not reflect on how it feels to be catcalled or sexually harassed as a woman. This is not because men are predisposed to be heartless rather, I believe this is a cause of social conditioning. Women are more conditioned to be team players, to listen and exercise great empathy at all times, otherwise she is socially scorned. Men are not expected to show these traits to the same extent, and often can rely on this lack of social standard and their own privilege to ignore social issues all together. We need to unlearn that issues women care about are insular to “women’s issues”, for they are societal problems, and we need to encourage and expect young boys and men to be equally accountable for a better world.

It is so inspiring to see so many young teens following Greta’s initiative, like Alexandria Villaseñor, who after experiencing an asthma attack during a wildfire in California, not only took the time to educate herself on the dangers of this phenomenon, but also organized Friday’s 4 Future strikes in NYC with the US Climate Strike group. Since then, she has also spoken at countless international conventions about climate change, and alongside Thunberg and 15 other youth activists, filed a legal complaint against UN nations who had not upheld their Paris agreement climate goals. This is so badass and I did not even know about this until today. In fact, there are countless teens all over the world, many of whom aren’t of legal voting age, who are suing local / federal governments and organizations for environmental malpractice and for jeopardizing their futures! 

As they should! Let’s all keep fighting for a better and sustainable future.

Students and youth striking in Seoul, South Korea. Photo credit: Chung Sung-Jun / GETTY IMAGES

Young people striking in Edinburgh, Scotland. Photo credit: Jeff J Mitchell / GETTY IMAGES

Youth striking in Hong Kong. Photo credit: Kim Cheung / AP PHOTO

[comeallyelost]

The Handmaid’s Tale 3x08 Thoughts

I think I'm getting a clearer picture of where this season is headed, but the way they are going about it is not at all ideal. 

Four sections to this post:

June

Aunt Lydia

General Episode Notes

The Racism Problem

1. On June’s Sanity

The plot is barely moving forward, but we're seeing more of June's descent into madness/ desperation and her loss of humanity as a result of losing her closest allies. (I'm gonna loop in Serena and Nick here because for a while at least, I think June believed Serena was in her camp post pinky-finger). 

So based on the looks of things, Nick's absence and ambiguity HAS to be intentional since it's having a direct effect on June's ability to cope with the horrors of Gilead.

This episode most definitely was used to paint June as the villain and Natalie/OfMatthew as the victim. They turned it around on us, implying that anyone can go mad here, even our protagonist whom we've been rooting for this entire time. And like, I don't really want to draw too many parallels here, because the development has been a better on THT and there is a much more tangled web of *things* going on, but I'm getting similar "mad queen" Dany vibes that were happening on Game of Thrones.

But honestly, what irks me most about this whole season is how we all came in expecting a season about the resistance. About Mayday, about June fighting back. June STAYED in Gilead for a reason. For Hannah. Or so we thought. Where is that narrative? We've gotten nothing so far. 

I would argue that it does makes sense for June's character to go darker, to go to extremes she would have never considered before. Especially without someone to anchor her down. Nick was her rock and he's gone. Not just physically, but in her mind she feels like she lost the person she thought he was. HOWEVER, just because these elements were removed, it serves no point for her to stray in this direction and lose sight of her daughter, of the fight against Gilead.  The handmaids this episode played out like a Mean Girls skit and poor Janine is this series' punching dummy and I'm getting tired of that.

Side note: Another facet of June’s spiral is the lack of flashbacks. Her ties to Luke, Hannah, Moira, and her life from before are fading. Nick keeping her sane and helping her survive in present Gilead was one side, but her ties to her humanity are also very much embedded in the person she was before. She may not be the same June, but it’s those memories that keep her fighting, that keep her going. And I don’t think we’ve seen a flashback since like...the beginning of ep 5 if I’m not mistaken.

It's been EIGHT episodes gdi. What do we have left? Five? I sincerely hope they're not wasted. But my hope is dwindling. Watching this week's ep I honestly felt like I was watching an entirely different show from the one I was so obsessed with last year.

2. On Aunt Lydia’s backstory

Yay! Woohoo we finally get a backstory for someone new. Except it’s Aunt Lydia, and I don’t think I ever found her compelling enough to merit a backstory. 

What I mean is, I always found her to be as pious as they come in Gilead and she serves the regime wholeheartedly. Her character was always finding a way to help others in some twisted radical christian logic and I was right!

What I do keep seeing people post about that I disagree with is that she “turned” on the young mom because she was rejected by a man. Her motivations are more complex than that. She mentions “moral weakness” enough that I think her compulsion to help others in the way she thought she was helping Noelle was to rid them of it. She thought herself above it, or at least she carried herself as someone who overcame moral weakness and thought it her calling to help others in overcoming it as well. 

So when she found herself displaying it towards the principal, I think something snapped in her. His rejection in the middle of their (intense) make-out session served as a wakeup call to her imo. And she blamed Noelle for making her “morally weak”.

So what we can draw from this flashback I’d say, is that Aunt Lydia’s whole schtick is helping others overcome their moral weakness as she puts it. She truly believes she is doing God’s work. She was totally okay with taking Noelle’s kid away from her. And so the brutalities she’s committed as an Aunt are not seen by her as such. She fits right in. A perfect fit for the role.

3. Thoughts I had while watching the Ep: - the chanting scene in the school gym felt like a nightmare/dream sequence - June’s posse is super clique-y which I kind of like if only they used their powers for the good of the resistance and not to terrorize OfMatthew/Natalie - June tattling on OfMatthew/Natalie was super petty. Can she please focus on the bigger picture? - Hannah and the Mackenzie’s are GONE. What now? I really really thought we were gonna see Hannah get out this season. - Janine is literally the only sane one and yet probably the one who has suffered most - Commander Lawrence's "Do not presume to speak to me about my wife" last episode versus. "I'll bet that felt good" this week - I didn’t quite understand OfMatthew’s behavior. I know she was terrified, and I know June outing her for her sinful thoughts rattled her, but her being on edge enough to beat Janine, kill a guardian, and take his gun? What broke her? - I also hated how that scene was filmed. It felt like a shooter video game sequence

4. On the racism problem:

THT's "colorblind" approach from the inception of the series was already problematic. Margaret Atwood's version of Gilead was based directly on the inequalities she saw in (her) present day. I completely get rejecting the notion of an all-white cast and their logic that a fertility crisis would take priority over racism, but hell, if there is one thing that is inherently american, it's RACISM. A fertility crisis wouldn't ERASE racism altogether. And that's how Hulu's version made it seem. 

Also, another element of Atwood's Gilead and the fertility issue was the underlying eugenics of it all which is not present whatsoever in the series. If we're exploring a fascist, oppressive regime, eugenics is definitely playing some sort of role. Casting a diverse group of women as handmaids and marthas was not a bad move. But simply having the POC ones making the background more "colorful" won't cut it. I think there could still have been a diverse cast with some sort of oppressive racial hierarchy in place within Gilead. The LGBTQ community is targeted, the women are entirely powerless and assigned roles within certain constructs, but they won't even mention race? It's like an unspoken elephant in the room they've decided to ignore. Which then makes all the actions against POC in the series that much more unsettling.

I'm questioning whether this racism is intentional then? Or just a consequence of the ingrained, learned racism we've all grown up with. Either way, it's a complete disaster. Diversity is not just seeing POCs onscreen. It's GIVING THEM A VOICE. It's letting them tell their version of things. Serena as the embodiment of white feminism, I thought, was intentional at first. June's ability to get away with SO MUCH and suffer hardly any consequences in this awful regime, I'm thinking now, is another example of white privilege in this society. And it can be. It would actually be a great tool IF IT WERE ACTUALLY ADDRESSED IN THE SERIES. But instead we just see POCs suffer, get no back stories, no voices, and just see June, Serena, and the other white handmaids carrying the series.

This episode we did get Aunt Lydia saying one of the households didn't want a handmaid of color. So there we had a teeny tiny glimpse into the fact that there is some underlying racism going on somewhere. But again, like all of the other snippets we've seen this season, it leads to nothing. It's not explored or examined or ever addressed again.

I was skeptical of OfMatthew's (Natalie) role as June's partner from the get go. No one here is doing anything except trying to survive. There are imo few actual villains in Gilead except those who constructed it for their own gain. Every single handmaid, martha, ~insert oppressed role in here~ is playing a role in order to survive. 

I've mentioned before that one of the elements I love (or maybe loved in past tense at this point) about this show is how it highlights humanity's capacity to endure suffering or see others endure suffering. When do you snap? Who falls in line and who resists? What are the triggers? What moral standards do you uphold when society as you knew it to be has been erased?  

So taking all that into consideration, OfMatthew/Natalie was never a villain for me. Annoying? Maybe in her intro. But she's popped out 3 kids. She's about to give birth to a 4th and is legit terrified for her daughter. Her snitching on June was shitty, but she was just trying to survive like everyone else. The fact that it cost the life of another martha (who was a POC) and June faced no repercussions was even shittier on the writers’ part.

This show has me going in circles honestly. Questioning whether these decisions were intentional or not. I don't know which one is worse. If it was intentional, the lack of actually addressing the racism in Gilead makes it pretty shitty on the part of the showrunners. If it was unintentional, then they really need to reexamine the writers room and staff more POCs. Like wtf.

[portalford]

When the Night Winds are Driving On

AO3

Stan usually takes twenty minutes and two cups of coffee to feel like a human being in the morning, so getting woken up by some as-yet unspecified disturbance at unholy hour of the night o’clock is one of the worst ways he can think of to start his day, right behind eldritch abominations in the kitchen and Ford leaving his boots where Stan would trip over them when he got out of bed.

Squinting at the roof of his bunk, he fumbles for his hearing aid, trying to figure out what had woken him and whether or not it would require him to find his glasses and actually get up.

A thump from the bed above him answers his unspoken questions – Ford had woken him, he didn’t need his glasses, he did need to get up.

Sliding out of bed (and Ford had actually put his boots in the damn corner where they belonged, so at least he wasn’t starting this off by falling flat on his face), Stan turns on the tiny desk lamp and steps up on the ladder so that he can see his brother.

Sure enough, Ford’s face is twisted uncomfortably and he's shifting about under his blankets.  His left arm had gotten tangled and pinned to his side, and his struggles to get free were what alerted Stan to the problem.

“Ford.  Ford, you’re having a nightmare.”  Stan tugs gently at the blanket, but it's trapped under Ford’s body.  “You’re okay, buddy.  C’mon.”  He leans back to avoid any unintentional retaliation (he’d taken a punch to the eye trying to wake Ford from a particularly nasty nightmare and the kicked-puppy looks his brother directed at him for the next 24 hours were honestly worse than the shiner) and shakes Ford’s ankle.  “Wake up!”

Ford bolts upright, gasping.  He yanks his arm free and curls up in the far corner of his bed, breathing like he’s run a mile.

Stan cautiously takes a seat at the other side of the bed.  Mabel has told them a thousand times that communication is the soul of a healthy relationship, and she’s probably on to something there, but he and Ford both have issues with the whole ‘open and honest thing’ at times – himself out of lifelong habit, and Ford out of thoroughly ingrained paranoia.  They do their best, though, and Stan tries to get a feel for the situation and the likelihood of Ford talking to him.  “Business as usual?” 

It takes a few seconds, but Ford nods.  They’ve come up with a little code for some of their more unpleasant wakeup calls: “business as usual” means Bill, Weirdmaggedon, the whole shebang.  “Time on the road” is the years spent in the multiverse for Ford, the years spent homeless for Stan.  “Family problems” refers to stuff involving each other or the kids.  It works well for those nights when they aren't ready to talk about a bad memory relived, but still want to give the other something to work with.

Stan scoots closer.  He can definitely work with this.  “You wanna talk about it?”  Ford shakes his head.  Less useful, but Stan's not worried.  He remembers Ford doing this as a kid – just curling up into a ball and refusing to speak to him or anyone else until he sorted out the mess in his head.  It kinda reminds him of Mabel and Sweatertown.  “Okay.  Mind if I stick around?”  Another head shake.  Better.  

Stan settles lengthwise across the bed, propping Ford’s pillows up on the headboard to lean against.  Ford’s face is still half buried in his knees, but he’s looking out over the room, if not exactly at Stan.  Stan wraps his arm around his brother’s shoulders and, when he’s not rebuffed, tugs at him.  

“C’mon, Ford, lie down.  You’re gonna make your back hurt if you stay like that."

Ford comes willingly enough, curling up at Stan’s side.  His shoulders are tense under his sweater (Stan still can’t get him to stop going to bed fully dressed, but at least he’s started taking his boots off like a normal person), but his breathing has slowed.  He’ll either talk about it tonight or just pass out and leave the difficult conversation for when the sun is up and the monsters have gone back under the bed, and that’s okay.

The silence lasts long enough that Stan considers dozing off himself before Ford speaks up.

“He had the kids.”

Stan is immediately fully awake, but he doesn’t move.  Ford’s voice is muffled where his face is smushed against Stan’s shoulder, but he’s talking.  “Yeah?”  Don’t push, don’t push, let him talk on his own.

Ford’s fingers tap an irregular rhythm on the mattress.  “He was– he wanted the equation.”  

Stan very carefully does not clench his fists.  He’d seen what Bill had done to Ford to get that equation, seen the burns and bruises on his brother’s body when they switched clothes.  He’d seen them again, afterward, and they’re what triggered his memory of their deception – the anger at Bill for his brutality and the harsh satisfaction that he’d punched that triangle bastard someplace where he could never hurt Stan’s family again.

“I told him I wouldn’t give it to him – that I’d never give it to him.”  Stan feels a flush of pride at that, and not for the first time he hopes Ford told that demon exactly where he could shove his equation back during the real thing.  “I wasn’t– I’d never have–" and here was the crux of the nightmare.  Stan settles his arm more firmly around Ford’s shoulders and dares to squeeze a little.  “If it was just me– it was just me, I know, but, in the dream– he had the kids.”  Ford turns away, clearly done speaking.

Damn.  Stan takes two seconds to silently cuss Bill out as hard as he can for everything he did to the world in general and his brother in particular.  He takes two more to think about how great it felt to punch Bill right in his ugly, bloodshot eye.  Then he takes a deep breath and squeezes Ford’s shoulders again.

“Imagination’s a bitch sometimes, huh.”

Ford’s chuckle is rusty, but not entirely devoid of humor.  “That’s one way to put it.”  A pause.  “He really was going to use the kids.  Back there.  He said– he said that perhaps hurting them would make me talk.”  Ford tilts his head back to finally look Stan in the eye.  “He wasn’t wrong.  If he’d had them… I don’t think I could have held on.”

Stan’s never heard this part of the story before, and frankly he can’t blame Ford for not spilling until now.  Some things just don’t bear dwelling on, not even for communication’s sake.  “I get that,” he says.   And he does.  Stan would give anything, do anything, to keep those kids safe and happy.  The thought of having to choose between Dipper and Mabel and the entire world makes him feel dizzy, and he’s selfishly glad he wasn’t the one who might have had to make that choice.  But that’s the thing, isn’t it: “It didn’t happen. He never got the chance, Ford.  We killed him.”

“You killed him.”

Stan jostles him gently.  “We’ve been over this, Sixer.  We killed him – you, me, and those two crazy kids.  He’s dead and gone and good riddance to him and his pals.”

Ford smiles.  It’s unsteady, but genuine, and Stan settles back more comfortably against the pillows.  “The kids are okay, bro.  I’m okay, and you are too.”

Ford is quiet for a long moment.  “I think,” he says at last, “that I will be.”

“You will,”  Stan says, and it’s a promise.  They’ve got a good thing going here, the first good thing they’ve had together in years, and after everything this might be the part where it all turns out okay.

He’ll believe it enough for both of them if he has to, until Ford’s ready to believe it himself.

They don’t talk after that, but Stan can hear the wheels in Ford’s head turning for a long time after they both fall silent.  It’s a relief when Ford finally shifts to get comfortable and sighs, his big nerd brain finally done sorting itself out.  He’s asleep a few minutes later, restless fingers stilling at his side.

Stan leans against his brother and closes his eyes.  He’ll stay here tonight.

They’ll both be okay.

[butsomeofusarelookingatthestars]

Hi honey!! I love your blog soooo much!! I was just wondering if you could do something based on this: Lukes girlfriend works with the BAU and she was once kidnapped and held for months but nobody in the team knows. They only found out when a case comes up with the same man who captured Lukes girlfriend. And the team find out what happened to her?? Sorry if this makes no sense😂 I love you!! 💗

Unknown Subject

Fandom: Criminal MindsPairing: Luke Alvez x ReaderPrompt: Request

Description: A case that arrives on the BAU’s table is a little too familiar for your liking. With it comes revelations regarding an traumatic incident you had hoped to forget.

Awwh thank you so much sweetie! I hope you enjoy this one! I changed it up a little, just to make it flow easier (instead of being held captive for months, it was just a few days)!

It was a perfectly ordinary day at the BAU as the team gathered around the roundtable, eager to solve another case that had been referred to them. There was no warning at all to prepare you for the horror that lay ahead.

In fact, your day had gotten off to a pleasant start. A peaceful sleep and waking up to your boyfriend blazing a searing trail of kisses down your body had ensured that you had been in an exceedingly good mood as you strolled into the office with one another.

You hadn’t missed the knowing grins your colleagues had flashed your way, well-aware that the two of you had made excellent use of the late start to the day.

At work, you and Luke were true professionals. It was important to you both that your relationship didn’t interfere with your jobs. However, your fellow profilers could easily deduce that the two of you cared for one another. All it took was one glance at how you looked at each other to realise that you were in love.

Unfortunately, your blissful morning came to a swift end as Garcia ushered you all into the meeting room – fretting over the details of a disturbing case that had just been sent in.

You smiled softly as Luke brown eyes met your gaze, his lips curving into a wide grin as he noticed your slightly ruffled hair curtsey of his earlier attentions. He was clearly still proud of his achievements, pleased to give his girlfriend the ‘best wakeup call’ of her life. A blush crept onto your cheeks as he played winked at you.    

Thankfully, Garcia’s voice provided a reprieve from his teasing.

“This one is particularly ghastly, so buckle up crimefighters.” She announced, gesturing to the screen as she grimaced in horror at the information glaring back at her.

“The body of a woman was discovered in Baltimore last night. She had been tortured and killed.”

The team began to ask questions, trying to determine cause of death and all the other essential pieces of information. However, everything seemed to fade away as you glanced down at your tablet. The entire room shifted out of focus and all you could hear was your heavy breathing as you stared at the screen in shock.  

It was too familiar.

Your heart thudded sickeningly against your chest as you noticed the similarity in appearance of the painful cuts on the victim’s body to the ones you had carefully concealed from sight of your colleagues for the past few years. They were the same.

“The local police think she was held captive for a long time prior to her death, judging off the extent of her injuries.” Garcia told them sadly, averting her gaze from the gruesome pictures in a show of respect.

“The kidnapping and torture suggests that we’re looking at a sadist.” Tara muttered in disgust.

Suddenly, it felt difficult to breathe. The room appeared to be getting smaller as the overwhelming emotions came flooding back. It felt as if you were trapped back in the darkened room, the knife pricking against your skin.

You had to get out.

“Y/N?”

Prentiss’ firm voice pulled you from your nightmare, her eyebrows raising in surprise at your anguish. Some cases had the ability to get to all of them, but you were the last team member she thought would be deeply affected by this one. You had always been the best at compartmentalising…until now.

“Is everything okay?”

The pressure of their concerned gazes only added to your distress, your hand trembling in fear as you dropped your tablet to the table with a loud bang. Your vision began to blur as the tears stung your eyes.

Luke murmured softly beside you, but you couldn’t understand him. You were too paralysed to move.

A warm hand rested lightly on your back as he gently guided your head down, whispering soothing reassurances against your hair as you struggled to fight off the unbearable sense of panic surging through your body.

“Just breathe.”

It took a while, but his voice seemed to be able to reach you in the midst of the darkness. A raspy gasp escaping your throat as you choked on the tears streaming down your face.

“I know this unsub.”

Your stammered words were met with confusion from your colleagues as they exchanged bewildered glances with one another.

“You’ve worked a case like this before?” JJ asked quietly, her eyes full of sympathy as she tried to understand what was troubling you.

A strangled sob escaped your lips as you finally lifted your head to meet their concerned eyes.

“I was the case.”

There was a tense silence as your confession echoed around the room, everyone too stunned to respond.

“I don’t remember much. Everything’s still hazy.” You whispered, your fingers clutching onto the necklace around your neck. The one Luke had given you last month that had quickly became a source of comfort. “It happened years ago, I was leaving work late and then…”

Your eyes fluttered shut in an attempt to block out the disturbing memories. Even after all this time it pained you to think of that night. Perhaps part of the reason why you were so dedicated to your job was because you wanted to do everything you could to protect others from suffering the same fate.

“He kidnapped you?” Spencer asked quietly, his voice filled with hurt at the prospect of someone harming his friend. He too had been on the receiving end of an unsub’s brutal treatment, knowing that the same had happened to you was truly heartbreaking.

You nodded, the tears continuing to spill down your cheeks as you took a deep breath to compose yourself.

“All I remember is the pain.”

You gestured towards your torso, too nervous to shown them the damage that had been done. It felt as if the agonising wounds were burning at merely discussing the trauma.

“He used a knife to cut me…the same ones that our victim received. But, a lot less severe than hers.”

The rest of the team glanced at the screen displaying the horrific photographs, wincing as they thought about the pain you had gone through. You felt Luke tense beside you, his jaw clenching in anger at the revelation.

“Your scars…” He asked, his voice soundly oddly strained as his gaze fell to your shirt. Even your boyfriend had been unaware about the origin of the faded marks, accepting your vague explanation without hesitation as he tenderly traced the lines one night as you lay in bed together.

You squeezed his hand comfortingly, his warm brown eyes softening as he met your gaze. It killed him to think about anyone hurting you and he would willingly unleash his fury on the unsub one he got his hands on him. However, you needed him right now and he would be there for you.

He pressed a tender kiss to your palm as the rest of the team tried to come to terms with your confession.

“How did you get away?” Matt asked, his tone gentle as he gazed at you sympathetically.

Perhaps it was strange that none of them had ever discovered the trauma hidden in your past. You had always been the best at hiding your emotions, they wouldn’t have been able to read you as easily as others. Yet, your empathy and compassion towards victims now made sense to them all as they considered what you had been through.

“He let me go.” You told them quietly, frowning as you fixed your gaze of your hands. The worst thing about the entire thing had been the immense fear of being powerless at the hands of the unsub, knowing you could do nothing to stop him from imposing his will on you.

“He held me for a couple of days and then released me. I couldn’t see his face the entire time, the drugs kept me in and out of consciousness. They never caught him”

Although you had been lucky to escape with only scars, it had always haunted you that he had that control…and that he continued to have it even after your ordeal had ended. How many times had you been paralysed with fear to go to sleep in case you returned back to that hopeless room in your nightmares?

It had only been because of his choice that you had even survived. That was the thought that terrified you most.

“I was his test run. He was building his confidence.” You told them, your profiler instincts telling you that if he had chosen to kidnap you later on then you would have met the same fate as the victim displayed on the screen.

Luke’s hand squeezed yours tightly as if trying convey his promise to keep you safe. The only thing overshadowing the immense fury he felt was his concern for your wellbeing.

No wonder you had been nervous working on past cases involving kidnapping. All the times you had been extremely grateful for him accompanying you to your car after a late night at the BAU made his heart ache in hindsight.

If only he had known.

“That’s one hell of a cooling off period.” Rossi commented, his voice slightly pained as he tried to focus on the case at hand rather than the emotions he was feeling. You had always been close to him and finding out that you had been at the mercy of a sadistic killer made him upset.

You glanced up to see the shocked faces of your colleagues as they attempted to flash you smiles of encouragement. Silent tears were streaming down Garcia’s face as she stared at you in horror. It was never easy when it was one of their own.

Prentiss frowned heavily as she glanced down at the folder clutched tightly in her hands. You could sense her reluctance as she began to talk. “I don’t want to have to ask-”

You cut her off before she could even ask the question. “I’ll do it.”

Surprisingly, your voice was steady and firm as you gazed at her defiantly.

“I’ll give you everything I have.” You promised, already anticipating that the team needed every detail you could provide them with in order to catch this unsub. It didn’t matter if it was uncomfortable or painful, you had to do it for the others.

She nodded slowly, her eyes filled with admiration for your courage as she ordered Matt and Tara to conduct your cognitive interview.

Luke’s grip on your hand tightened as his eyes filled with concern. The last thing he wanted was for you to have to relive the most traumatic experience of your life. Not to mention that your involvement could potential put you in danger again.

“Are you sure Y/N?” He asked quietly, running his thumb gently across your knuckles as he met your gaze.

The determination in your eyes caused pride to surge in his chest. He had always respected your strength, but witnessing your bravery firsthand was something else entirely.

“If I can help catch him…I want in.” You replied, your voice completely calm as you squeezed his hand comfortingly.

It ended here.

[leadwithlove-blog1]

Let Love In

First of all, I think it’s important to talk about how I think the word love has been misconstrued. I googled love and everything that popped up seemed to tie into one theme, romantic love. Sure that’s one lane love drives in but I don’t believe it’s lane 1. Love is unconditional, no limits and I believe the person that taught us how to love best didn’t love us in a romantic way but in its purest form and that was Jesus. So why is it when I google love I feel like valentine’s day puked on my search engine. We wonder why people focus so much energy on finding a significant other…we forget what real love looks like. It makes it hard to love ourselves because all of a sudden that’s tied to whether or not a cute boy or a pretty girl does. I think we discount non-romantic love as if it doesn’t mean as much when it actually means more because it expects nothing in return.

Before I left my hometown to move to Seattle my best friend gave me a gift and a letter. The gift was something she had painted that said “Let Love In” and in the letter, she proceeded to tell me why it said that.

“If there is one thing you’ve taught me it is to let love in. I made you this painting to remind you that I have…Always remember to let love in, because even though you say I’m stubborn, you are too.”

Before then I hadn’t thought about my own walls. I had this perceptiveness growing up that I could tell when someone needed a little extra love. I fought so hard to get through to my friends but I had gotten so good at hiding behind this giant pretty wall I’d built that I didn’t realize how lonely and anxious I’d become on the other side of it. I knew so many people but no one really knew me. I didn’t want people to worry about me, to look at my family differently and ultimately I didn’t want to be vulnerable. There would be times where I would become anxious because I didn’t think I was loved. I showed up for so many people but I didn’t have people return the favor. A big reason for that is because I didn’t let them which created these self-inflicted insecurities. People don’t read minds if we don’t let them in it’s hard for them to love from the other side of the wall. I used to have to fight tooth and nail to get someone to open up to me, now I start it by being vulnerable first. It’s easier to love when people are vulnerable, you’re not wondering if they’re hiding things because the transparency shows they aren’t. When a relationship is one-sided in the vulnerability department people tend to drift away. There’s no substance to a relationship that isn’t shared and it is so hard to trust people who you feel don’t trust you. At this point in my life I’ve become an open book, if you want to know something I’ll tell you. I have no secrets because they fester. You start wondering who knows about them or can see through the act. They eat at you, creating this feeling of uneasiness and paranoia. As I was thinking about all the times I felt “anxious” it made me curious to see what the actual definition was.

Anxiety: A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.

Uncertainty. Not knowing. That’s what causes anxiety, missing information. We’re about to take a test and suddenly become extremely aware of how much we don’t know. Our parents fight and no matter what we do we can’t stop it. Thinking about where we’ll be in five years, hoping we don’t lose anyone along the way. Sometimes it’s going to be something we have no control over. My relationship with God has me covered on the things that are out of my control. It didn’t use to, it’s come with time and intentionally building that relationship. He’s proven to me time and time again that he’ll show up if I’m patient, that he’s always got me. But there are plenty of times in our life where something is causing us to feel anxious and there’s something we can do about it. Most of the time that something is having a conversation. “Ask and you shall receive” it sounds so easy but we get in our head about how we think people will respond so we don’t go through with it. People don’t know how you feel if you don’t tell them and you don’t know how they’ll respond if you don’t give them the chance to prove you wrong. In school, if we don’t understand something we ask the teacher so we can learn. Why is it that we can’t seem to talk to the people we say are the closest to us. We let all these thoughts and feelings seep into our heads and let the anxiety take over. We begin to wonder if we’re being crazy or if what we’re thinking is true. Throwing us into this unhealthy circle of torment where we don’t even know what is actually true anymore. What if the second we felt left out, forgotten, unloved, not good enough, unworthy we just said so? What if we let love in so that the love could overcome the doubt. I started doing this through prayer, dumping it all out. Sometimes it’s brutally honest and I give myself a wakeup call. Sometimes it’s emotional which helps lighten the burden. But at the end of all of the prayers, I get up the courage to talk to the person I felt disconnected to. 99% of the time that little hole that was starting to grow gets some love stitches. The more I had the honest, loving, full of grace conversations the more free and loved I felt. It also becomes less and less necessary. I don’t doubt the things I used to, God has put people in my life that remind me every day I couldn’t be anything but loved. Because of this, I want to love people better, I want to be open to all perspectives including the pain so I can widen my view. See the things I didn’t before, show people they can receive love and that God has peace for them too. Through conversations, clarity, and curiosity I’ve learned how to love myself. God gave me this abnormal capacity to love people which makes me unique. I get to add to the lives around me and I’ve become so comfortable in that role. I haven’t felt anxious or lonely in years, I think that’s because I’m surrounded by so much love and I’m not afraid to let it in anymore. Obviously, not every relationship is going to work out the way you wanted it to no matter how much you communicate because sometimes the other person isn’t ready. Sometimes there will be people who you will need to forgive, even when they don’t say sorry. To acknowledge that their brokenness doesn’t define you. If I were still waiting for my dad to be a dad I’d still be broken. His lack of love doesn’t define my ability to be loved, that held me back for too long. Let God and the people he put in your life remind you just how much you are loved. Just like my best friend did for me when she called me stubborn (but really though if someone calls you stubborn and you immediately say no I’m not, you probably are). She reminded me that I have to let people return it, I can’t be the one kicking down everyone else’s walls and building my own. Life just doesn’t work that way and it’s so much better without a wall. The grass is always greener when there isn’t a side to choose from.

Psalm 34:4 God met me more than halfway, he freed me from my anxious fears.

Isaiah 41:3 When you’re in over your head, I’ll be there with you. When you’re in rough waters, You will not go down. When you’re between a rock & a hard place it won’t be a dead end.  

Matthew 6:34 Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, & don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.

[kittykatslender]

Meetings (RichaXRevenant-22)

Risha jogged down the stairs to the Hall of Guardians, waving to Shaxx as she passed by him.

"You needed to see me Cayde?" She said, high-fiving a passing Guardian.

"Yea. We got a new Hunter here." He said, clapping a Hunter on the back. "His names Revenant-22. Mind showing him around?"

"Sure," she said and turned to Revenant and punched his shoulders lightly. "Names Risha."

"Pleasure to meet you." He said winking. Risha giggled holding a finger up and walked around the table, pulling on Zavala's shoulder pauldron and kissed his cheek. The giant Vanguard chuckled, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving her a brief squeeze. Grinning, she jumped onto the table and ran back to Revenant.

"Hey! Watch my map, Risha!" Cayde said as the two Hunters ran off before he could wring Risha's neck.

"So you and Zavala?" He pressed, taking in her red hair, yellow tattoo, blue eyes and deep purple skin.

"Yea. We kind of hit it off a little bit after my resurrection. Cayde was a little peeved but I told him I annoy Zavala when he was off duty for him and he calmed down. I wouldn't try anything with Ikora though. So take that idea from your mind." Risha said, laughing louder when he pouted. "Hey. I know where we can go first."

Grabbing Revenants arm, she ran to the lunch hall, and led him to two more Awoken women. One he noticed was a Titan with silver hair and that she also had deep purple skin. When she turned to him, he noticed that she had bright blue eyes just like Risha, but she had a thin black tattoo on her nose. Her laugh reached her eyes and made them shine brighter.

"Whoa, who's she?" He said absentmindedly. The Titans laughter bubbled to his audials as the Warlock in front of her spit out her food with a disgusted face.

"What the fuck?!" the Warlock yelled coughing. Guardians around them laughed as she scrabbled to slurp any kind of beverage she could get her hands on down her throat.

"The silver haired Titan is my older twin sister, Richa." Risha said, walking to the table. "Hey guys! We've got a new Guardian around."

She gestured to Revenant and grinned at Richa.

"Revenant, this is my sister Richa and our best friend, Zorlee." Risha said, gesturing to the two Guardians, Richa waved, tears in her eyes as she continued to laugh at Zorlee. Zorlee coughed downing another glass of water that a male Titan gave her.

"Don't worry about her. She'll be alright soon enough. Some of the guys decided to dare her to try the lunch halls surprise soup." She giggled scooting over. Rev smiled sitting down beside her and leaning onto the table.

"Honestly I thought this would be something Titans do. Not Warlocks."

"Yea, well Zorlee is a nutcase and doesn't conform to stereotype." Richa said watching the Pinkish-Red haired girl as she tried to suck down the rest of the soup, clenching her eyes in obvious disgust. "It's what makes us best friends."

"Really? Well, you two sound like my kind of people."

They both laughed watching as the crowd of Guardians grow as the light blue-eyed Guardian basically forced herself to eat the remaining soup.

"Are you happy now Phoenix??!!" Zorlee said setting the bowl down as Phoenix, a white Exo with silver accents sat beside her and wrapped his arm around Zorlee shoulders.

"Very. You managed to not throw up this time." He said, his deep voice reverberated around the circle. Zorlee laughed leaning in, kissing his cheek.

"Hey, uh. You want to get out of here? Go somewhere nice and quiet?" Richa said looking at him. "I know a café we can go to but we'll need to ditch our armor."

"Sure but why ditch the armor?" He said standing with her.

"Eh, they don't know I'm a Guardian so I don't get treated like some royalty. I enjoy it. It's a really nice feeling, ya know?"

"Well, I'm sure I will one day. But right now."

"Ah, right. I forgot you're new." She giggled walking across the plaza to a set of double doors and pushed them open. "These are the Guardians Quarters. Though I would invest in something to cancel noises. Especially when Zavala and Risha get into it."

"Like. Screaming? Or..." He made a scissor motion with his two index and middle fingers.

"Yes. Whenever they fuck. From what I've seen of her in the mornings after it's something intense."

Rev looked at her with a questioning look on his face. She chuckled softly stopping in front of a door.

"Hey, your rooms right across from mine. Awesome." She bounced as she punched in a keycode and opened her door. "I'll see you soon, yea?"

"Yea." He smiled at her, unbeknownst to Richa the lights in between the seams in his cheeks were flashing, his version of a blush was spread across his cheeks. His ghost, Dinklebot, appeared and did his version of a grin at Revenant.

"You like her." He teased as Rev walked in and started stripping himself of his armor and reached for civilian clothes.

"Shut up, Dinklebot."

~Meanwhile~

Amon floated around Risha as she dressed in a silver tank top and black jeans.

"You like him!"

"Shush." Richa said eyes flickering to the door. "Don't let him hear you, Amon."

"Sorry, but Richa you're absolutely head over heels over him." Amon said floating around, flexing his shell here and there. Richa slipped on some combat boots over her jeans and laced them up and proceeded to flop back onto the bed.

"What if he doesn't like me though Amon?" She said staring up at the ceiling. She had carved intricate designs into the ceiling that were almost like the constellations. Her Ghost flew down and plopped himself onto her forehead and looked up to the ceiling also. A knock came at her door and a second later it opened to reveal Revenant, wearing a dark green hoodie with black pants and sneakers. He looked around at her knickknacks and snorted when his eyes landed on her and Amon, tilting his head.

"Well, he sure looks comfortable," Rev said watching her as she rose and grabbed her Ghost. "Have you named yours?"

"Yea he was and yes. His names Amon. It's an old Egyptian name." She said lovingly petting the Ghost who seemed to purr and lean into her as she stood. Rev took her shape and all the other small details about her in. She had small scars that puckered up between her breasts and stomach, intricate tattoos wound their way up her arms and shoulders around her neck and breasts and down her sides. And despite her strength and muscles she was a small framed woman though she came up to where his nose would've been.

Holding one arm out he flourished his other towards the door.

"Shall we go then milady?" he asked watching Amon fly towards Richa and disappear. Richa laughed softly taking his arm.

"And women in the Last City say chivalry is dead."

"Well they never met me." He said walking down the corridor after she locked up her room. Rev tried to keep his eyes on hers but sometimes he'd catch them trailing down the tattoos along her neck and breast. Which also didn't help that her breast bounced with every springing step she took. As they walked into the Plaza some of the Guardians stopped and stared at the young exotic looking woman on Revs arm.

~Time Skip~

Rev sat at a table and watched Richa across the table order a thing she liked to call her 'wakeup call'. A Cinnamon latte with double shot of vanilla and expresso topped with chocolate syrup. When the drink was delivered, the waiter, a young teenage looking boy left a napkin with his number on it. Rev glared slightly at the boy, causing him to scurry off.

Richa laughed sadly ripping the napkin off before saying in a whispered voice.

"It wouldn't happen anyway. I'd rather not be found to be a Guardian. Much less a Titan."

"Are you ashamed of being a Titan?" He asked her, studying her drink and making a face. That made her bust out into her bubbly laughter.

"What?"

"That thing smells way too sweet. But you avoided my question."

"Ah and that's where you're wrong Revvy." She said, eyes twinkling at her nickname for him. The lights in his mouth and cheeks flickered brightly as he watched her gingerly sip the coffee.

"I'm most definitely NOT ashamed of my class. It just makes romances... weird."

"How so?"

"Well. Many of the male Guardians aren't very fond of a woman being stronger or as strong as them and the females...There's very few female Titans and tons of female Hunters and Warlocks think Titans are brutal. Which, yes, I agree. The sex can be brutal but what I've heard from Risha, sex with Zavala's worth all the bruises. I guess she's the only one who'd think so."

"Hmm. I'd like to find out what sex with you is like." The words slipped from his mouth before he had time to stop himself. His systems heated up faster than before and the lights on his face started flaring bright red, bright enough to reflect into Richa's hair and eyes. A darker, deeper, purple blush was flushed against her cheeks. Revenant rubbed the back of his neck in extreme embarrassment and he looked down. "Th-That wasn't supposed to come out."

A few seconds of awkward silent air hung between the two, Rev was sure he could reach out and grab the awkwardness and it'd still be there. That's how thick it was. Or so it was until Richa laughed softly, drinking longer gulps now that her coffee had cooled off a bit. Leaning back into her chair she stared out the window of the café up at the Traveler.

"Maybe one day I'll take you up on that offer, Revvy."

"Well, changing subjects. How much do you remember of your past life?" He said quietly, glancing at some civilians walking by.

"Not much. Most of its fuzzy except for one detail." She said setting her empty cup to the side where a waiter would pick it up and ordered a new one.

"What's that?" He asked, curiosity peaked.

"The day I died." She said staring at her ungloved hand. It was badly calloused and her nails were brittle.

"Care to talk about it?" Rev asked sitting up straighter. Richa smiled at him slightly taking the new cup of coffee.

"It was me, Risha and another girl. I think she was our sister but I can't fully remember. She's... blurred whenever I try to focus on her. We had just graduated from an Academy and were in Russia on vacation. I remember a car speeding toward us, driving on the wrong side of the road and then we were sent flying. The car... rolled and Risha..." She sniffed shaking her head and looked out the window. "Risha's head snapped into the dashboard and then against the window so hard her head snapped. I... I remember being impaled. I think it was a tree branch or maybe it was a steel pole. But I didn't die from blood loss. I died from blunt force trauma from slamming my head so hard on the steering wheel. I remember the girl in the back screaming but I died before the first responders could get us out. I'm still haunted by the girls screams and watching Risha's neck snap."

"What was it like? Dying I mean?"

"At first it was just numbness, then I started getting colder and..." she trailed off. "They say death is like embracing a lover and all pain is gone. I felt so much agony and then nothing. Next thing I knew Amon was resurrecting me. And here we are. Do you remember anything about your death?" He hesitated slightly and leaned back.

"Not much. I just remember a man and a gun. And then Dinklebot was in my face."

Richa laughed leaning her elbows against the table. A glint in her eyes danced in the café lights and Rev leaned in too. Suddenly a quiet hiss sounded from inside Rev's hoodie pocket.

"Uh, Guardians. I hate to interrupt."

"No, you don't." Rev cut him off.

"Hush. Anyway, we're needed in the Tower."

Richa sighed, finishing the coffee and got up leaving a glimmer card with the total and a small tip. When Rev saw the one glimmer cube of a tip he smirked and snorted, getting up and chasing after the Titan.

"So. What's your input on the which class is more superior?" He asked shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. Richa sighed linking her arm into his and ran a hand through her hair and looked up at the sky. Well. What sky they could see that wasn't covered by the Traveler.

"I think it's stupid. We're Guardians. We're supposed to work together. Each class has its strengths and weaknesses. A Titan makes up what a Hunter and Warlock lack and vice versa. Guardians shouldn't fight over who's superior. It's ridiculous and childish."

Rev smiled at her as they made their way into an alley, where their ghosts transmatted them up to the Tower. Laughing, they walked down to the Hall of Guardians and to the Vanguard. Zavala looked up from his datapads at the two unarmored Guardians.

"Any reason you two are not in your armor, Guardians?" He asked watching as Richa walked over and took a datapad from his outstretched hand.

"Mmm. Date night?" Rev said standing by Cayde, arms held up and away from his body.

"Don't you and Risha go on dates?" Richa teased him earning a small glare from her mentor. She grinned sheepishly looking over the report. "Do you think Rev's up for this, Commander?"

"I believe he is. What better way to learn than from you and Zorlee?" he said patting her shoulder. Something happened between the two Titans once Zavala started dating Risha. He was still hard on her, but he became a fatherly figure to the young Titan. She leaned back slightly grinning handing the datapad back to Zavala.

"Amon, get ahold of Aku Aku. Have him and Zor meet us at the Ishtar Sink. Come on Rev." She said walking around and grabbing Rev's arm, dragging him from his conversation with Cayde.

"Noooo!!!" he whined playfully. The Vanguard all laughed watching the two disappear. _____________

Well this isn't how the meetings went in real life. My Snowberry played Destiny a lot more than me but I thought this would be cute ^_^

[bruiser52training]

IronRelationship: It all starts and ends with Patience

One thing I am finding is my run workouts (especially the weekly long runs) are a time where I become really introspective.  I don’t know what makes them different from my bike workouts, but I tend to have more internal conversations during my runs.  Today’s workout held true to that trend.  The only difference was today’s workout was a bike/run brick session (this is where I will get on the bike for part of the workout and then quickly transition to a run workout).  The purpose of this type of workout is to train the body to make the adjustment from riding a bike (mostly for long periods of time) and try to get your legs under you in order to run (also for mostly long periods of time).  As a triathlete, this transition is crucial to the success or failure of the last leg of a triathlon, the dreaded run. Sometimes, it is easy to go out too hard after this transition is made and you end up running a pace you cannot sustain throughout the entire run.  This is something I have been trying to work on and understand.  I realized the benefits of an approach where I purposefully run at a slower pace during the first mile of the run in my Olympic triathlon earlier this season (see my blog on “Redemption at the Lake: 2018 White Lake Olympic Triathlon).  After that first mile, my legs are under me and I lock in my run form so I can start to increase pace (or at least attempt to increase pace).  This strategy requires one thing: patience.  

The concept of patience in athletics is something I never even considered but it plays a vital role in triathlon.  You can’t simply go out and ride the bike like you have nothing to do after the bike leg of a race.  You have to be patient throughout the entire bike leg of a race in order to have the legs necessary to execute the run.  You also can’t go with the mindset of finishing the bike strong.  If you go with that approach, you will start the run in a weakened state.  Consistency is what is important and is a necessary condition for patience.  Patience also plays a role in my non-athletic life as well and I am horrible at it in both areas of my life.  Really there is one area of my life where I struggle with patience the most and that is with matters of the heart.  I don’t know why that is but it has been an issue for me throughout my life.  Now I am at a time and place in my life where I am tired of making all of the same mistakes and walking down the same path, which has led me places I don’t want to be ever again.  I have to keep reminding myself of Romans 8: 24-25:

“For in this hope we were saved.  But hope that is seen is no hope at all.  Who hopes for what they already have?  But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”

Over the past several months, I have been operating on the belief God will restore my marriage.  I have felt very strongly about this and have really stepped out in faith on things that made absolutely no sense at all (to me or anyone else for that matter).  I even went so far as to start wearing my wedding ring as a step of faith He was going to intercede in the situation.  I can’t tell you the pain I would feel looking down at that ring and seeing my failure on a daily basis.  Many have told me I am crazy to want her back and why am I continuing to hold onto a relationship that is obviously broken, damaged, and unhealthy from the start.  They would say I should move on because there is someone better out there.  It was difficult to hear my friends tell me I should give up.  I think this is a problem in our society today.  The idea this is too hard, it should be easier, and there is someone better out there is what hinders our patience in relationships.  Once you start to lose patience in the relationship, resentment starts to seep in.  You no longer do things for the other person because you love them.  You do things to earn “points” to be cashed in at a later date.  You are no longer willing to give grace gracefully and forgiveness for mistakes made or things said out of emotion.  Since when did relationships turn into a checkbook registry with deposits and withdraws? Maybe this is why in 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8 it starts with “Love is patient”.  I don’t hold it against any of my friends for their suggestion to move on because I know they did it out of concern and love for me.  But at the end of the day, I had to be able to look in the mirror and be comfortable with the man looking back at me.  I just wasn’t there yet.  I wasn’t ready to say “I have done all I can do and there is nothing left to do or try”.  In times of frustration, I would take off my ring just to turn around and put it back on because the conviction I felt by taking it off was worse than the pain of looking at the ring and seeing my failure and frustration with the situation.

Over the past few weeks, I have done a lot of thinking and praying (those long runs are prime time for activities such as that).  Am I the same person I was just a few short months ago?  Absolutely not, so the man she used to know no longer exists.  We haven’t spoken since mid-April (her choice) so there has been no attempt on her part to even think about reconciling.  I believe all of us are designed for a purpose. It is ultimately up to you on who you listen to when it comes to figuring out what your purpose is and why you were designed the way you were.  When it comes to relationships, our design plays a vital part in the success (or failure) of the relationship just like how patience plays a role in the success or failure of the run portion of a triathlon.  I started to think maybe she wasn’t designed to give what I needed in order for our marriage to be successful.  It would have been nice to know that ahead of time.  But then again, maybe I did know but failed to listen and let my impatience take over and rush me into a situation that wasn’t right (for me or for her).

Now I find my heart being pulled in a different direction.  I constantly ask myself “God, why did I feel so strongly you would reconcile my marriage yet here I am trying to figure out these new thoughts and feelings? How can I be certain I am right now when I was wrong before?”  Maybe the answer to that question isn’t why God didn’t reconcile it (or didn’t do it in the timeframe I would have liked), or maybe it wasn’t the case I was wrong or misunderstood what I felt God was putting on my heart.  Maybe the answer is He wanted to reconcile the marriage, but He doesn’t make us do something we don’t want to do.  He can put things in our heart as guidance just like a parent guides a child, but ultimately it is up to us to listen and obey.  We have that choice.  That is why it is so important to keep your heart soft and open in order to be in tune with what He is trying to do in your life.  Letting anger seep into your heart will harden it and a hard heart is not an open one.  

Just like a parent, we aren’t going to guide our children down a path that will harm them.  Yes, they will experience pain and frustration with being guided.  Anyone with a teenager knows they know everything already and telling a teenager “no” is just our way of keeping them from having fun.  Children still want what they want and in the time they want it (there is that concept of patience again).  I call this the Netflix generation because we can’t even wait for commercials to be over for the show to resume.  I am just as guilty of this and we are no different from our children.  We still want God to act in a specific way and in a specific time frame.  Our problems arise when we become impatient with Him and do what we want because we feel He is taking too long and we don’t see progress towards what we want.  This means impatience robs us of our faith because Hebrews 11:1 (NIV) says:

“Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.”

You should not be under the assumption just because you do what you feel God is telling you to do, you will not experience pain.  You should also not be operating under the assumption being a Christian somehow makes your life easier and everything works out according to how you want them to work out.  In fact, life is more complicated and difficult because you don’t live a life that others see as “normal and rational”.  Therefore, some of the decisions and choices you make doesn’t make sense to others.  I have definitely learned that lesson over the past several months.  Pain is a valuable learning tool.  God uses that pain to draw us closer to Him and without pain we start to think we don’t really need Him at all.  

I believe I have been patient in this situation regarding my marriage.  It has been brutal but necessary.  Maybe He used this relationship (and its failure) as a wakeup call for me.  Without this pain, I would have never looked outside of myself and I believe He used it to draw me in so He can transform me into the man I need to be.  Unless I allow Him to transform me, I will continue to make the same mistakes I have always made.  This transformation will require work and as many of you know, I have never been afraid of hard work.  I may complain that it is “hard” but I still always seem to find a way to do what has to be done.  But you have to put in the work in order to reap the reward.  It’s not like I can line up at the starting line at Ironman Louisville in October and expect to finish without putting in the months and months of hard work to get me ready.  If I want God’s reward and blessing, I have to be willing to put in the work.  I believe I have some insight into what He has planned for me and trust me; the blessing is worth every minute of effort.

Within the last few weeks, I felt God release me from my failed marriage.  Regardless of what He wants (or me for that matter), she has the right to choose her path and that choice is between her and God.  I have done everything I could do and I have been obedient to what I feel God has asked me to do during this time.  Not only did the guilt and frustration from seeing that ring on my finger leave, I actually started to feel conviction for still wearing it.  She has made her choice clear and I find myself ok with her choice.  I know God has something better for me.  Now I find myself in a situation where I still need to be patient with God.  I need to learn how to put my desires, thoughts, and feelings on the side burner and rely on Him because He is guiding me down a path and I know my father would not lead me down a path that will hurt me.