#obviously these are fundamentally different situations and no one is to blame for my brain doing this thing

[queerfables]

.

[nocturnalnewsiestrash]

Okay so I had to take a shower and let my body stew while I let my brain stew on this topic specifically (the shower DID take like an hour oopsies) but this means I have a lot of ideas about it.

So to preface I'm also a dead poets society girlie so my brain tries to say oh I know exactly the thing for this! and goes to take the box labeled Neil Perry thoughts, headcanons, and scenario runthroughs off the shelf to use but I tried to avoid that and instead think about how the school would act objectively and then go deeper into Charles character. But also like, be aware of that effect.

I'm also an education major and come from a long line of education people so I'm quite familiar with how schools act especially when things crash and burn. They always choose a scapegoat to take the fall. There's a few ways they do that

1. They choose one person who was so involved with the issue that they're already going down no matter what so the school lets them be the one responsible for ALL of it, usually a faculty member or multiple faculty members.

2. They don't have a clear person to take the fall so they make people that they already wanted to get rid of the scapegoats. Basically the kill two birds with one stone scapegoat method

3. They make it the students' faults entirely, blaming it usually on them breaking some rule and suspending/expelling them to avoid addressing all the cracks in the system that LED to students being able to do whatever they did or didn't do

4. And if it's REALLY bad and too obviously a fundamental issue in the school they let 1 or more of the higher ups take the fall for what happened so the school can stay afloat

Now in Charles death, the boys were clearly not supposed to be out there at the lake so they were definitely Breaking A Rule there. Since there were no staff there when Charles intervened, and also not out at the lake, it's more a through the grapevine, he said she said, "up to interpretation" situation at least in the boarding schools mind. And if these boys who hurt Charles were considered to be his friends, then that gives the school a perfect chance to twist it into not a complete ignorance of his death but instead a twisted version that makes them look better and less guilty as the school itself. Schools will make decisions internally for a reason, and then publicly say they made that decision for a completely different reason in order to spin a tale where they aren't the bad guy or at least as much of the bad guy.

So because of this here's my idea of how the result of his death went: St Hilarion still chose to say that Charles did die, that he died of hyperthermia. But they would twist it to be instead of Charles being beaten by other boys and THEN dying of hyperthermia, because that would raise questions about how they ALLOWED that to happen and call into question their care and safety as a school, that Charles and his "friends" as they choose to view them deciding to sneak out and daring each other to go for a winter swim. And claiming that he died of hypothermia as a result of this careless misbehavior. Because claiming that the death occurred as a result of breaking the rules clears them of fault because they have the rules there and the boys broke them and that's how it led to such a tragedy because of silly boys not following what they had in place because they would never let that occur on their watch.

They then either suspend and/or expel the boys for breaking the school rules and make it clear to the public that they will be cracking down on these rules. They write the boys off and get rid of them and then pretend the problem doesn't exist and never happened. Even if everyone aware actually knows that that's untrue and know through the grapevine bits and pieces that poke holes in the schools story it doesn't matter because PUBLICLY its the truth so it therefore is written in stone as the truth.

Making the students the entire scapegoat under the idea that it's more digestible to parents it was an accident occuring from misbehaving so they won't be scared to have their sons go there, and it absolves them from being involved in not supervising them well enough that a student was able to be beaten badly enough to have internal bleeding and hyperthermia so extreme that he dies without any awareness of the school.

So I think they told both Charles parents and the public that his death was essentially his fault from misbehaving and breaking rules to cover their own asses and let them believe their son died from being a stupid reckless boy. Which from what we've seen of his father he would be quick to believe. In his eyes Charles dying because of misbehaving makes sense to him and so that's final: his death was a stupid mistake and he once again failed to teach him (through physically beating him) to behave. And now we haven't actually seen much of what Charles' relationship with his mother was like but even if she notices somethings fishy in their story whether that's from knowing those boys weren't actually Charles' friends or even knowing in her heart of hearts that Charles would not do something like that, we already saw her not say anything as her husband beats their son, so there's no way she'd speak back to him about flaws in the facts and what he's already decided on about Charles death.

So that's what I think the "covering up" of Charles death actually was. Because I can't imagine Charles parents talk about his death much. And if they do I can't imagine it's to rehash the causes of it. So I don't Charles and Edwin would have learned this from them I bet it was learning about it in the newspapers. Which is so devastatingly awful. But yeah sorry this was so sad it is just what my brain came up with

That moment when the camera focuses on Charles after Crystal tells Edwin that she thought about how her parents might be scared and looking for her after looking into Becky Aspen's mom's mind breaks my heart.

Charles would know how his parents reacted to him going missing.

He's been looking in on them for 30 years.

The boarding school covered up what happened to him.

Did they tell his parents that he died?

Did they tell his parents he ran away?

Do they know whether he's dead or alive?

Did his dad even care?

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 7 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of having gone to bed.

This would not have been a surprise had he been at home, as his routine was blissfully static and required no thought whatsoever – each item he needed in its proper place, each movement mapped out through years of practice, his entire body trained such that he would automatically begin to go through the necessary acts at the appropriate time and would immediately begin to feel sleepy once he started the sequence – but it was highly notable that such a thing would occur while he was out of the Cloud Recesses, where each day’s sleep would only be the same in terms of the time at which he fell asleep.

In this case in particular, he also felt sore all over – his head, as mentioned, but also his upper arms and, oddly, his right knee. Had he been exercising unwisely? The bed in the room he had been given at the Sun Palace was not that nice, too hard and unyielding, but it wasn’t enough to cause this sort of aching…

“I will see to it that the next bed lives up to your stringent standards.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes shot open and he sat upright at once: that was Wen Ruohan’s voice.

“What are you doing in my –” he started to say, then stopped.

Wen Ruohan was not in his bedroom.

He wasn’t in his bedroom.

He didn’t even recognize this bedroom.

It was massive, for one thing: a full suite, the way the hanshi was back at home, with place for a bed and a table and plenty more besides. The bed was similar in style to the one in the room he had been assigned but larger in scale – made of dark wood and covered in the red sun motif like all the other décor, but over twice as broad and an extra chi in length, and the brocade fabric used to upholster it was considerably more lush and luxurious and, admittedly, more comfortable than what he’d been sleeping on in the Sun Palace’s guest quarters. The room itself was the same, decorated in luxury extending to the point of opulence: there was a painting scroll on one wall that if genuine would be worth more than everything Lan Qiren owned put together, young master of a Great Sect or not, and on the other wall hung six swords, each more glorious than the next, and he suspected if he knew more about weaponry he would be able to recite their names.  Even the red sun that was painted on every ceiling here glittered with embedded rubies and spiritual stones, emanating pure qi – a tremendous waste, each one of them sufficient to be a cultivation sect’s precious treasure.

Amidst all this luxury, Wen Ruohan was sitting not far away from the bed, a book held loosely in his hands – it was as if he’d been waiting for Lan Qiren to awaken.

“I think you’ll find, in fact,” Wen Ruohan said, and his eyes were glittering the way they had been the day before when it had been Lao Nie he’d been looking at, full of malice and self-indulgent amusement, “that this is my bedroom.”

This was not a surprise, but rather the only logical conclusion.

Not that it explained why Lan Qiren was here.

“Did I – fall asleep?” he asked uncertainly, though surely that must be the reason. “And you – brought me here?”

“You did, and I did,” Wen Ruohan confirmed, and seemed amused for some reason. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Lan Qiren wracked his brain, which was hurting and unhelpful and slower even than its usual plodding pace. “…I was thinking that liquor tastes vile.”

Wen Ruohan’s smile broadened. “Mm. It seems that you inherited your grandfather’s head for wine.”

Lan Qiren’s grandfather was one of the elders who refused to obey the rule against alcohol. He had also, in his later years, developed a most un-Lan-like fondness for wine.

He had not at any point developed a tolerance for it.

Lan Qiren closed his eyes in a wince. He must have made a complete fool of himself!

“This foolish junior apologizes to the Sect Leader for his misbehavior,” he said. He wanted to lift his hands to salute, but the movement, when he started it, set off his stomach, and he was forced to wrap his arms around his midsection instead.

There was a rustling sound, robes moving as Wen Ruohan rose to his feet, but Lan Qiren kept his eyes stubbornly closed, fearing that any further input would cause him to bring up everything he’d consumed the night before – only to open them in shock a moment later when he felt a finger press against the acupoint between his eyes, a warm stream of spiritual energy pouring in to cleanse away the nausea and pain of his headache.

Of his hangover.

He had a hangover.

Wen Ruohan, the mighty Sect Leader Wen, was providing him with medical attention to deal with his hangover.

There weren’t going to be words for how much he was going to get punished when he got home.

“Thank you, Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Qiren croaked, feeling hot all over with unending mortification. He had truly been foolish to think that just because there was only one night left in the Nightless City there was little danger of him repeating the mistakes of the past – he had no face left to speak of.

“Oh, no need to be so formal,” Wen Ruohan said, drawing out the words in a drawl. “Not after such a memorable night.”

Lan Qiren did not want to know what he did to make the night get described as memorable. He did not.

Especially not since Wen Ruohan was so obviously enjoying himself over it.

Of course, he wasn’t an idiot: he might be slow and bad at social cues, might find it difficult to understand the unspoken or keep up with sarcasm, but even he knew what was being implied here.

An older man with a younger one, liquor shared, a bedroom…

Yes, he understood the implication.

He just wasn’t stupid enough to believe it.

Lan Qiren folded his hands together and held his head up high.

“It is good that the Sect Leader did not take insult at my foolishness,” he said stiffly. “I thank you for your care and attention, and regret the burden I placed upon you.”

If anything, Wen Ruohan looked even more amused. “Such dignity, little Lan. You’re not even going to ask what happened?”

“This junior is only sixteen,” Lan Qiren said, still stiff and icy. “There is nothing that could have taken place without Sect Leader Wen’s approval, and naturally Sect Leader Wen would not permit this junior to offend his dignity.”

There, he thought with some satisfaction. That neatly turned the situation around: even if something untoward had occurred, which honestly Lan Qiren did not believe past that first initial moment of panic – even putting aside the fact that he wasn't anywhere near sore enough for something like that to have occurred, Wen Ruohan was not known to succumb easily to lust, nor was he so eager for war that he would recklessly try to deflower the son of another Great Sect while the latter was intoxicated for the first time – the blame would fall squarely on Wen Ruohan’s head, not Lan Qiren’s.

Wen Ruohan laughed, understanding perfectly well what Lan Qiren meant.

“You would think so,” he said, sounding almost approving of Lan Qiren’s rule lawyering. “I would have thought so, too, but I find that you Lan have truly remarkable arm strength…especially when trying to keep your conversational partner from escaping while you explain the difference between what the Lan sect consider to be fundamental rules and those considered ancillary.”

Lan Qiren blanched.

That was worse than what he’d thought – because unlike the notion of him making unwanted advances (or receiving them, for that matter), it was plausible. Terribly, painfully plausible.

“Oh, yes. All five iterations of the debate.”

Oh no.

“Four sect discussions. Seventeen separate texts on the subject, not counting later commentaries. Sixty-four subsidiary rulings, all of which you were very enthusiastic in recounting - and here I was thinking that your Wall of Discipline had a surfeit of rules, when in fact it was only the beginning. Apparently, I underestimated you.”

Lan Qiren buried his face in his hands as if that would make it stop. 

“Still, I suppose I’ll have to accustom myself to hearing more about the rules in the future,” Wen Ruohan mused. “We’ll be spending far more time together, after all, on account of our sworn brotherhood.”

Lan Qiren looked up and opened his mouth, then stopped.

He had nothing to say.

His mind was absolutely blank, a state which had never before occurred.

“Forgive me,” he finally spat out. “Our – what?”

Wen Ruohan smiled at him with eyes full of poison and a mouth full of teeth.

“Sworn brotherhood,” he said casually, as if it was nothing. “You were saying that you regretted not being able to see more of the Nightless City before you left, and that you could only leave the Cloud Recesses to visit family, so we became sworn brothers.”

“We did not.”

“Oh, but we did,” Wen Ruohan said. “We drank mixed wine and swore all the appropriate oaths – I have the written version here, if you’d like to see.”

The piece of paper he put in front of Lan Qiren was recognizably in Lan Qiren’s own hand, although his normally impeccable calligraphy was rather wobbly. It was still readable, though, and the first few clauses very clearly laid out a sworn brotherhood oath.

Lan Qiren stared at it.

“We – but we can’t be sworn brothers,” he said blankly. “We’re – you’re two generations older than me. Am I supposed to call you da-ge?”

“No one has called me da-ge since my youngest brother died,” Wen Ruohan mused, and Lan Qiren was abruptly reminded of the rumors, never confirmed, that that particular death had come at Wen Ruohan’s own hands following a challenge for the seat of sect leader. “It’ll be very charming, I’m sure.”

“But…”

Wen Ruohan said nothing, but only smiled at him.

Lan Qiren looked down at the paper.

He didn’t understand what was happening.

He tried to go over it again in his mind: he had left the competition when the celebration had started, he had wandered the halls, he had tried to obey his brother’s instructions in avoiding Wen Ruohan, and when that failed, he had obeyed him in trying to be obedient. He had drunk liquor for the first time, and he had no memory thereafter until he had woken up here and now, in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom, with Wen Ruohan saying that they had –

He didn’t think Wen Ruohan was teasing him over this, though. Not the way he had so obviously been with his implications that they had used the bedroom for purposes other than sleeping.

Not with evidence, written in his own hand.

He didn’t understand.

How could this have happened?

“…did we really?” he whispered, half-hoping against hope that it was still a tease, still a joke, still – something, anything, other than what it was. That Wen Ruohan was just waiting for him to declare that he believed him, to demonstrate dismay, and then he would tell him the truth.

“Yes,” Wen Ruohan said instead, inexorable. “We did.”

Lan Qiren’s mind fell into chaos.

He didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand.

“You’re shaking,” Wen Ruohan observed. “Ah, little Lan – don’t tell me it’s now that you’re scared?”

Lan Qiren’s hands were in fact shaking, he observed, and he put them over his face.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, his whole body starting to rock back and forth in his distress. “Why would you – with me – an oath of brotherhood can’t be taken lightly –”

“It can’t be,” Wen Ruohan said, and for some reason he sounded satisfied. “Certainly not for someone like you, little Lan, who always keeps their word and does not lie.”

“But why?” Lan Qiren asked, his voice rising almost into a plaintive wail. “Our sects aren’t even allies.”

“They are now,” Wen Ruohan said, and put his hand on the back of Lan Qiren’s neck. It felt hot against his skin, like a hot stone used for massage – a little too hot to tolerate for very long. “You know the obligations of a sworn brother oath as well as I. My duty as the elder brother is to guide you and care for you, support you and yours, and in return you are to obey me and be guided by me.”

Did Wen Ruohan want a spy in the Lan sect? Lan Qiren wondered wildly. But surely there were easier ways than this – not only would he make a terrible spy, with his clumsiness and his terrible social skills and his inability not to take everything seriously, but it would be simple enough for his sect to counter such a move. All they would need to do would be to cast him out…

His rocking intensified.

Wen Ruohan brought his other arm around him and pulled him close until Lan Qiren’s forehead, with its forehead ribbon still firmly in place, was pressed against his chest.

“Don’t cry, little brother,” he crooned. “Am I to allow a priceless painting to be kept by those that see it only for its use as spare kindling? A peerless treasure sword left to prop up a door?”

“You have a half-dozen swords hanging on your wall, each more priceless than the next, and all of them rusting away for lack of use!” Lan Qiren cried out. “Even if it’s only a door, at least it’s – it’s my – my brother…”

“Do not worry about your brother, undeserving as he is of your sincerity. Qingheng-jun has been trying to get concessions out of me this entire conference,” Wen Ruohan said. His breath was warm against Lan Qiren’s hair. “I’ve been refusing, but now I’ll grant them. He won’t punish you.”

“That’s not how that works. Punishment isn’t inherently bad; it’s meant to correct and guide the individual – the failure of good conduct will always be my own, no matter the result –”

“What I have taken into my hand, no one yet lives who would dare seek to take away,” Wen Ruohan said. “Anyway, it’s too late to regret now, isn’t it? What’s done is done. Don’t you have a rule like that?”

Lan Qiren sniffed. “No. There are at least four that could potentially qualify as having similar underlying meanings, but none directly on point.”

Wen Ruohan huffed. “Little Lan, if I tore out your heart, would you have time to cite one of your sect rules before you died?”

“…maybe if it was a short one?” Lan Qiren said, blinking at the strange question; his lashes brushed against Wen Ruohan’s lapel. “I mean, there’s a difference between ‘Be loyal and filial’ and ‘Set the wise as your teacher and the moral as your example’, isn’t there? And of course you’d have to consider whether in tearing out the heart you impeded the lungs, and how much time it would take the exsanguination to take effect…”

He was calming down, he realized, and pulled back out of Wen Ruohan’s arms, blushing as he realized that the question must have been meant as a distraction, though how Wen Ruohan had realized that a distraction would be the best way to reduce his distress when even he hadn’t known, he had no idea.

“Thank you for your consideration,” he mumbled, ducking his head in embarrassment.

Wen Ruohan started laughing.  

“Truly I have found an unappreciated treasure, unlike any other,” he said amid his chuckles. “Come along, little Lan. Let’s go break the news to your brother.”

[bigskydreaming]

How do you counter a Bruce hater? Not the 'never read comics so Bruce Wayne is a useless rich guy who should redistribute his wealth' hater, an actual hater who'd root for some villains like Ivy or Harley, want him gone so the Robins & Selina don't have to listen to him or care about him, thinks he should be obsolete because he's Idk.. old and has too many comics maybe? Genuine hater who somehow really loves his kids but not him. Doesn't hate the older version tho, acknowledges some parts..

I think it just comes down to why you want to counter them, tbh? Don’t get me wrong, I TOTALLY get being defensive of a fave, and respect how these fictional characters still nevertheless mean a great deal to us for various reasons.....but we hate various characters for a ton of different reasons as well. Bruce is....an especially complicated subject, because he’s such a CHARGED subject. He’s one of the oldest comic book characters out there, and he’s EXTREMELY polarizing....because people see radically different things when they look at him. Both canon writers and the fans. 

And thus we so often get these different takes on him that are literally AT ODDS with each other....the loving, caring father who is ideal for his kids because he wants to be for them what he never really had for himself vs the absent, neglectful father due to being a brooding, emotionally stunted lone wolf who believes he’s no good for anyone else and is best on his own.

And so the thing is, as much as it sucks, Bruce is one of those figures in comics where because BOTH takes (and everything else in between them) are real, just at different times, and are at such extreme opposite ends of the spectrum......there are reasons for loving his character that are absolutely valid....but there are reasons for hating his character that are absolutely valid as well. It kinda just depends on where your point of entry into the characters and their narratives are, and what your area of focus is.

For instance, its not really that weird that there are people who genuinely hate his character but somehow really love his kids....because I mean, using myself as an example....Dick has always been my character of focus, the one I personally relate to the most and invest in the most, and well, there have been a lot of times when Bruce has been written being extremely shitty to him. And that’s specifically WHAT I hold against Bruce’s character a lot of the time, and its not a contradiction to like Bruce’s kids and not like him.....the way DC has so massively fucked him up in regards to his kids a lot of the times IS the reason people who like his kids don’t like him. And even though its totally the writing that’s to blame, there sometimes comes a point when the problems are so everpresent in the writing of a character that its just too hard for a fan to separate the writing from the character, and it gets all tangled up together and thus you end up with someone hating Bruce, even though its really only certain ways he’s written that originated that.

So I mean, for myself, I don’t hate Bruce, but I DEFINITELY hate the way he’s written a lot of the time....I’m just very much used to centering my writer brain even when I’m reading, and thus its...easier? For me to keep an awareness of when I have a problem with a character inherently vs when I just have a problem with a certain take on a character? So I don’t hate Bruce because I recognize the times he is written well in regards to his kids and I see the potential for that always being there, but that doesn’t stop me from hating on the times he ISN’T written well in regards to them and is basically outright abusive because I mean....that’s part of why I invest in Dick’s narratives so much....I come from an abusive household and as much as I WANT Bruce to be good for Dick, I recognize and see myself and my own story in a lot of Dick’s narratives with Bruce.....which is why I dislike Bruce on a lot of occasions....BUT I also recognize and see in the OVERALL CHARACTERS the potential for Bruce to do what DIDN’T happen in my own life and like....get his act together. Be better. FIX himself and his relationships with his kids so that he can give them the family they deserve.

And so that’s why and where its ideal for me to keep the fact that the flaws are in the writing, not the characters, front and center.

But that’s not necessarily ideal for everyone, is the thing you gotta remember to respect. And other people who might be drawn to Dick and Jason and the other kids’ narratives BECAUSE they relate specifically to them as characters who have dysfunctional or even unhealthy relationships with an abusive or neglectful parent.....they might be less inclined to not hate Bruce because a family resolution isn’t ultimately what they’re looking for when relating to these characters....maybe what’s best for them at this point in their life is to see or imagine stories where these characters break away from a family member who only seems to hurt them lately, to not wait and hope for things to get better or him to improve but to just...move on on their own. *Shrugs* I don’t know, I can’t speak for everyone but none of us can is the thing.

And so its messy as hell, and its not a lot of fun sometimes, but the fact is, we just all gotta try and remember that what we look for in these characters and what we see in them is not the only thing that’s there. There are SO many facets to these characters and their stories and SO many reasons people are drawn to them and SO many things that fans are looking for and hoping for from them.

So my only advice is don’t worry about countering so much as just....holding front and center your own motivations for loving Bruce’s character and the WHYS of it. And its not....it doesn’t have to be one or the other, you know? Its not a zero sum game. As much as it makes it complicated to navigate fandom a lot of times, there’s room for multiple interpretations to exist, and the reasons you love Bruce’s character don’t HAVE to counter or negate the reasons other people hate his character, and vice versa. The reasons other people hate and criticize Bruce don’t HAVE to impact or harm the things you love about him......just focus on speaking to and putting out there your own view of things, and by all means, be as forceful and passionate about that as you want or need to be! 

But just....know the reality is that even if you’re trying to persuade someone else to see Bruce the way you do, that doesn’t guarantee they will, or that they have to, because unlike in a lot of instances where people just smear other characters for entirely baseless reasons, a lot of people DO have anti-Bruce sentiments that are rooted in entirely real justifications.....but that’s not an indictment of your pro-Bruce sentiments, and it doesn’t have to be, and you don’t need to take it as one. Which means you don’t have to defend him....there’s nothing to defend, maybe. Your reasons for liking him have nothing to do with someone else’s reasons for hating him and they don’t need to go head to head and duel it out, necessarily.

Honestly, just whenever possible, just try to keep front and center in your mind and your reading of posts that like.....a lot of times “I hate Bruce” is actually more likely “I hate Bruce’s writing in x and y and z situations and stories” and that can make it a LOT easier to digest. 

I mean, going back to using myself as an example, obviously I’m hugely vocal in defensive of Dick Grayson, lol, but a lot of people question why I so often attack fanon characterizations of him specifically....and its specifically BECAUSE I’m attacking the tendency of so many fans to say “I hate Dick” when its actually in my eyes more “I hate Dick’s characterization - as depicted in these various fanon myths that only exist in fandom and have no basis outside it.” So THAT’S what I ‘defend’ Dick against more often than not, versus just....defending him against people who hate him - there’s no real counter for that, at the end of the day. You can’t MAKE someone like a character if they have actual real justifications for why.

But you CAN be clear about where it is you do and don’t agree with their view of a character.....is it because you have fundamentally different views of the character that are both rooted in canon basis, or is it because you feel they’re not accurately characterizing a character based on your knowledge of him, or is it because you both simply prioritize and focus on different areas of a character’s past writing? Etc. etc.

That won’t necessarily help you ‘win’ any arguments against an opposing viewpoint in fandom, but it will help you....deal with the existence of opposing viewpoints that have every bit as much validity as yours, I think. Just being able to recognize when someone isn’t criticizing or condemning the Bruce you know and love....its just that the Bruce they know and hate is kinda almost a different version of the character entirely.....but both versions can and do exist and its ultimately just a matter of finding some way to balance that.

I don’t know if that’s of any help at all, but hopefully there’s something in there that’ll be of use to you!

[light-of-being]

a very fkin long and incomplete exposition of my flaws as a human being

I've not really spoken about the probably most consequential event in my recent life (the ending of a long term relationship), and that's because I haven't really thought about it very much. At least, not in a clear-headed space not entirely filled with rage, fear, or initially, longing. So, I've mostly just been waiting for the intensity of those responses to wear out before I can go back and make sense of things in a sorta 'safe' way.

(These days it's mostly anger and/or hurt. Sometimes twinges of hatred, but those fizzle quickly. I know that attitude isn't 'true'. I tried to hate him, I really did. Things would be so much simpler that way — an obvious villain of pure evil, a mistake worthy of contempt. Put him behind me as someone I regret meeting and consider everything only as a flashing warning sign of what to avoid next time. But real life never is that easy, is it.)

Regardless, reading about miscellaneous psychological ~stuff, I realised that I know for sure now that there are sides of me that only come out in a close relationship, as they postulate. It's unfortunate that my exposure to this was only in such a toxic environment, and I'm not sure if or when closeness has any chance of happening again.

I suspect, based on what I have/haven't felt with him vs others, that I can (at least at this stage of my development) only really feel 'seen' by an antisocial/narcissist/schizoid (or something in that general direction), just hope to god it's a mature one next time. I might want to interrogate and possibly change that fact, I'm not sure it's at all a healthily arrived preference. But...

there is a degree of normalcy and social belonging in others that becomes a wall

I can relate superficially, cognitively and even 'deeply personally' (tho is all y'all's deeply personal shit necessarily relational?), have a good time and even feel 'connection' but there are parts that seem simply insurmountable.

The lack of relating to many things is the unifying factor between me and the specified groups: the shared experience of not having shared experiences

But yet, a more acute awareness of superficiality, and the drives and mechanics of human interactions, attitudes, identity and constructs, not taken for granted as default but built from the ground up (Most often out of either necessity or a desire to manipulate them, but still).

Actually, most straightforwardly, the shared experience of experiencing oneself as an outsider to society — whether people personally, accepted norms or expected attitudes towards self and other.*

Anyway, that was a whole semi-tangent I went off on (useful and relevant to the initial thought but not the point I was planning on).

Important point was...ah yes, insights!

...into how I behave under genuine relational circumstances. Due to aforementioned toxicity, I'm not sure how generalisable they are to relationships overall, but they should generalise to feeling-states.

1.

(a) Fear. Defensiveness.

Switches off my brain. Obvious? No. I have been actively strategic while having a gun pointed at me. I thought I had that down. Turns out, I cannot dissociate myself out of an argument most of the time.

Turns out, just the fact or even prospect of arguing activates panic and brain goes out the window. Which is really fucking stupid as an occurrence because how many of these could be prevented with a bit of mindfulness and thoughtful responding. But getting emotions to chill out for long enough to do that is tough.

(b) I am a stubborn dumbass. Kid me argued until they were attacked so harshly that they absolutely could not continue. The alternative presented was to just keep silent, one I did not then and do not now accept. Discussion where both parties partake in good faith have generally been fruitful, only neither of these situations were that. Both involved one person trying to dominate at all costs. To which I suppose keeping silent for the moment and then running tf away is an appropriate response. Idk. I'm not sure if this is a 'normal situation' to which I respond unhealthily, or an 'abnormal situation' in which you just do your best to survive. Arguments are normal. Idk if other people have a less aggressive approach that is less outright terrifying, in which I can modulate, but it does seem like people want to prove you wrong and get angry, which I perceive as aggression.

2. 

Which brings me to boundaries. Can I shut things down when I'm overwhelmed. In the present case, the answer was no. They both didn't stop and the fact that I asked for this was interpreted as admission of defeat.Oftentimes, getting out of the situation was more of an ordeal than dealing with it. [We stayed at a hotel the one time and he did things that made me very uncomfortable (in like a “things that I shudder at thinking about even now” kind of way; not sexual btw which this has made it sound). I thought I was as clear as I could’ve been by saying, “I’m going to legit have a breakdown if you keep doing that” but apparently it came across as a joke (gotta improve on communication as well). He stopped and apologised when he realised I was crying, but later blamed me for not being more assertive and laughed at my ‘exaggerated’ response and “meltdown”. At this point I wanted to leave and go home, but he withheld [my copy of] the key. He insisted and manipulated and coerced for discussion, said I could have the key if I “really wanted it, but do I actually want that”, until it was just easier to give in. The helplessness and feeling trapped of that evening haunts me to this day, and I want to be very sure to never be in any situation where that is even a possibility again no matter what.]

I need to get better at knowing what is and isn't okay and being strong enough to enforce that.

3.

(a) Attachment is a bitch. Utterly unfamiliar sensation, one I don't know my way around at all. The rarity of relation makes it seem so fucking precious, so fucking necessary to protect even to my detriment and his. Dare I tip the boat or will it sink. Should I be the dancing monkey to keep it from sinking. Should he.

(b) The feeling of giving a damn what someone thinks of me is also foreign and difficult. It also seems hella intensified by virtue of not existing elsewhere. Disapproval feels devastating. Criticism becomes attack. Everything feels like a continuous effort to establish worth. I'd imagined acceptance could be taken for granted, but I questioned it the whole way (obviously doesn't help when he demands changes).

(c) I have trouble distinguishing between personal issues and insecurities and legitimate reason to be upset. I think this is typical. But with trial and error, one can probably pick up on what you carry with you across differing people and circumstances. I don't have that data. I have nothing to compare against. I also suspect some parts of this is him treating legitimate reasons as being my distorted perceptions, which I'm pretty sure did happen for a few things that I believe are 'objectively' shitty.

5. 

I trust. Too. Fucking. Much. I take shit at face value. This is very often dumb and...bad in literally every sense, but I don’t yet know how to identify preemptively when that's the case. I also fail to be adequately 'suspicious' I guess to be alert to minor inconsistencies later on. Lies are especially devastating. I built my reality around you using that fundamental premise. Now you tell me it was false all along. Where does that leave me? I go back to substitute and nothing makes sense. I don't know if the initial statement was a lie or the claim that it's false was. I don't know if everything I remember is just distorted somehow. I don't know what to do. (aside: gaslighting? I’m inclined to say “effectively, yes”. The best explanation I have is that for many things he rewrote the narrative in his own mind and does not remember the things that blatantly contradict it. For other things, I cannot see that being possible and am forced to think it’s just pure lies). All of this could have been prevented if I accounted for people being dishonest.

6. 

(a) I lose sympathy. Genuinely did not ever expect this to happen. Enough hurt, enough deception and I stop trying to understand why. I assume malice. I expect malice in future interactions and misread situations as a result. In the beginning I made fucktons of effort to be understanding of things far from my typical range (hello, admissions of past violence and present homicidal ideation. Hello, talking someone out of real intention of ruining a person's life over a minor slight). Honestly, I think I overreached. Some of these things were not things I should have tolerated, accepted even. When I started walking on eggshells to not have him ruin my life, too, that was probably when I should've gotten out. He claimed that the people he cares about are exceptions. That's probably true, otherwise I would currently be in a ton of shit. But at some point I did stop believing it.

(b) I don't really think that most of the things that happened were malicious. Some, he admits, were. But mostly he wasn't out with the intention to hurt me, but he also didn't make the effort...not to. Even with me repeatedly complaining about things, he was defensive or dismissive, considering me talking about an issue to be me creating issues in his life. This is super shitty, his damage is caused by a stubborn ego fixation and sheer passivity, thoughtlessness (he has agreed to all of this in our final conversation), but it isn't exactly intentionally malicious. If he genuinely didn't believe there was a problem, that is an issue, and the fact that he utterly failed until the end to even consider the possibility of a valid complaint, is a very real flaw. He is bad insofar as "he is lazy and incompetent at being good". Which I can understand but nevertheless protect myself from. Ideally, sooner. At the point where I start feeling like someone is being shitty more often than not, something needs to happen. A discussion, a reconsideration, a run-as-fast-as-you-can... Something.

Idk. This isn't everything. But yeah.

.

.

.

* These 3 PDs are often used in illustrating the idea of pathologising difference: few of the criteria are about subjective distress and many about extrinsic value judgements of what a person should be like (lol, my clinical psych final had an essay question on this). I don't necessarily agree but it does speak to a shared thread of...something. That said, this characterisation is tbh still too broad for my liking. Importantly, it is definitively applicable to autistic people but I do not in general relate to that in the same way. Some specific manifestations of it, yes, but I have seen far too many excessively... 'human' autistic people to include the whole category. There are probably folks in the PD categories who are also like that but I think much less common.

[drawings-and-nightmares]

When The Mouth Went Silent

Author/Writer/Whatever: Dreams

Word Count: 3958

Editing: Uhhh who’s she??

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049268

Davey knew a lot of things, mostly from his school days. He knew how to read, write, and even do math. Most other newsies didn’t commonly know all three, hell, most newsies commonly didn’t have folks either. However, David Jacobs wasn’t really a newsie, and he knew that in his heart and brain more than anything else.

Even Les seemed to be more of a newsie than him, and that always shone brightly through from the group’s dynamics. Davey was happy for his brother, yeah, but it made his heart hurt in a longing way, that made him feel unsure and anxious as ever. Sure, he had his folks and Sarah still, but Sarah was always off with Katherine. Besides, even if she wasn’t a newsie, she sure as hell was a part of their group. The same went for Kath, and she was Pulitzer’s daughter, for god’s sake.

David Jacobs was just the odd one out, so it seemed.

He couldn’t blame his friends for a fact like that.

Maybe the newsies were right about him being too uptight. Was that why they didn’t like him? Most likely. Hell, Davey didn’t like himself either, which was probably clear as day at this point.

Sure, he had folks, but that’s not what separated him from the others. If Les and Sarah were a part of his family, and the group’s family, than that must have meant that there was something fundamentally wrong with him.

Being the Walking Mouth was fun, and he felt like he was a part of something, at least for a few days. Things had changed for the better, but it was obvious that only his ideas were useful, and not him. Now, since there was no need for plans and schemes against Pulitzer, he could consider himself out of the group for good. He expected it, though. His confidence was always shot down like this, so it was expected. Sarah and Les were obviously welcomed, though. They always did seem to have a certain air to them that just beamed both friendliness and confidence. He just…didn’t have that.

The Newsies were most likely letting him hang around out of pity. They always shot certain looks at him, and seemed to disperse playful conversations and banter when he drew near. If they were just too nice to straight up tell him to leave them alone, then he’d just have to break it off himself.

It was a shame that he had to work with them the next day though. His plan would’ve been easier otherwise.

____________________________________________

Things were…concerning to say the least. Most of the newsies knew that, but it was especially worrying if you were Jack Kelly.

You see, everyone had been on edge ever since one of his best friends, the Walking Mouth, also known as Davey, started acting…strange. Stranger than usual, to say the least.

Every newsie knew that Dave had at least some kind of anxiety plaguing him. You could tell it from almost a mile away, and at this point, most of the others had been around him enough to do so.

In fact, they were planning something nice for the other boy. A nice little get together at Jacobi’s, in order to celebrate what Davey had done for their strike. Even some of the Brooklyn Boys and kids from the Bronx were coming! The kids were sworn to secrecy about telling David, despite all of the excitement for it. Everything was planned almost perfectly. Well, at least until the other started to act like…not himself, to say the least.

At first, it was understandable. Davey was trying to catch up on his work from home, so he brushed off little events and dinners at Jacobi’s that the Newsies had planned, leaving his brother Les behind instead, picking him up later in the night, or letting Sarah do it instead. It was a bit worrying, but mostly everyone somewhat understood the Mouth’s situation, despite most never being in school.

Things started to get weirder when the Walking Mouth grew silent, though. It was with the little things, at first. Not joining in on as many conversations, trailing off completely sometimes, and not responding when someone called him. Worrying, but nothing big. After a while though, it seemed to escalate to the point where he was barely talking to even Sarah and Les anymore, according to the two. On the job, he never said a word to any of the newsies, unless it was about the headline. Even then, those answers were short and unsatisfying, despite how dumb they purposefully made their questions.

Hell, Davey had even started wearing that godforsaken tie again. It looked like it would strangle the Mouth at any moment, and choke off his voice forever.

Jack however, could not allow that to happen. So, he devised a plan. Well, maybe a few, since his plans sometimes(usually) failed, but his point still stood.

They were going to help out David Jacobs, no matter the cost.

____________________________________________

Davey straightened out his collar and tie while walking to the square, his gaze cast downwards. Les walked beside him, but unlike usual, his younger brother was silent. To make up for the lack of conversation, Davey just started to anxiously count the cracks in the sidewalk and road ahead instead.

One. Two. Three. Four…

He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. Since Les was close to the others…he had also kept silent from his brother. Les was chatty, and if he had caught Davey acting jealous(even though he was absolutely not)…well, it’d definitely be the end for him, to say the least.

Unbeknownst to Davey, Les carefully watched his brother, biting his lip in order to contain all of his questions and excitement for the day ahead. Besides, even if he did talk, his brother would probably just ignore it. But in a different way than he usually did…

They finally made it to the gates, later than usual due to Davey’s hesitation. It did not go unnoticed, as a few newsies looked at the two, and shifted a bit nervously around them.

He waited for the familiar rattling of the Delanceys opening the gate, but he was instead met with an all too familiar arm slinging around his shoulders instead. However, it still didn’t cause him to flinch even less.

He looked over and sighed. Ah. It was Jack. That explained a lot.

Jack just grinned at Davey, “Well hey there Mouth! How’s it been?”

He just sighed and rolled his eyes, looking away, “…It’s been fine, Jack…”

The self-proclaimed cowboy just continued, but seemed a bit dismayed at the lack of his own nickname, ‘Jackie’, “Well, it’s been good too…why don’t you’s visit us at the Lodging tonight?”

Davey crossed his arms, “I’m busy, Jack. Remember?…I have to…catch up on some work.”

Jack frowned a bit at that. Sure, Davey has missed a bit of school…but that didn’t mean that he was that busy, right?

The more anxious boy shifted, and tried to pry the unwelcomed arm off of his shoulder, “I’ll just…leave Les with you guys and pick him up later…ok?…”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed together slightly, and he sighed, “…Whatever you’s say, Dave.”

The two heard the familiar clink and creak of the gate being opened, and before Jack could say anything else, Davey rushed off. Well. Attempt one was unsuccessful. Maybe the second attempt would work instead…

____________________________________________

Davey dumped Les off with Jack as soon as he could, and scurried off with his papers. He didn’t even let the cowboy ask anything before quickly leaving. He began to sell at his usual spot, but his heart wasn’t really into it. Great. He couldn’t even sell newspapers right. Just another sign that he wasn’t really a newsie.

He slumped a bit, and sighed, starting to nervously twist the papers in his hands. Ok. Calm down. It was just some dumb news. He could do this. He had to earn more money somehow…

The boy sighed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Oh right. He didn’t get any sleep last night. Well, wasn’t that just fun too…

He continued walking along, eventually selling a few papers. He’d probably have to sell some back…but at least that wasn’t an issue now.

…Did he even help with the strike at all?….

He thought that he did, but he wasn’t really sure now. The others had more active roles anyways…all that Davey did was talk.

Jack was the face. Katherine wrote down the words. The others spread it out there.

And Davey?

He said something dumb, not even meaning it, and started this whole thing. Granted, he would never take it back…

But the others would’ve come up with it sooner or later.

While brooding silently, someone suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder. He gasped, and pulled against the hold, all too familiar with people who wanted to soak him. School seemed to be abundant with those kinds of people.

“Davey! Hey! It’s me!”

Davey opened his eyes.

Race stood there with Crutchie at his side, eyes wide. Crutchie seemed concerned, and reached out a hand, shifting on his crutch.

Oh. Great. He fucked this up royally.

He backed away, and knocked Race’s and Crutchie’s hands away, mumbling a bit, “…I’m fine.”

“You’s sure about that, Jacobs?…You’s are shakin like a leaf-“ Race nervously gnawed on his cigar, staring Davey down.

Ah. Yeah. Definitely shaking.

Davey took in a deep breath, trying to control both his nerves and his breathing, “Look, I’m fine. So can we just…what are you two…even doing around here??”

Crutchie spoke up at that, “We’s just….were worried  ‘bout you…You haven’t been looking too good lately…”

The boy looked away, “Look I’m…I’m fine, ok? Just…I gotta go…sell my papers-“

Race stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, “Hang on a second there, Mouth. Look. Can we just…” He looked back towards Crutchie, who nodded and stuck a thumb up, “…Can we sell our papes with you’s?…Jus for today?…”

Davey let out a long sigh. Well, this was going to get difficult. After all, he couldn’t really avoid the newsies if they sold with him for the day. He looked away, and held a paper close to his chest, “…Fine.”

Race and Crutchie seemed to brighten up at that, and Davey shook his head. His…his friends meant well. If they even wanted to be considered his friends…but…Davey just wanted this to be less difficult than it already was.

So, he trudged along with Crutchie and Race by his side. He sold his normal amount of newspapers, but felt the other’s eyes constantly watching. It was..he didn’t know what it was at this point.

After a while, the evening edition went out, and he tried to split up. However…

“Where do you’s think you’re goin, Davey??”

“Yeah! There’s more papes to sell after all!”

He couldn’t really escape.

The evening seemed to drag on longer somehow, but after a few mishaps, he was able to get Les without much trouble, and leave.

He felt a migraine coming on, and Les wasn’t making things much better.

Les practically bounced along in his heels, “….an’ then there was this huge barrel blockin our path!! But then Jack just moved it, like, whoosh!!! And it started to roll down the alley and hit some shmuck in the back!!!” He was making a lot of wild gestures, which just blurred past his tired brother’s eyes.

“….That's….great, Les. I’m sure that….Sarah will love that story…” That was absolutely not true, but the last thing he needed was another retelling of the story now. He continued to slowly move along, holding gently onto one of his younger brother’s hands.

His younger brother looked back up at Davey again, his eyebrows furrowed, “….Were you listenin to me at all???”

Davey sighed, “Of course I was. I’m just…I’m tired, Les. So let’s just go home, ok?” He may have been a bit more snappy than usual, but at least the part about being tired was true.

Les seemed to quiet down at that, looking away. Great. He fucked up again, so it seemed. With his own brother, no less. This was…fine. He’d be fine.

He had to do this.

____________________________________________

A week had passed. Or maybe two. Davey wasn’t too sure about the days or times, lately.

His gaze was more tired than usual, since it had been yet another sleepless night. All of the newsies seemed to be on high alert about this fact, unfortunately.

Avoiding them was especially difficult at this point.

However, by sheer skill, or incredibly dumb luck, he managed to duck most of them. Even Jack.

Maybe his plan was actually working now.

No matter what he did though, he still needed to pick up Les at the end of the day, who always seemed to be straggling at the Lodging, or in Jacobi’s.

He would’ve asked Sarah to pick him up today, but she was busy hanging out with Katherine today. It didn’t make much sense, since the two always ended up in the Lodging with the newsies anyways, but…Davey didn’t want her to stop having fun.

He always seemed to be the one leaving earliest nowadays, and he was…fine with that.

However, Les had a curfew, and Davey was adamant with keeping that fact as an excuse.

So that’s what he was doing now. Picking up Les for curfew. Davey tightened the tie around his neck, and tried his best to not choke on his words this time around.

He stepped inside, and was hit with warmth and familiarity. He was so tired, and the Lodging always felt like a second home. He was safe here..

Davey shook his head and sighed. He couldn’t stay as much as he wanted to. He was…the other newsies shouldn’t hang out with him. Once they found out how boring and inconvenient he actually was…they’d throw him away.

He’d been through this before, and he really didn’t want to get hurt like that again.

He began to walk through the house, searching for Les. A few newsies parted in waves when they noticed him coming. Good. This is what he wanted. He…he wanted this.

What he wanted or hypothetically didn’t want wasn’t important right now. Right now, he had to find Les.

After a few minutes of scrambling around, he did indeed find Les. However, he wasn’t really expecting Spot fucking Conlon to be with him.

Les was hanging off of Spot’s arm with a few other littles, laughing about something to do with Spot’s muscles. Davey was frozen in his tracks, especially when he saw the Leader of Brooklyn himself looking at him.

Shit.

Did he do something wrong?? Did he manage to piss off the other newsies so much that word got back to Spot?? How would word even get into Brooklyn??? Oh god, this was gonna end really badly-

Davey seemed to snap out of it when there was a hand on his shoulder. In his panic, he didn’t notice Spot ushering the littles out of the room. Including Les.

He didn’t even have an excuse out of this situation, huh?

He looked away from the Borough Leader in front of him, rocking on the balls of his feet, “….So….what are you doing out of Brooklyn, Conlon?”

Spot raised an eyebrow at that, “Are you’s gonna be the one asking me questions when you look dead on your feet?”

Davey shrugged, “I’m fine-”

“Cut the bullshit.”

He straightened up a bit at that. Huh. He was the one getting a lecture this time around. Interesting.

“Look. I may not know you’s all too well, but somethin’s up. The news of you actin strange has even gotten to the Bronx! The Bronx, Jacobs!” Spot threw up his hands a bit to exaggerate his point, “Cowboy gets all worried over you, an’ while you look like one of the undead, all you’s have to say is ‘m fine?? Jesus. Even Blink an’ York could see that’s the exact opposite from a mile away.”

Davey stayed silent for a few moments, processing everything, “…Are you finished yet?…Cause…I need to pick up my brother, Les-”

He narrowed his eyes a bit, “…Really? That’s all you have to do? What bout that tie around your neck!”

“I…I just like ties!”

“And now you’re lyin again!”

Before they could start their next round of arguing, another figure popped his head through the door, “…Could you guys be a bit quieter?…The littles are wonderin about what’s goin on-”

Davey blinked, taking a second or two to remember who the kind of blurry figure was, “…Sorry…Romeo.”

Spot rolled his eyes and scoffed, before looking back, “We’s was just getting finished with it. No worries.”

Romeo nodded a bit, sending a worried glance to Davey’s direction before heading back to the other room.

Davey sighed, but wasn’t quite off the hook yet, however.

“….Why are you’s doin this to yourself, Mouth?”

His gaze trailed back towards Spot.

“God…the bags under your eyes look miles deep. Do you’s know how worried everyone is?”

Davey continued to stay silent, and looked away again.

“…Course you’s don’t.”

And with that, Spot walked out of the room, which was truly when Davey began to feel his walls crumbling.

____________________________________________

Davey’s walls and attitude didn’t improve over the next day or two. Every day it felt like something else broke off. Usually it was from the other newsies’ worried glances, or reluctance to even brush their hands against him.

He wanted this though. That was his mantra. The whole time, this was what he was trying to achieve.

Was it worth it?

Even Les and Sarah were avoiding him. Les just ran off with Jack, and Sarah ran off with Katherine.

It was quite fitting, all things considered.

Katherine and Jack were important people. They helped the others.

And Davey?

He did nothing at all, and was left to be forgotten because of it.

Maybe that’s what he deserved, though.

He barely even went to the Lodging anymore. All comforts that were given from it were gone after Spot’s talk.

He knew Spot was right. He was right about this whole thing.

But Davey had started the domino effect, and couldn’t seem to get it to stop.

His walls of fragile dominos crashed against him, and the tie grew tighter around his neck from every breath.

____________________________________________

Davey didn’t even want to go to the Lodging today. He was too cautious of it, Les’ curfew or not. Despite his begging though, Sarah couldn’t do it tonight. She had more important people to hang out with.

It unfortunately made sense.

He reluctantly trudged along, arms wrapped protectively around his body, and tie wrapped tightly along his neck.

It was getting hard to breath and speak nowadays.

If it wasn’t true before, the Walking Mouth was now truly silent. His words had been choked out.

He…wanted this.

Davey found it hard to open the doors. They were heavy enough, but the extra weight of everything added onto it. He swallowed dryly before pushing it open.

Behind it, he didn’t find Les. Actually, he didn’t see Les at all standing in the crowd in front of him. Instead, he just found a whole lot of newsies, all in various worried states.

He raised an eyebrow, before remembering that he had stuff to do, “…What are you guys…where’s…where’s Les?…” Davey winced at the sound of his own voice. He hadn’t really used it in the past few days, and the tie only helped it sound more like a helpless croak. Great.

Jack seemed to step forward, Spot behind him, “…Dave. We’s….Les ain’t here right now.”

“…What?….Then why am I…where is he?” Davey was utterly confused, and more than a little tired.

That’s when Spot spoke up, “Sarah picked him up. With Kath.”

“….This…I…what the hell-” He backed up a bit, looking away, “Why am I here then?”

“Davey…” Jack’s voice was soft, but it still made the Mouth flinch, “You…you haven’t been ok..”

“….Is this…no I'm….I’m fine-”

“I told you before Jacobs. That’s bullshit.” Spot glared at him, but he was obviously still worried, “Look at this. We’s all showed up, cause we care bout you. And you’s haven’t been ok, or dandy, or whatever you’s are sayin.”

Davey’s grip tightened around himself, “This is…this is stupid, if there’s nothing important you have to say, then I’m just going to-” He suddenly froze, eyes wide.

The other newsies seemed to freeze too. Why exactly?

Because Smalls, one of the youngest newsies there, couldn’t take it anymore. As such, they broke free from the crowd, and ran forward in order to hug Davey.

The horde of kids collectively held their breath, waiting to see what happened next. It was so quiet, that for once, you could hear a pin drop.

The final wall seemed to crumble from Davey’s grip, and he began shaking. He loosely wrapped his arms around Smalls, and without being able to help it, tears started to drip from his cheeks.

Many of the others were alarmed, but out came Crutchie from the crowd. He gently and slowly placed a hand on Davey’s cheek, wiping away a few tears. He tilted his head a bit in order to ask if he could join in the hug.

And without any hesitation, the Walking Mouth nodded.

That seemed to set off some kind of spark. Jack placed his hand on the back of Davey’s neck, and joined in. Spot did the same, except with his shoulder. Race, while chewing on his cigar, placed his hand on Davey’s other shoulder. Slowly but surely, the whole mass of newsies seemed to join the hug through gentle and easy touches

Davey’s sniffling came to an eventual stop, and the apologies and muddled explanations started to pour out. The Mouth was talking again, and the tie was loosened.

Jack, who was resting his head on the back of Davey’s neck, spoke up, “You don’t gotta explain yourself, Davey…”

Crutchie smiled softly, resting himself on Davey’s chest, “…Yeah…it’s…it’s gonna be ok.”

Spot gently brushed his shoulders, “…While standin here is great an’ all…you look in need of an actual nap-”

Race nudged Davey with his elbow, “Yeah. In an actual bed-”

The group seemed to ease up more at that, and in their own pace, somehow made their way upstairs.

Davey was lying in the middle of a bunk. He wasn’t sure who’s it was, but that didn’t matter right now. Spot, Crutchie, Race, and Jack surrounded his closest sides, and the others sprawled around them.

Most were asleep right now, but Davey…was still scared. He could mess it all up again. What if the others were just..

A soft snore from Jack’s direction luckily interrupted his thoughts, and his mind settled.

…These were the newsies he was talking about. They…were family.

No matter how important Davey regarded himself, the others always seemed to think he was something special.

They all thought that of each other.

With that, Davey loosened his tie, and threw it to the other side of the room. With the soothing symphony of noises from the people who cared around him, he easily fell asleep. Maybe everything wasn’t automatically alright or fixed forever…but…he’d be all right with his friends…no, his family by his side.

Tag List: @orollyitsracetrackhiggins @amostauspiciousmanner @albert-eats-cookie-cake @sure-as-a-star @im-alone-but-i-aint-lonely @newsies-more-like-gaysies @sweeps-of-london @richie-rambling

[mysongfortheasking]

2020: A New Decade. A New Life.

I’m sitting at my kitchen table. It’s January 30, 2020--the first day of PhD classes. And suddenly, it really hits me: this is a new decade. A new era. An entirely new life. And my God, am I so thankful.

Just three months ago, on Halloween night, I was at the literal lowest point I had ever been in life. For years, I had been spiraling downward, but ignoring all the sings. I was drinking heavily, and often. I was constantly trying to keep my brain altered using some form of substance or other. I couldn’t stand myself or my thoughts sober. Once, I tried to stay sober for one month. 30 days. And on day 8, I threw in the towel and literally said, “I can’t take this.” Friends were starting to say to me things like, “Are you okay? Maybe you need to get some help.” At times, even I would have brief thoughts that said, “Maybe this is a problem. Maybe you should get help.” But I kept pushing them back, telling myself, “Nah, I don’t have a problem. I’m just stressed right now, and need this--eventually I’ll slow down. I’ve got this. I can fix this. I have everything under control. This is my life, and I’m living it how I want.” But despite it all, my life kept plummeting. I was getting myself in one bad, unhealthy, unsafe situation after another, and constantly having to have someone come bail me out. And then came Halloween night.

I had just gotten in an argument with a family member that day, so I poured myself a drink (at 11 am), finished it, poured another, and texted a friend who had invited me to go party. I had previously declined, saying, “No, I have work tomorrow, I should really be responsible.” But after the drinks hit my head, I texted her back and said, “Who cares about responsibility. I’m down, let’s go.”

I had planned to go out, just have a few drinks to get my mind off things, and then come home. What actually happened was I lost count of the drinks, briefly blacked out, and found myself stuck in a sequence of events that I said would never happen to me. (Forgive me for being vague, I’m just not quite ready to share this part of the story, but let just me tell you: it was bad.) The next morning, I woke up in a situation where I couldn’t call for help this time. I was in a spot that no one could bail me out of. I had gotten myself to a point where there was no going back, no blaming the alcohol, no saying Oops, my bad, sorry! and just moving on with my life. At one point I would have said choosing to go out that night was the biggest mistake of my life--but looking back now, I think it was possibly one of the biggest blessings God could have given me. I’m not saying God caused bad things to happen to me (I don’t believe He does that), but I am saying that I think God used the situation I had created for myself as a way to intervene, because for the first time, I said out loud the words I had pushed back for so long.

I know I have a problem. And I need help.

Within a few days, I found myself sitting in a twelve-step group meeting. I had planned to slip in and slip out, to get a few words of wisdom for myself and leave. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to say a word, and I definitely didn’t think to myself that I was “one of them.” I was just going to “check it out,” to see what this thing was all about, and to (hopefully) get some tips on how to have self-control so that someday I could drink normally again.

As I walked in the door, a woman stopped me and said, “Hey, is this your first meeting?”

Of course. Of COURSE I get stopped at the door, I thought. “Yeah,” I said as I avoided direct eye contact and tried to keep walking in.

“Like your first meeting here, or your first meeting ever?”

I told her it was my first meeting ever, while simultaneously thinking, Let me go, lady. Can’t you see I don’t want to talk to anyone?

She smiled the most genuine smile, and said, “I’m so glad you’re here. I want to talk with you after the meeting.” I smiled back, and thought a single phrase: Crap. This was NOT in my plans. I did NOT want to talk to anyone, did NOT want to tell anyone about myself, and I most CERTAINLY did NOT want anyone telling me I was an alcoholic (because I ABSOLUTELY WAS NOT). But, before I knew it, I had said, “Yeah, okay, sounds good.”

The entire time sitting in that meeting, I heard these strangers--people I had never seen, never spoken to, never met in my life--talk about me. They all had the same feelings I felt. They all had the same thoughts I felt. They all shared my experiences and struggles and life. But the fundamental difference was...these people were happy. These people were smiling, and laughing, and free. These people were alive. I didn’t know how they did it, but I knew that I wanted that. I wanted it desperately.

After the meeting, multiple people came to me and shook my hand, introduced themselves, asked me how I was doing (and truly meant it), and repeated the same phrase: I’m glad you’re here. I kept thinking to myself, “Do these people really mean this? They don’t know me. How could they possibly care this much? How could they be glad I--a total stranger--am here?”

Then the woman who stopped me at the door approached me with a small red book in her hand. We talked, and to be honest, I don’t remember exactly everything that was said, but as she handed me the small book, she said, “Nobody can tell you if you’re an alcoholic or not. Only you can determine that. Read the first section of this book, and maybe, if you see yourself in there, you’re in the right place.” I took the book and said I would. As she hugged me, she said, “Keep coming back.”

I went home and opened the book, began to read, and could’t stop. I saw myself on every single page. And two things became clear to me:

I was most certainly the alcoholic this book described.

There was hope.

I went back to the group the next night, November 6, and picked up what is called “The Desire Chip.” When handing out a Desire Chip, they say, “This chip is for anyone who would like to try our way of living for 24 hours.” I didn’t just want to try their way of living for a day. I wanted to try it for the rest of my life.

I spoke again with the woman who gave me the book. I asked her, “What do I do next?” She told me I needed to get a sponsor and start working the 12 steps, and (of course) I immediately asked her to be that. (Which, by the way, if you’re reading this Anna, you are truly the best, and I can’t say enough how thankful I am for you.)

Last week, she and I were working the third step, which says, “We made a decision to turn our will and lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.” In the Book, when they explain what Step 3 is, they follow up with a set of promises, which say:

When we sincerely took such a position, all sorts of remarkable things followed. We had a new Employer. Being all powerful, He provided what we needed, IF we kept close to Him and performed His work well. Established on such a footing we became less and less interested in ourselves, our little plans and designs. More and more we became interested in seeing what we could contribute to this life. As we felt new power flow in, as we enjoyed peace of mind, as we discovered we could face life successfully, as we became conscious of His presence, we began to lose our fear of today, tomorrow, or the hereafter. We were reborn.

I found myself again thinking, I want that. I want that life so badly. So when she asked me, “Are you truly willing to turn your life and will over to the care of God?” I had no hesitation. We got down on our knees and prayed together. And there, in a tiny closet, holding hands with the woman who had stopped me at the door three months earlier, I felt the closest to God I have felt in a long time.

There’s obviously much more to the story than just that. I haven’t been magically cured of anything. My problems haven’t just suddenly disappeared. I’m still dealing with the aftermath of Halloween night. I’m still working through problems and resentments and issues. I’ve still got problems (who doesn’t?), but the way I deal with them, and the way I live my life is a million times better than it was three months ago. I’m no longer saying, “I’ve got this. I can fix this. I have everything under control. This is my life, and I’m living it how I want.” Now, I’m saying, “I am powerless. And God, I need Your power.”

So here I am. I’m sitting at my kitchen table. It’s January 30, 2020--the first day of PhD classes. And suddenly, it really hits me: This is a new life. I am living the life I always wanted. And I begin to cry.

I am starting my third degree.

I am working the job I’ve always wanted, teaching English and helping students.

I have a better relationship with my family than I’ve had in long time.

I have friends who, instead of saying “Are you okay? Maybe you need help,” are saying things like, “You are clearly different. You’re so happy. I am so proud of you.”

I am in a healthy relationship with a boyfriend who has been there for me through all of this and more, who is the best of friends, the kindest, most supportive person, and who believes that I can do anything.

I am closely connected to God. I truly feel Him with me every single day.

I am the happiest and healthiest I have been in years, and I didn’t do any of it. I couldn’t have.

My sponsor likes to say when she tells her story, “This isn’t about me. This isn’t my story. It’s God’s. I’m just privileged enough to be the one to deliver it.” And she’s right, so I’m stealing it from her. (Sorry, not sorry, Anna.)

I am truly happy for the first time in a long time. But I--my self--had nothing to do with it. When I was trying to make myself happy and fulfilled, I only came up depressed and empty-handed. But God. He did it all. He brought me to an AA meeting on a Monday night, November 4, 2019. He led a woman to stop me at the door, to ask to talk to me afterwards, and to give me a little red book that changed my life. He put other people in my life to help and support and encourage me through this. He took all that I had messed up and broken, and turned it into something beautiful.

It’s all Him, all His work.

I’m just eternally grateful that I get to reap some of the benefits.

[divinecuriosity]

Character Development Questions: Hard Mode-- BOG!!!! Al

ALL? is that what this is supposed to say. bc im gonna do All 

Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with? He’s an only child! Maybe a few cousins his age, he probably was close with them before he went away!

What is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like? Good, his moms really supported him to the point where he couldn’t do anything wrong in their eyes. Mom #1 was raised in a temple of Ioun, and is a half orc half elf. She works in the temple she and Bog’s other mom founded and tried to teach him to become a cleric like her, but once he voiced his desire to pursure the arcane she was happy to support that

What is/was your character’s relationship with their father  mother #2 like? Mom #2 was less ready to support the arcane, having converted to worshiping Ioun after meeting mom #1 and never really having a knack for magic. Both Bog’s moms see him as the perfect blessing he was intended to be and dont see any faults in him, and though they are hurt by his leaving they trust in their god and in him that it will be ok (not that he’s had contact with them to know that...)

Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know? YEs! He first stumbled upon magic when he started to just be able to Do Things, but there was a wizard to came to his town when he was a child and showed the kids magic tricks, and Bog came up to him one day and basically said “i can do that too! my mom doesnt know this bc im scared to tell her but here let me show you” and this like, seven year old half orc kid does some medium level spell and the Wizard was just like. damn we gotta teach u. 

On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets? Uhh, not much tbh? maybe some jerkey, a rag for sweat/cleaning things off, whatever coin he has on him? But he always has his drum on a sling over his shoulder, his flute on a chain around his neck, and in a trunk on the lower deck he has his spellbooks and Violin!

Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams? haahhhh he gets periodic visions from Ioun being like,,,, hello my Blessing hows the Doing God’s Work going?? oh youre still on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean? thats chill like ur moms i think you are Perfect and fully believe you will get back to it eventually, go find some new Knowledge and fill up that brain of yours thanks ok bye

Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares? He doesn’t really get them I think? hes a happy guy

Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target? Do guns exist anna???

Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up? UHH hes a pirate now so. probably less consistent access to money ? he wasn’t rich at all like, medium middle class at best, but now its probably a lot more sporadic access to like , a lot more money

Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing? Uhh he wears the same thing like all the time just loose shirt and flowy pants and drum. if he doesnt have his drum he might as well be naked. But he probably hates having to dress in fancy clothes/layers bc Tactile Bad 

In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been? Uh he’s pretty Freaked Out now tbh, but probably the first storm they had at sea, or the night before he left Bard School

In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been? Hmmm, thats tough idk? Every time he plays music for a group of people and they chime in/dance/just pay attention he feels  p calm and good

Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way? Not really, he doesn’t like seeing people hurt but he isnt grossed out by it

Does your character remember names or faces easier? Names, they get confused when people change their hair or outfit rip

Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not? They arent usually, but since being a pirate he kinda,,, goes along w it and has the mentality of “this is nice!” but its not rlly his end all

Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success? Happiness

What was your character’s favorite toy as a child? Hmmm, probably drums

Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others? Wisdom

What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before? They get crushes rlly easily and then get distant if the feelings arent returned bc they dont wanna talk about Hard Emotions bc they never...had too

In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism? They don’t compare themselves to others past like, oh they have more x than me and i wish i had more of that? More jealousy than him actually putting value to differences

If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others? Uhh nothing rlly, tragic happened but his whole thing is he has a destiny he doesnt feel like he earned and is running from it but also feels Immense guilt for doing that so, lots of self blame in this buddy

What does your character like in other people? They like people with passion for something

What does your character dislike in other people? Uhhh being rude to others (like more than a joke, when its obviously upseting them)

How quick is your character to trust someone else? Fairly quick, he needs more friends

How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person? Uhh idk tbh?

How does your character behave around children? He’s great with them for short periods but once he’s run out of little songs to play/sing and funny jokes he. gets anxious and gets out of there.

How does your character normally deal with confrontation? If its an authority figure? ANXIOUS! if its someone he sees as an equal / he has power over, hes more level headed

How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation? Uhh hes weak and slow so, p slow. even spell wise hes more about protecting his friends than damage

What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true? He’s pretty much always wanted to study magic and be a bard. maybe early early five yr old Bog dreamed of working at the temple

What does your character find repulsive or disgusting? Uhh, standard icky stuff like x-phobias 

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable. Playing for an Audience

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most uncomfortable. Talking about feelings, especially ~romance~

In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve? A mix of willing to improve and self-deprecating, depending on whos doing the criticism

Is your character more likely to keep trying a solution/method that didn’t work the first time, or immediately move on to a different solution/method? They move from solution to solution pretty fast, they arent super patient

How does your character behave around people they like? Trying to impress them and also not look dumb

How does your character behave around people they dislike? Glare glare glare

Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status? Honor ig?

Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat? Remove the problem

Has your character ever been bitten by an animal? How were they affected (or unaffected)? Uhh probably not? hes good w animals

How does your character treat people in service jobs? As well as he can!! 

Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first? EARN EARN EARN

Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them? Hmm, not really? 

Has your character ever had a dependent figure who was not related to them? nah

How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it? They say it really quickly and usually mean it, they just get close to people fast

What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them? He’s pretty sure if he manages not to Fuck it Up he’ll go to Ioun’s realm or whatever, but hes not sure hes gonna,,, not fuck it up,,, or that he even wants that? death scares him so he just doesnt think about it if he can manage

[foundcarcosa]

cccviii.

Do you still remember your first kiss? >> Yes. It’s kind of branded into my brain for a couple of (not nice) reasons. Are you happy with where you are relationship-wise now? >> I’m happy with the relationships I have. I wouldn’t even consider myself emotionally available for any others if I wasn’t. How many kids do you want to have? >> One. I suppose we should think about a pair for the sake of said child not being lonely, but I don’t know. There are possible pros and cons to both situations. Have you ever purposely given someone the wrong number? >> No. Who’s the last person you smoked weed with? >> Sigma.

Are you mad at the last person who called you? >> --- Who was the last person you talked to, other than family? >> Sparrow. When was the last time you flew in a plane? >> This time last year. Is there a girl you absolutely can not stand? >> I mean, somewhere, definitely.

Have you ever set anything on fire? >> Sure. Have you kissed the last person you texted? >> Yes. Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos? >> I am always up for more body modification. I just don’t have the money for it. Do you find tattoos attractive in the opposite sex? >> Generally, sure. Who is the person you have hurt the most? >> I don’t know. That isn’t really my thing to determine, I don’t think. Who is the person that has hurt you the most? >> That’s also difficult for me to determine because... shit is connected. No one person is wholly responsible for the damage done to me, because sometimes the damage they caused wasn’t a direct product of them but of... a combination of nature, nurture, and whatever era of life I was in. So while I can blame them, it’s not the full picture, and once you start getting into this stuff it gets real wibbly real quick, so. Yanno. Have you smoked a cigarette today? >> No. Are you listening to any music? What song? >> Yes. Conformist, by XTRMST. It’s a Davey Havok project I’m not entirely sure how I feel about, but I do like a few of the songs at least. Ever had a person who was obsessed with you so much that it scared you? >> No. Is there anything silver near you? >> I mean, probably, but I’m not going to turn the light back on to check. Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else? >> Yeah, a few times. Who are you talking to right now? >> Blayke on Discord, telling me more about that damn MTG Planeswalker that I now can’t stop thinking about. Enablers, one and all... Have you cried this past week? >> Yes. Say your last ex walks up to you and hugs you, what do you say? >> Relationships have been so nebulous for me lately (I guess part of that is my fault, stupid Mercury making it hard for me to put boundaries around things until it’s too late) that I’m not even sure who my last ex actually is. I never actually broke up with Phoenix, but we... haven’t spoken in months.... so........???? I guess I deserve this, lmao. Anyway, using Phoenix for the sake of simplicity: I don’t know what I’d say, but I’d be confused because like... we don’t live anywhere near each other. Would you date someone right now if they asked? >> Depending on who it is, sure, maybe. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear? >> Probably. Who was the last baby you held? >> Vlad’s son. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? >> I think Lucian’s (of misterlucian.tumblr.com fame) birthday is either the day before or the day after mine. And I think darzie’s is really close too, and Bisho’s... I feel like I do know someone on tumblr whose birthday is the same day as mine, but I might just be getting it confused. Would you ever get a tattoo? If so, of what? >> I have three tattoos, but of course I’d definitely get more. Have you purposely flirted with a friends crush? >> I don’t think so. Do you have any siblings that moved away to college? >> No. Have you had any beer this week? >> Yes. Is there anything you need to talk about with someone? >> Probably a lot of things. But “someone” is... whomst???? I’ll stick to Can Calah for now, because no one else has proven trustworthy with this chaos. Are you wearing a necklace? >> Yes, always. What does text 10 in your cell say? >> You know, phones don’t do it like this anymore... Who was the last person who cried around you? >> Uh... well, like the only person I see on a regular basis is Sparrow, so I’m gonna assume it was her. What was the last thing you cried about? >> Being ill from drink and irrationally hating myself for it. (I didn’t really hate myself for being blindsided, I hated myself for being so hard-up for social interaction that I stayed at Gardella’s longer than I planned to and let Erin give me tastes of drinks that interacted badly with what was already in my system.) Who’s the last guy to give you roses? >> I’ve never received roses from a guy. Do you think relationships are hard? >> I think being a person is hard, and being a person with another person in a way that fits together well is also hard. But I think that sometimes another person is okay with that, and if you’re honest about it with each other, and let each other mess up at it sometimes, it doesn’t have to be as hard as you’d imagine. Did your parents do drugs when they were younger? >> My father didn’t. What color are your eyes? >> Dark brown. Do you listen to music while you fill out surveys? >> Yes. Would you date someone that had a different religion from you? >> If that religion was Christianity or Islam, it’s extremely unlikely. If that religion is another, then it’s possible. It’s really a case-by-case basis because people react with religion differently. (Christianity and Islam are harder to be okay with because the fundamental tenets of those religions are counter to how I live my life, and the way people interact with those religions is often even more counter to how I live my life. There are things about both religions that I appreciate greatly, obviously, but I... I just can’t.) Would you rather have nice eyes or nice lips/smile? >> Well, see, I have both, soooOOOoOOoo Do you have any secrets? >> No. What’s your current problem? >> The littlerbox odour in the closet is never going to go away. Ever. For a year Sigma kept a litterbox right on the carpet in there and was, true to form, terrible about cleanliness, and now the smell is just. Baked the fuck in. And I have to live in here. And smell it. And it’s like a fucking ghost that I can’t exorcise. And operating at this level of sensory processing makes it an even worse time for me. It’s such an appropriate legacy. I’d like to laugh about how appropriate it is, because it’s kinda funny when you’re at a distance... but I am so deeply, coldly angry.

[simsbeez]

So! It’s taken forever for me to get around to this... but here’s my rant and character analysis to a degree of Benjamin Kirby Tennyson from Ben 10. Aka my son, light of my life, and someone that gets more shit than he should. For now, I’ll start with only a few points I find really important.

1. Ben’s parents fucking SUCK ASS and were obviously never there. If you look back at the way he behaved as a kid... it’s how kids that don’t get the attention and care they need tend to act. They’ll settle for any attention they can get, even if it’s negative which is also why Ben was so fucking elated to go camping with Max as he saw it as a chance to connect ( and Max was honestly in the wrong with not telling Ben that Gwen was going along, but I’ll can it as I’ve already done my rant on Max and how horrible he is ). This all continues when Max just continues to point out his flaws when he got the omnitrix, it’s why Ben was and to a degree still is latched onto the thought of becoming famous even as he gets older. It’s all that attention that he never got to have as he was growing up. He’s not selfish, he’s just wanting the attention that he never got to have.

2. Ben is NOT FUCKING STUPID. He just doesn’t like reading and prefers something that he can do with his hands, that doesn’t make him stupid. In fact, he canonly has pretty good fucking grades in school as he grows up and it’s okay if he didn’t want to put effort into a test when he was small and it wasn’t getting him any attention. He just figured out that checking a certain thing would get him a passing grade with no effort. If you actually pay attention to what’s going on, Ben is fucking BRILLIANT. Even at the age of ten he is more resourceful than anyone has ever given him credit for. In one of the very first episodes, when the watch times out, Ben actually defeats that giant hamster with nothing but a scooter and the environment. So he’s really one hell of a hero without the watch to begin with.

3. Ben is so fucking adaptive it’s insane. I don’t think many people realize just how adaptive he is, not with just the situation, but his body. He is fucking ten years old when he first turns into Heat Blast and LET ME TELL YOU ---- you would freak the fuck out too if you were suddenly a living being made of fire I don’t care what you say. And I say this because that body DOES NOT FUNCTION THE SAME WAY A HUMAN BODY FUNCTIONS but your thoughts are still human. So you’re brain is literally going to go into a full panic cause what the actual fuck why am I on fire, fire is dangerous, fire hurts, why am I not hurting, why is my sense of feeling off --- and it’s just a whole fucking red alert like god fucking damn. And yet, Ben goes through this as a child and finds a way to recover, adapt, and he does this with EVERY ALIEN. Every time he gets a new alien, he has to relearn like a fucking infant and do it in MINUTES rather than years. And I say this because every alien would breathe different, the bone structure is not the same, and he’d have to make sure that he doesn’t panic when things don’t move like normal and his way of breathing changes --- and then Ben memorizes each way the aliens fight and move and all their weaknesses. GIVE. HIM. CREDIT. HERE. P L E A S E i’m so fucking tired of people not giving it.

4. CAN WE ALL JUST ACKNOWLEDGE HOW MUCH TRAUMA THIS KID HAS BEEN THROUGH??? I’ve seen rants about other characters, but everyone seems to be fine leaving Ben out in the cold because he can ACT like he’s cocky and knows what he’s doing... when it’s just that. AN ACT. Ben has been forced into the responsibility of the omnitrix when he was 10, had it ripped off him which very clearly was like losing a limb, saw Max get turned into a slug monster and blamed himself, has been in countless life or death scenarios, had his trust betrayed, seen Gwen almost die, died himself, recreated the universe exactly as it was --- and that’s only touching the tip of the iceberg! Recognize what Ben has done, what he does to cope with it, and the fact that whether or not he can turn into aliens doesn’t change the fact that’s he’s gone through traumatizing experience after traumatizing experience his entire life. He deserves recognition and doesn’t deserve being yelled at all the time cause he whined at times about a video game, or showed some confidence when that’s what he’s doing to mask fear cause he doesn’t know what to do otherwise.

5. Ben is actually, fundamentally, selfless. I don’t care that as a kid he wanted a sumo-slammers game or card. He’s still a child and at times is going to act childishly ( even as a teenager ). I don’t know where the concept that kid hero automatically = adult - like came from, but it’s damaging. I’ve been through trauma myself and people always praised me when I acted older rather than acting how a kid SHOULD ACT to having to much responsibility. It’s why if you pay attention, Ben doesn’t like new partners and prefers to do things on his own. He got scolded by Max so much to be an adult that he feels like leaning on Gwen and Max would be selfish, because then he’s putting them in danger. He’s better at this as a teen, but I think that has more to do with his close bond with Kevin and Gwen than anything else. They REFUSE to let him do it on his own, but he would if he could because then nobody gets hurt but him... but he would also be lonely. Basically, Ben has this kind of thought process about him that if he gets help then he’s selfish, but if he doesn’t then he’s being cocky. So... he acts like he’s already confident to try to find some kind of balance and if you really pay attention, despite how he tries to act, he puts everyone else first.

[alarajrogers]

Even if everything was equal, self-dx is often confused with self-analysis and research into possible conditions.

As autistics, we’re very used to “nobody is going to explain it to us in the detail we want” and “no one is going to listen and understand us”, so we’re pretty prime for this, but many other people can benefit too. Knowledge of mental disorders and “abnormal” brain organization isn’t, like, some arcane discipline that you can’t possibly comprehend without decades of training; it’s actually very easy to research your own condition, particularly in the day of the Internet. (Some would say, too easy, and it can result in mistakenly believing that you have a condition you don’t because the pop sci explanations are too glib.)

Taking your findings to a doctor for validation isn’t quite the same thing as self-dx; you’re not diagnosing yourself, you’re identifying areas the doctor can focus on for giving you a diagnosis. In an ideal world, a doctor would be able to tell you “yes, based on what you’ve told me it sounds like you’re autistic” or “no, you have X and Y which complicate the situation and generally speaking aren’t compatible with a diagnosis of autism” (many doctors are not ideal so this won’t necessarily happen). This is what I did -- I researched autism, came to the conclusion that it sounded a lot like me, went to my psychiatrist with my findings, and he said, “Yes, that definitely sounds like you’re autistic.” So now I have a real Dx, but I wouldn’t have it if I hadn’t thought “wow, this autism stuff sounds a lot like me.”

Doing this is always okay even if you have access to an excellent psychologist who will listen to you. The downside to self-dx is mostly that you might accidentally diagnose yourself with something you don’t have because Internet sources are generally pop sci and don’t go into enough detail for you to really understand what you’re looking at. Taking your informed belief to a psychologist to get a reality check is a good way to avoid that if you can. So never think there’s a downside to doing your own research and exploring possibilities.

Also, specifically for autism: there are no treatments. There is no cure, there are no pills. You can modulate the symptoms of your autism and fake being allistic much better when you’re healthy, in a good mental place, and well-rested, so all that advice about “eat this to fix autism” is wrong but has a grain of truth to it. But,you know, identifying any food allergies you might have and getting good rest and good nutrition and taking care of the rest of your mental health are always good things to do, for anyone. So if you think you’re autistic and you’re not... what’s going to happen? Not a whole lot. Whereas if you think you’re not autistic and you are, you may blame yourself for things that are outside your control or think of yourself as a fundamentally broken person. (My mother used to call me an emotional cripple. She wasn’t being mean about it; to her, my lack of ability to express or reciprocate certain emotions meant that obviously, I had some kind of disability there, and ‘cripple’ wasn’t at the time a verboten word for disability. But it still hurt me, even though it seemed to be true. Now I know my emotions are pretty similar to allistic people’s but my expression of them is different; I’m not crippled, I’m speaking a different language than they are. And if my mom had known that when I was a kid, things might have been a lot different.)

recently went threw the self dox tag and there seems to be a lot of people who aren’t in favour of self diagnosing. Is it alright? I mean I guess people make good points and now at this point I almost feel as if I’m “faking” and it’s kinda a bummer because I thought that maybe I’d figured out why I feel so different but now I’m second guessing and I won’t be able to look into an official diagnosis for awhile now

Hello! I'm sorry you had a bad experience going through this tag. This is not how every people from the autistic community perceives self dx, on the contrary.

I'd be hypocritical if I was anti self dx, given that my self dx was what helped me to get my official diagnosis two years ago.

There are plenty of reasons you might not get diagnosed early, notably if you don't look the part of the "white autistic boy who likes train". I'm myself white, but a cis woman.

And even though I was very visibly autistic when I was a toddler/kid (nonverbal, meltdowns, zoning out and so on), they decided that my behavior was the result of the traumatic experience that was the divorce of my parents (including my father kidnapping me and the social services calling my mother in haste six months later because I was in danger).

Anyway, I was then seen as a gifted child and nothing more. I had to actively research why I felt so different to start thinking about autism (I was 16 or so).

And even then, I didn't start seeing a therapist until I was 22 or so, to get diagnosed at 24. I spent quite an amount of money and had to drive myself to every appointment. I had a job that allowed me to do all of that, which is a privilege.

Don't feel like you're faking. Most NTs are not wondering why they feel different or "wrong", so even if it's not the autism, there's definitely something worth exploring. Go through the #actuallyautistic tag, reach put to the blogs that you feel could help you and don't care for the haters. They don't know what they're talking about.

Good luck c:. If you have other questions, feel free to ask.

[primitivethinker-blog1]

A Rental Statistics

Florida Vacation Rentals When I moved toward the Craps table at the gambling club, the fervor was inebriating. The person shooting the kick the bucket, individuals enthusiastically gathering their rewards, and the quick paced activity of the table influenced me to need to get a wager in. I misjudged the chances and that was my blame.

The diversion had appeared to be so straight-forward – 11 potential numbers (two to twelve) each with an equivalent possibility of hitting. I took a gander at the table and saw a payout of 30 to 1 if the shooter rolled a two. I figured I had one of every eleven chances of my number coming up and it appeared like an incredible wager. I immediately dropped $20 in chips and viewed my cash vanish as the merchant gathered my chips.

Afterward, I understood that the shot of rolling a two is just 2.78% versus 16.67% chances on rolling a seven. I had fail to understand that there is just a single conceivable blend that yields a two (when each pass on shows one). The measurements were genuine. They were reasonable. I had confounded them. My $20 was gone, however it was a shoddy exercise. I have come to discover that insights are once in a while what they appear.

Like the fervor of a gambling club, vacation rentals are an energizing industry and have a lot of supporting measurements. ​However it is totally crucial that you comprehend the insights (chances) when you settle on choices affecting your organization's future or your family's business.

To be straightforward, I am a colossal aficionado of measurements. At the point when utilized accurately, measurements can help manage our business choices and give us our most obvious opportunity at progress. These insights can enable us to comprehend where to contribute advertising dollars, how to gauge deals appropriately, and settle on instructed business choices.

The vacation rental vertical needs insights, yet ​it's similarly imperative to​ comprehend the manners in which ​statistics can be abused. Underneath you'll discover some ​examples to help guarantee revise investigation.

1. Data Omission

Individuals who read the above explanation on bulletins inferred that 80% of dental specialists suggest Colgate well beyond different brands and the staying 20% of dental practitioners would prescribe distinctive brands as opposed to Colgate. Those are two altogether different explanations.

As anyone might expect, the off base suspicion that Colgate was suggested over different brands of toothpaste brought about higher deals and undeserved believability.

The Advertising Standards Authority broke down Colgate's cases and observed them to be misleading1. When you take a gander at it intently, Colgate had advantageously discarded a crucial snippet of data – the dental specialists being referred to ​were requested to choose all the toothpaste brands they would prescribe. The dental practitioners were not prescribing Colgate rather than another brand, but instead notwithstanding alternate brands.

​[Matt's Note: Interestingly, discovering this photo of the Colgate articulation was relatively outlandish. I figure this current help's David's perception that data oversight can cause genuine harm.]

Vacation Rental Application

As an industry, both property supervisors and vacation rental mortgage holders must be watchful to comprehend the measurements and data we are given. For instance, HomeAway ​recently expressed that leasing your vacation home for as meager as 18 weeks of the year can cover over 75% of the mortgage​2.​​​

While exact, this measurement is a long way from a full picture. As a vacation mortgage holder and previous property chief, I comprehend that HomeAway is likely alluding to an exceedingly regular goal that wins the lion's offer of its income in that multi week time span. The income is as a rule adequate to cover 75% of the yearly home loan cost, yet not the utilities, support, redesigns, HOA levy, administration rate (if not self-overseeing), and the bunch of different costs that mortgage holders know great.

Clearly, HomeAway has a personal stake in observing the vacation rental supply extend to meet the consistently developing business sector request. When they distributed this measurement, the PR group at HomeAway ​probably comprehended that the measurement was precise ​even if potentially​ misconstrued (similar to Colgate).

2. Off base/Biased Sampling

Does that appear to be incomprehensible? All things considered, imagine a scenario where I revealed to you that the overview was gone up against Delta flight leaving Rome for Atlanta. ​So to be all the more clear, 58% of American grown-ups leaving Rome on a trip for Atlanta have visited the Colosseum in Rome. As silly as the above illustration appears, incorrect examining is a main problem and not in every case effortlessly identifiable.

Vacation Rental Application

An industry case of an inspecting blunder is Airbnb's ongoing proclamation in regards to Smart Pricing. In a meeting, Airbnb's Vice President of Product as of late announced, "Hosts who execute Airbnb's Smart Pricing have seen a 13% expansion in their revenue."3

On the off chance that we acknowledge this measurement at confront esteem, we would be a trick not to actualize Smart Pricing. Be that as it may, there are some real issues with this measurement.

The disastrous the truth is this measurement did not depend on cautious, arbitrary choice with proper control gatherings. Rather, Airbnb enabled hosts to self-select and utilize the apparatus. The determination inclination profoundly affects the convenience of the measurement.

By plan, the gathering that was well on the way to select in for Smart Pricing had the most to pick up. These hosts had not legitimately inquired about and set costs in view of best practices or request. In actuality, master level hosts with cutting edge evaluating systems were the most impervious to the new instrument.

To exacerbate the situation, if a host experimented with the instrument and understood the Smart Pricing rate yield ​didn't work and deactivated it, they were excluded in the examination. The measurement advantageously incorporates a self-chose assemble that was destined to encounter gains and avoids those that would encounter misfortune.

Additionally, a control gathering would have helped us see the amount of the 13% expansion was because of the apparatus versus by and large industry development. What affect did Airbnb mark development, higher survey checks after some time, and other outside elements have on the insights?

Notwithstanding determination predisposition and the recorded outside elements, did Airbnb straightforwardly or in a roundabout way increment the positioning of properties that took part in this program? Assuming this is the case, that would be an unsustainable practice once a substantial fragment picked in.

Similarly the planeload of American visitors is definitely not a delegate test of the entire nation, a little portion of self-chose has is certainly not a substantial measurement to settle on choices in light of.

3. Affirmation Bias

Obviously, the advertising and PR divisions of huge organizations have a personal stake in ​convincing individuals to utilize their administration. Yet, they additionally have a lot of duty, seeing that our industry is so youthful and credulous.

I exceedingly suggest that ​every vacation rental read this article by James Clear on normal mental mistakes and inclinations to all the more likely see how every person has predispositions and shortcomings related with basic leadership. The post will edify and unquestionably shading the manner in which you decipher measurements and settle on business choices.

While I won't dive into every one of the inclinations in the above article, I would like to quickly examine affirmation predisposition. This is fundamentally we are for the most part liable to support data that strengthens our present conviction set.

​For illustration, two or three has been longing for owning a shoreline apartment suite for as far back as decade. Their affirmation inclination will unavoidably make them stick to the realities that legitimize the buy and fortify the choice to purchase. Since our brains are wired to restrict changes in conviction, the couple will markdown legitimate contentions that contradict purchasing a second home and stick to the certainties that help it.

4. The Four Statistic Filters

Insights are surrounding us. Would it be a good idea for us to overlook them? No. Would it be advisable for us to be terrified of them? No! Rather, how about we utilize a system to enable us to apply fitting suspicion and decide an activity plan. By utilizing presence of mind, it will enable us to sift through the awful measurements and make a move on the great ones!

​Instead of indiscriminately confiding in the above measurement, I suggest applying the four measurement channels (questions) beneath:

Does this individual or organization remain to benefit from me trusting this measurement? No. Simon Lehman has an incredible notoriety of sharing significant knowledge and his organization Phocuswright exists to gives and offer important information.

​Does this measurement pass the presence of mind channel? Totally. We know from our Google Analytics that portable activity and changes is relentlessly expanding and 60% appears to be conceivable by 2020.

​​Are there comparative measurements that help or undermine this information? Truly. There are a lot of insights that point to expanding portable use.

In the event that I make a move on this measurement, is there a critical hazard? Does inaction create chance? In the event that my site has a poor versatile affair, overlooking this measurement could drastically diminish the quantity of changes getting through my site. Thus, this could build my reliance on versatile amicable posting destinations.

The quick changing and energizing business of vacation rentals directs that we deliberately break down every choice and be prepared for change! By applying this basic rundown of inquiries, we can rapidly, and all the more certainly decide whether an industry measurement ought to be trusted and at last drive us to activity. You can also check  Kentucky Vacation Rentals and  Florida Vacation Rentals.

[anautisticdragon-blog]

Extraverts & Theory of Mind

I posit that extraverts don't actually experience Theory of Mind as the definition holds, which is a really obvious statement honestly if one stops to consider the evidence. I won't go back over how commonly studies find extraverts scoring highly on the Dark Triad/Tetrad of psychopathic traits, as my post history is directly available as well as Google. I don't want to think for you, you should come to your own conclusions. The reason I share this is because so few people actually seem to consider the possibility that this is true. So let's consider first that extraverts are never really capable of introspection in the truest sense of the word, their variant instead being extrospection which looks only outward for explanations. It provides an obvious reason as to why when there is blame, both introverts and people on the autistic spectrum will look inward to see if they are at fault, whereas extraverts will project it outward in an effort to eiter find a scapegoat or blame 'the group' for their own problematic behaviours and actions. Theory of Mind relies on introspection, so how does it apply to extraverts, then? What I'm saying, here, is that extraverts fail to recognise their own mind or their own position in anything. They only see their group, they see everything in the context of groups, and this group-based perception and groupthink leads to the kind of toxic tribalism I've spoken of time and time again. It's so simply to be a bigot when you think of the world this way, if my 'superior' group is white, and their 'inferior' group is black (it isn't my group); Or if my 'superior' group is male, and their 'inferior group is female (it isn't my group). This is what causes extraverts to give rise to groups like Men's Rights Activism, the Alt-Right, and other hate movements. The extravert is completely unable of seeing that in both groups you have individuals. That individual A or group A isn't all that different -- and thus, not superior to -- individual who might be of groups A, B, C, D, or E. Extraverts are functionally incapable of thinking this way, which displays that they lack Theory of Mind as the definition holds. Extraverts are unable to recognise their own mental states and behaviours on an individual level, similarly they're unable to attribute action to theirself on an individual basis. Since they see things as a system of groups, they don't attribute things on an individual level, either. So if, for example, an extravert is abused by a black person in their youth, that guilt then belongs to the group 'blacks' rather than just the one black individual who was actually responsible for hurting them. This is contrary to Theory of Mind. Theory of Mind would dictate that the extravert needs to be able to make a distinction between the person, who is black, and the entire race of black people. They can't do that. Their minds aren't designed to functionally work that way. So any blame is guilt shared by an entire group, and that group can extend out to be an entire race or gender. This is why extraverts end up with overly tribal beliefs, because something about how their brain functions cannot separate person from group. If I am hurt by an individual, I think of it as being an individual I'm hurt by, the 'group' they belong to is irrelevant. I can recognise an individual unit. The problem here is that this issue is so woefully pervasive that it almost feels like I'm expressing a 'group' based belief when talking about them, but I clearly understand the problem and I feel no prejudice or bigotry toward any group. Therefore, this is a widespread problem with the extraverted mind. It fascinates me how a lack of Theory of Mind is regularly projected onto every person with ASD by shallow, extrospective extraverts who simply aren't self aware enough to recognise that they're just blaming others for a problem they themselves have. And that's part of the problem. They recognise this in other extraverts, but they cannot blame their own 'group' for it because it means then that they're responsible and that can't be right. So a group outside of their own is used as an example to be a scapegoat. The definition of Theory of Mind also holds that the person must be able to recognise that one can have different beliefs, feelings, and opinions than others. This one is fascinating to me. I am the first to tell anyone that diversity is important and that we must value other opinions even if we don't agree with them. When I talk with an autistic person we have a sharing of ideas which we then internalise to examine, talk about, and we're both incredibly likely to grow from the experience. This isn't how extraverts do things. They debate to win. So there are often semantics and vagueness used in order to defeat the opponent rather than have an equal sharing of ideas to learn from. They just want to crush the opposing group in the name of their own group, because you see, if the extravert holds an opinion belonging to group A, their own group, then it must be superior and it must always win in all cases because it's superior. It never deviates from this, this is their function. I get frustrated when talking with extraverts as they leverage semantics, manipulation, vagueness, and fallacious ploys in order to 'win' rather than just sharing ideas. I'm reminded of an argument I had the other day with an extravert. I wondered why two different games had mods that were so clearly divided from one another, where they were far more likely to build upon their existing content rather than add content that is like the other game. The conclusion I came to was that both engines are equally capable of assuming the content of the other, but that the specific demographics each game is tailored at results in players who just add more of what they like as it's common for neurotypicals to behave that way. My extraverted acquaintance took this as saying that one engine had to be inferior because it lacked the content of the other game, which then lead to a shit flinging match about trying to undermine the other game. They were acting as though I'd chosen a binary position of purporting that one was superior to the other, and this was baffling to me. I was so taken aback that I initially didn't even know how to answer because this was on a completely different train of thought than I was. When I caught up, I tried to explain patiently that they were in error, I wasn't putting one over the other. The argument went on where the extravert kept saying that game A was obviously better because the mods changed things in fundamental ways that simply never happened with game B, I provided examples of mods in both engines changing the fundamentals of both games. The extravert wasn't having any of this and got became increasingly infuriated, when their arguments failed they turned to being as vague as possible, as they realised that with my position not being that one had to be superior over the other, there was no way they could 'win' via normal means. As such, the next method would be to undermine me. Opting for really inappropriate character assassination instead. This is how it always goes with extraverts. I, the autistic person, was saying that both games were equal but simply different in their function by choice due to the people playing them. I am able to recognise that both are valid despite being different. I've often encountered as well a situation where when interacting with extraverts I'll find that they'll say something along the lines of: "You're not agreeing with me. I must not be explaining this right because if I were, you'd be agreeing with me. You're of my group, so I can't understand why you're not agreeing with me." This usually turns noxious with the extravert soon after accusing the person of being undereducated, stupid, or what have you. That oh, they'd agree with the extravert if only they were cleverer, if only they were smarter. If only. Extraverts expect echo chambers when they perceive you as being a part of their own group and they get very nasty when they don't experience that. This is why groups like Men's Rights Activists and the Alt-Right get very nasty whenever one of their own expresses a tolerant view of the left, or of women. They experience so much bile and vitriol for even daring to have such a 'wrong' opinion, let alone expressing and presenting it. You need only look at the incredibly extraverted MRA and Alt-Right people on YouTube to see how true this is. And they're certainly extraverted as more introverted or autistic individuals usually don't enjoy YouTube as that much social attention makes them uncomfortable. Plus, they're less likely to be popular as they're not relying on spectacle and manipulation as an extravert would. Even looking at people like Rich Spencer, the 'head man' of the Alt-Right movement, it's easy to see that he's very extraverted. It doesn't end there, though. Extraverts love being special snowflakes as it directs attention at theirself, they want the room looking at them. And there is nothing on earth more desirable than social attention to an extravert. So extraverts claiming that those on the Alt-Right are 'normies' and thus inferior creatures draws attention to themselves as a self-perceived 'superior' being. This is a profoundly extraverted attitude. And it's just a piece of the large mountain of mounting evidence that extraverts aren't capable of ToM (Theory of Mind). If an extravert cannot accept diversity, if they can't value the opinions, beliefs, and feelings of others as equal, how is it that they have Theory of Mind, exactly? Extraverts are excessively tribal and treat everything as a war between 1 and 0, where they are in the position of 1 and everyone they disagree with holds the position of 0. Extraverts seek out echo chambers and wish to eradicate dissenting opinions, they want to use underhanded tactics to undermine or even destroy anyone with a dissenting opinion. This isn't valuing diversity. Extraverts are incapable fo parsing how other individuals may be different and they're unable to value that difference. Thus they lack Theory of Mind. I don't see how they can possess it given this evidence.

[xhapjeongkrp-blog]

( We thought we were running away from the grown-ups, and now we are the grown-ups. )

Name: Kwon Haesol Age: 22 Occupation: Intern at sleep clinic/Karaoke bar staff

Content Warning: Abuse

I. You left me with such a silent world.

Anecdotes, passed on from generations of self-proclaimed wisdom flourished fossils tend to claim that if you build your walls high enough, it is presumed that only the deserving will brave the journey.

There are four gates that embrace the valley of Seoul, a protective barrier that once restricted the foreign from being allowed into the walls of a fortress that formerly held an entire kingdom behind its stone. Of the four, Haesol was born behind the East gate, Heunginjimun which left the lips with literal benevolence. But he knew this gate he called home, as Dongdaemun.

Home was the stray cracks in the cement he strategically hopped over – one hundred fifty-two of them to be exact, but who’s counting? – every day on his way to and from school.

Home was the pair of convenient store chocolate ice cream cones his father hid in a black plastic bag to share – since his mother complained about cavities – after a long week.

Home was the frozen persimmons and scented erasers that the older lady who ran the stationary store loved to bundle up in cheese cloth and send him home with, even when he didn’t buy anything.

Home was Happy, the neighborhood stray, that he snuck his unfinished dinner to while he talked about his day before he would kiss his mom goodbye and be forced to bed.

Home was the jazz records he listened to in the summer afternoons when the temperature was just a little too hot to go outside and play.

Home was the rare nights where his soft breaths were diminished by his mom’s hands stroking his hair back until he was lulled to sleep.

Home is a cozy two bedroom two bath, coddled between narrow roads and brick walls. Home is his father, a simple paper pusher at a small advertisement and marketing firm. Home is his mother, the owner of an expanded food stall that served an eclectic variety of cheap alcohol married with seasonal dishes. Home was behind the East gate of benevolence. But home also tended to only consist of Haesol himself.

And when his parents make the decision to move to Mapogu, he really isn’t sure where home is anymore. Or if he had ever had one to begin with.

II. Where evenings are calm, but I am restless.

Haesol is ten when he first decides that he is perfectly capable of living on his own. Equipped with a backpack filled with three days’ worth of canned stews and vegetables along with a roll of toilet paper and change of socks, he peered out the window with one eye closed from the back of the bus while his index and thumb squished his usual stop between his pale fingers.

There was only one place that he wanted to run away to, and that was home.

When he reached his familiar stop in Dongdaemun, he was more than eager to get off and indulge in chocolate ice cream cones, frozen persimmons, and scented erasers. Most of all, he wanted to see his friend, Happy. But it doesn’t take more than hour for him to realize that the neighborhood he had been pacing up and down – with no familiar faces in sight – was not his home.

It’s almost midnight when a police officer finds the sloppy mess of tears and boogers painted across the child’s face; feeble body hunched near a brick wall from exasperated exhaustion, the officer called the station to confirm that this was the child that skipped school and had a pair of frantic parents on the other line.

And Haesol spends the night at the officer’s home before he is returned to his parents who promise that they can all visit their old home again some time; which never comes into fruition, but as he got older, he forgave his parents because he knew they wanted to fulfill that promise, at least.

But he never does find Happy.

III. My breath has become as thin as the wind.

“What’s got you always smiling, kid?”

When you have less than a word to utter and a thousand, million different thoughts cluttering your skull, wouldn’t you rather shut the hell up for a second and just listen to what has your brain rattling?

Haesol was a daydreamer, nothing else to it really, just always occupied in his own head. A vivid imagination that contained a fervent collection of fiction and non-fiction that plagued his thoughts. Not that he had mind it as much as his peers and the adult figures in his life had, though.

At first, all his teachers had assumed he was simply shy. Quiet and seemingly meek, he always had the crumbs of a smile left on his lips that curved the end of his mouth. But it lacked presence. The smile itself, was genuine. Always. But no one ever knew why he would be smiling. And he always managed to cause an uproar when he did actually open his mouth, asking his obviously female teacher if she had a male’s sexual reproductive organ or revealing that he had seen the principal take off his toupee to the entire student body during the talent show.

But in exchange, he had always been a good listener. Always.

Never one to neglect the honest plea for a simple penny exchange, he had always found himself in the situation of a sacred practitioner preparing to bless and relieve sin from the damned that has professed a confession. But just as so, he was never graced with more than that.

IV. You enjoy coffee and Debussy.

The fundamental nature of humans included very few motives which comprised, but were not limited to: eating, sleeping, and reproducing. Amongst these categories stemmed a variety of arbitrary, however somewhat entertaining and pleasurable inclusions. One of the few optional choices was romance, up to the discretion of the participant, of course. But Haesol was a desolate onlooker when it came to romance, not one to humor the idea nor let it humor him. By all means, he never saw anything wrong with a pair, falling in love – and he still doesn’t. His parents had succumbed to the customary tradition themselves but in retrospect, he knew it was not for him.

But she talks like a breeze during an August afternoon and kisses him like the rain in June.

Bruised plums stain his skin when her lips leave the hollow of his neck, whispering strange strings of words that perplexingly tangle before they even reach him. With her, he wants to be absolutely everything she wants him to be.

Enkindled with a convex reflection of a slow burning flame behind a pair of glossy irises as dark as a bittersweet malt roasted warm and sticky, he found himself lodged somewhere between empathetic and in love. And he isn’t sure if it’s because when he holds up a mirror he can see those same eyes hiding behind his lashes or that she is everything he isn’t.

But there was one thing that he was absolutely certain of, she was his home.

V. And nothing takes your place, your emptiness too great to fill.

Staring down towards the pearl hued item between his fingers, he turned it over a few times in hesitation. Three hours into his sixteenth birthday and somehow, between the alcohol and cocktail of unknown drugs that were swimming through his blood – not to mention the “trip” to the grocery store that he could barely recall – he had become convinced that egging some stranger’s house may have been even a minuscule of fun.

But now, he wasn’t quite so sure.  

And when they wake up at the police department, covered in the dried starch of egg whites and yolk, he knew he was busted. The scrutinizing eyes of passing officers riddled every inch of the perimeter as the individuals would pass by the two, their parents being phoned on the other line with hushed tones. And all that seems to be processing is that as soon as he sees his parents, he knows he is getting a new asshole, courtesy of his dad’s hands ripping him a fresh one. But her hand is in his, and the way her fingers squeeze his flesh is as if to whisper in that very moment that nothing else mattered.

And he truly believed that.

With all the ephemeral, fleeting moments that he had not captured during their intrepid wanders through the city past midnight, he realized that he needed to preserve the instances. Leaning against a desk, he stole away a small pad of sticky notes before scribing onto the pale yellow, a stream of consciousness that he observed before him. And this grows into a habit, bound between series of black leather.

The complication that he had created between his parents seemed exponential compared to his companion’s. Not that his parents had ever been around enough to rear him into an upstanding adult within society – but who could blame them? They were simply working under the conditions that they had always been, and that was to provide for their only son.

But she received a slap on the wrist before being told that Korea University is her only option. Provided that she repents through getting accepted into the university. But with her grades – not to mention, government connections – this was redundant and perhaps rhetoric, in nature.

And when Haesol hears that from her mouth, although he isn’t great with school, he starts studying his ass off. Textbooks begin to fill his room, each page smeared with old copper from consecutive nosebleeds that seem to grow more concerning with each sheet.

When the acceptance letter reaches his parent’s hands they are unable to form a response, impressed – and shocked, to say the least – when he manages to not only get accepted to one of the top universities in the nation but also, into the scholarship pool. But it isn’t enough. It forces his parents to pick up extra hours to help him pay for the forty-five minute commute to a school he is less than eager to attend.

Through a few connections, he manages to land himself a job at a local karaoke bar. The place smells like a wild concoction of buffalo wings, vomit, and beer and while the pay isn’t great the tips fill his pockets so thick that he doesn’t have a moment to complain. Not when he needs to pay for tuition.

And Haesol isn’t really made for institutionalized study, he never has been, but she’s there. And that’s all that matters, that’s all that has mattered.

VI. But what does it take to believe in all the thing you believe?

And Haesol is nineteen when the keys to their apartment finally reach his palm. The moment is sweet and warm like honey on his tongue, and he never forgets it. However, it muddles amongst the screaming matches and broken plates that are aimed at him. But perhaps he had expected a honeymoon in Fiji and that was his fault.

Psychology is the only choice that makes sense to him. And he muses to himself that just maybe, he can fix her. The unstable fits of toxic arguments were like a cold lug of metal aimed at his throat, constantly ticking until the bullet was to soar through him the moment she set it off. It starts off as peeling him apart with little insults like cigarette burns under his wrists but they turn into the vases he brings home on Valentine’s Day, after they have kissed the wall and spilled on the ground like a kaleidoscope amongst withered petals of she-loves-me-nots.  

But he applies what he learns earnestly, just not one to translate his work ethic into exam material. But one professor in particular sees a bit of themselves in him, so they offer the daydreaming C student a chance to intern at their sleep clinic to study the dream patterns – from verbal recitation of patients to the machine’s interpretations –, the brain waves, and tossing and turning physical habits of those in the clinic. He learns to love it there because he was never really a classic student to begin with.

Some nights, he would spend his time simply watching those who slept, wondering if they shared the same dreams as himself.

VII. And we fall apart without intention.

The abrasion is shaped like a cloud along his forearm, but it feels more like a mile wide and ten miles deep and he imagines if he were ever to try and jump it, he wouldn’t make it. But who would?

The swelling beneath his eye has finally gone down, and the bruise has faded into mustard remnants mixed amongst black cherry juice. And he likes neither.

The splint that sits around his middle and fourth finger carry them tight between marshmallow gauze and a metal cast. But he still makes sure to wear their couple ring.

But he starts to wonder why he is still wearing it at all.

VIII. But I can’t deny that I didn’t think ahead.

And she finally catches a glimpse of what she looks like from the other side of the one-way mirror that was bound between the library of leather books. Though the words were strings of affection that lingered in his reminiscence, she is far from infatuated. The infuriation stems from the way she is captured, like a subject in a petri dish. And later he wonders if she was the delusional one, or perhaps, was he? Honestly, he isn’t so sure if he wrote about her because he was in love or curiosity watered an obscure obsession that grew into a habit.

Whether he was rational or not, she doesn’t tell him that she has found his secret.

IX. You’ve got control, but I don’t mind.

At first, it was a childish request to flip up the skirt of the short-haired classmate who rode the subway in the same car as them. And he did it, of course. Another time, he stole twenty cartons of Marlboro cigarettes from the corner store and smoked them all in one sitting.

But he barely had a chance to watch the escalation as he found himself getting undressed, staring into the eyes of a stranger that had no resemblance to his companion. And she was bare and pale like marble strewn across their maroon sheets. When he looks up, he sees the glossy irises as dark as a bittersweet malt, roasted warm and sticky like when he first met her.

And he fucks the stranger with a desolate gaze that isn’t quite towards her or the malt irises.

It isn’t anywhere.

And he knows she has become estranged, but perhaps he realizes their romance, or whatever the hell it was – the one he had never saw an ending to – was tumbling down a misshapen denouement. With every wish to reach into her flesh and light a lantern upon her spine to tell her all he saw in her was light, she gained another pair of lips to revel in.

And he probably knew that.

But he didn’t want to know.

When he sees her, body tangled with a stranger, he swears he must be a passerby. This couldn’t have been his home. These two? They must have both been unnameable faces. And he can’t remember what he said, or what he did.

But it smells like gasoline.

Trying to extinguish the pages of infatuation he had captured for several years – half because he wanted to salvage them and half because fires were obvious hazards – he found himself staring into the flame. As if the slow burning concave reflection behind her pair of glossy irises as dark as a bittersweet malt, roasted warm and sticky, were still staring back at him.

And he stops and he watches the flames lick at its luminescent body as if it were an unexplainable creature, tending to its wounds.

X. You never mean to, but you have got me tied so tightly to your wrist.

Haesol has only ever been in the hospital twice, neither visits for himself.

Which may be one reason why he cannot stop staring at the plastic nametag snapped onto his wrist or the pristine décor of the room that is painted a sickly white. According to the nurse that delivered his five star meal – which consisted of half toasted bread and unsalted butter with a side of soggy grapes – he had been smothered by smoke from a fire. Fortunately? Fortunately, a “friendly” – but Haesol knows he was probably just being nosy – neighbor wanted to check up on him. A bit of the reptilian brain’s intuition begged he break the door down and so he did.

After he is discharged, there is a black plastic bag with a pair of chocolate ice cream cones from the convenient store hanging from his wrist. Back against the brick wall of the home he once resided in, he eats them in silence, afraid any sign of an utterance would force a well of emotions to escape from him.

But he ends up breaking down anyways.

When he returns to the apartment, he notices there are gaps in the bookshelf.

Some towels are missing from the linen closet.

The shoes on the rack are a mess.

And the pages are still tarnished, burned to a crisp though salvageable. But he doesn’t salvage them.

XI. If you ever want some trouble but can’t afford the alcohol, I’ll be there.

He doesn’t sleep for a few days, not by choice.

And he stops eating for a week, because everything he consumes tastes like ash and coffee.

He drops out because he never wanted to be a student anyways.

But he lies to his internship, because it’s really all he has right now.

And he moves out, somewhere closer to Hajeong station.

But the one thing he must promise himself is to not allow home to be anything more than a place.