#in fact are there any toxic i mean helpful mother figures that could teach me so i don't do it wrong?

[dreamyintersexouppy]

if it's only bad if it makes a baby or has a power imbalance it's morally ok to dombottom your mom if you let her pull out before she... before... hey are you gonna pull out....? ohh... uh oh.........

[sokkastyles]

I have, on a few separate occasions recently, seen the phrase "toxic boymom" used about Ursa, and aside from the fact that it's coming from the usual crowd of Azula apologists, I found it hard to articulate why I found that uncomfortable until I read more about the phrase, which seems to have originated on tiktok.

Oh, I could already pretty much guess what these "toxic boymoms" were like, and I'm not contesting that it's toxic (and sometimes abusive) parenting.

But there's also a certain undercurrent of misogyny present that actually hits the nail on the head with why I don't like seeing the term applied to Ursa.

I mean, aside from the fact that Ursa is nothing like these moms that openly admit to loving their sons more than their daughters (the claim that Ursa favored Zuko and neglected Azula can't be supported by the actual show), a lot of the critiques tend to focus on why it's toxic for the wrong reasons, and this is hardly surprising considering how much pressure society puts on mothers.

I saw, in particular, the claim that the reason this kind of parenting is toxic is because "he won't be emotionally mature enough to support his mother when he's older."

It makes me think of the term "momma's boy," and how there's often an insulting connotation there. The idea that a boy who is too close to his mother won't be able to grow into a "man" the way society says a man should be.

Of course, the goal of every parent should be to raise children that are emotionally mature enough to be their own person. I'm not arguing that there aren't parents who treat their children in ways that are genuinely toxic and even abusive by being too emotionally enmeshed, but I do have to question this toxic boymom thing when the focus seems to be on gender expectations. Especially when I see it applied to Ursa, whose only real crime was to try to protect Zuko from abuse as much as she could, to emotionally shield him in ways that he deserved to be shielded, and to teach him to be kind.

There's a certain undercurrent here that seeks to pathologize Zuko's emotional vulnerability as a child, to make it something wrong or some harm done to him by his mother. especially when contrasted with the gendered expectations of his militaristic nation and violent father. And combined with the fact that the abuse Zuko experienced from his father and sister centered around him being seen as weaker, it comes across as blaming Ursa for Zuko's abuse for "making him that way," for not teaching him how to be a real man (Ozai makes it pretty clear how he thinks Zuko should be raised when he says "suffering will be your teacher"), or for being too involved (see also Ozai using Zuko's attachment to his mother against him in DOBS because he knows it's something he can use to hurt him).

In any case, Zuko's story actually does a really interesting thing with the way his mom influenced him by having him take his heroic inspiration from his mom in a way usually reserved for dads in stories, when they aren't hyperviolent abusers like Ozai. It does this in a couple of ways, by having Ursa be Zuko's inspiration for "not giving up even when it's hard," and also helping him to remember who he is. Two things that Zuko does grapple with before really figuring them out. In the beginning, his tendency to not give up led him to get into some pretty dangerous situations and made him self-destructive, and when he remembered who he was in the Earth Kingdom village, they were less than impressed with receiving help from a Fire Nation prince. But once he does figure it out, he takes those lessons and uses them to build a more positive sense of self.

In conclusion, Ursa isn't a toxic boymom.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

The shifting narrative of God’s interventism and how it reflects on the narrative on John

This post will ignore the issue authorial intent entirely because I can, but it’s also about authorial intent in a way, but I also don’t like to talk about things as happening “accidentally” because a) a serialized story like Supernatural, especially one that got renewed for much longer than anyone could possibly expect or hope in their wildest ambitions, structurally relies on serendipity, because that’s how stories work when they’re work in progress, b) a television show is an extremely multi-authored text and the chance that something happens out of the intent of any of the multiple layers of creators is kind of... statistically negligible. So, yeah, that’s my stance on the topic. Anyway.

The shifting narrative about God is simultaneously something that hangs on fortunate storytelling clicks on an essentially programmed narrative. At first, we don’t know where the fuck God is. Cas starts looking for him with little success. Raphael says he’s dead, Cas doesn’t believe it. Dean relates to his struggle because he knows the feeling of not knowing where the fuck your father is and going looking for him with little success, not knowing if he’s even alive. Then the theory that gets assumed as the truth is that God has left. He fucked off who knows where, who knows why, leaving his creation to struggle alone. Also essentially how Dean had felt after John had died; in that case there was guilt for his demon deal and everything, but the most cruel weight on Dean’s shoulder was that John left him alone to struggle with his devastatingly horrific instructions he doesn’t understand. The angels are also left with horrific instructions they don’t understand. No wonder Cas does his own ‘demon deal’ in season 6, as he desperately tries to do what he assumes his father wants from him, but he doesn’t actually know what that is.

“God has left” is maddening, and everyone is angry about it, but it has its own dignity. God has left us without clear instructions, we are confused and in pain and evil runs amock but at least, we suppose, the evil of it is our own doing. We are alone and we do our best, our best is simply not enough. We wish he gave us guidance, but he won’t. He wants us to figure it out ourselves, possibly. We don’t actually know what he wants. But maybe that’s the point. It’s possible he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he just has left the building entirely.

But then Chuck reveals himself. We find out that he never actually left. He was there. “I like front row seats. You know, I figured I’d hide out in plain sight”. He simply chooses not to intervene. He chooses not to answer. He chooses to be hands-off. He presents himself as a laissez-faire parent, because, he says, it’s better for his children to have the responsibility they need to grow up. He’s absent, but in a different way than we thought! It’s not that he doesn’t know what’s happening or isn’t interested in knowing what’s happening. He’s here, he knows what’s happening, he just stays there and watches as you stumble and struggle and scream. It’s worse, and it pains Dean so much he isn’t even afraid to yell at God. You know we’re suffering and you just don’t give us any support, any comfort.

You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on, real hands-on, for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created... would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. It’s enabling.

But it didn’t get better.

Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.

Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.

I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

At that point of the show, the writing team almost certainly didn’t have the s14-15 twist in mind. So this was probably intended to be Chuck’s truth. Later it gets twisted (retconned?) into a lie, but about that later.

Here, Chuck is really good at manipulating the conversation. Dean has a perfectly valid point, because there IS a middle ground between being overinvolved and not being involved at all. There is a middle ground between enabling your children and abandoning them completely. But Chuck hits Dean where it hurts, plays the emotional card, basically tells him that he’s too emotional to understand, too emotional to think rationally about it, because he mixes his feelings about his father to the issue and thus cannot see it clearly. He basically tells him he’s too close to it to get it. You don’t understand parenting, Dean, because you’re too blinded by your emotions about your own little life and cannot see the big picture.

It doesn’t really matter here if he’s telling the truth or lying, it already says a lot about Chuck that he’s emotionally manipulating Dean, silencing him by hitting the painful spot.

But the thing is, 11.20 immediately presents Chuck as a liar. He makes Metatron read his autobiography and the very first line is a lie (“In the beginning, there was me. Boom – detail. And what a grabber. I mean, I’m hooked, and I was there.” “I’m hooked too, and yet... details. You weren’t alone in the beginning. Your sister was with you.”) and the stuff he talks about his experience as Chuck is not exactly truthful about anything (“That, you know, makes you seem like a really grounded, likable person.” “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” “You are neither grounded nor a person!”). Metatron calls him out (“Okay. There are two types of memoir. One is honest... the other, not so much. Truth and fairy tale. Now, do you want to write Life by Keith Richards? Or do you want to write Wouldn’t It Be Nice by Brian Wilson?”). Chuck SAYS he chooses truth and gives Metatron a different manuscript, supposedly containing the truth, to which Metatron reacts positively. Metatron believes it, and we believe it with him.

Oh! Oh, this! This is what I was talking about. Chapter Ten “Why I Never Answer Prayers, and You Should Be Glad I Don’t”, and Chapter Eleven “The Truth About Divine Intervention and Why I Avoid It At All Costs”.

Nature? Divine. Human nature – toxic.

They do like blowing stuff up.

Yeah. And the worst part – they do it in my name. And then they come crying to me, asking me to forgive, to fix things. Never taking any responsibility.

What about your responsibility?

I took responsibility... by leaving. At a certain point, training wheels got to come off. No one likes a helicopter parent.

This is sort of what he later says to Dean, except that to Dean he talks about “beautiful creatures” “my baby”, talks about helping, none of the harsh tone he’s using here. When Metatron accuses him of hiding from Amara, he retorts “I am not hiding. I am just done watching my experiments’ failures”. What a different language, uh? Then Metatron asks him why he abandoned them, and Chuck answers “Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me”. Then, he admits he lied about “learning” to play the guitar and so on, because he just gave himself the ability, and then appears to Dean and Sam, after Metatron’s passionate speech about humanity.

So, no matter the authorial intent at the time - the truthiness of Chuck’s words was already ambiguous. He kept lying and being called out, or silencing the conversation with some good ol’ gaslighting.

The season 14 finale introduces the big twist: it was, indeed, all a lie. The whole of it. Chuck didn’t abandon shit. It was all him, minutely controlling the narrative of the universe, putting the characters through all the pain and struggles for his own amusement.

The “absent father” narrative was a lie.

What does this tell us about John? Nothing, according to the authorial intent that shines through Dabb’s Lebanon. But we don’t give a crap about Dabb’s authorial intent about John! He’s just one dude and plenty of other authors have painted a different picture. So I’m going to read the narrative the way I want, because I can, and the narrative allows me to. It’s all there.

I’m suggesting that the fact that Chuck lied when he talked about being a hands-off/absentee father parallels how Dean and Sam prefer to think of their father as an “absent father” when that’s not exactly a reflection of the truth.

You left us. Alone. ‘Cause Dad was just a shell. [...] And I-I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe.

Setting aside how “I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” sort of retcons and cleans up the Winchester family picture painted by ealier seasons, the fact that John didn’t really count as a functional father figure and Dean and Sam were essentually alone is not incorrect or anything. It is true that John would leave them to their own devices a lot, thus the long stays in motels, the hunger, the food-stealing, and all. But John wasn’t always absent, at all. He trained them as soldiers, he disciplined them, he was around enough for them to be intimately familiar with what happened when he drank. He drove them around.

It’s almost like it’s preferable to Dean and Sam to spin their own “absent father” narrative, putting the accent on the time they spent alone, painting their childhood as a time they had to grow up on their own, rather than acknowledge they grew up under the thumb of a controlling, looming figure they would regularly live in fear of, even when he was not physically present.

The “absent father” narrative is what Dean and Sam need to use to avoid confronting the reality of the father figure whose moods and whims they had to dance around. “I know things got dicey... you know, with Dad... the way he was. And I just... I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should have. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, probably looked like I took his side quite a bit.”

John shaped their lives. He shaped their identities. Even in the episodes where he abandons Dean or both children somewhere, he’s portrayed as the figure who drives the car. He symbolically drives the car, you know? John shaped Dean and Sam’s relationship with each other, both on a surface level (the conflicts) and on a deeper level (the parental dynamic).

Heck. The entire first season of the show plays on John’s disappearance as the “elephant in the room”. John is there by not being there, you know? And after he dies, his death - his absence - is again the elephant in the room for Dean, the weight on his psyche that he shatters under.

It is not wrong that Dean and Sam had to spend long periods of time without John. But John structured their lives in quite minute detail. Where they needed to be, what they needed to do, what they must not do, everything had to follow John’s instructions. A drill sergeant, the narrative called him, ordering how his sons needed to live their lives. That’s no absence, except on a level where Chuck not showing himself and pretending he’s not there can be considered absent. That’s a presence, not necessarily always physical, but semiotical and psychological.

John is an absent father as much as Chuck is a hands-off god. He even writes himself into the story around the time Cas has the “season 1” phase (let’s go look for dad/let’s go look for god), which is when John actually was alive and appeared. Then he was no longer physically there, but he was still shaping his characters’ lives, just like he’d always done.

The “absent father” narrative on John is that - a narrative. Spun by the characters themselves because it’s easier and actually kinder on John. Or, better, it allows them not to be crushed by the psychological implications of having to accept that their father was such a looming, minutely formative figure in their lives. They know, but they can wave the “absent father” idea around to avoid thinking about it.

“I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” is something easier to tell yourself. I was the one who did it all. But he wasn’t, and that’s the problem. The fact that John was their father - Dean’s and Sam’s - is the problem. But ironically, blaming himself for every failure is a better option for Dean than fully acknowledging John’s abuse. As long as he blames himself, he has control over it. The moment he acknowledges the extent of John’s influence, he loses control over the entire narrative of his own identity and the family identity, the family dynamics. That’s scarier, just like realizing that God manipulated everything is much scarier than the alternative. “God abandoned us” was indeed a better option, and “John left us alone” was a better option. But neither was true, and the characters faced the implications of the cosmic level, but never got to face the implication of the familial level, because the narrative always danced around it and then Dabb’s apologist version “won”.

But what’s been put in the show is still there. The narrative of John’s abuse is still there. Nothing can take it out of the story.

[blacksunscorpio]

Hi, hope you’re well! I was wondering about the hidden enemies aspect of the twelfth house. Does hidden mean the types of people (people with influence of the sign in your 12h) you are unaware are antagonizing you or is it that those characteristics in someone throw you off but you can’t really put your finger on why? Can these people believe that they are helping you but really they’re holding you back in some way? Can the hidden aspect go both ways? Why does 12h synestry have this effect? I have cancer on the 12h cusp and I’ve never really been able to develop any meaningful relationships with any (cancers) that I’ve met though I’ve been trying to emulate characteristics of this sign (12h as repressed tendencies). Note: I unfortunately have no water placements to help me out what so ever lol. Thanks for your help, your blog is absolute gold ✨✨✨

12th House and Hidden Enemies

Since the 12th house is ruled by Neptune, this is the place in our chart where things can be difficult to ascertain. Things are murky and veiled here. Not only can you be unaware of where people are causing trouble for you but there can also be a weird “vibe” that something is not right with something or someone but one may not be readily able to make it out. In the natal chart, synastry, or composite this can display itself as mentioned above. Things can get triggered here in ways you are not altogether comfortable with. And of course, because like the 8th house, things can be deeply buried or repressed. For more insight lets look further:

Aries/Mars in the 12th

Hidden or unconscious foes can often attack a native’s go sense of self. This is because Aries/Mars rules the 1st house of self. “I AM”. Often a native with this placement may wind up feeling victimized without being able to put their finger on the source if said feeling. An astrologer/native will want to observe one’s Mars placement and the contacts it is making to other planets in the natal horoscope or in synastry/composite [Mid-point or Davison]. Ex: Mars in the 1st can indicate conflict to the self. Mars in the 7th can indicate complexity with enemies being close relationships. One can have issues with authority figures or those in leadership. Hidden enemies can be competitors or they may feel anyone who triggers these planets is a rival they need to “beat”. People who trigger “lust” or “Sexual urges” in a native may be perceived as a nemesis. In addition, rivals/enemies might display aggression, antagonism, self-serving habits, and impulsivity. Watch out for those who display toxicity in the form of domination or those who overall try to silence or step on your drive. These people can be ruthless, cruel, “bullies” or simply those who charge in a shoot first/ask questions later. 

Taurus/Venus in the 12th 

Enemies are involved with 2nd house realm of “possessions”. Things we get territorial over. This includes finances and things we appreciate. Enemies may accuse the native of stealing/taking something precious from them. Things they value. Be on guard for those who encourage over-indulgence, general excess, and materialism. Someone who once wore the mask of a friend may turn foe due to being envious of the things a native owns. The things a native has or their wealth. Venusian placements can indicate the type of relationship a native has with their enemy. Ex: Venus in the 4th may indicate secretly toxic family members. Venus in the 11th= friends or those in their general social network. Venus in the 5th, casual lovers, etc. Fixed tendencies or feelings can exist in the underlying relationship between secret enemies. Be on the lookout for undoing in the physical/material realm. This includes thievery, hoarding, over-spending, or living beyond practical means.  Undoing can come from going after comfort and security in toxic or co-dependent ways. Lovers or those who provide wealth and security may become enemies by withholding it from a native or trying to gain control over it behind the native’s back.

Gemini/Mercury in the 12th 

Secret enemies can come in many forms. Generally, this will be in the realm of communication, ideals, or intellect. The interactions may be formidable and stem from communicative interactions or opposing views. A  secret enemy will often challenge the native’s wits or will simply strive to appear more intelligent than them. Superficiality, fakeness, disingenuousness, and two-faced behavior are common threads. Undoing can display itself as blockages to learning, gaining insights, and general discouragement of focus that can make the native grow. An enemy will, in layman’s terms, try to make you look stupid. Insult your mind. Make you lose focus. Mercury aspects and placements can reveal more. Ex: Mercury in the 11th can indicate surface level bonds with peers and communication that is not honest. Friends may lie. Mercury in the 9th possibly indicating enemies who may try to manipulate beliefs or manipulation in regard to teaching and religion. Secret enemies will reveal themselves in their communication methods with the natives. Through dialogue. Enemies here can use sarcasm, cowardly subs, insults veiled through “back-handed compliments”, passive aggression, insult you subliminally so you don’t realize you were attacked or insulted until after-the-fact. Slander, libel, or general shit talking. Think of Regina George:  “OMG I love your skirt!” only to turn around and say “That is the fugliest effing skirt I’ve ever seen”.  with the 3rd house involved, siblings and extended family could be culprits or part of the problem.  A toxic person may try to attack your intellectual confidence. Unethical approaches involved with words and general attacks of the mind. These people may intentionally cause confusion or gaslighting. Watch out for people you perceive to be liars. Therein lies the foe.

Cancer/Moon in the 12th

Veiled Nemesis’ are often difficult to feel. Things will be subtle. Their tactics or vibes will often display themselves in the form of manipulation, passive aggression, or a general “toying with the feelings”. Since the moon/Cancer often represents the “mother”, toxicity from a parent or child may be an issue or the culprit. A native will often feel their sense of security or safety being “attacked”. Enemies will attach their healing methods and/or emotional confidence. The placement of the Moon can indicate where emotional damage typically goes on. Ex: Moon in the 10th can indicate attacks to the public person or prestige or even the career. Coddling, not being able to let go, clinginess and overprotection are general themes. Perhaps a parent or guardian, lover, or close friend is incessantly over-protective that it causes a stunt to general emotional and mental growth. Again, it may be hard to see since it is the moon that can be a mysterious place as is the 12th house. The channel that one discovers said enemy will typically be through intuition and even dreams. Remember, through said over-protection and general fear of letting go can lead to the native’s undoing. We often see the toxic side of femininity with this placement. Mom, Grandma, sister, great grandmother, etc can be involved in the problem here. Child-abuse, using the child as a pawn during custody battles, emotional manipulation in order to get what the enemy wants can be what causes the nemesis theme. A hidden enemy may cloak themselves as “just wanting the best for you” or “I do it because I love you and care.” The enemy may not be able to let go.

Leo/Sun in the 12th

Foes will strive to exert their and dominance over a native. This will display itself as the spirit of competitiveness, bullying, domination, bossiness, arrogance, etc. Think leonine traits at their worst. Leo in the 12th will do this behind the scenes with power plays. How they can lord things over a native. The father could be a culprit in this or the father could be part of the issue. Daddy issue [regardless of sex]. Internalized misogyny. The Sun’s placement can reveal more. Sun in the 3rd will try to influence the mind or dominate the intellect. Sun in the 6th indicates a coworker or boss or one may feel/be overshadowed at work. The battle will always be involved with the core ego or one’s sense of self. A hidden enemy will try to greatly influence this person in this realm. A hidden nemesis will try to act like the dominant parental figure or act as if they are giving good sage-like guidance or person. They will try to act like the authority figure. This person will drain the native’s energy stores. The definition of an energy vampire. Why? because even as humans, we get our energy from the Sun. We are heliocentric. One can often feel drained energetically after dealing with such an individual. This will reveal to you “who” the enemy is. In addition, we can see more themes of toxic masculinity here just like Mars in the 12th. Moreover, the enemy may not be another person but the own native’s hubris. They need to take care not to allow their ego to run roughshod over them. Pride comes before the fall.

Virgo/Mercury in the 12th 

Secret enemies with this placement will often reveal themselves by criticism. More specifically, criticism about things a native is very insecure about. The critiquing will be neither healthy nor remotely helpful. It will scar instead fo heal. Hidden foes will wear the mask of the “caretaker” or “healer”.  Their behavior will simply be a means to an end. The native will often find themselves internalizing the criticism which is exactly what their enemy wants. The words the foe spouts will be sort of like Simon Cowell’s analytical stance. Harsh but not in a way that builds. One may often find the enemy saying things like “that’s just my opinion.” they will veil it under the mask of “honesty” when in reality it is just shit-talking for shit-talking’s sake. These people don’t really care, they just like to take people down a peg. Be on the lookout for those who display “Munchhausen by proxy syndrome” towards you. The caregiver who secretly injures by tries to gaslight and cover it up under the guise of “love”.

Libra/Venus in the 12th 

Like Taurus in the 12th, similar issues will display themselves through relationships. The ones closest to us. Your hidden foes may hide under the mask of “friend”. They are nearer than you are probably comfortable with. Look for those who are near and dear. Now, will all your teammates, family ties or friends be enemies? No. But you’ll want to be careful who you let into your circle with said placement. Best friends turn to enemies. The ones who hate on you when something good happens. The friends who link with you through trauma bonds but when you successfully break that tie, they are angry at every “win” you have. These people will be the ones who don’t clap when you win. The people who say they are “there for you” but stab you in the back.  They’ll secretly compete with you. Those who thrive and gloat when you are down and out. Enemies in this house will threaten your harmony and balance somehow. They will not respond well to diplomacy or will mask their ill-intent through the mask of “sweetness” and “Friendliness”. You’ll feel a shallow vibe from them. They’ll say one thing but their energy screams something else. Friends who are fair weather. Those who take advantage of a native’s attachment, or infatuation. A lover who ghosts or tries to make you co-dependent on them. An enemy or toxic person may actually lust or secretly desire you but manipulate you into thinking you are the one obsessed with them. There will be subtle mind games. They will enjoy toying with you. Delayed gratification or just manipulation. Think 5 of swords and 3 of cups paired.

Scorpio/Pluto in the 12th 

Paranoia resides here. Hidden foes will be quite underhanded and manipulative. Secrecy is seriously involved. People with this placement live by the mantra “expect anything from anyone, the devil was once an angel”. Betrayal, possessiveness, control and power themes, vengeance, and guilt are involved with enemies. Anyone who triggers these themes recurringly may be individuals to keep your distance from. People who trigger self-destructive tendencies are enemies to look out for. Moreover, a native can feel like they are their own worst enemy. Remember, a Scorpion is prone to stinging themselves. Enemies here are prone to trying to turn the native against themselves. This toxic behavior will be intentional. Toxicity will display itself through trauma bonds, possessiveness, gaslighting, manipulation, envy, or just general attempts at control and domination. Remember, the general theme here is “power and transformation.” Enemies are often those who boast a considerable amount of power [over the native or those who are powerful in general]. The danger in this placement? A native may feel a strong magnetic pull or obsessive fascination towards the enemy. This can appear in the natal, synastry, or composite chart. Watch out for the lover who seems to have a hold on you but you don’t know how or can’t seem to break it. They know what they're doing *sucks teeth*. Secret enemies desire to manipulate you or play the ventriloquist. Their goal is to see you be your own downfall. They’ll wade in the shadows, pouring gasoline on the fire of the flames of your self-destruction. Watch out for those who smirk while you’re going through a hard time. Or those who encourage you to do things you inwardly know aren’t good for you. Be on the look out for power-hungry individuals. Those who NEED to be worshipped. The types to lead “cult-like” followings and draw you in. This can often be displayed through seduction.

Sagittarius/Jupiter in the 12th

Hidden enemies/foes will be very fanatical and zealous. Enemies here lie in the realm of philosophies, teaching, higher learning, or religious beliefs. These enemies will be toxic gamblers. People who enable you or encourage self-indulgence, promiscuity, and general recklessness. They won’t ever warn you or ask you to heed caution. Ever. They’ll mislead you, tell you half-truths, or cherry-pick facts and figures to suit their own needs. They’ll make you think you’re getting the full picture but you won’t be. They’ll teach harmful beliefs, things that destroy faith in what is tangible or real. Make shit up to suit their own propaganda. It’s very similar to Neptune since both Jupiter and Neptune rule the spiritual. What they teach you may make you feel bogged down. They’ll use beliefs and doctrine to control. Their passion and zeal may make you feel as if what they are spouting is the end-all-be-all but it tends to be the opposite. Gloating and one-upmanship are themes as well. These hidden enemies will reveal themselves by questioning your beliefs or forcing you to believe theirs or causing dramatic scenes when you don’t conform or question theirs.  The nemesis might be a professor, guru, preacher, priest/priestess, or political leader. They’ll be exaggerators, quite preachy, and cloak their arrogance under another mask. Often it will be “confidence” but ultimately it’s bravado or self-absorption. They’ll be charismatic, yes, but they’ll attack your aspirations, idealism, talents, and dreams or simply try to tell you they’re not there or tell you you don’t really know yourself- they do. They’ll tell you they “know you better than you know yourself”.  Again the theme is “beliefs”. They will dissuade you from forming any thought process that doesn’t align with their own. They won’t encourage you to learn for yourself, cross reference, cite your own sources, or guide you to thinking for yourself. It will always have to be in the confines of what THEY believe for it to be seen as “appropriate”.

Capricorn/Saturn in the 12th

Hidden enemies or foes will often be a threat to growth. They’ll be restrictive. Threaten a native’s ambitions, reputation, prestige, groundedness/security. They may present themselves or even be authority figures. Power games are seen here. Guilt, repression, feelings of guilt, and/or general suppression of self-expression and drive. These individuals will be calculated. Very chess-like. Wealth or the legacy of a native and their possessions will be threatened or at risk when one has this placement. The enemy will display an austere persona. Could even be the father, grandfather, great grandfather, etc. Masculinity is involved here. Disappointment and criticism are extreme themes they’ll subject you to. This is how you’ll figure out who they are. They’ll be cold, want control, or be controlling. EXTREMELY negative. They’ll also be greedy or attempt to hold a native back from success, prosperity, or independence. Maturity will be inhibited. Opportunities thwarted. But they’ll mask it all under “wanting the best for you.”  The enemy could even be an individual's lack of exploration or their own self-repression. They could cause themselves to be too hard on themselves which could lead them into self-imposed depression. They must learn to be free. LIVE.

Aquarius/Uranus in the 12th

Hidden foes and/or enemies can be erratic. They’ll operate in a very unpredictable manner.  Their behavior will be exciting so it may be hard to recognize it at first. They may appear out of the blue. The nemesis might attack a native’s individuality and freedom. They may cause chaos and disruptions in your life. The enemy may not respect your individuality or differences and/or freedom. They’ll disapprove of the unique way of life your lead. [Look at Saturn as well as Uranus]. Your freedom will always be a threat to theirs and vice versa. Look out for those who seem “out there” and who try to coax you into avant-garde ways of doing things. It may not always be in your best interest. You could wind up with sudden breaks, accidents, unpredictable events because of them. They may cause disruptions to your security or cause so much confusion they can cause severe damage to your psyche [Uranus can also rule intelligence and mental dealings]. They’ll be recognizable as the “rebels”. They may not always be the types to intentionally wish you harm but may lead you to it. They’ll be, eccentrics, or anarchists and can lead you astray. Their agenda is to be agents of chaos. Think of the Joker from the Dark Knight. “Do I really look like a guy with a plan?” It will be hard to see. You may even be enthralled. Again this is the 12th house. Lots of instability here. The enemy could even be the individual's need for rebellion which can cause them to get themselves into trouble because they don’t see the threat or danger involved or they simply don’t care.

Pisces/Neptune in the 12th

Hidden foes may have may connections to karma. The feelings will be extremely felt through intuition and psychic insights. You’ll feel them but not really know where they’re coming from. Often there will be a “Nessus/Dejanira” theme going on. The victim and abuser. Often, the native will be the abused.  Strong Manipulation. The enemy will make you drink the “Kool-aid”. Their abuse often stems from their own hurt and trauma. They’ll claim they want to heal you or help you. Their “aid” will be cloaked under sympathy and love. Often it is an illusion. In reality, they’re wanting something. Being used can often be a theme. Themes of addiction or drug abuse can live here, too. Think of Bobby and Whitney or even Syd and Nancy. Enabling addictions are very prevalent. Now the enemy may not even be a person but addictions themselves can be the undoing or downfall. One with this placement must be careful in indulging in mind-altering substances. Alcoholism can be an issue as well. If it is an actual individual, the foe can play the martyr or cause you to sacrifice something precious to you. They can play off your insecurities or weakness and keep you emotionally dependent. They can toxic to your spirituality or try to influence your spirituality as well.

[skvaderarts]

Devil May Cry OC Week Day 4!

I’m actually really excited for @dmc-oc-week day for because it gives me the opportunity to talk about Sirrus without delving into spoilers! Yay loopholes!

This contains slight spoilers, but nothing super important. Just keep that in mind. it won’t effect anything, but if you want to go in totally blind, tread carefully.

Dislikes:

Note: if your wondering why I did dislikes first, it’s because that’s just how Sirrus is lol! He’s not a downer, but he likes to think of himself as a realist, but he’s slightly closer to being a pragmatic nihilist, and that lack of optimism lingers in his day to day life because he’s naturally going to have his guard up at all times. He can’t be disappointed if his expectations are nonexistent. Big mood, Sirrus.

1. His father. As previously mentioned, Sirrus is not on good terms with his father. At all. In fact, he’s actively waiting for his father’s hubris to catch up to him along with some of the enemies he’s made along the way so that he himself doesn’t have to confront him and possible end him because he knows he has it coming, but he doesn’t have it in him to do it himself. He’s probably powerful enough, but he just doesn’t have the heart. Despite everything, he’s still got a small ounce of compassion in his heart towards his father that he can’t let go of, something that he loathes about himself. It’s pretty unhealthy.

2. People that abuse power, authority, or social standing. This is actually a large issue in his own immediate family, and that’s part of why his dislike for it is so powerful. He genuinely believes that you should positively contribute to the lives of others if you have the means to, and if nothing else, that you should not detract from them. As a result, he’s developed a dislike of a large portion of people in power because, I mean, fair enough. But his family does not escape this designation, and that’s a large part of why he does what he does. Not because he believes he has superior judgement or standing over others, but because he cannot solve a problem that he does not understand. So as a result, he has to go out into the field and learn from those his work effects. Assuming that he knows what’s best for everyone while simultaneously never having met those people is literally what he hates most about most people in positions of power, and he strives to not do the same. Being powerful doesn’t mean that your smart, and he knows that first hand. I feel like Sirrus would be into the “eat the rich” thing if it was a thing in the DMC universe. Very into it.

3. His mother. I feel like this one may come as a bit of a surprise to some of you who know more about him from the fic since he’s literally only mentioned her once, and doesn’t speak of her in any broad sense, but Sirrus isn’t on the best of terms with his mother, either. He doesn’t harbor any negativity towards them for splitting up when he was young. In fact, he considers it the best thing that either of them has probably ever done. But he has his reasons for not being on good terms with him mom. Day 6 will cover family and background, so I’ll get to go in depth on that day! For now, lets just put it under the broad but totally accurate category of “extremely toxic and codependent relationship” and go from there. Maybe I’ll make a family tree you you can see how messed up everything is! Yea, that would be fun! Would you like to see that?

4. Extreme heat and sun. In truth, while he does in fact become more powerful in bright sunlight, he still hates it. Why? Simple. It gives him migraines due to one of his existing (but not yet disclosed) abilities. And he just hates to be hot. He’s on the pale side (Ok, he almost makes V look like he has a tan.) so he gets sun burned. And because he’s used to a cooler climate, hot places drive him NUTS. I suppose you could say that “Discomfort” is a dislike of his, too.

5. Desk work. This one probably seems pretty random, but as an adjudicator, he actually has to occasionally file reports, and he ABSOLUTELY HATES EVERY SECOND OF IT. He’s good at what he does, no question there, but it’s kind of like being good at sending corporate emails when you hate the fake corporate politeness that you have to maintain, and you basically despise half of the company you work for. Why does he keep the job? Simple. Because no one can abuse the power of the position he’s in if he does it himself. And for him, that’s worth hating a large aspect of his job,

Likes:

1. V. Yup you read that right. Sirrus absolutely adores V, something that he himself is not used to. At this point, he’s not entirely sure what he feels towards him since they haven’t known one another for very long, but he does realize that he means quite a bit to him. After V saved his life in the fic, he really started to pay more attention to him. Before, they were friendly and he had to admit that he actually did find both V and Nero (and Nico, for that matter) really cute, but that was about it. And then as they started spending more time around one another, Sirrus realized that perhaps he liked being around V for a reason. He’s still working on understanding what he feels, but with everything going on in the fic, for now he’s just there to help and figure out what’s going on so that everything turns out alright. Then he can worry about everything else. But for now, he’s just working it out as he goes and trying to distract V from everything going on in the fic. He realizes that he’s got a lot going on, and he genuinely just wants him to be happy for a few damn minuets.

2. Being around equally strange people. Sirrus feels like an outcast most of the time, so as a general rule, he tries to associate with people as little as possible. That being said, the DMC crew makes him feel right at home, and the supreme otherness that he feels much of the time dissipates when he’s with them. It’s a welcome feeling to be sure.

3. Wine. Sirrus actually enjoys wine quite a bit! It’s something he likes the taste of, and due to his biological inability to drink, it’s something he can basically enjoy without consequence. That being said, his favorite wine is absolutely disgusting to basically everyone who’s ever tasted it (aside form V, much to his surprise) and that may be because of a certain added ingredient that was put into it for flavor. What can I say, he has unorthodox tastes!

4. Cooking good food. Sirrus doesn’t actually need to eat, but he does like to entertain those around him. If he likes you, he will cook for you. It’s that simple. It’s something from his own culture that’s been instilled in him; the idea of taking care of those that show kindness to you. And believe me, that doesn’t happen to him very often. He’s largely ostracized in most social interactions despite the fact that he says and does nothing to cause this. Its a key reason as to why he doesn't talk about what he is. It makes people... uncomfortable. And to add to that, he has a sort of aura to him that unnerves people. The way he tends to look at people at though he’s looking through them instead of at them doesn’t help.

5. Fine arts. Something that doesn’t come up much in the books is that Sirrus has hobbies. And a love for the fine arts. All of them. The more unorthodox, the better. Sirrus is that person who is dead inside and will stare at a piece of artwork for ridiculous amounts of time, pondering it’s meaning. Not in a pretensions way, but in a “what the hell am I doing with my life” sort of way. He’s a walking essential crisis, but he’s nothing if not self aware. But in regards to the arts, if it’s a form of expression, then he’s all for it. And he will probably ask you to teach it to him or become a financial patron to your work. He thinks that art and the people that make it are under appreciated, and the idea of art dying out genuinely scares him to death. He doesn’t think a world without art is worth living in. As an extension to this, he loves history. He considered much of it distasteful, but he recognizes it’s importance.

Bonus: Sirrus likes to send extravagant gifts. This is partially due to the fact that he has a very large sum of money and nothing to spend it on. It’s a regular occurrence that you will mention liking something in passing and then end up having it sent to your house out of nowhere. Sirrus did this to V with basically an entire house of furniture, and V is still trying to process it. But this isn’t the only time he’s going to do something like that. Not by a long shot.

Let me know if you have any questions! I love answering them :D And if you have any input, I’ve love to hear that, too!

[ifbrd]

Not Sugar-Coated, ToBecky Critique from a ToBecky Shipper

Let’s talk about Tobecky and it’s toxicity! And for once, let’s not hold back! I think what I’m gonna do for this post is focus on the dynamic they have in the show, mostly criticizing my own misogyny but calling out the fandom in general as well, as I’ve seen other’s do these same things. Later I will reblog it on the Word Up blog and continue my thoughts on the ship and how it affected Word Up.

The first thing I will say is that I am a Tobecky shipper, ever since Tobey’s first shorts when it was revealed he had a crush on WordGirl. I started watching this show as a kid, I would have been 9 or 10 when it started airing on PBS. If I were to get into this show today, however, I don’t think I would be shipping tobecky, because as an adult I can recognize its toxicity which I didn’t have the proper knowledge or understanding to do back in the day. And I think the real reason I still ship today is purely nostalgic. Though I won’t deny that their dynamic is interesting and that likely affects my shipping brain too.

As a kid, I think I shipped it because, well it seemed inevitable. It seemed like the only endgame option. How many romcoms start with a girl liking one boy, only to realize later she should be with a different guy, usually an underdog the audience is supposed to root for. How many romance stories start with the two not liking each other, ranging anywhere from minor annoyances for each other to full-blown enemies, only to later understand it was all a guise to hide their true feelings. It seemed obvious that Becky/WordGirl would end up with not Scoops, whom she had a crush on, but instead Tobey, the underdog she always was fighting or arguing with. Factor in Tobey’s crush, my very underdeveloped ability to think critically, and the fact that the writers in early seasons seemed to really take the time to focus on the potential chemistry between these two (their interactions in “Department Store Tobey” and both of them having a good time together in “Have You Seen the Remote?” etc) and it seemed there was only one boy for Becky to logically end up with.

The first time I can recall really questioning this ship, I mean really questioning it, was sometime in probably my sophomore or freshman year? Maybe my junior year? I recall my health teacher teaching us about healthy vs unhealthy relationships. In this unit, I realized several of my favorite ships across various fandoms were unhealthy but that’s a whole other topic. At one point I remember him giving his two cents about the phrase “opposites attract” when being applied to romance. He said this can be true, but only if the two are “opposites” in personality, and not “opposites” in values. If a couple’s values, their morals, don’t align, they probably aren’t going to make it. And in all honesty, I think Tobey and Becky have the worst possible combination for this.

They have very similar personalities, and while this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it can make it easier for them to encourage their negative traits instead of helping them overcome them. The traits they both share like pridefulness, attention-seeking, and being a bit obsessive, have the potential to be the traits they bring out in each other. The best counter-argument for this is the fact that Becky is willing to and would call Tobey out for everything wrong or ridiculous he does, and try to help him. But that doesn’t matter if Tobey is not willing to listen to her when she calls him out, or accept her help when she offers it and he needs it. And it’s especially worthless if he’s not willing to help her back.

Meanwhile, the biggest weakness for this ship is their opposite values. Their morals couldn’t be more apart from each other. Get these two together for long periods of time and a morality war would easily ensue. And then combined with if their similar personalities do end up bringing the worst in each other, then any relationship they could have would be disastrous.

The worst issues with their pairing all go back to Tobey. I love Tobey as a character, don’t get me wrong, but we need to be honest, and please excuse the language--Tobey is a piece of shit! He is disrespectful to everyone around him, except his mother, and that’s only because he’s scared of her He thinks he’s better than everyone else and has no issues expressing that opinion, even going as far as to try to define words for WordGirl. He goes as far as to belittle her in “Tobey or Consequences” criticizing her word choice. He has been shown on multiple occasions to lose his mind when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants and will do anything to get it, without regard for others’ property, feelings or safety. He’s manipulative as seen in “Tobey Goes Good” and “Have You Seen the Remote.” He’s unwilling to take responsibility for his actions, as demonstrated when he attacks the candy factory for making candy because he got a cavity, instead of realizing that he should have taken better care of his teeth.

And worst of all, despite what he and the audience often believe, he clearly doesn’t give a single shit about WordGirl. If he cared about her he would have acknowledged her disinterest, if he cared about her, he wouldn’t have tried to force Becky into admitting she’s WordGirl in “By Jove, You’ve Wrecked My Robot.” If he cared about her, he wouldn’t have pretended to be good or trick her into spending time with him or forced her to read poems about him. In the Halloween special he thought Violet was WordGirl just because she was wearing a WordGirl costume, failing to acknowledge that Violet is blonde and white and WordGirl is clearly not.

The episode “WordBot” makes it very clear what kind of relationship Tobey wants from WordGirl--and it’s not a relationship. It’s a dynamic where she simply showers him with never-ending adoration and does whatever he wants. Tobey cares about one person and one person only and it’s not WordGirl, it’s himself.

And I’m not even counting “Go Gadget Go” in any of this! That episode put him in such a bad light that most fans pretend it doesn’t exist because his behavior is so inexcusable. And yet even without that episode, we have plenty of toxicity coming from Tobey’s end.

I once saw someone say they hate the tobecky ship because the argument for it often is that Becky will be willing to put up with Tobey when they’re older. First of all, if that’s your argument in tobecky’s favor you need to go take a good hard look at yourself. Becky putting up with Tobey’s messed up behavior is essentially hoping she ends up in a horrible, toxic, unhealthy, relationship that would be borderline abusive if she didn’t stand against him. Secondly, while I don’t deny the existence of this argument, (I once read a fanfic where the two were married but still a hero and villain who battled regularly) I disagree with the idea that this argument is most often used to justify the ship. Instead, the most common argument to justify it is the idea that Tobey has it in him to change. This is certainly a better argument, as Tobey changing is really the only hope for this ship.

But I think it’s really easy for us, myself included, to struggle with the line between finding evidence that Tobey could change vs excusing his actions; the line between finding an explanation for his behavior vs finding an excuse for him. It’s a very easy line to accidentally cross without realizing it. And it really says something when, as discussed in another post, we are not giving other villains like Victoria--who have more of an “excuse” --the same treatment. It’s incredibly misogynistic.

I’m not going to try to argue that Tobey doesn’t have the capability to be good, of course, he does. We can see this in the cute note he leaves in Becky’s backpack in “Trustworthy Tobey” and in the very last moments in the Thanksgiving special, and of course in our favorite example, “It’s Your Party and I’ll Cry if I Want to.” I’m also not saying that Tobey’s actions and psychology aren’t the product of the environment and circumstances he faces daily. Of course having no father figure present, a single mother who is always working, and no friends is going to affect a child. What I want to question is when is Tobey responsible for his own life, choices, and actions? Maybe not now at age 10-11, but what about when he’s 13? 16? 18? 21? 40? Where do we draw that line? I also don’t want to discourage looking for the good in people and characters and thinking critically about how their past and psychology is affecting their actions. I want to encourage that in all characters, not just the boy who happens to have a crush.

And while it’s nice to speculate that Tobey will follow a better path in the future, not so much for tobecky as much as for the betterment of Tobey himself, we need to realize that it’s just speculation. We have no canon proof of where his story goes post-WordGirl. He has his moments of hope but overall this kid has a terrible track record. When it comes to others, Tobey makes terrible choices. And that’s exactly what “going good” will be--a choice--his choice.

I also want to take a moment to talk about something @fromtheplanethexagon said in this amazing post you should totally read because it’s great. They commented on how very few people when writing tobecky fanfics takes the time to explore her perspective of their feelings for each other. Where her feelings originate and why she would like him. This is something I am absolutely guilty of and will be paying attention to in the future. After reading that passage from their post I thought for a while why Becky would like Tobey, and I honestly struggled with it a bit, which shouldn’t be happening if I’m trying to write a healthy tobecky story. That’s all I’ll say on this for now because beyond this I would use Word Up as an example, so I’ll save that for later.

The older I get the more I realized how toxic this ship is. Heck, who knows what I’ll realize about it in the future when I’m even more mature. In the past I’ve tried to convince myself it’s okay I ship it because I never shipped Tobey with WordGirl, I shipped him with Becky. I know they are the same person, but Tobey doesn’t know that, and the dynamics between him and each of her egos are very different. The dynamic between Tobey and WordGirl reminds me of Gideon and Mabel from Gravity Falls. Meanwhile the one between Tobey and Becky reminds me more of the one between Jimmy and Cindy from The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron. That’s better right? Even if just a little bit? Well no, not really, because we all know darn well if Tobey fell for Becky instead of WordGirl he would treat Becky exactly the same as he treats WordGirl. He would ultimately have the same “WordBot esc” expectations. If anything he might try to treat her worse. With WordGirl there is a clear power balance, and while it’s still technically there with Becky, Tobey doesn’t know it’s still there and might try to use that to his advantage.

And to conclude I’d like to add to @fromtheplanethexagon above-mentioned post (here’s the link again, seriously, read it!). Regarding their final thoughts that it’s fine to explore the ship, and it’s fine to explore the unhealthy parts of the ship. But we need to be careful to not glorify the toxicity of the potential pairing.

[obsidian-aurora]

Why I feel so sad for Xiao Zhan for winning the Weibo King award again in 2021

Right now you might see a lot of people spreading the fact that Xiao Zhan won Weibo King again with joy and happiness.  I can only personally feel sadness and regret.  Because when I look back at the year 2020, and what Xiao Zhan went through, Weibo had a big part to play in that story.  They took advantage of his pain to make money and profit from it.  They did little to stop what was happening because to them it was traffic.

His fans who left the 85 million votes for him for Weibo King probably weren’t thinking about what Weibo means to Xiao Zhan.  They weren’t thinking about how Xiao Zhan disengaged from the platform completely, moving his small interactions over to Oasis and Douyin to escape the toxicity inherent in the conversations taking place on Weibo.  All that they were thinking was “We want to show him how much we love him!”

Well you know what I think is love?  Listening to your own idol’s words.

Let’s take a small journey back through 2020 and listen to Xiao Zhan’s own words on what he wanted his fans to do this year.

I won’t rehash 227 itself - if you want my take on that event, then I’ll write another blog post about that, it being almost a year I’m probably finally reaching a point where I can discuss it rationally without bursting into tears remembering my own personal experience with it.  But rather, let’s take a look at what happened after 227.

On March 1, Xiao Zhan studio issued their first official statement.  What did they say?

Recently, we have noticed some controversies about Xiao Zhan fans, occupying some social public resources, and also causing trouble to everyone. We deeply regret and apologize for the impact of this incident. We are very grateful to all fans for their support and love to Xiao Zhan. At the same time, we also sincerely call on all love to be positive, and hope that everyone can chase stars rationally. While doing a good job of self-protection during the epidemic, we will work together in a more positive way and support things that bring positive energy to society.

On April 24, Xiao Zhan said something and his studio reposted.

@X玖少年团肖战DAYTOY What’s past is past, I’ll remember it by heart.  Thank you for all the criticism with good intensions, I’m working hard to improve.   

Xiao Zhan Studio April 25th 00:03 #肖战新歌光点# The light spot moves towards love. Please listen, @X玖少年团小战DAYTOY 's voice. ♥

And again, Xiao Zhan studio.

Xiao Zhan Studio April 25th at 14:27 Thank you for your love and support for Mr. Xiao Zhan and his works. In this studio, as always, I solemnly appeal to everyone to continue to take care of their study, work and life at the same time, and to distinguish the truth and not blindly follow in the thousands of voices. Thank you for your wise support. Every love, no matter how big or small, is a meaningful point of light, gathered together to form the most beautiful light.

When He Jiong was attacked, Xiao Zhan jumped in to say:

@X玖少年团肖战DAYTOY Sorry to disturb everyone, don't hurt others!

Xiao Zhan Studio April 27, 15:04 Please stop slandering and spreading rumors!

He gave his first interview after 227 on May 6.  He expanded upon the statement he made on April 24 when he said he was working hard to improve. He spoke about the controversy, the responsibility he feels as a public figure, and his desire not to control his fans but to guide them to do positive works like participate in charity that improves society.  He felt like as an artist, his role was to continue to improve his acting and his singing.  

“As for the people who love and support me, I hope they won’t do some extreme things, or hurt other people, or even hurt themselves.  I hope that they can protect and love themselves, and live their lives well.  Live their lives well.”  “And if it’s possible, outside of school and work, we can do things together to help others and contribute to society in a meaningful way.”  “I think charity is a part of an ordinary person’s social responsibility.”

Again in May, following a controversy when a teacher recorded her classroom cheering him on, Xiao Zhan was forced to make statements encouraging his fans to live their lives well.

@X玖少年团肖战DAYTOY Please listen to me carefully again! I hope everyone puts their studies, work, and life in front of star chasing. Study hard and work hard. Do your responsibilities and obligations, and abide by professional standards and industry bottom lines. I don't need help.

Xiao Zhan Studio May 10 at 23:26 I hope everyone puts their work and life first 🙏

Xiao Zhan Studio May 11 at 21:14 Starting from us, we hope that each of us can do things that are beneficial to society and be positive.

A school is a temple of knowledge, a place for preaching and teaching, not a fan factory for celebrities. Children's education is related to the future of the country, and the development of youth values is related to the hope of the nation, and it must not become a tool for chasing stars.

Furthermore, over the course of this time period Xiao Zhan Studio met with the organizers of his official fan organization and they rebranded the Fanclub to Xiao Zhan Film and Television Support Club to emphasize their goal to focus on his works and his works only.  They released a statement with their intent and called on all members to do the following:

Xiao Zhan Studio May 15 20:01 If you see the good, you will move, and if you have, you will change. Start with me and work hard together. 1. Do not support business and works with behaviors beyond our own economic capacity. 2. No more activities such as ranking, controlling and appraising and cheering. 3. Accept all well-intentioned criticism and don't maliciously attack others. 4. Continue to actively participate in public welfare advocacy. 5. Focus on Xiao Zhan's work such as film and music.

Take particular note here of the specific call out not to participate in activities such as ranking (like the Weibo King votes).

In July, when his own fans were accused of cyber bullying others again, Xiao Zhan studio released a statement saying that they would defend any victim of cyber bullying, even someone bullied by his own fans.

Xiao Zhan Studio June 30 at 21:42 No matter who is responsible for his words and deeds, we support all those who are suffering from cyber violence or personal attacks on the Internet, and bravely take up legal weapons to protect themselves. Regardless of who’s a fan, taking legal measures is a legitimate behavior 

@易胜华律师 Recently, some netizens posted on Weibo that they had suffered online violence for publicly publishing criticisms against Mr. Xiao Zhan. Entrusted by Mr. Xiao Zhan, we issued the following lawyer's statement: We welcome all kind criticisms and reminders, and resolutely oppose and resist all cyber violence. No matter who the cyber violence is directed at, it is an illegal act and should bear corresponding legal responsibilities. We are willing to provide legal assistance to the above-mentioned parties who have been violated by online violence, and we are also willing to provide assistance within our capacity for their rights protection operations. Yi Shenghua Lawyer Wang Xiaoyan Lawyer June 30, 2020

In July, Xiao Zhan and Xiao Zhan Studio met up with representatives from Weibo to discuss the cyber bullying that he had been subjected to this year.  But was this at Weibo’s own desire to clean up their platform?  No.  This whole time Weibo was profiting from every hot search that drove more traffic to their platform.  It was the Cyberspace Administration of China that DIRECTED Weibo to clean up their mess.

Over the years we have seen Weibo ban accounts from time to time that are so blatant with their cyber attacks that they have no other choice.  But often they will wait until stars pursue legal action before doing so.  And they will only release the real-world IDs of users when under a police investigation pursuant to a lawsuit.  I’m not suggesting the platform should start doxxing its own users, but rather ban all malicious and slanderous behaviour from the outset.  Right now under Chinese law anyone with over 30,000 fans who says slander against another can be pursued by the law.  Weibo should act before it needs to come to that.

Chinese Star News did an interesting video on Fanquan culture and the ways in which Weibo profits from it.  If you haven’t seen it yet, it’s worth a watch.

Ever since the summer, Xiao Zhan has been very careful and direct in all his public interactions.  Most of his events were pre-recorded.  Only at the end of the year did he start doing live events again, and when he was surrounded by friends he was okay, but as we could see from the recent iQiyi event when he is without friends around him he still struggles.

April 12 - Hymn of the Red Plum Blossom (pre-recorded)

May 6 - Interview with China News Service (pre-recorded)

May 9 - Bamboo in the Stone (pre-recorded)

May 10 - Mother's Day live stream (live) (unannounced) (no fan interactions)

June 11 - Xiao Zhan goes to do agricultural charity activity (pre-recorded)

June 15 - Xiao Zhan releases summer cocktail video (pre-recorded)

Aug 17 - Xiao Zhan RoseOnly live stream (pre-recorded)

October 19 - Xiao Zhan at Shanghai Reading Film and Television event (pre-recorded)

October 25 - Xiao Zhan sang Brightest Star in the Night Skies (pre-recorded)

Dec 20 - Xiao Zhan attends Tencent Awards (live) with friends around him

Dec 31 - Xiao Zhan attends New Year party (live) with friends around him

Jan 15 2021 - Xiao Zhan attends iQiyi Scream Night (no friends) (does not look happy/comfortable)

It must have been SO hard for Xiao Zhan to continue to work behind the scenes in 2020, recording his new show Ace Troops, attending some events in secret, shooting some advertisements that he wasn’t sure would be able to make it to the air - and some events that got leaked and then had his portion cut out.  It must have been so, so hard.

So to me, the least that we can do as fans is to listen to what Xiao Zhan has asked of us.  And over and over again he said that all he wanted from his fans was for us to live our lives well.  To not do extreme things.  He wants things to go smoothly.  He wants to take his time, to choose his events carefully, and come back at his own pace.

So what do his fans do?  They massively vote for him to win the Weibo King award.  This has put him in an impossible position.  

Either he needs to decline the award, and face criticism from everyone about being arrogant in a year that he should be grateful.  Or he has to suck it up and show up to an award hosted by a platform that did little to nothing to help him when he was in pain, and instead in fact profited from his pain.  

He will have to put a smile on his face and say thank you for recognizing that I was a high traffic star last year, even when the majority of his traffic was due to cyber attacks.

Why would his fans put him in this impossible position?  Back when this award was first announced, his own major fan club leaders requested fans not to vote for Weibo King.  If you wanted to vote for anything, then you should vote for his acting role in The Wolf, because that was about his professional work - not for Weibo King, which is literally like an award for Prom King.  It’s a popularity award, nothing more.

Will Weibo King help him to come back faster?  No.  Will it make industry leaders want to sign him on for more TV and film works?  No.  Speaking from experience working in the industry for many years, the only thing that industry professionals care about is ratings on the shows that are produced.  And Xiao Zhan cannot rely on his fans alone for ratings.  If his ratings are going to continue to increase, then he needs to attract the respect of a wider audience.  And if that wider audience is already of the impression that Xiao Zhan is a loose canon because his fans are out of control, this massive over-rating of Weibo King only reinforces that belief.

Just look at this graph.

Xiao Zhan fans are posting it with pride, saying look how well we did!  Xiao Zhan trounced the competition!  But the reality is that all other stars’ fan groups had also instructed their fans not to vote for this award, because they all see it for what it is - a popularity contest that can hurt more than it can help.  Xiao Zhan winning by such a large margin only shows how little his fans listen to him.

Now instead of Xiao Zhan deciding for himself when and where to come back, what events he wishes to attend, he’s going to have to make an appearance at this awards show and slap a smile on his face and say thank you.  

Thank you Weibo, for profiting off my pain.

It makes me sick.

If you voted for Xiao Zhan in this award, take a moment to think about Xiao Zhan’s words for your future behaviour. 

Live your lives well

Don’t do extreme things

Don’t spread rumours

Accept criticism and don’t attack others

Don’t protect me

If you can, do charity and help others

If you are following your own idol’s wishes, then I salute you.  You are the type of fan Xiao Zhan will cherish.

[iggy-of-fans]

Of being a Ladybug

So this one will Hopefully be a little less angst and a little less salt buy still a good read. Hope you enjoy!

Cons of being a Ladybug

There are a lot of things about being Ladybug that made Marinette's life difficult. The fact she always got sleepy in winter, the fact that the cold affected her more strongly than before. The way she never got enough sleep because she had to patrol. Having to deal with Chat Noir and his tantrums and flirting. The way she sometimes had to ditch her other responsibilities in favour of fighting Akumas. Hawkmoth. But right now, the thing that got to Marinette the most was that she couldn't call Lila out. Being Ladybug, a hero, meant she couldn't use being Ladybug for selfish reasons. She'd learned her lesson the last time, and in the end it hadn't even been worth it. But as Marinette, she could at the very least gather some evidence, just in case she made good on her threat. Adrien may think taking the high road was best, but Marinette could see the damage she was subtly dealing to Alya, and also to the others, a toxic kind of take and never give mentality growing in the class in the week since her return. Little things, like Kim asking to copy Max's homework instead of simply getting help with his dyslexia, Alix getting annoyed at Nathaniel for paying more attention to the art than to her when they'd hung out last, Mylene getting frustrated and feeling neglected when Ivan took her to practices instead of dates. Things that had never bothered any of her classmates before were starting to cause rifts and fights. Lila wasn't the best liar, anyone could figure her out with half a brain cell and a smartphone. Her power really came in manipulating situations in her favour, her ability to cry on command and have people feel sorry for her. But her ability to read people was her only real genius. She always knew just which buttons to push to make people feel guilty, insecure or "righteous" fury. So it was subtle, but the classroom was becoming toxic to be in. Marinette, being so giving and kind, was the most taken advantage of.

But as it turned out, Marinette didn't really have to do anything at all. Alya did the work of outing Lila by posting an interview on "The Amazing Lila Rossi, the New Every Day Ladybug and Ladybug's best friend!"

Marinette felt bad for Alya, but also a bit vindicated, since maybe this might finally teach her to fact check. Marinette crossed her fingers in hope of Alya getting off with a slapped wrist and sent the video to Penny Rolling and the Italian embassy general e-mail. It was Sunday night, at least she wouldn't have to wait long to see the results.

Monday morning burned bright with hope, as Marinette saw a special interview announced from Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Prince Ali and several other names Marinette didn't recognize. Nadja Chamak was not going to be hosting though, as several people being interviewed had complained about "unprofessionalism" of the Parisian News anchor. Marinette shrugged, at least she wouldn't have to babysit. She went to school, hearing whispers of LadyBlog being shut down by Officials due to inaccurate information. Marinette sagged slightly, 'that sucks', she thought. She'd hoped Alya wouldn't be too badly affected. Suddenly a shadow fell over her and she looked up to the frowning face of Adrien Agreste.

"Adrien! Morning good! Good Morning! Hi!" Marinette stuttered.

"Did you have anything to do with the LadyBlog being shut down?" Adrien asked, his eyes spelling disappointment.

"What? It's being shut down? Why? And what do you mean me? What power do I have over anyone, let alone Alya to shut that down?" Marinette asked, a negative feeling travelling down her spine. What the hell was Adrien on about?

He smiled reassuringly suddenly," You're right. What was I thinking. You may be our everyday Ladybug, but it's not like you have the influence to get a free blog shut down."

Adrien smiled, patted her shoulder, and walked past her towards the classroom. Marinette stood frozen. Did… Did Adrien think… Did he think she was… Worth less? Because she wasn't rich? She stood there past the final ring of the bell, until Tikki popped her head out.

"Marinette, are you okay?" she asked quietly. She was highly dissatisfied with Adrien at the moment, but needed to focus on her own charge.

"Am I… Did Adrien… I thought he was better than that…. But… He actually thinks because… That because I'm not rich, that I have no power…?" sheshe frazed it like a question, but Tikki and Marinette both knew the truth.

"You should get to class, Marinette" Tikki said instead. Shaking herself, Marinette started walking, only for the alarms to start.

"Tikki, spots on!" Marinette shouted, and took off towards the sounds of crashes.

Alya woke up Monday morning excited to see the result of her post the night before. She'd worked with Lila all weekend to get it perfect and now the fruits of her labour would be sewn. She opened the blog and stopped. Yesterday, before posting the video, she'd had 675 followers. This morning, only 231 people were left. She scrolled to the comments.

"Oh yes, I saved Jagged's non-existent cat, from his non-existent private jet, on a tarmac which civilians aren't allowed onto. And I came to Paris months after Ladybug started saving Paris, but I was supposed to be the original and I just recommended my friend instead!... Yeah right! Who the hell believes this crap? "

" my favorite line in this video is where she claims to have grown up as jagged stones favorite person, but doesn't even get his home city right!"

" oh ladybug totally loves chat, she just wants to keep it on the dl. {attachment} this video taken a couple weeks ago while chat threw a tantrum cause she refused to go on a date with him"

"Clara Nightingale and I were ACTUALLY in the same dance class, and I don't remember a sausage with a mouth being in that class"

"if ladybug can heal her supposed tinnitus, why isn't she curing cancer?"

The comments continued along that line when suddenly a loading error came up. Alya scowled and reloaded the page, only for a [401: error. The page you are trying to load no longer exists]. Alya paled.

"No! No no no no no no no no!" she chanted as she tried to reload it, and then tried to go in to check the coding. Everything was shut down. Alya started to tear up. This couldn't be happening! She was sure Lila wasn't a liar. Marinette just didn't like not being the center of attention, just as Lila said. Marinette just, just this once, couldn't find the good in a person, but Laya could. Alya opened Google and looked up 'Jagged Stone pets', 'Jagged Stone cat', 'Clara Nightingale dance school', 'Prince Ali charity foundation', and finally 'Lila Rossi'. The only thing that came from the search was that Alya felt like a total idiot for not believing Marinette. And an Italian school site. She clicked it and had Google translate the page.

"STUDENT COMMITS SUICIDE AFTER SEVERE CASE OF BULLYING"

The name of the victim was never released, but schools in Italy were all warned about Lila Rossi. According to the article, this should be in her school files… Why did Mlle. Bustier not warn them? A knocking on the front door distracted Alya from her screen.

"EXCUSE ME?!" Alya's mother screamed, and Alya bolted to the door. Her mother rounded on her the second she opened the door.

"Alya! What is the meaning of this? You're being sued for misinformation and defamation and slander!" her mother continued, holding papers in the air and waving them about. Even still in her housecoat with messy hair, her mother struck a terrifying picture. Alya shrunk in on herself. There would be no sneaking out of this one.

Rose looked at her phone again, her eyes dim and her head bowed. Phrases like "I have never heard of this girl before", and "if this is the type of persons you surround yourself with", "Perhaps I was mistaken in trusting you", and most hurtful of all "This is the last time you will hear from me" jumped out of the email at her from Prince Ali. She had been so excited in her last message to him, telling him how Lila had told her of their adventure together, and Lila was giving her such good advice on her singing, dancing, songwriting and more. Her email had burst with praise from and for Lila, and wanting to hear Ali's version of events as well. Usually he emailed back within a few hours, but this time it had taken over a week to hear back from him. In the email he had sent, was an attachment to Alya's interview of Lila and a short message, saying only that he had never met Lila Rossi, and he'd thought Rose was smarter than to believe everything she heard, and if she kept that kind of company and believed such outrageous lies then perhaps he shouldn't have contact with her anymore, since she was seemingly too gullible and too naïve to take his friendship seriously. Tears dripped down her cheeks onto her phone. Why was Marinette always right about these things.

Jagged Stone watched the video that Marinette had sent to Penny on his big screen in his suite in Paris. He was not at all impressed with her obvious name dropping, made up stories of her greatness, and claiming he'd written a song about her. Marinette's short message of "HI Penny, I understand you and Jagged are crazy busy, but this interview ended up on my friend's website, and I just couldn't ever remember Jagged mentioning a pet other than Fang. I've even looked at some older interviews where he said he'd hatched and raised Fang when Jagged was only 15! I have no idea where this girl is getting her information, but I didn't want you to think that all of Paris had completely lost their minds and thought this heads up might put you in a better space to deal with weird questions if they ever come up. - Love, Marinette"

Jagged listened to the little chit on the screen claiming shevd received tinnitus from saving his cat. Geez! Did this girl have any idea the kind of implications this could have on his musical career?! The hell is wrong with kids today? And the girl interviewing her never even checked her sources? Poor Marinette, stuck with such complete idiots and liars. He really should try to talk Sabine into letting him take Marinette on tour with him again. This was getting ridiculous. He frowned even harder when Clara Nightingale was accused of "being jealous and stealing" sausage girls dance moves. He started feeling his blood boil slightly as he distantly heard Penny shouting into a phone for lawyers and interviews and "gosh darn it, anyone but some idiotic French Anchor". He honestly wasn't sure which of them was more pissed. Himself or his fiancée.

Clara Nightingale broke her phone on the far wall of her apartment. Two decades of dance and singing lessons, of poetry and practice and some little chit half her age thinks she can tell people that she stole it? Tears at the corners of her eyes, she was grateful Jagged had sent it to her with the assurance that Penny was already setting up interviews and lawyers. Thank Ladybug and all that is good for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. If she hadn't had the foresight to send this video to them, then there would have been absolute hell at their next public appearance. She glared at her broken phone on the floor. Steal her moves, did she?

At 4am in Metropolis city, Lois rolled over and sleepily answered her phone.

"Yes?"

"I know it's early, Lois, but I have a job for you in Paris…" came from the other end. Louis bolted up in bed.

"I'm listening"...

To be Continued

[transbibennyweir]

Sarah coming out to her family as vampire -Al

you got it! this was really fun to write. find it on ao3 as well

Getting turned into a vampire by her now ex-boyfriend was not on her list of high school ‘need try this at least once’, but Sarah learned that there were actually worse things than being a vamp. If anything the first week was tolerable if not nerve wrecking. The second was even manageable. By the third the lying and rat eating and overall weirdness of her new day to day life felt almost natural. Well, as natural as fighting the undead and chasing down rodents for a midnight snack could feel. Even after becoming a full on vampire things weren’t too different, the impending dread of never aging and all her friends and family dying still weighed on her, but at least she was more confident now. More herself in a way that might have scared her if she was still her fledgling or even human self. And maybe it should scare her more.

Maybe the fact she could eat people should still freak her out. Maybe living seemingly forever should terrify just as much as it first did. Maybe she shouldn’t be even consider telling her parents about any of it, but there she was; sitting across from her parents at their dinning room table. Over the course of her time as a the undead she felt more and more like a stranger in her own home, a stranger to her family. Sometimes she could say she was a stranger to herself.

“Mom, dad,” her voice came out nervous and quick. “I wanted to talk to you about some stuff. I know I’ve been pretty distant about my life this year, but I figured now is as good a time as any to fill you in with what’s been going on with me.” A part of her was kinda glad she didn’t have a beating heart anymore, less distracting with it not drumming in her ears.

“It isn’t drugs, right?” Her dad blurted suddenly worried. His tie worn low around his neck from just coming home from work. “That Jesse boy hasn’t done anything to you either?”

“Michael!” Sarah’s mother nearly shouted, slapping her husband’s arm. “Don’t say things like that! ‘Sides our Sarah knows how handle herself. Right, sweetie?”

Watching the exchange between her parents caused a slight laugh to calm her nerves back to something more manageable, her chest feeling lighter. “What? Ha, no. Not anything like that and I could totally beat Jess’s ass if he tried something now.”

“Sarah!” Her mom squeaked as her father laughed and ruffled her hair. “Mhm. So, what’s this you want tell us?”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Just have spit it out. Everything is going be okay and if not... Well, if not then she hoped Benny still knew how do the brain wipe spell. “Right, Okay. So I know this is going sound crazy and make zero sense, but uh, ha I’mavampire.” She flinched into her self waiting for the reaction, she felt the worse yet to come. There was silence then a sudden booming laugh coming from her father first followed by her mother’s more soft giggle.

“Sweetie, that’s very funny, but I think you’ve been reading Dusk too much again.” Sarah’s mother giggles muffed into a charmed smile. “What’s this really about?”

Perhaps Sarah was too use to the strange, unexplained supernatural world of mystery and magic that if someone walked up to her and revealed they were a creature of the night, she’d believe them no questions asked. Maybe that was a worrying thing to just accept but somehow there was stranger things to accept as truth. Granted your own child being a blood sucker might be a hard pill to swallow no matter how use to the weird one might be.

“No, mom. Dad. I’m being serious here. I can, I can explain it. Mostly.”

“Sarah, don’t be ridiculous. If you’re going ask for a family meeting at least try not waste our time with these jokes.” Her father said, his tone even but annoyed. Funny how her short temper came from him. Even more funny that they were both quick to get annoyed now. Sarah’s frustration just slightly getting the better of her, and in a moment of total dumbassery she flashed her fangs with a hiss and snake yellow eyes. Shit. Okay. Okay. Well, maybe they can’t deny it now?

Then her mother screamed because of course she’d scream. “Damnit, Lynn I told you there was something wrong with this town!” Now her father felt the need to shout because shouting always helped. “Who did this to you? Was it that Jess boy? I’ll-I’ll kill him. No-I’ll rekill him!” Her father ranted and began to pace around the room as her mother fanned herself to calm back down. Although it wasn’t do much to ease herself. Sarah held her mother’s hand.

“What? No-Well, I mean. Yes, yeah this is kinda sorta totally Jess’s fault, but I uhh kinda killed him. More or less. My friends helped. Y’know the ones. Erica and those three weird boys.”

“The dorky ones?” Her father asked, stopping his pacing around the room.

“I mean... yeah.” Sarah replied slowly.

“And what are they? Human? Wizards? Vampires? Leprechaun?!”

“I think wizard falls under human but yes to like the first three.”

Her mother held her chest whispering some nonsense to calm herself down, it wasn’t working and the constant talking was going drive Sarah up a wall. “My baby is dead. But she’s right there. Undead. My baby is a little undead monster-”

“Hey!” Sarah and her father shouted at the same time. “I’m not a monster! I even get my blood from a human friendly truck and I help the town from being like wracked from whatever weirdness of the week I have fight.” Okay so maybe that wasn’t super reassuring and helpful, but she was feeling honest.

“Great, a vegan vampire!” Her father said tiredly.

“Listen, between grandma’s sixth toe and cousin Hector’s French Fry nipples I feel like I’m still the least weird person in the family.”

The laugher was back, if not more manic then before. Her father sat back down out stretched his tie as a nervous tick. “Hah, the truth is your mother and I have noticed that this town can be pretty... Strange, to say the least. But I just thought it was because it was toxic waste not because the whole place is basically haunted.”

“Cursed more like it,” her mother whispered. Sarah winced, all things considered this was going more smoothly then she would’ve thought. Which is great, totally. If only her mother didn’t look like she was a manic giggle away from losing her marbles. Suddenly realizing what she said her mother quickly corrected herself. “But! But-but we still love you, Sar-bear. I guess you’ll really be our baby girl forever now.” Their shared smiles were sad but honest. Sarah’s parents would always love her and living forever felt less scary knowing their love for her would last just as long. The comfort reaffirmed by a family hug between the three of them.

“And you made sure to get back at that Jess boy? Stake through the heart or something like that?” Her father asked half jokingly.

“Michael! Don’t encourage staking people through the heart.”

“It’s okay mom. He totally deserved it. Plus, I learned how do my makeup without a mirror which is a bonus.”

“You’ll have teach me that trick.” Her mother laughed, relaxing into Sarah’s touch.

This time their shared smiles felt less stained and sad and more hopeful now that there weren’t secrets and a cavern of distance between her and her parents. Maybe this wouldn’t be as painful of a change as she thought. Maybe it’d be just as manageable as week two of starting out her vampire life, just now she had a little more support to get through it all. So yeah, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Now if she could just tell them about every other weird thing in her life that would be perfect.

[orangeoctopi7]

Walking Like a One-Man Army

I guess this chapter is kinda for @soosly ? It does prominently feature Soos being a BA.

: Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 :

The three of them piled into Soos’s truck. Ford elected to slide into the back of the cab with Mabel rather than sit shotgun. He needed to tell his niece what Debbs had decided.

“Mabel, I, uh…” He said slowly, “I spoke with your mother earlier this morning…”

The colorful girl tensed and pulled the collar of her sweater up a bit. Had all their ill-fated conversations over the last couple of days left her apprehensive to even speak with him?

“...I told her I wanted to keep Dipper on as my apprentice, and that you were welcome to stay here as well. Unfortunately, she, uh, declined to grant her permission.” 

“Oh!” Mabel smiled with relief, letting her collar drop. “That’s ok! Me and Dipper already talked about it and decided not to stay here anyway, so everything works out!”

Ford’s heart sank. So Stan was wrong. The children had indeed come to realize the old researcher was a toxic influence in their lives. He tried to tell himself it was for the best, to focus on his intellect and control his emotions, but controlling anguish was a lot harder than controlling fear. He at least was able to keep his expression neutral as he found something else to distract him: nitpicking grammar.

“Dipper and I.” He corrected her mechanically. “In any case, we need to come up with a plan to confront Bill and find Fiddleford.”

“He’s got this little shelter next to one of the telephone poles.” Soos commented from the driver’s seat. “It’s actually surprisingly nice for something in the middle of the dump made completely out of scrap material.”

“If Bill’s expecting us, that’s probably where he’ll be.” Ford said gravely. “I imagine he’ll keep Fiddleford close-by, to keep a close eye on his bargaining chip. We’ll need a distraction. Bill may be an all-seeing eye, but even he has trouble splitting his attention.” 

“Oooh, I’m super amazing at being a distraction!” Mabel piped up.

“I don’t doubt that.” Ford nodded, fondness somehow managing to slip past all the other emotions he was repressing. “But I promised your brother and Stan that I’d keep you safe, so I need you to stay close to me. Soos, do you think you could be a good distraction?”

“Oh yeah, totally.” Soos said nonchalantly. “Mr. Pines asks me to be the distraction all the time! When the taxman comes, or the safety inspector, or the police….”

“Of course he does.” Ford muttered. “What I need you to do is keep Bill’s attention while Mabel and I look for Fiddleford and get him to safety. Bill should still be possessing that time travel agent, so while he won’t be able to access any of the reality-warping powers he wields in the mindscape, he will have access to any weapon from Gravity Falls’ history or future. You’ll need to be ready for anything.”

“Well, they did teach me how to disarm an opponent with a gun or knife in my karate class, so I’ll probably be ok.”

* * *

It was quieter that Mabel was used to when they reached the dump. Normally, you could hear the sound of power tools and banjo strings even from the dump’s entrance, but not today. Today was deceptively peaceful.

The peace was broken by an eerie, high-pitched laugh. It was coming from the center of the dump, but as they looked around frantically, they couldn’t see their enemy anywhere. Ford fired his blaster, obliterating a board in the fence with a one-eyed triangle carved into it. 

“Well, he knows we’re here.” He said gravely. 

“What should we do?” Mabel asked.

“Proceed with the plan. Soos, you head straight for the center of the dump, we’ll go around the long way. Mabel, do you think you’ll be able to lead me to Fiddleford’s shelter if we don’t take a direct route?”

Mabel nodded with determination, even though she was only about 50% sure she’d be able to find the place, considering she’d only been there once. 

They split up, Mabel leading Ford towards the east wall of the dump. She was pretty sure if she climbed up the pile of wrecked cars there, she’d be able to look out over the dump and figure out a way to get to McGucket’s shelter, and maybe even see where Bill was at.

While running through the dump, they heard the occasional scurry of a racoon or possum through the trash. It was clear that Ford’s already twitchy nerves were on high alert, and he leveled his blaster at every single one. Luckily, he hadn’t been startled enough to fire it yet, which was good because they were trying to sneak around while Soos was distracting Bill.

The stack of cars was within sight when they noticed more scurrying around the corner. Only unlike all the other scurries they’d heard, it seemed to be running towards them instead of away from them. Ford pointed his blaster yet again, and pulled Mabel behind him.

“PEEKABOO!” Blendin’s face wearing a contorted grin popped out from around the corner. “WOW, SIXER, YOU REALLY EXPECTED ME TO TAKE THE BAIT AND GO AFTER QUESTION MARK? PPPPFT, PLEASE! HE’S NOWHERE NEAR AS FUN TO MESS WITH AS YOU! OR SHOOTING STAR, FOR THAT MATTER.” 

Bill took a few menacing steps towards them and leaned down so he was closer to Mabel’s eye-level. “WHADDAYA SAY KID? HOW WOULD YOU LIKE A NEVER-ENDING PARTY FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY? I’LL MAKE SURE ALL YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS ARE THERE, AND YOU’LL NEVER HAVE TO GO TO HIGHSCHOOL! IN FACT, YOU’LL BE ABLE TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS GIVE ME THAT RIFT!”

“Don’t you dare speak to her.” Ford growled. 

“You’re a butt-brain!” Mabel shouted, flinging out the worst insult she could think of.

Bill shrugged Blendin’s shoulders smugly. “OH WELL. I WAS GONNA LET YOU HAVE YOUR OWN PERSONAL PARADISE BUBBLE FOR YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS, BUT IF YOU’RE NOT GONNA COOPERATE WITH ME, I GUESS YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO SUFFER UNIMAGINABLE PAIN AND DESTRUCTION LIKE THE REST OF YOUR MISERABLE DIMENSION.” He pulled out a large rusty pipe and hefted it threateningly in his hands. “SO, WHERE’S THAT RIFT, IQ?”

“You really think I was stupid enough to bring it here with me?” Ford scoffed.

“WELL, I MEAN, YOU WERE STUPID ENOUGH TO TRUST ME.” Bill counted on his fingers. “AND TO THINK YOUR BROTHER WOULD ACTUALLY LISTEN TO YOU WHEN YOU CALLED FOR HELP. AND TO USE TOO MUCH GLUE WHEN YOU TRIED TO SEAL THE RIFT. SO YEAH. I DO THINK YOU’RE THAT STUPID.”

“Well I’m not.”

“OH, LEMME GUESS. YOU LEFT IT WITH PINETREE?”

“And with Grukle Stan!” Mabel added defiantly.

Bill snorted. “YEAH, ‘CUZ I’M REAL SCARED OF HIM!”

The possessed time traveler didn’t even get a derisive chuckle out before Soos barreled into him with a flying kick.

“Hey dude, I need you to pay attention to me for the next, I dunno, five to ten minutes?” He looked over at Ford. “D’you think that’s enough time?”

Ford just nodded mutely, unsure of how else to react to the handyman’s sudden entrance.

Bill picked his possessed body up off the ground. “YOU WANT ME TO PAY ATTENTION TO YOU, QUESTION MARK? HOW DO YOU LIKE THIS ATTENTION?” He pulled out a time tape and disappeared in a flash, only to reappear a second later with a large carpenter’s hammer in his hand. He threw it at Soos, who dodged it with skills honed from ten years of karate sparring.

As Bill continued to pursue Soos, pulling out weapons from random time periods as he went, Ford pulled Mabel away, back towards the center of the dump. This was just the distraction they needed, it just happened in a different order than they’d been expecting. 

So, her original plan to look for McGucket’s shelter from the top of a trash mountain wasn’t going to work now, but she could still find it, right? She remembered that a telephone pole had been one of the main support beams in the little hut, so she just needed to follow the telephone lines! Spotting one above, she rushed ahead, now pulling Ford instead of the other way around.

Sure enough, they came upon McGucket’s hovel nearby. Too nearby. They could still hear Soos doing his best to lead Bill on a wild goose-chase on the opposite side of a pile of discarded furniture and tires. But they could also hear a low, animal-like moan from inside the shelter. The two of them rushed across the clearing, hoping to reach the fox skin that acted as a door before Bill rounded the trash pile.

Before they could reach it, two things happened.

First of all, a loud, up-beat pop song started blaring out of Mabel’s pocket. 

“Girl, oh girl, you got it all, you know.”

“But girl, oh girl, you don’t got me, no!”

Mabel slapped her forehead and pulled out her phone, trying to silence it. “Ugh, Pacifica! Bad timing!”

Second, Bill blew away the trash pile with a shot from a cannon, sending chunks of broken wood and plastic everywhere and clearing a path between him and the shelter.

“THERE YOU ARE!”

Mabel just barely managed to hold onto her phone as Ford grabbed her by the arm and practically threw her into the door. He hurtled in after her, but no second shot came. Instead, they heard a loud, frustrated groan.

“UUUGH, WHY DO YOU HUMANS MAKE WEAPONS THAT ARE SUCH A WASTE OF TIME? WHO THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO HAVE TO REPACK THE GUNPOWDER AND ROLL IN ANOTHER BALL EVERY TIME YOU WANT TO SHOOT SOMETHING?”

“Well, it’s not that they thought it was a good idea, it’s just that they hadn’t developed the technology--” Ford started to explain when Mabel reached up and covered his mouth. He really couldn’t help himself sometimes, could he?

That same moan they’d heard before came again, louder, from under a pile of newspapers. Many of them had frantic calculations scribbled all over them. Ford reached down and brushed them aside, revealing a shivering, hyperventilating McGucket.

Mabel had seen McGucket be pretty crazy this summer. He’d jigged on an unplugged videogame for a week, ate his way out of a dinosaur, and claimed he preferred to walk backwards when she gave him a makeover. But she’d never seen him look so terrified and broken. His eyes were wide and unfocused, like he didn’t even notice they were there, and his breaths were coming in short, sharp whines. It was especially sad compared to the last time she’d seen him, when his mind really seemed like it was beginning to clear.

Ford looked down on his friend, absolutely devastated. If McGucket was looking bad compared to the last time Mabel had seen him, she could only imagine how he looked compared to the last time Ford saw him. 

“Y’KNOW WHAT, I’M JUST GONNA GO BACK AND GET ANOTHER ONE THAT’S ALREADY LOADED.” They heard Bill whine, followed by the zap of the time tape being used.

McGucket moaned again at the sound of Bill’s voice, shutting his eyes tightly and clutching his head. That seemed to snap Ford out of his shock, and he reached down and scooped the old inventor into his arms.

“Let’s get out of here.” He told Mabel.

Just as they ran out the door, Bill reappeared in front of them with another cannon.

“UH-UH-UH! FOUR-EYES ISN’T GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL I GET WHAT I WANT, SIXER!”

“Just keep running!” Ford shouted to Mabel. They picked up the pace and just barely got out of the way in time to avoid the cannonball that ripped through McGucket’s shelter.

“Dudes, over here!” Soos called to them, where he was trying to finish reloading the other cannon Bill had abandoned after less than a minute of trying. “We can fight cannon with cannon!”

“There’s no time!” Ford barked. “We need to either get out of here or find cover!”

“Cover, huh?” Soos said thoughtfully, scratching his chin, until an idea popped into his head. “Oh! You’ve seen that old timey video of the dude who takes a cannonball to the stomach and it just bounces off of him? I’ve always wanted to try that!”

Ford and Mabel stared at him for a beat, dumbstruck.

“I say follow your dreams, Soos!” Mabel encouraged him.

“Yes, if you believe you’re capable, I see no reason not to give it a shot.” Ford agreed.

When Bill reappeared with another cannon, Soos stood squarely in front of it while Ford and Mabel made a run for the truck.

“OH, THIS OUGHTA BE GOOD!” Bill smirked as he fired.

Soos braced himself just as the cannonball collided with his stomach. While the iron ball did bounce off his gut and drop to the ground, Soos was also thrown back almost three feet. He landed on his back but the wind was already knocked out of him. As soon as he could move again, he rolled over and threw up.

“Ohhoho… dude…” the handyman muttered. “I knew that was probably gonna hurt, but it still hurt way worse than I was expecting. Ugh, I think I might’ve cracked a rib.”

No answer. Not even a mocking remark from Bill.

“Dudes?” He slowly got up to his feet and looked around. Ford and Mabel had run away, and Bill had chased after them. Oh well, at least Soos had bought them some time. He reached into his pocket to call his abuelita for a ride home, but alongside his phone, he felt another object. His truck keys. “Uh-oh.”

* * *

Despite Soos’s best efforts, Bill was still hot on their tail. Fiddleford squirmed weakly in Ford’s arms as they passed another mountain of garbage. His eyes seemed to briefly focus on Ford, but they looked far, far away.

“I’m jus’ barely gettin’ my mind back now, I don’t wanna lose it again...” The old inventor murmured feebly before resuming his catatonic state. It felt like someone had just stabbed Ford in the heart with an icy dagger, and he picked up the pace.

The sign above the dump’s exit soon came into view, but there were still several more piles of junk between here and there. As they fled, Mabel turned and fired her grappling hook at an old kitchen sink sticking half-way out the bottom of one of the larger junk piles behind them. The hook caught on the faucet and Mabel yanked back on the line hard, dislodging the kitchen sink and collapsing the garbage mountain in a landslide. 

“Let’s see Bill blast his way through that!” She cheered.

Ford knew it was too soon to relax. As long as Bill was possessing this time travel agent, he had access to any weapon in human history, or humankind’s future, for that matter. Although, come to think of it, why hadn’t Bill used a weapon from the future on them yet? Perhaps that would draw the attention of the Time Paradox Avoidment Enforcement Squadron?

“There’s the truck!” Mabel exclaimed, bringing Ford out of his speculations. They skidded to a stop as they finally reached the vehicle and Ford tried to open the door.

It was locked.

Soos still had the keys.

Ford swore under his breath as he searched for something to pry the door open with. Yes, he could break into the truck, and yes, he could hotwire it, but that all took time! Time they didn’t have!

He was expecting Bill to step out of the dump any second now, but he didn’t appear. Instead, what at first glance appeared to be a flock of ravens rose out of the nearby woods. At the same time, Fiddleford thrashed in his arms and began to yell incoherently. Stanford tried to lay him in the back of the truck gently, so he wouldn’t drop him. The old researcher’s blood ran cold. It sounded almost identical to the gibberish his friend had spouted immediately after the failed first portal test. 

As the mysterious flock drew near, Ford began searching for a rock, a golf club, anything he could use to break open the truck’s windows and get inside, all while keeping a close eye on the approaching swarm. As they came closer, he could see they weren’t birds, they were bats! But why would a swarm of bats take flight in the middle of the day? They were close enough to start blocking out the sun when Ford realized they weren’t bats. They were Eye-bats!

He pulled out his blaster and started firing into the swarm. “Mabel, find something to break into the truck with!”

She nodded and took a step back towards the dump, when Bill finally made his leisurely way to the exit. Ford couldn’t help but notice that Fiddleford’s cries stopped almost as soon as the possessed time traveler appeared.

“YOU FLESH-SACKS AREN’T GOING ANYWHERE!” Bill crowed. “NOT UNTIL I GET THAT RIFT! AFTER THAT, I HONESTLY COULDN’T CARE LESS.”

Just as Bill took another menacing step towards Mabel, Soos appeared, sledding down a trash mountain on a car door. He crashed into Bill and kept going until colliding into the side of his truck.

“Uh… I got the keys.” The handyman said in a daze, holding them up triumphantly.

Ford grabbed the keys and helped him up and into the shotgun seat. “I think I’d better drive.”

“Thanks dude, I appreciate it.” Soos said with a chuckle, then clutched his stomach. “Ooof, ugh, that’s… that’s definitely bruised.”

The truck zoomed away just as Bill rushed for the truck bed where Fiddleford was still laying. The swarm of Eye-bats descended on them, and Ford rolled down his window, steering with one hand and firing his blaster into the flock with the other. He knew it wasn’t exactly the safest position for his friend to be in, nearly unconscious in the bed of a speeding, reckless pickup truck, but he couldn’t exactly pull over and buckle him in next to Mabel. Not if they didn’t want to be overtaken by Eye-bats. The old researcher just had to hope that his old friend would be able to hold out until they reached the shield spell.

* * *

Stan was just sitting and watching tv like this was a perfectly normal day. Dipper wondered how he could possibly do it, just push all the danger and worry aside and vegg out like that. Sure, Stan wasn’t really invested in McGucket’s safety, but he had to care what might happen to Mabel, Ford, and Soos, right? 

Of course, Dipper had known Stan long enough that he knew the old conman tended to express his emotions in a weird way. He teased and noogied to show affection, loaded on chores instead of compliments, and lied to the people he loved to try and keep them safe. Not to mention he’d spent the last thirty years trying to bring his lost brother home with an incredibly dangerous machine, while also pretending everything was normal. Maybe Stan was just really good at ignoring danger and worry by this point. And wow, that was a depressing thought. 

Dipper kept vigilant watch out the front window, searching for any suspicious activity while also waiting anxiously for the return of Soos’s truck. He’d been sitting there for maybe fifteen minutes when the phone rang. It rang two more times, and Stan made no move to answer it. Dipper was unwilling to leave his post himself, but Stan was just watching old reruns of Baby Fights!

“Uh, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper called out after the fourth ring. Maybe he’d turned down his hearing aide?

“I hear it kid.” Stan grunted.

“Well, aren’t you going to get it!?”

“It’s probably just that triangular jerk, tryin’ to distract us. And if not, whoever it is can just leave a message.”

“But what if it’s Mabel or Soos?”

Dipper was distracted from his complaining when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A car was coming down the dirt road towards the Mystery Shack. The boy seriously doubted the rescue mission would be back already.

Stan got up with a grunt from his chair to see what had caught Dipper’s attention. “There, see? What’d I tell ya? Wouldn’t’ve noticed whoever this yahoo is if you’d been trying to listen in on me while I was on the phone. When you know somebody’s after ya, you gotta keep distractions to a minimum.”

“You were just watching TV!” the boy gestured back to the flickering CRT.

“Eh, it’s a rerun, I’m not really payin’ attention to it, just need something to calm my nerves.”

The mystery car drove out of the trees. It wasn’t a car at all, it was a limo. One Dipper recognized from the Northwest’s fleet.

“Well, this ain’t gonna be good.” Stan grimace.

“M-maybe it’s just Pacifica coming to ask for help again?” The boy said hopefully, although his heart wasn’t really in it.

Sure enough, the Northwest stepping out of the limo was Preston. He looked around like everything about the Shack was a personal insult to him before stepping up to the door and knocking with a gloved hand.

Stan grabbed the taxidermied fake dodo sitting on a small table in the corner and reached under its wing, pulling out a small handgun, which he held behind his back as he opened the door. Dipper wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the fact that his uncle was answering the door with a loaded gun in his hand. Sure, they were all in danger from Bill at the moment, but he really didn’t want Stan to go to jail for shooting one of the most important people in Gravity Falls, even if Preston probably deserved it.

“Whaddya want?” Stan asked gruffly.

Preston’s small, forced smile seemed painful. “Aheh, yes, well, I suppose I’ll get right to the point then. I’m here to purchase your… I suppose this qualifies as a business on some level? My opening offer is two million dollars for the building and the land it occupies.”

“Hah! Yeah, right!” Stan barked. “I wouldn’t sell this place to a scumbag like you for twenty million!”

“Well, how about fifty million?” Preston asked coolly.

Stan froze, his eyes wide. He stared the billionaire down, trying to decide if he was bluffing. It sure didn’t seem like a bluff to Dipper. The boy knew the Northwests threw that kind of money around like it was nothing, because to them, it was.

“Not for a hundred million.” Stan said, although it was less of a defiant denial and more of a fishing offer, trying to gauge how high Preston was willing to go.

“How about a hundred and fifty million?” Preston offered.

“Higher.” Stan shook his head.

“Grunkle Stan!?” Dipper cried indignantly.

“Ah-ah!” Stan pushed him back without even turning to look. “Not now kid, the grownups are talking.”

“Two hundred million?” Preston asked, his cool smile starting to slip.

Stan shook his head. “Uh-uh. Higher.”

“Three hundred million?” Mr. Northwest ventured again through clenched teeth.

“Higher!”

“F-five hundred million?” 

“I’m thinking twice that much.”

“Seriously!?” Preston finally exploded. “You want a billion dollars for this--this hovel!?”

“Y’know what, you’re right.” Stan shook his head. “I’m not askin’ enough. Two billion!”

The Northwest patriarch looked like he very much wanted to strangle Stan.

“C’mon Northwest, I know you’re good for it!” Stan smirked.

“Absolutely not! Seven hundred and fifty million, and that’s my final offer!”

“Welp, my final offer’s still two billion, so you can either pony up or get off my porch.”

“....Fine.” Preston hissed, the veins in his forehead popping.

Stan stuck out his hand for Preston to shake, but as soon as the billionaire reached for it, the conman yanked it away.

“Psych!” Stan chortled. “Hah! I just wanted to see how far I could go before you chickened out! You couldn’t give me your whole dirty fortune for this place!”

It took Preston a moment to regain his composure. “I beg you to reconsider, Mr. Pines.” He said with a dangerous edge to his voice. “Take it from someone in the real estate business, property can lose value so quickly.”

“Yeah, the answer’s still no.” Stan said flatly. “Now get outta here. Don’t think I won’t call the cops!”

“I’m afraid you’ll find they’re busy at the moment. I just made a rather large donation so they’re holding a banquet. Even if you could pry them away from it, I doubt they’d be willing to arrest the man that just doubled their salary.”

“Oh, well, if you’re so sure the cops won’t be coming.” Stan pulled the gun out from behind his back.

Mr. Northwest finally backed off, although he shared a long glare with Stan before getting back into his limo. “This isn’t over, Pines!”

“Tell it to someone who cares!” Stan shouted after him.

Dipper looked up at his uncle with awe as he shut the door. “Grunkle Stan, that was awesome!”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice you actually thought I was gonna take his offer.”

Dipper blushed and laughed sheepishly.

The old conman sighed as he sat back down in his recliner. “Eh, guess I can’t blame you. I was actually tempted for half a second. Then I remembered that guy’s a lying cheating crook, and he wasn’t gonna actually pay anything for this place. Still, two billion dollars, wouldn’t that be somethin’!”

“Grunkle Stan, no amount of money is worth the end of the world as we know it.” Dipper reminded him sharply.

“I know that!” Stan retorted, insulted. “I’m just sayin’, if I’d been able to trick him outta that much, heh, that would’ve been the con of a lifetime.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Dipper stammered, taking up his watch at the window again. “I shouldn’t doubt you. I’m just… I’m just really worried, y’know. Bill’s using more and more people to try and get at the rift. The Northwests are the most powerful people in town. You got him to leave for now, but he’s probably gonna hire thugs or something.”

“I know you’re worried, kid.” Stan said sadly. “I wish you didn’t have to worry about all this junk, but at the very least, you don’t gotta worry about this. I’ve had to hole up against hired thugs in this Shack before. ‘Course, this time I’m not gonna be able to fake my death to get ‘em to give up and go home.”

Dipper grimaced. This conversation wasn’t really reassuring him. 

Stan sighed again. “Look, bud, I know Bill’s got a lot of people in his pocket, but time’s on our side, right? Eventually, that glue you found is gonna set, and then what’s he gonna do? Besides, you and your sister are going home next weekend anyway, and then you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Dipper turned to look back at his uncle. “I’ll still worry about you. And Ford. And everyone else left here in Gravity Falls.”

Stan felt his heart swell when he realized how much the boy cared about him. It didn’t matter if he was safe, if his family was still in danger. Stan was all too familiar with that feeling, and he didn’t like the thought of this twelve-year-old kid being burdened with it.

“Well then, we’re just gonna have to figure something out then, aren’t we?”

[ramblingguy54]

Mr. Universe Breakdown

Mr. Universe is quite a delicate story to break down, given its a clash of two different parenting ideals of being too strict vs too relaxed that are showcased in what starts off as a fairly wholesome bittersweet father & son bonding montage with nice callback to Dear Old Dad over their moments together on the road trip outta Beach City, which leads them to what Greg considered to be nothing more than a prison. His old parent’s house, where he grew up in for the past 20 years before wanting to become more independent.

 One of the things that was honestly adorable, yet also very heartbreaking, was seeing Steven light up at all of his father’s childhood and teenage stuff Greg had the opportunities to experience with what was as normal as a person’s life could possibly be. Steven’s beyond ecstatic because of course he never got to experience any of those things in his very uncanny childhood, while Greg just writes it all off as being roped into all those past activities like manipulation by his parents. I mean, not to disregard whatever other stuff Greg had to put up with, but getting a haircut for graduation before a music gig isn’t that bad for example when it comes to dealing with your parents ideals. Although, never being able to live your life or enjoy all kinds of things in general as you transition into a more self-reflective phase, since those authority figures envision something different for you can become something toxic if not careful. In Greg’s case, it was obviously wanting to become a musician, which they were strongly against that idea, so anything music was banned in their household. To an extent, I totally get why they’d be concerned about Greg trying to make it as a musician, considering we all know he drifted around for quite awhile and never got a big break in his life, until finally meeting Pink Diamond. Seeing how lazy Greg was in his youth from episodes like, Greg the Babysitter, leads me to believe his parents were along the lines of that classic mindset, “Being strict to inspire hard work and determination in their son.”, where he was more rebellious and stubborn against that very notion. What his parents saw as pure intentions, Greg saw a mindset he never wanted to instill toward his own kid, leaning more on the hands free angle of letting Steven have the freedom to make his own decisions.

A wrestling trophy? I didn’t know you wrestled!

Not by choice...

Despite how much Greg strongly disagreed with his parents strict environment, his relaxed non-strict approach to raising Steven also had similar consequences, except they’re obviously much worse for this poor boy’s case. Considering the very nature of who Pink Diamond was and what that resulted in making Steven a lot more different than any other human being or gem as a special hybrid, ended up leaving this kid with a shit ton of responsibilities to handle from the get go, as well as serious insecurities about fitting into the bigger picture of reality, too. Whatever issues Greg had to deal with growing up are a mole hill compared to the galaxy sized self-esteem issues and bitterness Steven is struggling with currently. This severely blows up in Greg’s face when he lets Steven drive his car. Once Seven learns the origin that he got his name Universe from a song, it all goes down hill from there. Greg may have given him more freedom to do whatever and go wherever he desired sure, but that came at the expense of so much more in the process. Whether you’re too strict or lenient as a parent, each far end of the spectrum can be disastrous for any child under their care and Greg’s easy going idea of what it means to be a father is backfiring greatly.

You grew up with actual freedom.

I grew up in a van! I didn’t go to school. I’ve never been to the doctor, until two days ago!

Steven, you’re a gem! You’re not like other kids!

My problem isn’t that I’m a Gem! My problem is that I’m a Universe!

The unfortunate truth sometimes is that history of a family mistake can repeat itself. Greg tried to prevent making the same issue his parent’s did by deviating from their seriously strict and uptight rules, by having no real restrictions attached at all with Steven, but that only fanned the flames of a bigger fire to come down the road. He needed Greg to provide some sort of balance because Steven’s not your every day average kid and he absolutely did try to through having the Crystal Gems teach/discipline him, but that’s the biggest problem here. They’re not exactly competent parental figures to turn to for emotional support, so it only led to either Steven getting traumatized in certain events or having to help resolve big conflicting issues going on between Garnet, Amethyst, or Pearl throughout the other five seasons previously. Honestly, I seriously doubt Steven could’ve ever managed to go to school at all back then, due to how crazier things got for him as time went on, which that’s more or less the point. Steven’s origins of creation and the Gem war has robbed him of all those childhood joys any kid deserves to experience that one chance in their lives.

The line, “My problem is that I’m a Universe!”, was one of the details that struck me most about this episode. It’s more than just animosity toward his father, but represents his own self-internalized criticism of being unable to live up to this name he was born with. Steven’s always been asked to live up to the high standards of Rose back then from the Crystal Gems and always looked up to Greg with a lot of pride. Although, now that Steven is trying to figure out who he actually is as an individual, instead of the whole is he exactly like his mother deal, leaves him unsure if he’ll ever be able to achieve any of that greatness that the others have finally reached. That statement resonates so strongly with me because who doesn’t feel that way about living up to the birth name all of us were given when we’re brought into this world? It can be the most awful feeling when others are succeeding more than what you’ve managed to accomplish and feeling like you’re letting not only yourself down, but the family who gave you this name, too. Easily my favorite line of dialogue from Mr. Universe right here.

Mr. Universe was a very interesting study in how both parenting style extremes whether strict or laid back can have serious affects on the kids and create a cycle that will spread like wild fire that can do more harm than good, as shown with Greg & Steven here. Like, the fact that Greg actually praises Steven for ripping into him that harshly made me raise an eyebrow. Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to keep an open mind to your son Greg, but now is not the time for the friendly parent routine. This kid is showing you years of animosity & PTSD.

He needs a seriously in-depth conversation with you, man.

[chosenfamily-valkyriequeens]

Personal opinion: Nesta Archeron deserves better

Nesta is definitely closed off and hurt by what had happened to her, and for completely understandable reasons. It angers me that Rhys is so heartless and an a**hole when it comes to Nesta—like Feyre did go through trauma too, some from their childhood (everyone’s trauma is different yes) but y’all didn’t just expect her to be okay the next day, why would Nesta be any different!

Mor as well is bugging me and she is just acting like a straight up b*tch for no reason besides being jealous and petty over Cassian and Nesta’s budding relationship and Feyre’s hurt feelings. Mor more than anyone should understand what Nesta is going through considering the sexual assault. I hope the two of them realize how wrong they’ve been to treat her so cruelly. Personally I’d like it to be a dramatic Nesta is about to die and they’ve found out the truth about her past and that she’s always loved her sisters and they are like “I’m so sorry please forgive me for being an a**hat” but who knows;)

Nesta’s character is so complex, intelligent and dark, she’s my favorite character out of every book I’ve ever read—and I’ve read A LOT of books. She’s so relatable to anyone who’s felt like the mistreated, worthless, unloved, unwanted, charity case of the family or friend group, when no one valued your side of the story to favor a biased version. And everyone goes through this feeling at least once in their life. This attitude towards Nesta becomes a single story mindset that is so toxic, and the “inner circle”—minus Cassian every now and then( haven’t forgotten about the “your sister care for you and I don’t understand why but they do” part)—is falling into it.

They are so protective of Feyre that they aren’t realizing they are ignoring someone who clearly needs help but doesn’t know how to or doesn’t want to ask for help yet. You can’t pressure someone into asking for help, the have to want to be helped before anything can happen.

I’m not sure how I really feel about her being BANISHED to the mountains with Cassian, I really love them together and want them to be endgame. But how they went about deciding her life without her opinion upsets me. Yes she isn’t in the best to be making life decisions alone, but it’s still HER LIFE she should have a say in what’s happening.

When Feyre was brought to the Night Court it took her months to open up to them, longer for her to even fucking smile! She’d been kidnapped and killed and then she was stuck in a toxic relationship and she needed to figure out how to love herself and be okay with her new body first before she started any type of relationship with Rhys and the inner circle. She didn’t just click her fingers and wish away the pain, it took her a long time to cope with what happened.

Nesta should be given the same courtesy. She at a young age was told she was only good for marrying for status and wealth and having children by her mother who never showed her much attention, her father was always gone and lost all their money putting them all in jeopardy. She wanted to believe her father was the knight in shining armor that would fight for them and save them—but he didn’t. She was almost raped and was sexually assaulted by someone she thought cared about her. Was then later dragged out of her bed and was DROWNED&KILLED turing into a thing she had feared her while life. But not before having to watch as her sister was killed right before her eyes and turned as well. You don’t just get over that with a snap of your fingers.

It kills me that people are so upset about Nesta not stepping up and helping as the oldest. SHE WAS A CHILD, yes so was Feyre but don’t forget that Nesta too was a little girl, heartbroken that her family life was destroyed, her mother dead and her father not the hero she thought he would be. Everyone deals with pain different. She was raised to believe her only purpose was to marry and have children, not go out and kill animals in the woods.

Feyre being the youngest daughter was probably not subjected to the lessons Nesta was to become a perfect wife, giving her more time to be kid and play and be a little bit more outgoing—most likely what lead her to be the provider.

(the reading lessons I feel was unfortunate, she forgot overtime for not practicing—not saying that was her fault ether, but I 100% believe that if Nesta had known she couldn’t read she would have taught her. Just think about it, Nesta loves to read, it’s empowering and she would definitely teach her had Feyre asked for it, because no one knew she couldn’t read, they even mention that in the books, Nesta said she would’ve taught her had she known she didn’t know how.)

Nesta wasn’t raised to be like that, so don’t expect her to just wake up and forget the years of programming her mother had drilled into her head. Let’s also not forget Elian is older than Feyre too, they really just brush over her and ignore that she too didn’t help provide for the family ether, yet the inner circle welcomed her with open arms because she’s quite and shy and won’t fight back or lash out for her feelings being hurt.

Nesta also was probably embarrassed that she didn’t know how to help, and didn’t know how to ask. People tend to skip over parts that they don’t like to focus on the parts they only want to see. Nesta went out and cut the wood when Feyre asked, Nesta went into the woods to go get Feyre back, she offered up her story to the high lords for the war, she wanted to learn how to fight so she would be helpful, how to use her powers, but do we hear anyone talking about that in the inner circle? No. And that pisses me off.

When the two Ravens came after them in the library she didn’t want to leave Feyre alone to fight them. She stayed and only went when Feyre told her to go find help. She wanted them to have an advantage in the war so she stayed and fought, made herself a distraction so they could get to the cauldron and keep the king distracted. Cassian was about to die and instead of running like he told her to she picked up his sword and tried to fight and when it failed she covered his body with her own, they wouldn’t die alone, they’d go together.

Her charter traits amaze me because if she were a male character I’m almost 99% certain none of us would be having this conversation about how “he” is a bitch that doesn’t deserve to be happy. If she was a male it would be socially acceptable that he is this way because he had a “troubled past” and he’s “dealing with it” he can drink and fuck whoever because he’s “healing” and that’s what guys do. No one would question it. The allure of the bad boy is so captivating that we ignore that they’ve made mistakes. But the minute you make them a female the are automatically a bitch and deserve to be hated because that’s not how a female should act.

Double standards exist in the books we read as well as the world we live in. It’s easy to forget that because we want to believe that the fantasy we have created is perfect when in reality it’s flawed. Flawed characters make for the best stories because they are the most relatable and REAL.

Nesta is probably the most real and relatable character to ever be created. She’s made mistakes, she’s made up of flaws, she been hurt but continues to go through life with her head held high. She doesn’t give two shits about what people think of her. She runs her life how she wants it. She doesn’t stand for people treating her like crap. She’s quick to say something back to defend herself or deflect it to something else. She’s intelligent and smart. She knew how many ships were needed to save the humans she cares about others.

But she is also flawed. It’s hard for her to feel emotions, to be open and understand other peoples emotions. She’s quick tempered and hot headed, but she’s also caring and passionate about the people she cares about. She would lay down her life if it meant she would save the people she cares about.

At the end of the war she’s hit with the reality that her father actually cared about them and she watched him be KILLED right in front of her, if that doesn’t speak volumes about scaring emotional trauma I don’t know what does.

She also has to come to terms with the fact that shes killed people. Jus because they were bad doesn’t mean that killing them was easy and didn’t effect her. The power burst saved them all but it also ended thousands of lives, regardless of what they did she has to live with the fact that she has ended another persons life. Even the King of Hybern’s death might not be easy for her to deal with. She ripped his head from his body, that would give any sane person nightmares.

She has had less that three months to cope with her new body and magic and is thrown into a war and watches the people around her are dying. That’s probably why she helps out in the medic tent and tends to the wounded, she can’t really fight so she finds something to do to help.

Side note: when she was helping in the medic tents during the war do you all remember the scene when she noticed Cassian’s hand was hurt? She literally took care of him. She might not show emotion often but when she does it speaks volumes. And then Cassian had to go and rip his hand away from her when Mor walked in. That probably made her feel like he was embarrassed to be seen with her. That’s she’s not worth being around if people don’t like her and will judge him if he’s seen with her.

For her PTSD It mentions how every time she lights a fire all she can hear is bones popping and necks snapping—I wouldn’t want to light a fire ether if that’s all I thought about and heard. The bath tub has me reeling. She’s forced herself to get over her fear because she thinks she deserves the pain is causes her. She stopped eating and taking care of herself because she thought she deserved to punish herself.

And the biggest problem I had with the inner circle—Cassain included this time, was solstice. Not one present for her besides Elain(and whatever the hell cassian threw in the damn river!!), and they practically forced her to go and they didn’t even get her anything! What the heck!!! I mean sure she didn’t get them anything, but she’s never celebrated this before how would she know? And it’s not like she had the money ether. Yes it was Feyre’s birthday but she also probably didn’t know what to get her with the bad place they were in at the moment. And there was not one painting of her in the entire house. I would feel uncomfortable and unwanted too if I was her. They don’t like how she chose to deal with her pain and they try to fix her pain, instead of listening to her pain and what SHE needs verses what THEY think she needs.

They only do what they want because they want to sweep it under the rug and move on. Because they don’t want poor fragile Feyre to feel sad. Fuck them honestly. If Nesta’s not ready to deal she’s not ready to deal giver her her damn space and time.

She needs to hit rock bottom before she’s ready to climb back to the surface. And all the the inner circle has had hundreds of years to cope with their pain and know what works for them. Nesta is a 22 year old women. She’s not developed the right ways to cope with death and tragedy yet, she needs to figure out what works best for her and that’s okay, she should be able to learn what works for her, not be forced to try what works for others.

Nesta is Depressed, she’s shown clear signs of PTSD, as well and Anxiety. You don’t just get over those because people are done with your mopping, they take time and sometimes they never go away you just learn how to cope with them when they flare up. You can’t just stuff it into a jar and hope it never comes out. It doesn’t work that way. And the 500+ year old Fae should understand that!!!!

Her drinking and having sex is her way of trying to feel something as well as not feeling anything. Again if she was a male character no one would be having a problem with this. Cassian and the other go out and drink for no reason and no one gets on them about it. Rhys said the day Feyre was going to marry Tamlin he was going to be piss drunk to not feel anything. And can you imagine what he would’ve been like had Feyre actually married Tamlin? He’d be wreak, and probably end up destroying himself because of his broken-heartedness.

Another thing about her going to the camps is, she has extreme PTSD from the war and from her sexual assault with Tomas. And now she being sent into what will probably be another war. A camp where all males do is fight all day—not good for someone who has PTSD about fighting. A place where women are treated like breeders and objects—not good for some who has sexual assault trauma. And they just expect her to be fine?! Noooooo!!!

She is going to struggle and not in the good way that gets her to feel again. She’s going to be pushed beyond her limits in a bad way and this could ultimately be what destroys her. My only hope is that the other females recognize what’s she’s going through and find a positive way to support her. I want her to have her own group of strong empowering and compassionate females and males in her new friend group.

The inner definitely doesn’t deserve to have Nesta in their “happy little circle” as Nesta puts it. She is someone I’d want to be friends with because she’d go to the ends of the earth to help her friends and the inner circle doesn’t understand that she DOES have a heart, she is just scared of it getting hurt and broken because she let herself love someone and be loved by someone, to only end up getting hurt the same way she did by Tomas. Trust is hard to build when it’s been broken time and time again.

Things I want from ACOSF is for Nesta to get better all on her own. To ignore the inner circle—minus Cassian sometimes, I do love their banter and I want to see some fluff and sexual tension/frustration and smut from them, as well as a good heart to heart with some tears on both sides about their pasts. Her to United the camp lords. Befriend Devlon—have a father daughter relationship with the dude, change the way females are treated in the camps. Come into her powers. Have Cassian stand up to his family and defend Nesta(she’s probs had no one EVER stand up for her before). For her to ABSOLUTELY NOT apologize to the inner circle, they should apologize to her only for treating her like crap and holding her last mistakes over her head like a sword waiting to cop her head off if she makes one wrong move . For Nesta to befriend Bryaxis—OMG how awesome that would be!!! Hahahaha. Maybe The Court of Nightmares cameo. Find out who Cassian saw in the prison, as well as WHAT THE BLOODY HELL CASSIAN THREW INTO THE SIDRA ON SOLOIST!!!! And hopefully the Ilyrians will become independent from the Night Court with the help of Nesta as their newQueen—Sarah has called her a queen without a throne, if this doesn’t happen then I quit. And maybe Cassain ruling with her. Oh and of course NESSIAN MATES AS ENDGAME!!!!!!!!

I hope Nesta gets her deserved happy ending, regardless of whether or not the inner circle is involved in her healing and empowerment. She is a Queen, and nothing will stop her from owning her life and getting her happiness like she deserves!<3

Sorry for the rant:)

#nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #sarajmaas #cassian #nessian #queennesta

[amaramonette]

is that [ ISABEL DURANT ]? no, that’s just [ AMARA MONETTE ]. [ SHE/HER ] is [ TWENTY-SIX ] years old and is a [ PROFESSIONAL FIGURE SKATER ]. rumor has it they’ve been in town for [ NEARLY THEIR WHOLE LIFE ]. on a good day, they’re [ PERCEPTIVE & CULTURED ]. but watch out! they can also be [ SPITEFUL & POSSESSIVE ]. [ MORAL OF THE STORY by ASHE ] plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around spring hill!

hellllooo! i’m li and i’m pretty excited to be here and start using my new bby. she’s a bit of a mash-up of a few different muses that i absolutely love so i’m very stoked to see how this goes lmao. i apologize now for this bio, it took me fivever and it's hella long but like everything i do is long. ( sorry not sorry<3 ). i am also down for alllll the connections, the more drama and angst the better lol. hit me up if you’d like to plot or like this and i’ll come to you!

[ triggers: bad parenting tw, mental abuse tw, ]

GENERAL INFORMATION.

NAME → amara quinn monette NICKNAMES → mara, am, or ams AGE → twenty-six DATE OF BIRTH → october 28th PLACE OF BIRTH → springhill, nj, usa EDUCATION  → high school ged ZODIAC → scorpio GENDER → female ORIENTATION → pansexual, demiromantic RELIGIOUS VIEWS → atheist 

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES.

FACE CLAIM → isabel durant HEIGHT → 5'4" WEIGHT → 128 lbs HAIR COLOR → blonde EYE COLOR → blue BODY TYPE → thin, athletic

FAMILIAL INFORMATION.

FATHER →  utp monette ( WC ) MOTHER → evelyn monette  YOUNGER SISTER → utp monette ( WC )

EX-HUSBAND  → utp ( WC )

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS → venturesome, determined, cultured, & perceptive 
NEGATIVE TRAITS → possessive, spiteful, dramatic, & oversensitive
 INTERESTS → dancing, cooking, photography, flower pressing, yoga, dogs, & caffeine 
DISLIKES → humblebraggers and name droppers, people who talk during movies, people who say ‘you look tired’, & willful ignorance  AESTHETICS → being up before the sun, the sound of skates on fresh ice, a vintage polaroid camera, a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, & a strong red wine.  
MORAL ALIGNMENT → chaotic neutral PERSONALITY TYPE → ENFP-T ( the campaigner )

BACKSTORY.

❦ amara monette was born and raised in spring hill, new jersey to a marine biologist and local contractor. her family has always been fairly well known in town as her father has been quite a pillar in the community and his company has done a lot of work for the town. her only sibling is six years younger than her and the two sisters have been like oil and water since the beginning and have never been able to see eye to eye on anything.

❦ the monette family dynamics could easily be categorized as dysfunctional but in amara’s eyes, that term is putting it lightly. there’s never been any doubt in the eldest daughter’s mind that she was an unplanned accident—a fact she’d gotten her mother to admit after heavy plying with wine when she was only a young teen. “if we didn’t have you, I could still be doing what I love.” her mother blathered drunkenly.

❦ the only person who didn’t treat her like that—as though she’d ruined their life—was her father, though due to his work, he spent more time out of the house than with his family. unlike her mother or sister, the one thing her father always did was encourage amara. remind her that no matter what she was striving for, it was possible and just within reach.

❦ the bond amara shared with her father was special, just as the bond her sister shared with their mother was special. though her sister also shared a loving, positive bond with BOTH of their parents and what amara shared with their mother was anything but positive or loving.

❦ at the age of four, her mother enrolled her in ballet classes hoping to teach the rambunctious little girl some discipline. much to her mother’s surprise, mara fell in love with dance immediately. but ballet, or dance in any such capacity, hadn’t been apart of her mother's ultimate plan for her. the following year, despite all the crying and protests from her daughter, the wannabe ballerina found herself being taught to ice skate.

❦ she didn’t particularly enjoy skating, not like the other girls she trained with did, but amara succeeded in ways many of them couldn’t over the years. her indifference to the sport and at being the best had given her an edge above the competition. and the more naturally gifted she proved to be at the sport, the further her mother pushed amara and the more intense the training became. as she got older she managed to convince her mother to let her enroll in dance classes once more if only to help in the long run, she’d say. it was in those moments, those classes, that she felt most at peace. as though she’d found just where she was meant to be—or what she ought to be doing. she’s never stopped dancing since. 

❦ at the age of nine, her mother had her pulled out of school to be privately tutored so she could spend more time on the ice—her mother only had one goal and she never let amara forget it. the olympics. though before her mother had the chance to remove her from school, the blonde had already made the best friend she could ever ask for. ( WC )

❦ it wasn’t until years later, at thirteen, she discovered that her mother had been forcing her down the same path she’d been set on as a girl. whereas her younger sister found herself free to pursue whatever interests she’d like, amara found herself on a rink shaped prison. and the unwavering pressure her mother applied only made it feel as though her ice space was forever shrinking.

❦ amara spent a majority of her youth and teens training, both on and off the ice, and whatever little free time she had left was spent with her small group of friends. friends her mother disliked for the most part and did all she could to keep her daughter away from. forcing amara to spend time with the other skaters in her class at every turn. not that she’d ever been able to fit in with them even if she wanted to. ( WCs )

❦ becoming a legal adult and dreaming of what it would finally be like to have the freedom she’d always longed for was just about all the blonde could do to keep moving forward. to keep her mother from truly bringing him down. but the relentless pressure from the cold-hearted woman and the fact that she showed no signs of letting up or letting amara walk away if she so desired to caused her to finally crack just a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday.

❦ like a thief in the night, amara disappeared from her parents home taking as many of her belongings with her as she could carry, save for all her skating gear. she spent several weeks sleeping on the couches of different friends while hiding from her mother and whatever wrath she intended to unleash for her missing so much ice time and standing up the coaches her parents paid plenty of money for.

❦ it was in those weeks of solitude that amara discovered what skating actually meant to her and just how much she still needed it in her life. the seventeen-year-old realized that she wasn’t as ready to hang up her skates as she previously thought and that there was still a thing or two she could learn from being on the rink.

❦ amara returned to the ice on the sole condition that her mother would let her do things her own way and would stop projecting her own regrets and more importantly wants on her daughter. things began to look up after that for the monette family in more ways than one and dysfunction that had once been so deeply rooted began to dissolve away just a bit. ( not so much between the sister lol, mostly just amara and her mom )

❦ she moved out on her own not long after, eager to have a life of her own as best she could, but being as clueless and willing to trust as she was, amara made many mistakes and gave her heart away much too easily which only led to it being crushed repeatedly by those who weren’t worthy of safeguarding it, to begin with. ( WCs )

❦ at twenty-one, after only dating for about a year amara married the man she believed was the one. however, it didn’t take her long to see just how incredibly wrong she was and the relationship was more toxic than anything else. she filed for divorce ten months later. ( WC )

❦ amara continued skating in hopes of making the olympic team—but this time the dream truly belonging to her, which seemed to pay off as she managed to do so successfully twice in 2014 and again in 2018. the blonde got a bronze medal in 2014 and didn’t place at all in 2018 after taking a nasty fall during her long program and making the mistake of not taking enough overall risks to make up for it. spooked after the olympic fall that nearly ended her entire career, amara decided to stop skating at a competitive level.

❦ in the following years, amara found herself joining several different national ice-skating tours but couldn’t quite shake the feeling of how far she’d fallen and how demeaning her life now seemed, skating for nothing more than mere amusement. unsatisfied and upset upon coming to the conclusion there was nothing else she could truly exceed at, amara took up the mantle that countless other incredible skaters also had, coach. a rewarding job that’s more or less left her at peace. 

OTHER IMPORTANT INFO.

❦ growing up, she was the most curious of children, constantly asking questions and wanting to know more about anything and everything. as the years passed, her curiosity never quite fizzled out as her parents as hoped. instead, the small blonde just became more confident in her ability to get the answers she sought and more determined to have it when a person wasn’t forthright with her. it’s something that leads her to trouble too often as she’s brought on a whole new meaning to the idea of questioning authority.

❦ amara can be quite a master of deceit and manipulation if she’d like. she gets a sort of amusement out of playing games with people and confusing them, especially with those she doesn’t get on well with. she definitely has a few different faces and is very particular about when she wears which face. her sweet face, where she’s likely to try and charm the pants off people, is the face she wears most of the time when interacting with strangers or just the general public. few people have ever seen her at her truest and those who have are either the ones she trusts most or the ones who’ve crossed her in unforgivable ways.

❦ anyone who knows amara is aware of how jealous or possessive she can be of those in her life she cares for. she’s never been able to quite help herself and isn’t afraid to make her feelings known when she feels her relationships have been infringed upon in any way. making friends and building relationships has always been something she’s struggled with as her childhood wasn’t normal in any sense. all her time after school was spent training—on or off the ice. and when she wasn’t training she was home with her family who she didn’t quite mesh with.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

childhood best friend

ex-husband

father

younger sister

old friends —

new friends 

rivals 

exes / flings 

i’m here for it allll!

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (112/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[2 March, 233 Before Age.   Nagaoka.]

"Now, let us all give thanks to our leaders."

"Thank you, Trismegistus.  Blessed by the world that was; blessed by the world that is; blessed by the world yet to come."

Initiates into the Jindan Cult were required to complete a intensive orientation course.  It lasted sixteen straight days, with each class lasting sixteen hours.  This had something to do with the number of protons in a sulfur atom, but Lesseri had forgotten this point after the first day.  She was now on Hour Eleven of Day Nine.

Deprivation was part of the coursework.  A Saiyan had to demonstrate her purity and worthiness to receive the Jindan power.  One way of establishing this was to live on low-calorie diets.  Another was to undergo a ki assay with one of the priests.  They would examine the subject and determine ways to purify a person's energy.  The assay took at least three hours to complete, and so this cut into time the initiate could spend on sleep.  Lesseri had undergone several assays recently, because she had been struggling to keep up with the lessons of the First Crucible.      She figured she had averaged about two hours of sleep each night, but it was worth it.  One of her classmates had gotten bad marks, and he had been required to start over from the beginning.  But Lesseri was still hanging in there.  She was tired, but strangely enthusiastic.    In spite of the hunger and exhaustion, she would pass this stage and progress to the next level.  All she had to do was follow the directions, step by step, and the power would be hers.

On the first day, thanking a portrait of Trismegistus had seemed like a waste of time.  Now, she found these moments a welcome diversion from the rigors of study.  It was a chance to explore her gratitude, and to reflect upon the progress she had made.  When they went around the room to thank Trismegistus individually, Lesseri knew exactly what to say.

"Thank you for your spiritual assays," she said when it was her turn.

"I had a feeling you might say that," said the priest who was overseeing the day's lessons.   He had performed some of her assays as well, and he gave her a knowing smile.

They all shared a friendly laugh, and Lesseri smiled back at him.  "It's helped a lot," she said.  "The old Lesseri never would have made it this far on so little sleep."

"You've all grown so much," the priest said.  "I know that some of you have had to repeat the Crucible from the beginning.  It took me thirty-five days to complete it myself.  There is no shame in it."

The priest had said this many times.  Shame was a temporary condition, a price to be paid in exchange for proud nobility.  One of the many exercises in the Crucible involved transmuting base metal into gold.  Lesseri would sit before a pot and focus her ki on a lump of lead inside.  Normally, it was impossible to transform matter in this way.  Even the  alchemical masters, skilled in the ways of transmutation, would consider this supremely difficult, if not impossible.  But Trismegistus knew better.  Lead was cheap and toxic and shameful, but it could be changed into something valuable, beautiful, and perfect.  And once it was had become gold, would anyone care that it had once been something less?  The shame of having been lead was one of the essential ingredients in the process of its refinement.  The old Lesseri was like the lump of lead.  Trismegistus would make her into a better, stronger Lesseri of gold, but only through an arduous process.  When it was complete, the hardship and indignities she now suffered would be irrelevant.

And so, for the next hour, Lesseri concentrated and applied her power on the metal.  The best she could manage was to melt it.  She had the power to vaporize the lead, but the cavern where she studied was poorly ventilated, and the fumes would be very toxic.  Lesseri found molten lead to be very disappointing.    It melted at such a low temperature that it didn't even glow red or yellow before it turned into an ugly stew of grey.  At least iron would look like gold when it was hot enough.

This principle, the priests taught, was why the "Super Saiyan" transformation used by Luffa was heretical.  If Luffa's power had been legitimate, a means of attaining true nobility, then she would remain in that form permanently.  The fact that she constantly shifted back and forth was proof that she was a mere trickster.  Whatever Luffa's power was, the priests taught that it was unearned.  Luffa had not been transformed in the proper way.  Hers was a fool's gold.  Aurifiction instead of aurifaction.

This teaching was immensely satisfying to Lesseri.  She had long resented Luffa's power, but envied it as well.  Now the truth behind that contradiction was clear.  The old, ignoble Lesseri was easily impressed, but she had still instinctively recognized Luffa as a fraud.

"Remember," the priest said as he walked around the room.  "A piece of lead may admire iron, but that does not make iron noble.  Within lead is the fundamental essence of all matter.  Through that, lead knows what it means to be gold, even without ever becoming such.  This yearning is how you can coax lead to become gold."

Lesseri appreciated these words, although they brought her no closer to her goal.  Her pot was no closer to transmuting now than when she had started.  None of her classmates had fared any better.

"Bah!" cried the man at the benchtop beside her.  "This is a waste of time!  I came here to get stronger, not to play with solder!"

Lesseri ignored him, even when he tossed his pot onto the floor, spilling molten lead onto the ground.

"You only waste time with your outbursts, Brother Leik," the priest said.  "If you want to complete the Crucible, you must pass the Crucible.  The ore that shuns the flame will never be refined."

The man was on his third day, at least as far as Lesseri knew.    She shared his frustrations, but she also knew there was no point in expressing them.  The Crucible had to be endured, not resisted.

"What is there to pass?!" Leik growled.  "You have a potion that will make us stronger, so what does that have to do with making us stare at pots and leading us in singalongs?!"

"Leik, you were warned before..." the priest said, but Leik had run out of patience.

"You won't even tell me what you did with my nephew!" he shouted.  "Everyone just says he 'wasn't worthy'.  Why?  Because his mother and grandmother were aliens?  He's stronger than most full-blooded Saiyans I know!"

"Aliens have no place on this world," one of the other students said.  "Trismegistus has no use for dross.  Your nephew is dead, so stop wasting our time worrying about him!"

"Demotion," the priest finally said.  "Both of you."

A chill ran down Lesseri's spine, and she suspected that the rest of the class had the same reaction to that word.  The Crucible was no place for defiance, or for speaking out of turn.  The priests encouraged open discussion, but only when that discussion was productive.    Push them too far, and you would be required to repeat the Crucible from the beginning.

Leik was furious, but he couldn't do anything about it.  Like the rest of the class, he hadn't received the Jindan power, so he was no match for the priests, who already possessed it.  A pair of red-uniformed attendants escorted him out of the room.  Then they returned for the other man.

"But... but I spoke against his outburst!" he protested.

Lesseri might have snorted with contempt for his foolishness, but she didn't want to draw any attention on herself, the way he had done.  The priests hardly needed his help to deal with unruly students.  What could lead offer gold?

They took him away, presumably to join Leik.  Lesseri had no idea what they did to demoted students before making them start over on the Crucible.  She had made it her business to never find out.  Sixteen days was plenty.

And sixteen days worked.  As grueling as it was, Lesseri knew it would be worth it.  The priests had the power, and that was proof enough.  So why punish yourself by making it take longer than absolutely necessary?  Lesseri had spent longer than this training with Luffa, and had gotten nowhere.  Luffa's lessons had been an utter waste, and now she understood why.  How could fraudulent iron teach lead to become gold?

Lesseri understood Leik's sentiments.  She too had come to this planet with an alien.  Treekul had provided the geomantic and alchemical research that had allowed Lesseri to find this place, but they were soon separated.  Lesseri assumed Treekul had been executed.  There was no good reason for her to stay, and she knew too much to be allowed to escape, and so what other option remained?    But there was no point in discussing it.  Asking wouldn't change Treekul's fate, but it could make Lesseri's path more difficult.

And so she focused on the pot of molten lead in front of her, and struggled to imagine some way to will it into gold.

*******

[7 March, 233 Before Age.  Nagaoka.]

On the fourteenth day of the Crucible, Lesseri believed she would fail.  Her pot of lead remained a pot of lead.  The other students had done no better, but Lesseri wasn't worried about them.

Years ago, she had joined a group of Saiyans under the tutelage of Luffa.  The cult had branded Luffa a heretic, and so Lesseri was very careful to a avoid discussing those days.  She had only gotten mixed up with that group in order to kill her own mother.  If Luffa had taught them anything useful during that time, Lesseri might have taken it to heart.  As it was, Lesseri had walked out on them, staying only long enough to make certain her mother was declared dead.

But the cult might not see it that way.  The longer she studied their ways, the more she worried about it.  The priest teaching them today was a thin Saiyan with pale pink skin and a unibrow.  He gave loud, thunderous sermons to the group, speaking of the glories of purity, and the utter destruction of anything tainted by the unholy.  The other students seemed galvanized by his words, but Lesseri wondered how he would react if he knew she had met Luffa face to face, and even sparred with her.

Her only saving grace was that the cult only knew what she had told them, and possibly whatever she had shared with Endive and Guwar.  She hadn't seen either of then since their initiation.  For all she knew they had failed the Crucible and met the same fate as Treekul.  In any case, Lesseri hadn't told either of them that much about her time with Luffa.

It was Treekul that made her worry.  The four of them had come to this planet together, but when Lesseri first began her quest, it was just Lesseri and Treekul.  With no one else to talk to in those days, she had said more than she probably should have.

One of Lesseri's schemes had involved disguising Endive as Luffa to trick certain parties into giving up useful information.  To complete the disguise, she convinced Treekul to dress up as Luffa wife, a blue-skinned, red-haired alien whose name Lesseri had long forgotten.  Most people didn't know that much about Luffa's personal life, so Lesseri had believed it would make Endive's act more convincing.

"How do you know so much about this lady anyway?" Treekul had asked.

"We all lived together on Nat-Chezz II for a while,"  Lesseri had told her.  "The blue lady would hide in the jungle and we had to hunt her down as an exercise."

There were other anecdotes, things that Lesseri had shared with Treekul but not with the cult to which she had pledged her immortal soul.  At first, she hadn't given it a second thought.  Treekul was probably dead by now, and she had no reason to tell them of such things, even if they did interrogate her before her execution.

But fourteen days in the Crucible had taken a mental toll on Lesseri.  The priests had been very cordial and helpful at first, but over time they expected more and more from her, and the disapproving looks they made were impossible to ignore.  Even when they praised her, she sensed an unspoken "but you could have done better."

In the short hours when she should have been sleeping, Lesseri had tossed and turned, racking her brain for something to explain her fears, and then she realized that Treekul was the only explanation.  She had never seen the alien die.  The priests must have questioned Treekul, and learned something about Lesseri's time with Luffa.  They didn't say anything to Lesseri because they were waiting for her to confess it herself.

But she couldn't do that.  If they didn't know, if Treekul had told them nothing, then telling them would be a terrible mistake.  They would punish her, make her repeat the Crucible, or perhaps worse.  

But if they already knew, then lying to them would be an even more terrible mistake.

But if they didn't know, and she told them now, they would ask why she hadn't said anything before.  

But if she could only turn the lead into gold, then none of it would matter.    They would recognize her mastery of the lessons, and her other failings would be forgiven.  

But she couldn't turn the lead into gold.   None of the students could.  Lesseri began to suspect that the point of the exercise was to recognize the futility of the attempt.  The ones who cracked under the pressure to perform were demoted and required to repeat the Crucible from the beginning.  

But Lesseri couldn't endure that.  She was too tired, too hungry, and too frightened to contemplate another sixteen days of this hell.  She had to hold on, and hope that everything would work out if she just held out a little longer.  That was what the other students were doing.  

But none of them harbored a secret like hers.    

Silently, she begged the lump of metal in her pot to suddenly become gold.   It was a stupid thought, but it would solve everything.  It would prove that she was worthy, and nothing else would matter.   Her past, her secrets, her lies, it would all be forgotten.  

But the lead would not cooperate, no matter how badly she wanted it to.  

And then, just as she was about to lose all patience, and throw the pot to the ground and scream at the top of her lungs, the priest rang a small chime, signifying the end of the day's session.   After a brief farewell, they were dismissed.   Lesseri rose from her seat and wandered out of the room in a daze.   The thing she was feeling wasn't exactly relief, for she knew she would face the same turmoil again tomorrow.   But at least she could rest and eat.   There had to be some way for her to ride out these last two days...

"Lesseri, could I speak to you for a moment?"

She turned and saw one of the priests, and forced herself to some semblance of composure.  

"I'm giving instructions to one of the new priests," he explained.   "You've been through the assay several times, and I thought you would make a good subject for a demonstration of the process."

"Of course," Lesseri said, her voice somewhat weaker and more reluctant than she wanted it to sound.   "Whenever you're ready."

"Splendid," he said.  "You know, you're making remarkable progress, Lesseri."

The compliment might have lifted her spirits, until she happened to notice someone out of the corner of her eye, walking along the corridor.   She was clad in the red robes of the priesthood, but her skin was lavender, and her hair was a thin layer of green stubble on her scalp.  But it was only for a moment, and then she was gone, and Lesseri had to wonder if she had imagined it somehow.  

"Is something wrong, Lesseri?" the priest asked.  

"No, sir," Lesseri finally said.  "Nothing at all."

*******

[9 March, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

Day Sixteen of the Crucible.   Lesseri felt like she was about to die.    The contents of her pot had not changed.   Earlier in the day, one of the other students had gone into hysterics, and began raving about how he had "done it", and insisted that his lead had become gold, even though it had not.   Whether he was lying or hallucinating, Lesseri couldn't tell.    She was no longer interested in the fate of the others, or whether she could transmute metals.   Her only focus was on making it through the rest of the day without behind demoted.  

She had not seen Treekul since that moment in the corridor, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that it had been real.   That made no sense.   Aliens were unworthy.    Only Saiyans could be priests.  Unless Treekul had proven herself useful somehow.   And the only way Lesseri could think of was by revealing the lies and secrets of one of their initiates.  

No!  It couldn't be like that.  If they already knew the truth, then why had they not pulled Lesseri out of the Crucible already?   Why bother letting her finish the course?

Unless the Crucible was considered a fitting punishment for her.   It certainly didn't feel like a reward.   What better torment than to make her endure the entire trial, only to deny her at the very end?  

No.   Lesseri bit her lower lip until she could feel it bleeding.   She had to beat back these waves of paranoia.   This was the only way to receive the Jindan power, and she would not repeat this ordeal, no matter what.    It was all a test of her obedience, like she had said from the beginning.   Just do as you're told, and the rest would take care of itself.   That was all she had to worry about.   It had to be.   It just had to.

And then two more of the priests entered the room.   Lesseri ignored them until she heard one of them speak, and she recognized Treekul's voice.  

"You probably wouldn't even recognize Lesseri after all this time," one of them said to her.   "She's made remarkable progress."

"Yes, of course," Treekul said.  

Lesseri tried to focus on her work, but couldn't help looking up when Treekul approached.   Her blood ran cold when she finally saw her.  It was definitely Treekul.    Her green buzz cut and lavendar skin were conspicuous enough in the outside universe, but here, among an all-Saiyan population, they stood out even more.   Her garments were more revealing than most, but the style made it clear that she was one of the priestesses.

She couldn't stand this any longer.   Had Treekul told them already?   What was she even doing here?   How did this make any sense?   And then, just as she was about to ask, one of the other students beat her to it.  

"Sir, how is an alien allowed to serve in the priesthood?   I thought only Saiyans were worthy."

Treekul and Lesseri looked at each other while the student waited for his answer.  

"Trismegistus has assayed Sister Treekul," the priest explained.   "And he has made her worthy."

"That's impossible!" protested one of the other students.  

"Is it?" the priest asked.  "You've all been working on those pots for several days now, haven't you?   Has any of you managed to make so much as a sliver of gold?    Anyone at all?   No?   Why do you suppose that is?"

There was a tension behind Lesseri's eyes, and the back of her head felt like the molten lump of metal in her pot.    She felt a shame that she couldn't begin to describe.   She was sure that if she could answer the priest's question, then it would make up for her other failings, in some small way.    And yet she was at a loss.   She couldn't even explain her own failure.   And there was Treekul, a living monument to her imperfection...

"Well, of course they can't do it.    They don't know how," Treekul said, answering for the class.   "Even experienced alchemists struggle to pull off that sort of thing.  So why are you having these initiates try it?   You didn't even give them any reagents or equipment."

Lesseri looked up from her pot.   Was this true?   Had the entire exercise been a complete waste of time?

"We make the initiates perform the impossible," the priest explained, "precisely because it's impossible... for them.   And as they realize the depths of their failure, they must also reflect upon this truth: Our master, Trismegistus, can turn lead into gold.  His power can do what the rest of us call 'impossible'.   That is why we follow him.   Not just because he is our leader, or because of his 'power'.   We follow him because he is holy.   Miraculous.   Without him, the lead is unchanged.  But with his triple blessing, he can turn it into gold.   He can turn make the weak into the strong.   And he can even transmute the alien into the disciple.  Truly, the thrice-blessed is a..."

He suddenly paused his sermon and looked toward the class.   "Excuse me, Lesseri," he said,  "are you crying?"

The entire classroom was astounded by the teachings, but Lesseri was completely awestruck.   It had been an epiphany to her.   Treekul, her own imperfections, the Crucible, and everything else she had worried about, they were all wet clay to be molded by Trismegistus.   None of it mattered.    The crucible, demotion, the assays, Treekul wearing priestly garments, Lesseri's former association with the Super Saiyan.    None of it mattered in the end, because it could all be shaped and reshaped to suit his grand design.    All Lesseri needed to do was to submit and let herself be transformed.  

"I'm all right," she sobbed.   "It's just so... liberating..."

NEXT: Xibuyas waits.

[yasbxxgie]

Kehinde Wiley on Self-Doubt and How He Made It as a Painter The artist behind Barack Obama’s presidential portrait talks about developing his skills at a junk store

By age 12, Kehinde Wiley had a reputation in his Los Angeles neighborhood for being a talented artist. Teachers at his school recommended him for a program during which he spent the summer of 1989 in Russia with 50 Soviet kids and 50 other Americans, creating murals, learning the Russian language and culture, hiking, swimming, and picking mushrooms. “It was a strange, magical time,” he recalls.

Wiley went on to study art at the San Francisco Art Institute and Yale. He now has a studio in Brooklyn, and Barack Obama chose him to paint a lively portrait of the former president that now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery.

I recently spoke with Wiley about traveling to Nigeria to meet his father for the first time after having painted portraits of him for years, dealing with criticism, and the importance of slowing down. This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for length and clarity.

***

Lola Fadulu: What was your mom’s work schedule like?

Kehinde Wiley: My mother, while raising six kids, had a number of small-business activities. The most prominent one in my memory was sort of like a junk store.

She would be away, in the earliest years, much of the day. Then she would be around more in the late afternoons, evenings. When we weren’t in school, we would be around the shop, and I remember learning Spanish dealing with a lot of the customers there.

Fadulu: Aside from learning Spanish, was there anything else you learned from those times you helped out in the store?

Wiley: I think I learned a sense of making something out of nothing, trying to dust off old items and seeing some level of value in them, recognizing that no one is going to help you.

Fadulu: Did your mom have any particular field or industry that she wanted you or your siblings to go into?

Wiley: Well, I remember as kids, we all had different passions, and she encouraged all of them. My twin brother and I would be going to art school as kids because there was a free program that allowed us to get off of the streets of South Central Los Angeles and spend our weekends studying art.

I remember my mother wanting me to go into preaching. She was taken by the fact that I was quite successful at some oratory competitions. She was going through a particularly religious fervor at that point in her life, and she encouraged me in that direction.

Fadulu: At that point, were you thinking about turning art into a career, or was it more of a hobby?

Wiley: In the beginning, it was much more of a hobby, and much more about just having an outlet for creative energy. Only later did it start to have real personal consequence.

Fadulu: When did that start to change?

Wiley: I was 12 years old. Russia was one of those programs that was a free program. It was an opportunity for me and 50 other American kids to go off into what was then the Soviet Union, and to study art in the forest outside of what was then called Leningrad, and is currently called Saint Petersburg.

We created a series of murals, and we had language classes and cultural exchange. And we would hike off into the forest, pick mushrooms, and swim. It was a strange, magical time. It allowed my sense of what was possible to blossom, at that very important age.

Fadulu: Did you know that you were a good artist when you were 12?

Wiley: Of course. That was my one bit of power in the world. That was the thing that got me positive attention, as opposed to so much negative attention that was coming at so many of my classmates at the time.

Fadulu: Would you consider helping your mom out in the store your first job?

Wiley: It was definitely my first job. I remember thinking about all of those bags and bags of clothes, and trying to figure out how to sort out different colors, and different types of fabrics, and how to organize things in terms of style and age. I remember looking at things that to me seemed like junk, but with a little bit of TLC, a coat of paint or something, is repositioned as something that people are willing to spend good money on.

That was my first job as a kid, but it wasn’t really positioned as a job, because it was just what you do. You lend a hand.

Fadulu: So, what was the first job you had that was positioned as a job?

Wiley: I think my first real job was actually going to work for the art school that I used to go to as a kid. While I was once an 11-year-old student at the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts’ Summer Arts Conservatory, which was housed on the campus of Cal State Los Angeles, I was later as a high-school student recruited, at first, as a teacher’s assistant, and then later as a teacher to teach drawing and painting to youngsters. I was 17 and 18, teaching 9- and 10-year-olds how to paint.

Fadulu: Is that when you were beginning to think about a career in art?

Wiley: My first thought was that no one makes it as a painter. I was just looking around at the landscape of contemporary art, which was pretty dry in Southern California during the ’90s. There was no modeling for success when it came to a job in the arts.

So I thought that my best option would probably be in arts education. So when I went to do my bachelor’s degree in fine arts at the San Francisco Art Institute immediately after high school, I assumed that I would probably study art and become an art teacher. While I enjoyed it very much as a high-school student, I didn’t really have a burning desire to be a teacher. I just knew that that would enable me to support my art habit.

Four years of arts education in San Francisco, then going off to graduate school on the East Coast at Yale, opened up a whole new set of possibilities. And perhaps for the first time I started to glimpse what it might mean to launch a successful career as a painter.

Fadulu: And where did you catch those glimpses of those other possibilities? I know you said you were at Yale, but what exactly were you seeing?

Wiley: What happens there is that while I’m painting in the graduate art studios, I’m also taking trips into the city with my classes, and having conversations with artists in their studios. I remember having classroom trips to art galleries and seeing actual exhibitions I was excited about. Being in the class with professors who are working artists, the light slowly started to turn on, and that sense of imagining myself as one of those people.

But still, there’s a lot of self-doubt, and there was also a really tough regime of criticism that arts education put me through, which enabled me to develop a really thick skin, but also caused me to doubt whether or not I had the chops to make it as a professional artist.

Fadulu: How did you deal with the self-doubt?

Wiley: I think a lot of it was being able to recognize the relative nature of a lot of the arguments that were being made in large classrooms. One art object could give rise to five different arguments, and depending on who was the most convincing, the success or failure of that art object would announce itself. It became increasingly obvious that it had very little to do with the art, and more to do with the environment in which the art was being consumed.

I had a strong sense that this school was an immense place to learn new ideas and histories, but also a potentially toxic place in which you can get caught up within the incredibly specific politics that each school gives rise to, and lose track of the broader target.

Fadulu: And didn’t you go to Nigeria to reconnect with your dad?

Wiley: Well, I connected, period. My father and mother broke up before I was born. He returns to Nigeria, and I’m never to see him until I’m 19. So, 1997,  I just decide on a whim that I’m going to go find him. A lot of it was a lot of buildup, emotional buildup. This constant desire to see who your father is, and just to know that connection. I think on another level it was about pushing myself, and knowing what I’m made of, whether or not I’m capable of pulling something like this off. There was a lot of teenage bravado going on there.

There was this incredible curiosity as a portrait painter, just—what does he look like? I began going to different universities asking if they knew who this guy was. I knew that he studied architecture in America.

So I would go to universities and go to their architecture departments and ask if anyone knew my father, and that didn’t work. Someone finally said that I should go, based on his last name, to southwestern Nigeria, where I then went to the University of Calabar. And his name was on the door of the department. He was the head of the architecture department. And nothing’s been the same since. There was a series of paintings that I did shortly after meeting him for the first time, where I was just obsessed with painting him, getting that out.

Fadulu: Was that trip what you thought it would be?

Wiley: No, not at all. I had this illusion that there would be arms wide open, and music would be playing, and that I would quickly and quite easily recognize this lost side of my African ancestry. And in fact, it was an incredibly difficult and exhausting process to find him. And by the time we did find each other, there was that strange moment of trying to figure out what each other and who each other was. What were my intentions as I showed up? What were my feelings toward him? It was incredibly complicated.

I think I was a bit naïve to think that all of those emotions would just simply be resolved by seeing him. In fact, it became much more difficult to come to terms with the feelings of resentment and abandonment than I had anticipated.

Fadulu: You said you became obsessed with painting portraits of him.

Wiley: There were a number of those that, to this day, I can’t find, because I sold off so much work as an undergrad. One of these days, I have to track this stuff down.

Fadulu: What was going through your mind when you heard from Obama about his portrait?

Wiley: Well, there was never really any point where I had the job. I heard they were considering a number of artists for this, and I was welcomed to be interviewed as they were down to a smaller group. But there was never any point where I just knew, until I knew. Back in 2016 even, I was in the Oval Office, incredibly nervous. And I was interviewing with the president about this potential job, still not knowing what it was going to be, but just feeling incredibly grateful for having been invited to have the conversation.

So every step along the way, it just became more and more real, and more and more possible.

Fadulu: So what was the interview like?

Wiley: Of course the president wanted to know what it is that I would bring to the picture. I spoke really honestly about what excited me about him and me being involved in this historical moment: the sense in which we both share that story of having African fathers and American mothers. That sort of journey to find the father, that yearning to try and create some sort of internationalist presence in our work.

I spoke about the possibilities, allegorically, of telling his story in a painting. And so what you end up with in that painting are some amazing botanicals that are visually captivating, but they also nod toward certain flowers that are prominent in Indonesia, certain leaves that are prominent in Hawaii, the state flower of Illinois, the flowers that are most commonly seen in the grasslands of Kenya.

All of those strange, forest-like spaces are behind him and pushing up and forward. Those were the things that I was discussing as a possibility, and I think that it must’ve set something right.

Fadulu: You said it became more real as you went through the process. Were you working at all on it before it was official?

Wiley: Oh, God, yeah. I had gone to photograph him, and that wasn’t quite right, so I went back and I photographed him again. There were months of just trying to figure out how to artificially create this type of image on the computer and approximate what it would look like, and then start doing studies and see what it looks like in the actual paint. It was a long time coming. But in the end, it was all worth it.

Fadulu: Those months of trying to figure out how to create it—were there any big lessons from that?

Wiley: Just slow down. The more important the portrait, the more nuance the likeness has to have, the slower you have to get. So I had to get smaller brushes, really concentrate on just doing small passages per day, rather than trying to do broad strokes. And so it was a very different type of painting. You can feel it, almost, when you look at that painting, it's a much more contemplative piece. But I got very familiar with his face.

Fadulu: How did you feel about its reception?

Wiley: Well, he told me, “This is what I do, I’m used to the national spotlight, the global spotlight, but you’re new to this, so get ready. It’s gonna be a big deal.” And boy, was it ever.

I’ve never seen a work of art go viral that way and become a global sensation. And, of course, you’re dealing with the culture wars, and powers and principalities, and the Republicans and the Democrats. It did come as a shock to see that people would get so excited as to start sending death notices and threatening letters and all of this.

It’s surprising, but when seen in the proper context, when seen as a type of cultural signpost, when that painting is seen as what it is, which is a moment of celebration for him and his high-water mark within our culture, then you recognize it’s bigger than you are.

[cyanpeacock]

Realtalk(tm): The Continued Brainprocessing of Fucky Shit

it’s a long one boys but they all are atm

like jinkies scoob i have been Avoiding So Much with les drogues. avoiding so much like, wow, shit, I Feel So Empty Around People Who Were In My Life. but yes, very necessary to dissociate from this shit for a period while i adjusted to the possibility of, oh, wait, this really is My Apartment? this... i can Live Here without being Disturbed or Attacked? still adjusting. but without les drogues this time.

im continually coming to terms with like... ok, so, i have been and sometimes still like... engage in emotionally and physically abusive behaviour towards my own body, and to other bodies around me? 

and also, i am coming to terms with, this does not strictly mean i am An Abuser Forever full stop (i.e. Bad Person, Irredeemable, Disgusting, Abhorrent, Should Be Euthanised, etc).

this is reflective of, emotional and physical abuse has been so normalised to me as a young individual, that i have been repeating patterns of behaviour i saw routinely growing up, not even understanding why that kind of behaviour is hurtful or how i could do stuff differently. and that kind of makes me go, oh shit. dude, what the hell? that’s... that’s actually, yeah, that’s one fucked up upbringing. it really Was that bad. 

even regarding like The Voices In My Head(tm), my reaction historically was just like, scream at them? yell at them? injure the body somehow until they shut up or it passes out? 

which, uh, oh. that’s totally what my mother did when i was displaying “unreasonable” or “irrational” emotions as a small thing. rejecting then snapping then shouting then smacking until i either ran away to cry alone and injure myself more (emotional abandonment; reenacting and normalizing physical punishment) or went very numb and quiet and compliant like a Good Child (dissociative reaction/freezing; fawning). 

now like i am aware of these structures and this history Right Now. but still frequently i do get into the old frame of mind where it’s like, “you’re being stupid. you’re overreacting. you’re being melodramatic. Other People Have It Worse. Just Don’t Think About It” which, yeah, that’s introjected from a number of adult figures in my life. very very unhelpful, but when you’re a kid, you’re looking to adults for structures to implement to help you navigate your own life. when those adults are emotionally unhealthy... Yeah. this happens.

and right now, i’m like, uh, what the hell? it’s not a dick measuring contest, you’re telling a kid in pain that they’re not allowed to express their pain?

like i’ve talked abt this before probably but it’s an incident that reminds me how fucked up the whole situation was and is. when my school found out i was self harming in like y7 (so like, 11-12yo), because i’d cut so far down my PE shorts didn’t cover the marks, my PE teacher legally had to get the school to call home. and like, i fucking Begged her, please don’t, a call home is gonna make things SO much worse for me. but ofc the law is the law especially when it comes to teaching, and the call home got made. and later that evening my mother bust into my room with NO warning and fucking screamed at me, “You Selfish Little Cow.” 

like i went numb as hell. i don’t really remember clearly what she said after that but it was a whole tirade. stuff about how i was a brat and going to get her in trouble with social services and how i was ruining the family (implicitly, her life) and causing trouble, and how i ought to Think About What I’d Done. i was thinking/feeling, oh my god, she’s beating me again. i’ve ruined everything for everyone again. this is all my fault. i’m responsible, i’m the one to blame, i should have hidden it better. i’m not allowed to talk. i’m not allowed to feel. i’m supposed to be Quiet and Good and Do School and Not Annoy Anyone and Behave. i’ve failed. i am a failure. I Am A Selfish Little Cow. 

i think i tried to commit after she left? but like, in that way where you’re so numb and out of it you can’t actually physically pull together the methods, despite the mind wanting No More. 

and like i’ve been going to visit the woman that DID THAT TO ME. smiling and telling her about my life while Really Fucking Avoiding Telling Her Any Details About My Life. hesitating in pain and then adding “xx” to the end of the text messages i felt like i was obliged to send her. trying to convince myself “she’s my mum, i’m not gonna get another one, i should call her, it’s not so bad, we can talk about... uh, talk about politics, or religion, or, uh, her dog, or my siblings...” COMPLETELY fucking avoiding the fact that, like. this is the Same Person who caused me all that pain, and i don’t feel safe or secure talking to her about important details of my life, or my emotions, or, well, me. i hide and go Nothing Is Wrong! :) I’m Doing Fine! :) 

and! it really does seem like she’s not, you know, as cruel as she was with me, with her other children, at least since after i ran away. but no amount of that can actually change MY memories of growing up with her? my more-or-less programmed Make Her Happy reaction to her physical body? i can’t just, you know, conveniently forget those Things that Hurt Me to engage with her for her happiness. because, well, Her Happiness is not My Happiness, although i was lead to believe that was so. and, when i’m Conveniently Forgetting those things (i.e. my emotions at the hands of an abusive relative), i’m not behaving with the proper regard for myself as a person, and by extension i’m missing pieces of how to properly engage with other people. 

i don’t wanna like, mask the in between spaces of utter dread and anxiety and total blankness with Everything Is Totally Fine. I Am Functioning. Yes I Did Well In School This Year. That’s All That Matters. What Have I Been Doing? Oh You Know. The Usual. (without ever saying what The Usual is, because, yeah, when i’m in that Mode, i don’t fucking know what i do at home! idk how i spend my time! My Function Is To Avoid Conflict). 

because, uh, yeah, academically, sure! i am functioning, sort of! bodily? uh, well, i’m SLOWLY learning how to properly feed myself, and sleep without chemicals, and stay clean, stuff like that. socially? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. okay, fuck. that’s the one i can’t... figure out, like, at all, on my own. how do i... where the fuck do I even start? i’m not even okay enough with Myself to navigate the social world without passing inappropriate judgement on potential peers. i see people who might, Might, be friends, and my brain goes POTENTIAL THREAT REGISTERED. SELF: SIGHTED. ACTION: HIDE. DO NOT APPROACH. FLEE IF CONTACT INITIATED. 

SO LIKE. my issue now is, i totally know that like... these patterns of behaviour are not My Fault, don’t make me Useless, Bad, Bratty etc, if i sit down and write about it, frowning on-and-off for hours. but, i can’t actually implement these regulatory thought processes in realtime quickly enough to... meet new people and enjoy it? on like, a social level? even on a professional level i have to wait for a good day, and switch off like, chunks of me to get the Task Completed. and uh, talking to friends isn’t a Task process, it’s supposed to be a Leisure process?

i’m quite capable of filling my time and navigating the world quietly, alone! there is a surprising amount i can find to do. but hypothetically i’d really like to, like, meet people, and not talk about “haha dude I’m so sick right now. let’s smoke another blunt,” because while it was... uh, reassuring? and i suppose fun? for a while? to meet other people dealing with life pain like that, that sort of thing gets really mutually toxic.

like, i’m in the process of quitting drugs altogether, and drugs tend to go hand in hand with that social space. daily use, even second-hand smoke, is not something i can be around any more. weed was great for ages, but now like, the drug basically told me “nah g i’m not for u any more”? - as in, it was not helping me any further, i could feel this, and i just... smashed the pipe i’d smoked out of since living in the YMCA, deleted my dealers’ numbers, and withdrew. goodbye ganja! I Keap The   B o m g   In My Mind Now

i was offered like, support from a local drug addiction charity? people fucking pushing me and pushing me to go there, actually. but like... i step outside the place and the ground is carpeted in fag ends. there are cheap booze shops like 5 minutes walk away. it felt like the kind of place where something heavy would come up in group, and i’d be with the people who peel away afterwards to chainsmoke, get a couple litres of cheap voddy, then somebody pulls out their second phone to get a baggie of the good shit once the booze hits? like it could easily just drag me back down. this is a thing i gotta discuss later, and more privately. that kind of group Not For Me.

i’d also like... started Really noticing the whole undercurrent of like, anger and judgement and denial and impermanence in the we’re-all-mentally-ill-here social spaces i used to hang out in? and i’m aware that i was participating in that too, and that while it was good to begin with and for a long time, it really isn’t good for me any more. actually tbh i go Completely Wack upon returning to those people and places now. which, fuck, like, if the person in question happens to be reading this, i’m very sorry. and yeah, sorry doesn’t cut it, because that must have been Fucking Alarming from your perspective, and i wouldn’t have done it if i’d been in my right mind, and i wasn’t in my right mind, and currently can’t be around so many triggers, and yeah your lifestyle being triggering to me is NOT your fault at all, which is why all i can really do is a disappearing act. cuz there’s no conversation that can even make a goodbye feel right, fucker that this situation is. rip. 

so yeah uh. my issue now, is Establishing Trust and Healthy Social Connections. that is, trust that someone is gonna like me for, the collection of things i like and do and say and am? uh, or even several people? 

this... is one i can’t figure out Alone, because, well, it concerns social relations. and i have very little confidence in social relations, because, well, they’ve either been painful, or centered around painful experiences. and i’ve been told that when i’m really truly enthusiastic and happy about something, i’m overwhelming and annoying to others? so i put the brakes on like crazy if i start feeling “too” happy and end up going Appeasement Mode to get out of the social situation as quickly and smoothly as possible.

and uh, what, i don’t even know the collection of things i like and do and say and am. i don’t... Know all of those things at any one time. how, uh, what? what am I. you know. the usual ??????????? flippy haze. 

i mean! i’m getting better at talking Within myself. i REALLY try to talk slowly with kindness and understanding of context to myself and the voices in my head now, and figure out solutions to pain and problems that don’t involve different kinds of pain or avoidance? but i still lapse into like, you know, Augh Jesus Christ I’ve Heard This One Before Why Do I Need To Have This Discussion Again, and frequently i can’t find a viable alternative for avoidance, because i get overwhelmed easily and that makes EVERYTHING worse. and i haven’t figured out how to take my foot off the brake pedal, either, even though i���m not always pressing it. I Need It There For Now Or Else The Car Might Crash u kno. 

so, like, what? i guess i just keep, talking kindly to the voices, and also to myself? practice until it becomes the default state of being when a trigger pops in? this requires patience, and also booting away people who refuse to have patience with me. unfortunate, necessary.

the thing about IRL conversations, is they happen so QUICKLY, and like, i don’t have enough time to calm the brain down from every trigger that pops up! because like, it can be a facial expression, a movement, a word or phrase, a tone, something in the periphery, something behind me, an internal sensation. it’s SO much information my brain is scanning urgently for threats, and my brain scans harder the more a person knows me, because a person who knows you can deal WAY more damage than a stranger. 

so... yes. this is the part i require assistance with. Hrrrrrrmmnhghdfgjnh.

I SUPPOSE. perhaps now the university have stepped in to arrange a case review with the NHS, they can really push for the kind of support i need. which, yeah, it’s long-term one-on-one trauma-focused counselling or therapy, and also some help with social interaction???? not repeated crisis team referrals, not some 12-week DBT course, i’ve literally been off finding DBT skills and employing them on my own because the waiting lists are so fucking long, and not a 12-week psychodynamic course, because i’ve been seeing a psychodynamic counsellor on and off for four years privately, and the work is nowhere near a conclusion. shit, i’d be satisfied if they could just somehow secure funding for me to keep seeing that guy specifically? he’s REALLY helpful to me, literally like my fucking role model for non-toxic masculinity. and i’m not ready for like, group social skills work, Yet. but soon, you know? only when i’m like “okay, yeah, i really do think I can handle this without my health going backwards again” - which, i need more within-myself security for that. 

also better mood monitoring would be nice, i.e. seeing the same damn person, who actually knows my case, instead of a different person every time saying “I’ve just quickly had a look at your case notes”. because if i go low again this winter, then my “depressive disorder NOS” is bipolar, and i’ve been mismedicated from the beginning. and yeah honestly like? as soon as it starts getting dark and cold, I get inexplicably sad, even with plenty of indoor light and warm clothes and whatnot. but yeah we’ll see about that.

anyway This Shit Wack. Im Done.