#quite literally the tip of the iceberg of so many ideas

[lurkingshan]

Sahara Sensei to Toki-kun Final Review

I was planning to just chalk this one up to every project having a flop, let this subpar Drama Shower show finish quietly, and move on to the next, but that finale was so egregiously bad that I can't let it pass. This is an angry rant so read at your own risk.

Let me just preface this by saying that I am not opposed to media about taboo relationships, particularly from Japan. Exploring taboo is a big part of the Japanese media landscape, and I have seen it done quite well in many Japanese works. I did not come into this show set against the idea of the relationship at its core (age gap, teacher/student), but I did need to see the show engage with the idea of it responsibly, and demonstrate that if they were going to end up together, that would actually be good for our protagonist, Toki.

This show utterly failed on both fronts. At no point in the course of this show did the story engage seriously with the fact that Sahara is 1) an adult teacher with professional obligations and standards of conduct to meet; 2) Toki's direct homeroom teacher who is responsible for guiding him. Instead, the story told us over and over again that none of this mattered. Not a single other character in this story was alarmed by the idea of Sahara dating his student. When Sahara "accidentally" kissed Toki in the school play in front of the entire school, there were no consequences. Sahara flirted with and touched Toki openly, at school, in front of others, and no one cared. Toki blew off his assignments in favor of focusing on and flirting with Sahara, and Sahara didn't care or help guide him back to focusing on his work. When Sahara's ex flame, who is also a teacher, found out he had feelings for his student, he encouraged him to pursue it. There was not a single character in this story who professed any concern for Toki's well-being once they knew his teacher was pursuing him.

And they damn well should have, because as we saw for ourselves in this very episode, this relationship with Sahara encouraged Toki to hide his problems, refuse to ask for help, and get himself hurt. And why? Because he didn't want to be embarrassed about being bullied or look weak in front of his teacher boyfriend. This is exactly why teachers are not supposed to cross these lines with their students. Toki needed Sahara to be a safe adult he could talk to and ask for help when he needed it a lot more than he needed someone to flirt with. And because Sahara did not maintain appropriate boundaires, Toki did not feel comfortable going to him to do his actual job.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg with this episode's sins. Toki's arc in this show completely fell apart. We started this story with the idea that he was a nice kid with a good heart who just needed to believe there was a future for him to work toward, but rather than completing that arc for him, this episode was about establishing a childhood connection between him and Sahara so that the show could give them a Fated Destiny excuse to get together. We spent most of this episode justifying Sahara confessing to his student rather than getting to see Toki grow or being shown anything to make us believe this relationship is actually good for Toki. No, this show decided to make that claim entirely via an expository voiceover right before Toki literally chucked his diploma into the bushes to jump on Sahara and tell him he liked him. What a fucking metaphor and perfect encapsulation of the message from this disaster of a story.

This show was a mess with no idea what it was trying to say, no grasp on the dynamics it was playing with, and no care whatsoever for its characters or the messages it was putting out into the world. I don't respect it and I absolutely cannot recommend it.

[somebluemelodies]

really really really long ramble ahead about q!Foolish's federation situation bc i have thoughts. you've been warned :'D

(below the cut!)

i cannot get over how much shit could hit the fan with this whole q!Foolish situation. literally so many relationships could hinge on how things play out

firstly, we have no idea how q!Pac and q!Mike are going to react to q!Foolish when they see him next (likely tomorrow, as per what cc!Pac said at the end of the Tazercraft stream). they might get mad and take revenge, maybe try and use him to find and rescue Walter Bob... etc, etc. q!Foolish wants them to be released (little does he know...) and he hopes to still be friends with them even tho they may not want the same, but he really has no true idea what he's gotten himself into...

i don't think their relationship will ever be the same regardless of what info comes out, but that's essentially just the tip of the iceberg

what i'm most curious about personally is q!Cellbit (and q!Forever) finding out about how he lied about Richas's life being on the line. because i already know that ain't gonna end well. both q!Cellbit and q!Forever are fiercely protective of Richas. q!Cellbit absolutely despises liars and he already threatened q!Foolish while interrogating him

q!Cellbit places a lot of trust in q!Foolish. we saw that in how they bonded when q!Foolish was constructing the castle, and how q!Cellbit wanted to have him build something else for him just so they could spend time together. and it was really solidified in q!Cellbit telling q!Forever today how he has a hard time believing q!Foolish would lie and use Richas’s name to do so. he doesn’t find q!Foolish “capable” of betraying them somehow

q!Cellbit finding out the truth could seriously fuck with him and their relationship. so could him finding out about q!Foolish's actual federation job, but more on that later

q!Cellbit himself killing q!Foolish has potential problems of its own, namely with q!Roier and their relationship. i mean, that's his dad. but at least for me, it's hard to really gauge how q!Roier will react, especially now that him and q!Cellbit are married. i think its circumstantial, but i'm not too too worried about spiderbit

q!Foolish dying also has the potential for some major problems with q!Vegetta if/when he comes back. and i fear for Richas's life if q!Vegetta were to find out, but i digress, let's not go there-

i think a lot of people won't see q!Foolish the same way, at least for a while, if they find out he lied, but i think the bigger problem now lies in his job with the federation

if that gets out, that could burn a lot of bridges. i'll say when actually, because as much as i love q!Foolish, i don't think he can keep this a secret forever. i don't think q!Jaiden will say anything, but who knows, honestly?

unlike q!Cellbit's infiltration to rescue q!Felps and learn more about the federation, and q!Fit using his janitorial job to try and find the player data he wants, q!Foolish is doing this for himself and the federation. unlike both of them, and a majority of the Ordo Theoritas he's technically apart of, he's not anti-federation, he's not anti-Cucurucho, and at that, he's really not neutral, either

i find q!Foolish to be such an interesting character. he knows what he wants a majority of the time and he's willing to do pretty much anything to get what he wants. in this situation, he's aware of his actions having consequences but he does it anyway because it's what he believes benefits himself the most, regardless of what others may say or do. and that's such an interesting character trait, but it can be such a detrimental one, too

did q!Foolish get manipulated tho? to an extent, yes. Cucurucho called him "unique," and i refuse to believe that was out of genuine belief. he's never expressed major interest in q!Foolish until recently. i also don't think Mr. Mustard is alive anymore, quite frankly, if what was said about them eating said capybara is anything to go by. but q!Foolish is so desperate to become Cucurucho's friend and also save Mr. Mustard. he said it himself: he's willing to do just about anything. that leaves the door wide open, doesn't it? Cucurucho is playing a game, and q!Foolish is playing right into it

and if q!Foolish doesn't ultimately go on a traitor arc and he does in fact get used, it kinda sucks for him, really, bc we saw what happened to q!Felps thinking Cucurucho was nice and his friend, and q!Jaiden is probably getting used in a similar way, rather for the fact she's willing to do anything for the eggs

if q!Foolish does get used, and the others catch on to that (mainly q!Cellbit), i think that could be the saving grace for q!Foolish and his relationship with the other members of the island. because it wasn't all his fault, and i think people could see it through

but if not? that's a lot of irreparable damage, be it intentional or not. i'd love to see where that coud lead

that's really it tho. sorry for the word vomit :') if you made it this far, congrats!! what're your own thoughts about this situation? i'd love to see some other people's perspectives :D

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch. 144 thoughts

[Rising Up, Back on the Street]

We get a brief flashback into Void’s past when he was very poor, likely homeless, and emaciated, living on the streets of an American city, which I’m willing to bet is New York. Despite the fact that Void was walking literally on the edge of the sidewalk, a rich couple bumps into him, getting mad that he didn’t avoid them. He responds that they could have walked anywhere else, and frankly, yeah, what the hell is their problem? There was SO MUCH ROOM for them to walk, but the idea that’s trying to be conveyed is about Void’s decision not to avoid people as the cop says in the next part of the flashback

Based on what Void and the cop say, it sounds like Void was trying to live a life where he faced everything head on, but may have been making some kind of excuse for why he wasn’t improving his life up to that point. I’m a little unclear, I don’t think they’ve given us quite enough information yet, and I’m not entirely sure they’re going to give us any more. I imagine we’ll get at least one more flashback for Void when he’s on his first Quest, as at this point he hasn’t grown or changed, he’s just been put in a new situation, but admittedly this flashback left me just a little confused

Back to the fight, Fuuko explains midmatch what Negators are, and thanks to her pre-established understanding of Unavoidable is able to land a counter attack in lieu of trying to avoid Void’s attack. She promises that even if this is Void’s final match, he’ll still be able to box in the world of Negators, then unleashes a barrage of attacks by combining her Unluck Whip (charging an enemy with Unluck using her hair) with a Dempsey Roll, a boxing technique wherein the fighter moves in a figure 8 pattern meant to land multiple hits quickly. This technique was developed by Jack Dempsey in order to fight larger enemies because of his relatively small stature, making this move perfect for Fuuko to use against Void. It’s not really stated, but I believe that each bit of contact Fuuko is making with her hair is allowing her to land her punches as “lucky shots”

The cop’s words to Void in his youth, if you overcome hardships then luck will come your way, is pretty ironic when you consider that Fuuko is Unluck. Fuuko’s Unluck has surprisingly made her a source of good fortune for many people, as she’s now helping everyone AVOID their tragedies

On the sidelines, Gina notes that Fuuko and Void are enjoying their battle. I’m not quite sure if Gina was referring to Nico as “Nico ojii-san” up to this point, but for whatever reason she’s decided to switch to calling him “Nico-san” instead, which I believe is a lot more respectful. Also for some reason Ichico’s spirit has left her body, so I think she might have used her newfound control of her soul to allow herself to faint for...some reason. Maybe it’ll be explained in an omake

Void adapts to the rhythm of Fuuko’s attacks and lands a blow on her strong enough to knock the bandage off of her cheek. He declares that he doesn’t care about her ability; all that matters to him is that the place in the world he’s carved for himself hasn’t been lost, and he tearfully asks if there is still a world where he’s allowed to be. Even through her bruises, Fuuko is able to give such a soft and sympathetic smile, and promises that not only does he still have a place to belong, he has only seen the tip of the iceberg and the size of the ring has expanded to the entire Earth

She then reveals that the bandage that Void knocked off of her was actually strategically placed three weeks prior to act as a Bad Bullet and load him with Unluck. You might actually have noticed that this is a piece of sports tape as opposed to the more traditional bandage that Fuuko had been wearing when she first confronted Void. I imagine she switched it out so as not to hit him with more than three works worth of Unluck in one go, as any more than that might have been fatal

Instead, as I predicted, one of the lights falls down, though not directly onto Void. Instead, the light momentarily blinds him, allowing Fuuko to land one final direct blow on Void, bringing him to his knees. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to avoid his final strike either, so while she managed to stay standing, she passed out, resulting in Void’s victory

However, Void knows in his heart that the victory is Fuuko’s, but he accepts his loss with grace and leaves the world of boxing without regrets. No time to take in the cheers, though, cus the Quest’s time limit is just about up, so Move takes everyone back to the Roundtable just in the nick of time

I love Void’s reaction to Apocalypse; “whoa, monsters are real? It’s on sight” and BAM, right in the teeth. Get wrecked, Apocalypse

Begrudgingly, Apocalypse announces the Quest results and adds the third seat to the Roundtable. As Fuuko is unconscious, Ichico takes it upon herself to defer the seat to Void, as she’s a support unit and not fit for fighting UMAs. She asks him to have faith in Fuuko and lend her his strength for the upcoming battles, and he happily obliges. This is exactly what I’ve been talking about the last few weeks: all of Fuuko’s efforts to help Void exit the world he knew on high note did, in fact, foster the kind of faith that Void would need to have in her to join her cause

So now Void has officially been added as the third seat, but the next Quest won’t be revealed for another three months, so what are we going to do in the meantime? Well don’t forget, the reward for capturing Void is the location of Remember! Three months seems like plenty of time to go about finding that, so the real question is, who’s going to get in the way? Is it going to be guarded by a UMA? Or will this be how we’re reintroduced to Ruin? I don’t want to speculate too much, but if I had to guess, we’re going to get a bit more development for Void in the meantime as I said earlier

And who knows, maybe we’ll finally get to see Andy again

[dzpenumbra]

7/30/23

I'm going to write this and then do yoga to wind down before bed. I'm... angry. I'm upset. So I'm going to just start with that and get that out and process those emotions before moving on to the positives.

If I never hear another person say "I'd love to help you with your work" and then fucking suggest I get into another line of work, it will be too soon. Get fucked. Seriously. I'm just really fucking done being polite about this. Get fucked. All of you.

"I came to you specifically because I love your art style, I always have!" (Has never bought a single one of my pieces, won't even go on to Instagram to see what work I've been up to since fucking college.) "You know, you should really get into graphic design. Then you can make your real work in your free time that you won't have because your commissions will take up all your time and creative energy now!"

Hey, guess what. If I wanted to learn a new medium right now, it would be 3D modelling, not fucking designing logos. If I wanted to design logos, and it was something that creatively called out to me, something that I didn't struggle with... I would probably start with MY OWN FUCKING BRANDING. But yeah, I'm just some hack dime-a-dozen wannabe artist who's just doodling and playing with hobby projects all day... who should get a "real job" like designing a label for Grandma Margaret's Jam or some shit. With a program I've never used. In a style I've never done.

Here's the fun part. You ready? Just the tip of the iceberg with the fun part, don't worry, it gets much better as it goes along. So... a huge defining line for me between working as a fine artist and working as a designer for someone else is... ready for it? I have to draw what they are looking for. They are not approaching me for my vision. They are approaching me for my version of their vision. However... 90% of these people are not creative enough to come up with shit that looks good enough that I'd want to put my name on it. That I even want to sink hours and hours into making it, and learning the techniques required to make it. It bores me. It is, by definition, uninspired.

I, as an artist, have a very broad stream of inspiration I'm working with right now. I have many projects being developed simultaneously right now, to the point where some have been put on hold (like two of the mini-Zen gardens). I'm already overwhelmed. And the advice I'm given... to help me with having too much inspiration and not enough time, resources or manpower to get them all done before more ideas start spewing out... and nowhere to put the finished pieces so that people can even find them... The advice is... "fill the majority of your time with making someone else's ideas." "Cut your studio hours in half (at least), fill the bulk of it with paid gigs where you draw someone else's 'cool idea', then squeeze in some 'fun time' to work on your cute little 'passion projects' on the side."

I said it gets better. You ready? Not only is graphic design arguably the most competitive artistic field in human history, but I am going into that field with a net total of about 4 hours of experience with the required medium. I do not have an eye for logo design, in fact... quite the opposite. I went over this on the phone today, I have no clue if he actually processed this. Logos really need to be simple and minimal, with reduced detail in order to be legible. Especially when being scaled. They tend to need to be low detail. My specialty is hand-crafting and detail work. I specialize in literally the opposite of this. And it makes me start to think he was just blowing smoke and fluffing me up in order to get me onboard by saying he wanted my art style. I'm not sure he entirely knows what artstyle is even going to work with what he's looking for.

Okay, I gave fair warning... here's the best part. Of all of the artistic jobs that are currently under threat of being lost to AI, this is by fucking miles the biggest. If there was any artistic field that would be obliterated by AI, it's graphic design. Why? Grandma Margaret can just go on that website and type in "jam label that says 'Grandma Margaret's Jam' that looks like _____". And an AI will instantly produce multiple drafts of that for her. For free.

What I'm getting at with all of this is... my friend contacted me for a task that, to me... is kind of the equivalent of me calling him up and asking him to help with a clogged sink. He works in pipe fabrication and specialty welding. I mean... it's all pipes... right? And offering to pay him for it. And when he says "sure, for a friend" and we get to talking about his business and he starts talking about how he's kinda struggling a bit to get things where they need to be in order to keep the bills paid, my way of "helping him" is to tell him he should quit his fucking job... do it as a hobby in his free time... and be a plumber.

Does he have a right to say "I don't want to be a plumber?" If his business is struggling, can he really afford to turn down taking on a primary gig of unclogging peoples' toilets?

Better than all that, let me just come out and say it. HOW THE FUCK IS THIS "HELP"? You know what helps an artist who has been struggling with mental health stuff that makes social interaction difficult? Help with the social side. Fucking DURRRR. How about you BUY A FUCKING PAINTING?! How about that? How about you get a piece of my original art, a piece of jewelry, maybe commission me to paint something on your guitar case? Something like that? And fucking show that shit off. You don't support a tattooist by telling them to get into fucking web design. That's how you create another website designer. Fucking imbiciles, I just don't understand how people make these logical leaps. I mean, it has to come from a lack of familiarity with the field. It has to. They must have no fucking clue how different freehand painting and carving wooden staves with hand-tools is from working in fucking Dreamweaver.

"Oh, you went to culinary school and trained to be a chef? And you're very talented? But you struggle with crippling social anxiety, agoraphobia and PTSD? Oh man, let me help you! Here, here's your help. Give up on being a chef and go be a fucking bartender."

Fuck you.

That doesn't even help me work towards my goals. In fact, it requires me to put my goals aside in order to focus on something else. And then I'll "learn to love it". And then 10 years later, I'll look at a calendar and see 2033 and see myself at 46 still barely squeezing in time to make my own work. Realizing I haven't drawn anything inspired by my own thoughts, my own inspiration, since X was called "Twitter".

That sounds like Hell.

I'll take my chances, thank you. I'd rather go get rejected at art galleries over and over than do that shit, thanks though.

And on top of this... and this is pretty par for the course for this guy... but he told me to plug my ears when we were in a social/business call... so he could shoot a fox with a .45 pistol with hollow point rounds. Because it had been fucking with his chickens. Here's an idea, Mr. Handyman. Build a better chicken coop.

I'm a bit upset that I was present for that. I love foxes. I really do. They get such a bad wrap. One of the last times I cried about something that wasn't the loss of a family member was witnessing the corpse of a fox in my old neighborhood that used to visit my house that got hit by a car. I was mortified. We had met in the driveway several times. Foxes are lovely animals. And he took it out with one shot, one handed while on the phone and bragged. And I just nodded and smiled and went along with it, blending in. I actually told him, if he felt up to it, I'd be willing to take some of its remains (pelt, teeth, claws, bones) to make something out of it. I'm not sure what, probably jewelry from teeth or claws, not sure about the fur, the bones would have to be cleaned but I could carve or paint them. His response? "I don't think there's much left of it, to be honest." Like... the most modern American answer imaginable.

It really upset me that he didn't even try there. And that he isn't entertaining the idea of potentially using a smaller caliber or a trap in order to... have the remains be usable. I don't like that he feels he needs to resort to killing it. Let's get that straight. I'm vegetarian, so I figure that would be implicit... But I do understand that he feels that's a more effective, practical solution for him. And I'm not willing to confront him on that. What did deeply upset me was that he didn't even make an effort to try to preserve the remains to show that animal respect. I really would like to find a way for us all to take a more "use every part of the buffalo" approach to life. It's so wasteful, so disrespectful, to not only treat that creatures life as though it is absolutely meaningless to you, but to overkill it in such a needlessly cavalier way and refuse to honor their remains by having them turned into something precious. How savage. The cowboys you mimic would be ashamed. The pioneer industrialists would give you a standing ovation. "Throw that in the garbage pile where it belongs."

Welp, don't be surprised if what you put out into the world - a smug sense of superiority, a lack of compassion or empathy, a detachment from ethics - ends up facing you someday. I don't know how I keep ending up face-to-face with these people. Maybe I just never filtered them out. I don't know.

In the past, I would've normalized his behavior. "Haha, that's just what he does." Now? I'm not going to stop him, I'm not going to shame him - it is not my role to play - but I'm absolutely not approving or downplaying. But man, if you've got any sense about you... I'd say the number one thing you do NOT want to piss off by being disrespectful? It's Nature. So... maybe show a little more respect?

So yeah... not really sure if he's still... "friend material". Maybe with limits? But I'll try to give his logo thing a shot. As a favor for a friend. A paid favor. But, to be completely honest... I don't want him going around and recommending me for graphic design. I do not enjoy this process. I don't like having to read the mind of a non-creative. I do not like having to submit endless drafts by a person who is acting like an artist, using me as their creative puppet. It's not enjoyable. It's not my work. And it's really not how my creative process functions. It's something that utilizes my trained skills that I've developed over the years, with little smidges of creative influence. And it's something very visible. So yeah, I don't mind if he tells people he got it done by a local artist who doesn't usually do this kind of stuff. In fact, that would make it much more special and impressive, so he can brag about it. And god knows, if it's one thing that man likes to do, it's brag and show off. Always has been. I just really hope he doesn't go around saying "you should get my friend to design blahblahblah for you". It's a very different thing than saying, "you should see my friend's art exhibit," or "you like that painting? It's one of a kind. My friend made it. You should check his shit out."

And on that note... I think I'm going to take down my derelict unused print shop finally. It cheapens my work. And, again, it's not what I do. It's a perfectly fine thing to do if your intention is to make prints. But my intention has never been to make prints, it has been to make one-of-a-kind pieces. I was peer-pressured into selling prints. And only sold single prints to... the people who peer-pressured me. Oh fuck. So... Wow... Okay... So... I pulled up my sales on that shop. I only sold one duplicate. A mandala I made for my aunt, which was purchased by my aunt, and by my mom. So... Jesus Christ, the reality of this really hurts. That piece. That I made for my cancer survivor aunt, but my mom wanted a copy and convinced me to scan it so they both got prints from an online print shop... that piece netted me $20, it took me at least 6 hours to make. A mechanical dragonfly piece that I drew for my younger brother as a tattoo design but he "didn't want"... was bought for $11. One of my trademark pieces, a realistic chipmunk that I drew in college... I sold one to my brother and one to my Mom. I never should have cloned that piece, it's too special, it's 15 years old. It has netted me $20 total. And a copy of the tattoo design that I made for the ex-wife of this friend I'm doing graphic design for, that was sold to my former best friend for $10. So... total, my body of work from this print shop has netted me about $60 since the start of the pandemic. Ready for the mind-fuck?

The chipmunk original... could likely go for over $2000. Alone. More, if someone valued it higher. That's how art works. The mandala? Maybe $150? I don't know about that one. I'm not very good with pricing at all. Point being - all of these pieces were bought by family members or former friends. All of them were bought for pennies, only two of them were duplicates. So... if one of them had bought one of my original pieces... I would've made probably bare minimum 3x the amount that I ended up making total for all of them. And it would not have made any negative difference, that original is just sitting in a fucking portfolio right now. As long as that piece has a good home where the owner loves it, that's where it belongs.

But I live in a world where people don't value my art. They don't mind buying a cheap copy, but they don't want the original. I have personally been witness to my own pieces being propped up in a closet next to a litterbox and draped over a rocking chair in a hallway with a hole torn in the middle, and shoved in the back of barn with scrap wood.

I don't need to ask people "how can you help me?" I don't think I ever have, honestly. I can tell them very clearly how to support me. Buy my shit. And be a goddamn fan. Stop being a fake fan. Show a genuine interest in what I do. Ask me if there is any story behind the mandala on my skateboard. Guess what? There is for every fucking piece. Hell, ask me what the fuck I'm working on! Tell your friends about how cool my work is.

You know what's depression fuel? Having to explain to people how to support you as a creator... right after they've sung the praises of another one. I don't have to teach this guy how to sing the praises of his favorite tool company, or his favorite brand of survival gear, or his favorite beer or cigarettes, or his favorite restaurant. Or, bringing this more back in-genre, his favorite podcast or music. You don't need to coach someone on how to share things that they genuinely enjoy. Because... they do it willingly. So... you get where I'm going here? When they say that? It very overtly, to my face, tells me that they don't like my shit. That they say they like my shit, but they don't even know what I do, and really aren't willing to put in the time or effort to even find out what I do. They just know that I can "draw good" and if I draw for a company that's already established, or get a drawing on a fucking beer can or something, that equals $$$. That's all. That's all they process. And they look at me like I'm stupid for continuing to pursue my career, my life, rather than follow their out-of-nowhere unsolicited career-swap idea. When all they'd need to do to help my business? And help my life as a whole... Is to be a good friend.

How deeply, deeply sobering.

Welp, until he brings up "The Path" unprompted... I'm going to charge him full price. And I'll have to brainstorm what that number actually is. Not a smart idea to tell me you get paid $90/hour... while in a business meeting where you're going to be paying me... That fox's life alone is gonna tack a few hundred onto the end of this gig.

All of that said... it was good to talk to someone again. And he did seem... generally supportive. He saw my side with how I got scammed by the dealership and lost my car. He was sympathetic about how the old house I was renting was falling apart and filled with mold and how that was fucking with my health. He seemed optimistic about me living in an area with more younger creative people.

He just seemed more concerned with sharing his opinions than asking questions, so... yeah. That's a thing. I'm sure he's having quite a few relationship problems because of that nasty trait.

So... I'm not going to take that too close to heart. He means well, but if he's not helping me pursue my goals... then he's trying to set new ones for me. And that's not support, that's coercion. I learned that from my family! Yay! They actually taught me something! Supporting your artist/musician son by saying "of course you can make your art... in your free time... but in the meantime you need to get a 'real job', like working in the stock market, like we happen to do and consider a 'real job'." Yeah man... um... that's supporting someone to do something you want them to do... not what they want to do... that's not... support... it's more of a veiled threat. The veil being - the generosity. The threat being - if you pursue art full time, we will not support you. And they get away with it by just acting as though being a full-time artist is... not a career. But convincing your friends to give you their hard earned money, so you can just... give that money to brokers to invest it in successful companies... and taking a slice off the top for choosing those companies? Now that is a career. That's a "real job".

I'm sure people have differing schools of thought on that respective to what kind of family they grew up in... I am firmly standing by that statement. If your child wants to be a firefighter, and you say "maybe you can be a firefighter in your free time..." You are not supporting their goals. You are literally telling them to put it on the backburners and find something else to do. Something more realistic. That's not support. That's not helping them come up with a plan. That's not quantifying resources. That's not finding out what you have to offer, seeing what social resources or connections you can provide. It's saying "I don't believe you are going to succeed at that, but I don't think you should give up entirely... I just think you should give up... mostly."

And here's the thing. Adam Duff said it really well, it stuck with me really fucking deep and it's been ringing through my head for days now. Being an artist is not just a job, it's a way of experiencing life. That's not just fruity language or a fun little quote to throw out there in a conversation to "sound deep". That's a literal truth. The way that artists experience life itself, they way we think, the way we learn. It deviates from the norm. We are different. And that is what makes us gifted. That is our gift, our unique vision of the world. Our unique voice, our unique perception, our unique way of thinking. Our identities are what make us artists.

This is not just technical skill. It's a way of thinking and expressing yourself. The conversation you have with an CPA is going to be vastly different from the conversation you have with a fine artist. Why the fuck wouldn't it be?! So when you take an artist and you cram them into a place in life where their creative flow, their way of thinking, their way of living... gets in the way? What the fuck do you think is going to happen?

You're going to get problems. You're going to get failure to meet deadlines. You're going to hit barriers in mutual understanding. You're going to get people wandering around daydreaming on the job. You're going to get existential crises.

Okay, let's connect to a point from earlier. (The dog next door has been barking for at least 20 minutes now, and it's 1:30 AM. I feel so bad for the poor thing.) So... if being a "traditional artist" (I fucking hate that term, just say art for all of it) is actually still a real job... a viable career... I'm simply not going to get support, and the "support" I get is a recommendation to get into graphic design. So... let's say I'm dumb enough to do that, to give up my creative calling and adopt someone else's. I get into graphic design. I get a bunch of commissions, but in 2 years - fuck it, look at how fast ChatGPT blew up, let's give it 1 year - in 1 year, AI graphic design is the new hot thing. Squarespace has their hands in it, Adobe has their hands in it. Graphic designers are dropping left and right. So... what are those graphic designers supposed to do with their now obsolete job? Hmm? I'll tell ya. Go make fucking coffee, bud. Until they smarten up and turn those into self-serve machines.

Yeah yeah, "they took our jobs!" I know. But this is actually happening. And... I was just the other day expressing such deep relief that I don't work in digital art. That my forms of creative expression are so far from being replaced. Because I'm doing the opposite of what AI is built to do. I don't use the most modern tools... in fact, a lot of the time I don't even use tools at all. I do not aim to produce work as fast as possible, I give it all the time and attention it calls for until the piece itself is satisfied. Like a good lover should. <wink> I do not aim to mass-produce work. I focus on individuality, character and end up with a one-of-a-kind product that has an actual story behind it, that has a soul. And, most importantly, I do not rely on user input to create a piece. My work comes from inspiration, from my connection to my own subconscious and the collective unconscious. All I have to do is keep that connection clear and be willing and ready to capture the ideas when they come to me.

THAT is what I do. THAT is what I have been doing since I was a teenager. And I'm getting really fucking good at it. I literally do it in my sleep.

Again, this is not to besmirch other forms of creativity, every medium and process has its place and every one is valuable. This is simply the form that meshes best with me, that has created my best works. This is the process and form of work that leaves me looking at pieces I did years ago in awe and joy. Like, "I did that. I finished it. I made that real. I brought that into the world." I can't even explain the level of healthy pride that I felt when I finished The Path. So much that I rewatched it yesterday (or today, it's all blending together due to sleep deprivation) and it brought a tear to my eye. Even the music I wrote for that piece is fucking... it's just all right where it belongs.

And I simply feel like the people in my life do not even really understand what it is that I do. Thus... who I am. And, they clearly do not see value in what I do... otherwise they would... watch my videos... or listen to my music... or read my poetry book... and want to have my art... or at least support me on Patreon or something... So... if they don't see value in my art... and my art is a reflection of my experience of life... they would surely struggle to see value in me. And they clearly picture me as... a person who does graphic design. And... I am not. I am not a graphic designer. I'm just a good friend who is willing to go outside my comfort zone for a friend, and for a personal challenge.

So yeah, despite the several setbacks... the conversation was not bad. We were able to get some headway and I was able to get a clearer vision of what he's looking for. I hope. I got Illustrator and started mocking something up. I... of course... started doing it all manually, line by line. Then... after I finished the lion's share of the work, found a bunch of shortcuts to clone stuff. And... I went to it like a moth to a flame. And then spent like 2 hours trying to figure out how to use these processes... to clone details... to turn what would be like... 1-2 hours straight of detail drawing into literal seconds. And I just... didn't know how to do it. I couldn't figure it out. Even with googling.

I made progress with it, but like... it just got frustrating. And I just really feel... this clash. Graphic design and logos and shit are supposed to be about like... being sleek and clean and legible from both close up and a distance. And the piece he wants would look great with lots of detail. I had so many ideas that were detail based. Realism styles, lots of shading, lots of color. But... it's going to end up looking like an ink-stamp. Because it's a letterhead logo, and a t-shirt logo. So... yeah. If I put too much detail in, it gets lost on the letterhead. If I put too little, it looks bland on the t-shirt. It's just a very different language than I've ever really thought in. It's definitely a challenge. And... the end result is not going to reflect "my style" at all. So yeah, it's a confusing situation. But I made progress, quite a bit, actually.

I just really need to make sure I don't put the skateboard on the backburner for this. I have to finish at least the mandala, so I can actually go out and skate. I need the exercise and the stress release.

Hmm. I came out of that conversation feeling like it was a good conversation and nice to catch up with a friend, but looking back at my reaction here? I guess it was actually mostly not good. Quite a few red flags there. I want to say... "I don't think he's a bad guy, I'm just not ethically in the same place as him in some places, we're very different people, and I think he's a bit self-centered and doesn't really seem very empathetic." I'm genuinely unsure if this unqualifies him as a good potential friend. I mean, he did seem on my side with the car dealership thing, and the old house falling apart, but... he didn't entirely ask about that. He just kinda asked how I ended up here. I don't know. I'm just trying to be cautious. I fear I have been a bad judge of character in the past... because all of my past friends turned out to be eerily similar to this... and... I'm seeing those similarities pretty clearly. So... yeah. We'll see.

I cant' tell if I was blinded by reconnection, the whole Ace of Cups emotional blinding of reconnecting with an old friend... so that I overlooked the bad things that happened... or if my hangups with the bad things that happened are making it harder for me to see the potential here. I don't know. It's clearly both, but the proportion is pretty important.

I'll try to sleep on it. I only got like 5 hours of sleep, after 2 the night before. I need to do yoga and go to bed. But hey, at least my entire apartment got spotlessly cleaned for an hour and a half phone call, right?

I re-read this back. I need to find a positive note to end this on.

I went way outside of my comfort zone. And socialized. And tried a new program and actually reached success, I got a successful sketch mockup in a new piece of software on day one. And it's actually pretty damn decent. That's big. And... and... I did that on massive sleep debt. And the only fuck-ups I made was... I may have been too nice. Too forgiving. (story of my life) Wow, my depression really needed to get a word in there... XD That's not bad. I'm usually really insecure about all that. But I did a bang-up job. I showed up on time, I brought my A-game, I went above and beyond. I drew up 2 pages of concept sketches and notes unprompted. I went super in-depth. I asked all the right questions. So... from a professional angle? I did a spectacular job. From a friend angle? Maybe I would have better results with friends that align with my ethical values and goals a bit more? Maybe keep it more at an acquaintance level? That sounds like a fair compromise. And now that I've cultivated more confidence, I can try to go to the model drawing session.

OH MY GOD, HOW DID I FORGET TO SHARE THIS! Okay, so I did the deep tissue massage last night. 2 hours on just my feet, shins and calves. XD My Soleus muscles are just... fucked. Good lord. They're so tender and tight. I could barely walk after. I'm still sore. I'm going to wait at least a week before going back in for more. But they actually started loosening up. But man, that process was just... so intense. I had to dig really deep into my muscles, find the spots that I were just like "nope", and then take a breath and just work those spots until I didn't feel it anymore. And it worked. Until my hands started giving out and I was just getting wiped from all of it after 2 hours.

But I had the idea of bringing up anatomy pictures to help jog my memory of what I was working with under the skin, and to make sure I was getting all the muscles. To get an anatomy refresher as I went. And it really helped. And the picture I chose was a picture from a study guide for people studying to get qualified for massage therapy. XD And it actually passed through my mind... "could I do that?" And I honestly... I mean, that would be good money. And I would be really good at it. And it would be great for my knowledge and study of anatomy for my art. (that's what jogged my memory, the figure drawing classes and anatomy study) But that would be a gigantic plunge for me as far as social anxiety and physical intimacy goes. To go from struggling to shake peoples' hands to... massaging mostly naked strangers? I don't know. I mean, nudity is barely even a sexual thing for me at this point, it's not a problem with that at all. It's just how insanely sensory overwhelming it is for me to be in physical contact with other living beings, it has been all my life - it's a big part of why I bond so insanely deeply with people I have been physically close with. But it's something to think about. One of 50,000 potential side-gigs, along with guiding barefoot hikes, doing tarot readings, hosting improvised drawing groups, being a creative coach/mentor, giving lessons, shit like that. The more on the pile, the better. Then, if the opportunity comes along for any of them, fuck yeah. (note that graphic design and web design are not on the list... XD)

Okay, yeah, so... I'm absolutely seeing the value of anatomy study and refreshers with that, and that's making me feel much better about going to one of those model drawing sessions. I might see when the next one is and try to go. :) That's a good note to end on.

[omni-scient-pan-da]

Alright so, hi past me, I'm responding to you a little earlier than you'd originally intended, but WOW holy shit have you had a year of college and I mean this only in the best way possible

Let me just start off by saying you are SO loved and SO cared about and there are SO many people you haven't even met yet that are going to love you SO much

In this year alone you have

House trained an only child to cohabitate a very small dorm room, and even though she's a lot to deal with at first, you genuinely grow as friends and you're going to miss not living with her next year

Met Beatrice, who... Your social skills on this one, I have no idea how you managed to make her as a friend after trauma dumping to her within the first 72 hours of meeting her, but not only do you become really close with her, she becomes one of your best friends here, and she gets along with Michelle, to the point where they end up living with each other next year

Not only does she become one of your closest friends, she cares about you SO much and gives such great gifts and such thoughtful advice (like seriously, you get to read Stormbringer now after mentioning it ONCE to her) AND you convince her to watch all of Bungo Stray Dogs with you

Additionally you co-buy a book together? It's really cute, she's incredible

You meet Ryn, who is quite possibly THE most impressive person you've ever met, they can do literally anything they set their mind to and like holy shit, they enjoy spending time around you

Ryn notices all the small details and things you would never want to point out to someone but still want them to notice anyways and then NOTICES and MENTIONS IT TO YOU which is just epic friend behavior

You're going to have a great time in your classes first semester, second semester... Well, it's currently finals week, so I can't speak for how those are going to turn out, but I'm going to do my best to make us proud past me

I know right now you're worried about the showers but literally by the end of the year you're going to prefer showering here than at home because uh... Yeah the shower at home gets pretty backed up and doesn't have as hot of water in comparison

You get your first ever relationship this year! Unfortunately it only lasts four months but you part as friends and it's a good experience for you, to know definitively that someone can care about you like that

Speaking of ending your first relationship, Ryn brings you a whole ass stuffed animal to comfort you after you break up, because they're just thoughtful like that and... Yeah, it means a lot

And Mystic!!! You get to visit Mystic in their apartment three times if I'm remembering correctly? And explore Kalamazoo and it's epic every single time, there is no worry of being forgotten after a long period of not seeing them and you jump right back into where you left off the next time you get to hang out each time

AJR's new album is absolutely incredible and you get to see them in concert in April, and not to spoil anything that happens on the tour, but you end up bawling your eyes out at the end (/pos ofc) and getting teary-eyed whenever you think about the ending of that tour for too long

You owe Mystic BIG time for that one, honestly, if I could go back in time and tell you anything, it would be to tell you to start planning the biggest fucking birthday present ever because you're never going to be able to top being THAT close to AJR like... Ever

Your sister adores you and misses you bunches and you spend lots of time really feeling like you're getting to know her when you come back home in a way you haven't been able to before

And that's just... The tip of the iceberg? You have so many indescribable moments of joy this year and meet so many people that are going to love and care about you this year and you're going to pitch a musical to be performed next year tonight with Ryn and a few other friends you've met

You're cowriting Scum Villain fics with them and hanging out til 4 in the morning sometimes and scream singing karaoke in fields til ungodly hours in the morning and you have SO MUCH FUN

Yes there will be times where things are rough and yes there will be times where things are hard but overall you're going to have SUCH a great year, I promise, and I'm only looking forward to the things that are coming next 💜

Tonight is the last night I fall asleep in my childhood home before I move away to college

I've lived in the same house from the day I was born til right now and in the past few weeks I've had to pick and choose through everything I own in order to determine which items I deem worth bringing with me to my dorm room

Tomorrow will be the last morning I wake up to see my family first thing, the last morning I'll drive up to my old high school (to drop my sister off) and this entire time I've told myself it's not really the last time I'll be here because I'm coming back for Thanksgiving and Christmas and Spring Break and the summer

And college is going to be fun, I've signed up for so many experiences and clubs and met so many new people already and I'm lucky enough to be going to a school where I can be openly gay without worrying about how I'm going to tell my family if word gets around back to them and I'm only an hour away from home

But I'm laying here tonight, in the same bed I've had since elementary school, when I threw a fit about moving from a toddler bed to a regular twin sized bed

I remember crying that it was too tall and I was going to fall off and sleeping on the floor instead because I refused to go to sleep in it and now I wish I could have just one more night, just one more rest because I don't know the next time I'll get the chance to fall asleep in it

Tomorrow I'll wake up, and hug my mother, the way I've done every single morning for as long as I can remember

And tomorrow I'll fall asleep in a new city, 60 miles away, ready to start something new

I don't know what's in store for the next chapter of my life, and I thought I could keep pushing it back forever, just one more week of waiting, just one more week of normalcy, just one more week, so that I'm next up forever

But as the chapter of childhood truly comes to a close tonight, I know that I can't wait to see all the things I'll accomplish next

(@omni-scient-pan-da )

[stennnn06]

rojascorp I

just a little rojascorp drabble :)

“Hope, dim the lights to 50 percent," Lena sighs, tiredly. 

The condo lights dim to an easy evening glow, wrapping her in calm, lazy comfort, the kind she’s been craving ever since her last meeting of the day wrapped up early. 

She pours a glass of wine, a silky red, perfect for a night like this. A quiet night where there's no expectation, no company. It's a rare night off from work, a rare night off from the need to berate herself, so she'll skip the scotch and try for something softer. Gentler.

She turns off her phone, and turns on the fireplace, and with one more press of a button, the smooth, easy saxophone melody of her jazz record starts playing softly throughout the room.

Just as she gets comfortable, her mind finally able to drift, there's a knock at the door.

“Lena?" A familiar voice calls out on the other side. "Are you there? It's me..." a pause. "It's Andrea."

Lena checks her watch with a frown and opens the door to reveal a soft-faced Andrea Rojas, stripped of the rigors of running two businesses and standing plainly on her doorstep with a sheepish smile on her face.

She’s beautiful in all the ways Lena remembers, and in ways she seems to have forgotten. Even in the dimness of night, her eyes are so bright, so blue, that Lena has to avoid staring at them. If she doesn’t, they’ll leave her entirely tongue-tied. They were always her weakness. 

"Andrea," Lena breathes, questioning, but not entirely unwelcoming. "Is everything okay?"

She looks younger without her make-up, and it pulls on her heart in all the wrong places. This is the version of Andrea she catches herself thinking about whenever someone mentions her name, or whenever Obsidian comes up in the news. This is her Andrea, not the one she projects for the world. This is the girl who likes Titanic, and loves to cook even though she pretends she doesn’t, and who sings in the shower when she doesn’t think anyone can hear her. 

That’s the Andrea she loved, and that’s the one she desperately misses. But she takes comfort in the fact that even after all this time, there still seems to be a glimpse of that girl hidden beneath the surface. 

It makes Lena think that maybe all isn’t lost between them.

"Yes," Andrea answers quickly, too quickly. Lena watches the way she looks away frowning, then meets Lena's eyes with a watery smile. "No? I don't know."

"Come in," Lena opens the door wider. "Wine?"

Andrea grins, but it doesn't reach her eyes as she nods. 

The last time Andrea came to her apartment unannounced, it was to apologize, to explain herself for the betrayal Lena spent years blaming on her. She isn't sure how to move forward from that, if they can move forward from that, but deep down in her heart, she knows Andrea is good. She knows she wants to try. 

Lena can give her that much, even if her heart is guarded. 

They were already on a tentative path back to something real, but for Andrea to show up again out of the blue, with quivering lips and watery eyes, Lena braces herself for what it might mean. 

The wine is poured, their places on the couch secured, close enough to be angled near each other, but not close enough to be something more than it is. Lena regards the distance with a slight bitter taste in her mouth, the memories of their relationship flooding back heavy and hard. She’s somehow able to avoid going there when they see each other professionally, but in the privacy of her own home, during non-working hours, when Andrea is soft and vulnerable and real, Lena feels overwhelmed with the nostalgia of it all. 

She remembers the way Andrea would tease her, with side-eye glances and mocking tones, avoiding malice and somehow making it all perfectly endearing, in a way only Andrea could perfect. She remembers the way Andrea would laugh, loudly and without abandon, whenever Lena would say something particularly witty. She remembers how she would look before she would kiss Lena, all coy and sweet with a mischievous smile and only the slightest hesitation. 

She remembers the way her lips would feel, full and soft and a perfect match for Lena's own. 

She remembers the fire of jealousy whenever Andrea would talk about someone else, as if Lena had any right to claim her as her own. 

She remembers how it feels to miss her, and the giant hole in her heart seems to ache even more than usual. 

She pushes all the memories back into their box rapidly, trying to focus on the present. 

Almost like she can read Lena's mind, Andrea is in her space, her hands folding on top of Lena's own. She looks at Lena with such an earnest face, that Lena feels the tears threatening to spill before she can even try to stop them.

"I don't know where to start--," Andrea says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want you to hate me, but I don't think I can go on like this..."

"Like what?" Lena asks, startled, realizing just how closely they're sitting. It’s more distracting than the fact that whatever is weighing on Andrea seems serious. 

Andrea's face is only inches from hers, studying her, her eyes darting from side to side like she's desperate. There's a charged tension between them, and Lena isn't sure if they're going to have a heated argument, or a heated make out session. She isn’t entirely opposed to either, if she’s honest. 

“I--,” Andrea starts, her eyes glancing at Lena’s lips before moving back to her eyes. “I’m just--”

There it is. The look Lena was waiting for. Andrea’s tell for when she wants to make a move but isn’t sure how. She knows she won’t ask, won’t stoop to that level of potential rejection. But that’s fine. Feeling strangely bold, and a little self-destructive, Lena does it for her.

She pulls Andrea forward, their lips coming together in a long overdue reunion. She hopes this is what Andrea was trying to say, was too scared to say, because God, Lena wants to say it, too. 

She tastes like sweet wine and feels better than Lena’s memory gave justice to, and even if this is wrong, Lena can’t make herself care right now.  

In response, Andrea’s hands are suddenly grabbing at her, her arms wrapping around Lena as her fingers rake up and down her back. Lena melts at the contact, feeling pliable and completely exhausted from fighting this for so long. Andrea sighs heavily into her, letting go of all the anxiety she had been carrying since entering the apartment. 

Lena’s head is warning her that this is a bad idea, but her senses are entirely wrapped up in all things Andrea -- her perfume, a spicy scent that is uniquely hers and makes the heat in Lena’s chest explode, and the movement of her hips against Lena’s that give away exactly how she’s feeling. 

"We should stop," Lena forces herself to say, but she doesn't mean it. Not at all. Instead, she pushes her lips further against Andrea's, her fingers tangling in her perfectly layered hair. 

"Mm," Andrea responds, her mouth cooperating with everything Lena does. She pauses and tries to pull back, enough to say, "Do you want to?"

"...No," Lena breathes, pushing back against her and angling her down on the couch. She follows closely, positioning herself on top so she can feel more of her. 

Lena slides her thigh between Andrea’s legs, pushing against her enough to cause just the slightest bit of friction. Andrea’s hips buck at the contact, her tongue pushing deeper into Lena’s mouth. She hooks her one leg around Lena’s waist and pulls her in impossibly close, kissing her with so much intensity that it makes Lena dizzy.

She doesn’t remember the last time she was kissed like this, and it sends her heart racing. 

Lena knows they can’t go further than this tonight, that it wouldn’t be right, that it would set everything they’re trying to rebuild on fire, but she doesn’t know if she can stop. Andrea seems to read it, the way she always knew how, and slows down the pace as if on cue. Lena sighs, partially in contentment and partially in severe disappointment, resigning herself to kissing Andrea softly and memorizing the feel of her lips and the way her hands feel on her hips. 

Andrea eventually pulls back, enough to stare up at Lena’s face. She brings a gentle hand to Lena’s cheek, and Lena closes her eyes, allowing herself to lean into it. 

"I've missed you," Lena confesses against her palm, her eyes still closed as she melts against Andrea. "I didn't know how to tell you." 

It’s okay to admit it now, in the quiet of her own home, against Andrea’s skin. It doesn’t change the past, and it doesn’t guarantee the future, but it’s there, real and tangible and something Andrea can hold on to. 

“I can tell,” Andrea chuckles, trying to joke, but Lena can tell she’s been in pain, too. 

"I was so angry with you," Lena chokes out a sob. She looks down at Andrea guiltily. “I don't want to be.”

“It's okay if you still are,” Andrea assures her. Lena rests her head against Andrea’s chest, listening to the calming sound of her heart. She closes her eyes for a few moments, allowing herself to really feel this.

Andrea shifts slightly and Lena opens her eyes. “Just don't leave, ok?” 

"It's you and me again,” Lena promises. And she means it. She pulls herself up to sitting and settles herself in the nook of Andrea’s arm, her head resting against her shoulder. If she can have this with Andrea, then maybe, for once, she could be happy. “You jump, I jump, right?”

“Right,” Andrea agrees, chuckling with sad eyes. “I missed you too, you know. But it doesn't have to be like that ever again. We could make it work--”

Andrea starts talking excitedly, but Lena won’t allow herself to go there. It’s too much, too painful. A moment of indulgence is fine, but planning for the future is out of the realm of possibility. 

Lena feels herself shrinking, Andrea’s voice growing fainter and fainter. She doesn’t want to leave, but she knows she has no choice. The room starts to spin and everything swirls and evaporates into nothing. 

“Hope, end simulation,” Lena’s voice cracks as she settles back to herself.

Her eyes refocus slowly, back to the gentle glow of the fireplace and her empty singular wine glass. She reaches for the bottle and starts to pour another. 

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Five - Consolation

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: Mentions of murder, grief, the aftermath of that death...all that Jazz! Plus a lil moment I’ve been fucking itching to include.

Chibs's breath was stuck in the middle of his throat, jutting thickly the more he thought about Opie cradling Donna's sallow cheeks as she bled out onto the gravel.

It'd cut deep, this one.

So many bodies he had bared witness to over the years. So many lives lost and souls snatched and whatever else right before his undaunted eyes--but nothing really hurt as much as that.

Because he knew what it was like. How it maimed a man. How it felt like his world was hurtling toward the chasms of hell during the moments after arriving at the scene and seeing his wife there. Dead.

Cold and dead and lonely. And completely gone.

Guilt resided, too. It was true tangible remorse for the simple proficiency of; that should've been me.

It happened with Diane--it happened to Chibs's wife, the mother of his kid, and the one true light in his life right after Isla. And it should've been him.

It was brutal, the way it happened tonight. It was fierce and heartless and Chibs knew in a flash that those bullets struck the wrong skull.

He couldn't bear the reverberation anymore, the gutturals from Piney's son who'd just lost his wife for no good reason during a drive-by in their quaint little town. The town that'd swelled wickedly with corruption these last few weeks.

Stahl was at the scene before he left. Looking pensive, actually. She looked guilty.

Chibs's basic instinct had landed the blame at her door--put the blood on her hands--but he kept his mouth shut for fear of what'd happen next. He didn't think that SAMCRO could handle this.

Because this wasn't a product of Mayan or Niner rivalry. He wasn't stupid--he knew that his President had something to do with this.

This was cultivated from the seeds sown by June Stahl, the pips planted so very deeply into the mind of Clay Morrow which forced him to believe that Opie Winston was a rat.

And he wasn't. He'd never sell his club out--no matter the damage, the pain inflicted upon him--and he'd never dream of pinning the fault on his brothers.

But he had to look a little bit closer to home if he wanted those answers. If he wanted to know just who sniped Donna--a completely innocent woman caught in the most ferocious of crossfires--he had to turn to someone that he knew was culpable of such activity.

Chibs's heart ached. It impaired him so very deeply that the only thing he could visualize on the ride back to Jax's house was her face.

Her face that dripped blood. Saturated crimson plagued his thoughts and forced his stomach to churn vociferously. He felt sick now.

He felt sick because Opie had lost his wife, Piney had lost a crucial member of his small family, and her kids had lost their mother. The woman that had worked so tirelessly to provide a life for them, to love and care for them unconditionally no matter what.

Opie was strong, he knew that--but he didn't know if he was strong enough to handle this. This crippling weight, this hurt and the idea of what could've been done differently.

Because so much could've happened to prevent this.

His tongue had become inoculated with bile, acrimonious ire for whoever the fuck was to blame for such unnecessary brutality--and, really, Chibs knew that he didn't have to look much further than Isla's favorite blue-eyed heathen this time.

And that broke his heart because of the pedestal she held that man upon. The pedestal she'd always held him atop, so fucking highly, too.

She knew that he was bad--an inherently bad human being--but he was just Tig. Her buddy. Clay's right hand that, really, he'd always count on. No matter what. And he'd always deliver the king's request, too.

Tig was the one that Isla called when her car broke down on the freeway and she needed to get home in time for Gemma's dinner.

The one she turned to for cheering up because he always knew how to crack a smile and get through to her.

The one that she strangely respected the most. Nobody really recognized what it was about that man that had Isla overjoyed when in his presence, she just was. And that was part of his charm.

But her father was anxious, now. Worried that she would take this news--if it came to light--badly. Because it was going to break her heart, regardless.

It was how she would handle it, which was the true hardship.

"Christ." Chibs's voice struggled to materialize, gesturing to his daughter passed out on Jax's couch. "How long's she been sleepin'?"

Mascara and eyeliner and whatever the fuck else she'd painted onto her face had started to melt away, trails of black and grey faintly running her cheeks.

"'Bout an hour." Gemma responded, sniffling back the putrid emotion she'd so obviously let flood the moments leading up to their arrival.

Jax's stomach was doing backflips at the thought of Isla crying herself to sleep in his living room--after everything that he'd put her through, too.

He feared that this was going to be the tip of the iceberg. That this was going to pulverize her sanity and compromise everything she had sought to fight off these last few days.

And he couldn't help but harbor those same suspicions as her father, either. Jax wanted to keep his mouth shut until he was certain that this was an inside job, but he was teetering toward that conclusion regardless.

It was the only viable explanation.

He, too, worried about what this would do to her. That finding out Tig was the potential culprit and reason why Opie's children were officially motherless.

"How's Ope?" She continued, already knowing the answer but asking anyway. Jax's head shook. "Oh."

"Not good, ma. But he's home now."

"And you're sure of that?"

"Yeah--I followed him back to make sure he got there in one piece. He wanted to leave the second the fuckin' ATF stormed in."

"Oh." Gem repeated herself, running her fingers through Isla's hair as she rested in her lap. "What about Clay? Where'd he get to?"

Chibs took a seat at one of the wooden chairs that'd been positioned around the coffee table, and Jax sank into the couch opposite the girls.

It was pitiful. Darkness enveloped them as Isla slept, innocently resting as the world shattered around her.

She wasn't oblivious to the happenings. She hadn't slept through it all, but she was done. Isla had been distant for days, had been fretting over the unimaginable and Gemma was worried that she was going to make herself sick if she continued the way that she was.

So she twisted her fingers and nails through the flowing waves of golden blonde, and soothed her the same way that she always did.

The same way that she found comfort as a kid.

He sighed. Exhausted. "Dunno. Last I saw he was with Tig."

"Aye." The Scot agreed with a nod, too. Hating the thought of Trager being responsible for something like this.

But it was merely a suspicion that Chibs hoped and prayed would get debunked sooner or later.

"Did he say anything?"

"Nah. He talked a little to Unser--seems to think it was a hit on Ope gone wrong--so, I guess they're gonna be lookin' into the Niners."

"Aye." Chibs spoke again, gesturing to Isla. "Did she say much when we left?"

"Not really--she just busied herself and cleaned up with Wendy. Seems like they're getting along now."

Jax smiled a bit, happy that his best friend and the mother of his child were starting to accept the presence of one another in Abel's life.

Truly, that's all he really wanted. That and his mother finally being able to turn the other cheek, and quit castigating his kid's mom.

"Did Clay leave before you?" Gemma asked, antsy. She was itching to get home, itching to see and comfort her husband because she knew that he was going to be fretting over this.

"I told you, the last I saw, he was with Tig. Dunno if he left after us, or if he's still there."

She looked away, smoothing her thumb over Isla's cheek.

"He'll be home soon--I should take off."

"Not on your own." Jax upheld, simply terrified of what could've happened to his mother had she left alone.

As far as Jax wanted her to know, this was bad blood between clubs. This was a hit put out on an innocent bystander because they knew it'd jolt SAMCRO--and it did.

It shook them to the very fucking core, jutting them repeatedly--mere moments away from crumbling and completely disintegrating into Harley Davidson dust.

And he really didn't want to admit that this was the work of his step-father and Alexander Trager. But he feared that was the only viable explanation.

"I'll--eh--I'll take her back." Chibs offered, getting up to ghost a hand over Isla's blushed cheek. "I was gonna take her home with me tonight, but I think she's better off stayin' put."

Jax agreed with a nod, smiling weakly at his mother. Though, she knew it was a coverup. A not-so-brilliant facade and attempt at showing that he was okay during this barbarous time.

"I don't wanna wake her." She mused, pushing strands of hair from her face. "She looks so damn peaceful."

Gemma hadn't a cozy moment with Isla for a while--not since she was recovering from a broken heart four summers ago.

The last time that she turned to Gemma--the same way she would as a child--for that motherly comfort.

"I know." The older man crouched to the ground, tracing faintly along her arm. Isla grumbled, slowly rousing. "C'mon petal, it's gettin' late."

He kept a hand against her, running this thumb over the freckled skin softly. Diane's crucifix caught his eye as she shifted, impairing him that little bit more tonight.

"What time is it?" She asked roughly, feeling a sting in her throat. Isla lifted herself off of Gemma's lap, rubbing at her eyes. "Is it late?"

"It's about one o'clock."

"Shit." Her hiss was sharp, galled that she'd been allowed to rest for so long whilst there was a literal wildfire sweeping its way through the club. "Ope--oh my god--Opie. Is he okay?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Jax was about to say before he even opened his mouth, and so tears ensued. Crystalline hues weeped and watered, and he was unsettled.

Unsettled because she was so strong in the face of such tragedy, rarely shedding any tears before an audience.

Unsettled because, up until the Kohn incident, Jax hadn't seen her cry since she was shot in the knee after three Mayans decidedly stormed the T M lot and strived to gun down each and every person on the premises.

He never forgave himself for that, actually. Because those bullets--though completely un-fatal and leaving a simple mark that, really, Isla referred to as her battle scars--should've been for him.

"He went home. To be with the kids." Jax cleared his throat, kneeling in front of her when Chibs got to his feet and gestured for Gemma. "He's--uh--he's in a bad way."

"Understandably." She mumbled. "Any ideas on who did this?"

Your favorite son.

"No. Clay thinks it might've been the Niners--shits been off since they decided to pull their fucking guns on us after the warehouse was raided."

"That was their rationale?"

"I guess so." He added. "It'd make sense. We lost their guns, so we lost a life--"

"But Donna." Isla argued, sitting upright. "Donna was innocent."

"We know that, love, but Laroy was probably under the impression that Ope was the one behind the wheel." Her father spoke over Jax, heeding his uncertainty. "It wasn't meant to be her."

Chibs had to blow his theory out of the water, firstly.

"A life is a life. To them, so long as they've got one of ours--someone close to us--they've succeeded with somethin'--"

"All they've succeeded with is leaving two kids without a fucking mother." Isla spat, throwing away the small blanket that Gemma had draped over her as she stood up. "And you've gotta stop being so fucking insensitive."

Jax stumbled backwards, watching her storm out of the room in her pretty little summer dress. He couldn't surmise whether following behind or leaving the woman to simmer alone, was the best idea.

It was a touchy subject, the loss of a parent. It was prickly and raw and it never ceased to strike Isla's heart. Because she understood.

She understood how much it hurt. The uncertainty of it all. Not knowing what to do next. How life changes more than what anyone ever prepares you for and, really, how nothing is ever the same again.

Isla knew it all too well. She'd been there, done that, and refused to go back. But with Chibs's life, his line of work, she was never granted that security.

And it wasn't particularly the security that she wanted, more so the knowledge of what--god forbid anything--would happen to her father. Because that's what bothered her the most about Diane.

She never knew anything about her mother's passing.

Jax got a pretty tight grip on the concept, too. But it was different with Isla--it was something she never quite grasped.

"A life is a life," Gemma mocked the insensitivity from the baffled Scotsman, shaking her head. "That wasn't just any life, Chibs. That was Opie's woman, the mother of his children, and one of Isla's oldest friends--she was family. She wasn't just a life."

His lips twitched before he exhaled sharply, knowing that she was right.

Knowing that his response was much too unsympathetic and heartless and, really, he was an idiot to forget how upset she got whenever something that pertained to the death of her mother was brought up.

"Your kid is grieving. She's grieving for Ope, for Piney, for Kenny and Ellie--for herself because this--" she gestured to nothing in particular, but he understood, "--is something she knows all too well, ain't it? Diane?"

"I know." Tersely, he responded. He pulled a hand through his hair. "I fuckin' know how she feels, but I didn't think she'd storm out when I said it!"

"Well, she's always been unpredictable."

"I know." His riposte was braided with anger, pure fury.

"Then why'd you say it?" Gemma jabbed. "Isla has been about six thousand miles away from us these last few days, and you thought that saying such a stupid thing wouldn't tip her over the edge?"

She was defensive of the blonde--always had been.

And Jax was sick of it.

Sick of the back-and-forth between the two. Sick of that holier than thou bullshit from Gemma--pretending that she wasn't thinking the same fucking thing--and sick of the way Chibs cared more to argue than to go after his daughter.

"Make sure Wendy stays if you two leave--I'm going."

"Where?" Chibs demanded.

But Jax just glared at him, stuffed his hands in both pockets, and walked straight out of the house.

It was cooler, now. The breeze had hit him square in the face the second he stepped over the threshold, and it was nice. To feel a little breeze that'd inevitably take the edge off of the lament sizzling away inside of him, was nice.

It was short lived, though. The second he realized that he couldn't see Isla--that she was completely out of sight--dragged him straight back down to earth, and the panic had set in.

He trusted her, of course he knew that she wasn't going to do anything stupid because she valued her life too much, and she wanted to do great things. So many great things.

But Jax also knew her too well. Well enough to know that the first place she would've thought about storming toward was the Clubhouse--the place that she'd find Tig.

And under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have rushed to get to her before she had a chance to get to T M. But the possibility of walking in and discerning Trager's inconsolable fury--his resentment and self-loathing--was much too great a risk for Jax to take.

He had to intercept.

He had to save her before she got the chance to set foot onto the property.

But, realistically, Jax was more than aware that Isla was probably already halfway there by now, and weaving through the unusual bustle of traffic in his small town just wasn't worth it.

"Shit." He growled, hopping onto his bike regardless. Saving a sliver of hope that he'd find her tonight.

He wasn't exactly optimistic, though. Because she'd already stormed four blocks.

Isla wrapped her cardigan tightly around her body--feeling the cold a bit more than what Jax had earlier--and hastily made her way downtown.

Surprisingly enough, she didn't fear the short walk toward the garage, but it was chilling. The thought of Donna's killer roaming freely, parading around that neighborhood, was daunting.

But she wasn't scared.

Or, at least, Isla wasn't scared until she heeded the red and blue flashing lights right in the middle of the intersection. The apparent murder scene.

Her heart sank, actually. The organ dropped to her stomach, pulsating slowly--barely--at the sight of Charming PD, CSI, and her. The group scattered, conversing, and speculating.

It was horrible. Sick.

She'd seen this before. She'd seen deaths and murders, and whatever came during the moments following. But she hasn't felt this way before.

The incapacitating throb. The discomfort and grief for such a horrendous--albeit freak--accident. And she wasn't stupid. She was as cognizant as her father and as empathetic as Jax, and she knew just as well as those two that this was not a purposeful attack.

Whether it was a consequence of Mayan or Niner misconduct, it was a wrongful onslaught that was about to cull an entire family. An entire charter.

If it hadn't already, that was.

She choked around the swell in her throat, padding along the sidewalk. She took her time, but she wasn't slow by any means. She had a place to be, and a specific person that she had to see--to talk to because she didn't know how to cope with this.

And it wasn't exactly her place to mourn for Donna. She hadn't been involved with her for some five years and she felt bad about the pair unable to rekindle their friendship. She felt bad about grieving the loss of Opie's wife--about taking the focus away from him.

But it hurt. It hurt so much--it sliced deeply, through flesh and tendon and bone--and she knew that Tig wouldn't judge her for this inveterate sorrow. He wouldn't see her as selfish or stupid for wanting to project her sincerities, her emotions.

Her heels clicked across the yard and she smiled a little bit when she passed Juice and Tig's bikes beside one another, letting her know that she wasn't going to be alone in there.

She was scared now, though. Because she hadn't talked about this yet. Hadn't talked about how she felt and how she was going to approach Opie the next time she saw him.

"Juice?" Isla squeaked from the doorway, waiting for him to turn around and run to her, or something. But he didn't move, didn't lift his head.

It was dreary inside. The lights had been dimmed, the men surrounding the tables and bar were downtrodden, and Isla felt as though she'd just walked through the gates of hell.

The vibrancy and boisterous nature of SAMCRO had come to a complete standstill, and she was actually yearning for the sleaze that usually enveloped the space.

Her sigh was defeated, forlorn. She sniffed as her nose ran, making her way to the bathroom to go and clean herself up--because she knew that she looked dreadful, and didn't want anybody to really see her that way.

"Is anyone in here?" She asked softly against the locked door, knowing that the answer was yes and that Tig was the occupant--but she persisted, anyway.

The mellifluous rhythm bled through the oak, jolting him still as blood poured from the gash in his head, and shattered glass surrounded his frame and the sink.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, glaring monotonously at himself in front of the mirror. Glaring at the fucking monster that was about to welcome Isla into open arms, comforting her because he knew that she'd need it.

"Yeah," He opened up, smiling down at her. "But I'm done, if you wanna--"

"What happened to you?" She put a hand against his chest, pushing him back into the room. Her brow furrowed when he didn't respond. "Tiggy?"

His entire body winced at Isla's soft touch. At the way her pink nails traced over the patch of skin on his chest, uncovered by his shirt--the shirt he was going to burn after tonight.

She gently gripped at his chin, turning his face to the right to get a better look at the incision on his left. Her eyes filled again, lips turned downward.

"Let me clean you up."

"You don't gotta--"

"I do." Isla cut him off, blinking away her tears. "If it doesn't get treated, it might get infected."

Like father, like daughter--always the first person to tend to an injury. She was so loving, so benevolent. Nothing like him, he thought.

Tig watched her maneuver around the tiny bathroom, admiring her desire to patch him up. To care for him and help make him feel better.

Not much would've helped at that moment, but she was trying her best.

"How'd you get over here?" He asked, leaning against the sink.

"I walked--"

"You walked?" Pissed, Tig spat. "Jesus fuck, Isla, you can't walk these parts alone, anymore."

She looked up at him from the spot she was crouched at, sifting through a small first-aid kit in the cabinet. "Who said I was alone?"

"Were you?" His eyes narrowed. She got to her feet, putting the small plastic box beside him, looking his face over a few times.

Her head shook. "Nope. Never alone with these thoughts."

Tig couldn't not chuckle at her response, but he was still worried about her. He didn't worry often--he was too selfish for that--but anything to do with his favorite blonde saw him panic like a madman.

"And the voices, too." She mused, breaking out into a genuine smile the first time all evening. "They always keep me real good company."

"Yeah?" Isla's head bobbed, cupping his chin again. "Me too--me 'n you don't seem to be too different after all, baby."

"Never said that we weren't." She poked her tongue out a little bit, surveying the damage. "Never said that we were the same, either."

"We're not the same." He confirmed, curling his hand around her wrist as she held an alcohol pad above his cut. "We are not the same, Isla."

Her head tilted, trying to discern what he meant. But she couldn't, and it caused an uncomfortable shiver to flicker down her spine.

"This might hurt." She whispered in an attempt to dissipate the small tension, gently running her thumb over his chin.

The other was--alongside her pointer finger--tapping the small antiseptic against the wound. She frowned the more he winced, though Tig's smile and hold on her wrist was still present.

"I like the pain."

"I know you do, Tiger." Isla joked. But she couldn't help wondering how the fuck he managed to do this to himself tonight.

Why he would do this to himself tonight.

"I don't wanna have to stitch your pretty face up," she pursed her lips and got him to hold the cotton in place.

"You think I got a pretty face?"

"The prettiest." Her retort was instantaneous, missing that usual glint of something resembling a joke.

She was serious--she wasn't engaging in that usual banter with him today. She was too run down for it, actually.

"Gonna have to give you a couple of butterfly stitches, if that's okay?" Isla looked up at him, holding out the small bandages with a smile. "It won't hurt. And they'll probably dissolve in, like, a week or so."

"Go for it. I love when you play nurse."

She lightly whacked at his chest, laughing as she got him to sit on the closed toilet lid to get a better reach. He wasn't tall, but neither was she. Isla needed him to lower his height if she wanted to successfully repair him.

The comfort, the aid and assistance had him forgetting about tonight--had her forgetting the real reason for her impromptu arrival to the clubhouse--but not forgetting about the newfound misery that encircled SAMCRO.

"You alright?" He asked when she hadn't made a movement, when her eyes seemed to focus on the shelves above the tank of the toilet. "I can do it myself, if you don't wanna--"

"I wanna." The smile she produced was fake--uncomfortable as tears rolled down perfectly blushed cheeks.

It broke his heart. Everything she was doing and saying--and even feeling because her pain was palpable--was breaking his heart and Tig felt like hell for doing this.

"I'm sorry," she stuck the first stitch to his forehead carefully, getting him to rip off the back of the second because her fingers were too shaky to get a solid grip.

"Don't be." He handed it to her. "It's been a tough night."

Her laugh was humorless, dull. "You can say that again, Tiggy."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." She sent him an apologetic look, but he got it.

Isla trusted him with her life--for some reason--but she found it hard to open up sometimes. In regards to something this serious, she struggled to get a solid handle on her emotions and how to express them.

He understood her, though. Understood her well enough, her mannerisms and thought processes, and he just wondered if she felt like divulging her pain tonight.

She didn't, though. And Tig didn't particularly mind that. He didn't want to feel that twisted pang of regret, the vehement churn of his stomach whenever she said Donna's name--which she was yet to do, and she probably wouldn't at this point, either.

"I just wanna cry." She stated plainly, not even reluctantly anymore.

Like Gemma, he hadn't seen her cry for a long time. And it wasn't a nice visual, actually.

But he was supportive, and just wanted her to do anything that'd make her feel somewhat better--so he encouraged it.

Isla put everything down, gave his face the once over for the last time, and set herself on the tile with her back to the door.

"You wanna cry? Do it, baby. If it'll help, just do it." He assured, getting to the ground beside her. "I know you don't like doin' it in front of me, but I won't tell anyone, if that's what you want."

"You make me seem like a battle ax." Isla quipped, sniffling. "I don't care if anyone sees me cry--everyone knows that I do. It's just..."

"Showing vulnerability ain't a nice thought. I know."

God. She hated how well he understood her. How he knew what she was going to fucking say. All the time.

Tig wound an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Instinctively, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I get it." He stated mindlessly, pushing tousled blonde strands from her forehead. "But y'know you can always trust me, kid. I'll never tell anyone that you feel emotions--"

"I'm literally the most emotional person you all know." Isla protested weakly, hoping he didn't mind the feeling of her tears bleeding through his shirt.

He didn't.

"I just don't really like crying. It's not a true testament to my character--I'm supposed to be the happy one around these parts. The sickeningly optimistic Irish girl--"

"You can still be a crier, too."

"I know." She finally wrapped her arms around his middle as they sat together. "But people just don't take girls seriously when they cry. And I don't want my position here to be compromised, I guess. I don't want my dad, or Gemma, or Clay to think I can't handle being around the club anymore--because I can. And I always will."

"They wouldn't think different of you for that." He promised, rubbing circles over her shoulder the more he felt the navy cotton dampen. "This is a real tough thing, Isla, nobody is gonna chastise you for shedding a tear. They'd probably think different of you if you didn't cry."

"You think?"

He nodded.

"Crying shows that you got empathy and a heart. We all know your heart is bigger than..." Thick eyebrows crumpled together before he let out a little chuckle. "Bigger than Clay's ego. It's huge, your heart."

"Well, it's gotta be. If I wanna love all of you--warts 'n all--my heart has gotta be huge."

"Exactly," he drew out his response, earning a laugh and something reminiscent of an optimistic smile from her.

Trager never saw himself as the kind of man to make a girl smile or laugh after a little pep talk--after or before incredible sex, perhaps, but never as a result of his unusually comforting nature.

But he just had that effect on Isla--something she wasn't able to extrapolate verbally. Something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to comprehend, either.

"You've just gotta try not to make yourself too vulnerable, that's all, 'cuz people will get used to coddling you. And I know that's now what you want."

"That's what I mean." She frowned, pulling herself away a bit. "I don't wanna be seen as inferior for being able to cry about the things that you, or Gem, or dad, are able to keep a poker face over. I'm just...I'm just thin-skinned sometimes, and I'm yet to be desensitized to this stuff, I guess."

"You're not thin-skinned for crying tonight." He scolded, knowing that she didn't want to elucidate her thoughts about the happening, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Desensitization don't mean shit when you've lost someone you care about--it's always gonna hurt, sweetheart. Always. And there ain't nothing you can do to stop that."

He was the one with misty eyes, now. He was the one trying to bite back tears, trying to conceal the spread of his sadness--the uncomfortable soreness in his chest. In his heart that wasn't anywhere near as big and full as hers.

"You're never gonna grow immune to grief--I promise you'll always feel that. Whether you show it--how you show it--is another thing, though."

"You feel it?"

"Tonight?"

"In general."

She couldn't seem to recall the last time that she saw him cry--if she'd ever seen it, actually. Aside from this moment, of course.

Tears fell to the apples of his cheeks and she, without any reluctance, used the pad of her thumb to brush them away.

And he got it, now. The idea of showing vulnerability being a fucking liability. Because the pity washing over her soft, beautiful features made him feel fragile.

"All the time. All the fuckin' time."

"It really never goes away?"

"No." Tig sniffed harshly, forcing a smile. "But you learn to cope. You learn that it ain't the end of the world and that life just goes on after death."

"Profound." She chuckled once again. "That's some deep, deep shit, Tigger. Almost made me forget about how much I wanna hysterically break down."

"Do it. That'll make me feel better about my injury."

"Your self-inflicted injury." Isla stated knowingly, but she didn't clarify just what she meant.

Because it could've been an array of things, but he liked to think that she was just referring to his little forehead aperture.

"I like it. It makes you look badass." Isla held a hand out to Tig when he pulled himself upward, and she wanted to follow suit.

"Does it make me look hot, too?"

"Absolutely." Again, it wasn't laced in a tease. It was honest, and the small smile she produced was sincere. "Be careful with it, though. Try not to get it wet or anything, because it'll dissolve too soon--"

"I've had them before, y'know?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" Isla rolled her eyes. "You're a super scary, malicious, calculating guy when you've gotta be. But I know that you're accident prone."

He curled his eyebrow upward. "Scary?"

"Totally. I've seen you hold a gun to a guy's head." A chill impaired her, frightening her. "Shits terrifying, Tig. Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"You couldn't even if you tried."

"You think?" Her qualm was unexpected, almost challenging him as she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. "I think I could."

What's she playing at? She was sobbing two minutes ago.

Oh, I get it. This is her facade--actin' all care free, and shit.

Tig followed behind--every step--as she clicked along the wooden floor of the clubhouse.

"You couldn't. Trust me." He stated lowly, reaching for her hand when she stuttered a little.

Isla noticed her father next time Juice, drinking at the bar with their backs to the duo. She didn't want to see him, right now.

Talking to Chibs would've ignited whatever fucking fire inside of her that'd started to blaze out of control earlier tonight, and she'd worked hard to contain this inferno.

"What you can do, though, is turn your pretty little ass back around, and go get some rest in the dorm. It's been a long night."

She didn't refute, she didn't try to get out of it because she didn't want to. Isla couldn't bear the thought of waltzing past her father, talking to him about her tiny outburst, and resuming as normal.

Because she couldn't do that. Not tonight, anyway.

"Tig?"

"Uh huh." He responded, his eyes glued to the back of Juice's cut as he slammed yet another shot back.

Probably wondering what the fuck had gone down tonight.

"Can you stay with me?" Her retort forced his focus to land on her, and the defenselessness--sheer exposure--in her attitude.

It wasn't the simple fact of wanting to be alone.

She couldn't be alone. Not anymore.

Ringed fingers squeezed her hand reassuringly, guiding her into the back room, holding her close. Because that's what she really, truly wanted.

"'Course I can. Anything for you, Isla."

[antiloreolympus]

3 Anti LO Asks

1. Why do so many artists want to depict Persephone as this bubbly and friendly goddess? Then Hades as the grumpy gloomy emo god? Like can’t they both be grumpy or bubbly? I get that the whole opposites attract is really popular and has been for quite a bit, but also isn’t it tiring? I know that the whole idea is that the grumpy one had a soft spot for the bubbly one, but really how often do you see that happening in romantic and intimate relationships? I can see that happening more in friendships maybe. I mean doesn’t it get tired for the bubbly one to constantly be with the grumpy emo who just doesn’t want to do anything and they hate the world and the whole world hates them?? I get that they draw P and H in this hella romantic and loving relationship, but it’s not that great tbh. Why can’t we have grumpy Persephone and gloomy Hades? Or hotheaded Persephone and fair and calm Hades? They don’t actually need to be represented the way they always are bc it’s doesn’t make sense. You can’t be gods of the underworld, one of the most feared gods where people don’t even dare to say your name and just act like a 15 year old whose mom won’t let them go outside and an 8 year old who’s chasing butterflies

2. Tbh i don’t think that Persephone doing horrible things when she’s horny would be that bad if she was portrayed as being confident in her sexuality and her sexual aura or sexual appeal, whatever it’s called. I can get the whole “she murders some people bc that turns her on” only if she was portrayed as an actual dread queen, not the bobble head version that is portrayed in LO. And it would certainly be a more interesting part of her and her whole queen persona

3. I think what RS is trying to do with Persephone is that whole “looks cute on the outside, is intimidating on the inside” trend or whatever. However, the way Persephone is always portrayed is more of a “looks sexualised on the outside, is a literal child and can’t control her emotions on the inside”. Every time Persephone is angry or does something bad she is immediately then portrayed as a little girl who needs a grown ups help, as the innocent perfect girl who did no mistake and ppl are misunderstanding her or something “funny” will happen, such as her then immediately changing her personality back to the bubbly and nice girl and then maybe saying something like “sugar snaps” (pretty sure Hades said that when P turned Minthe into a plant but anw). The whole idea behind “looks innocent on the outside, can actually kill you” is that an individual LOOKS innocent and that they wouldn’t be able to do anything, but they are much capable of doing horrible things. Part of this is them owning that they do horrible things and that people who meet them for the first time or don’t know them that well think that person is just a good person overall. This is not the case with Persephone at all. Every horrible thing she has done is not really given a good reason apart from the fact that she got angry or that she was horny (which is highly disturbing). She doesn’t have a good enough reason and/or does not take ownership for her mistakes. They are always excused. She’s not scary because she’s short or pink or whatever. She’s not scary because she’s not confident in admitting her mistakes and owning them. When she was explaining the act of wrath to Hades, she get angry because the mortals pushed her and called her a minor goddess, that was just a small part of it. She had gathered all her feelings from being sheltered and surrounded by people all the time, that she was hidden in plain sight and the tip of the iceberg were the mortals. Then she kills a mortal. Then she feels sorry for the mortal, or rather doesn’t believe that she did a mistake bc she can never do mistakes. From this she turns big and accidentally murders a whole village. She has shown regret and that she doesn’t want to do something like this ever again. Then she kills Minthe again. Then she says she feels bad about it. She doesn’t take accountability for her actions. She doesn’t kill the mortals because they disrespect her, she kills them on accident. And that is not something that is associated with someone who “looks cute on the outside, but can actually kill you”

[vampkaashis-wife]

journaling with june

how to get started for @luvbub and all other folks who want to start on journaling and don’t know how. for my specific style of journaling, the most i ever use is my fave pen + a highlighter/1 colored pen + sticky notes. that is all.

Problem #1: consistency is hard

true facts; counterintuitively, the less expectation you put on yourself, the easier consistency is. i literally wrote on the first page “you can abandon this journal and come back to it at any time.”

once you figure out what you like to put in it, the easier it is to keep it up. i actually am not consistent at all; i’ll use it a lot some weeks and then disregard it the next. it all kind of depends on what’s going on, but i’ll get ideas for spreads randomly and i’ll do them

Problem #2: caught up in aesthetics over anything else

personally, i’ve found the really wordy entries to be the least interesting. lately, i’ve been incorporating a lot of pictures (i print off pinterest and i know that’s not ideal in some cases, but i’m not marketing any of it, so it should be fine? sometimes i draw but only when i have the effort to) i typically go for whichever haikyuu character is on the mind and then a quote from them OR a song lyric that’s been on my mind and a haikyuu character that comes to mind for it. i’ll leave some images and simple ways to spice up aesthetics below. tbh the more simplistic and vague your concepts are, the better they turn out imo

also, you’re going to hate this, but you have to make ugly pages before you make nice ones. it’s just like writing fics. all the oldest ones make you want to cringe but they’re necessary for learning the craft.

Life hack #1:  letters from fictional characters.

ngl it is a LOT easier to do self reflection if you pretend it’s coming from Not You. i like to set up letters or even smau style fake texts from fictional characters as a way to process the happenings in my life. i don’t do them often, but they can be quite comforting.

Life hack #2: sticky notes

a veryyy easy way to add splashes of color. goes well with little collage style stuff. again, i’ll add some photos for those

Life hack #3: brain dump

if you have no particular content in mind, just use it as a brain dump. any thoughts you have that are distracting you from your goal, write it down. it’s real good for clearing up your head when there’s too much stuff in it. i used to do full on RANTS in my journal that were like. stuff i had to get out of my system but didn’t want anyone else knowing ever. i think it kind of jumped from that to like. writing responses from my fictional boyfriends. (i have so many “letters from akaashi” istg)

Life hack #4: reaction journal

this one will be harder if you already have something to do with your hands while watching stuff, but I also do live reactions to shows. a lot of incoherent “NO HE DID NOT” and “omg they kissed FINALLY” and “I hate this guy fr” etc etc

and obvs this little post is just kind of “tip of the iceberg” type of thing, so it may or may not help you at all, but it’s worth a shot. i’ve found journaling very beneficial to my life, but i know it’s not for everyone despite it seeming like it should be for everyone. there’s a bunch of different ways to handle it, and you really just have to experiment to figure it out.

[xenosgirlvents]

Hey can I rant to you about how I find the mono-focus on the very much human dominated forces of Chaos as the real bad guy of 40k to be honestly even worse than the Imperiaal focus?  You know what I always wanted in 40k?  Lizardmen, Alien Ogres, Space Dwarfs, Skaven, and some Vampire Counts to the Necrons’ Tomb Kings.   In WHFB only three playable armies were human (five if you count the undead as human) and WHFB had a larger number of independent factions than 40k.   Meanwhile in 40k about half of all the armies in the game are Imperial and another large chunk are the equally insufferable legions of Chaos as the two factions circlejerk over who is the more racist and xenophobic.   While in FB you had the annoying emphasis on Chaos as the one true threat (which is increasingly being emphasised in 40k including the awful, awful retcons they want to do to the war in heaven where what was supposed to be the xenos equivalent to the horus heresy gets “akshually the real bad guy is chaos lawl” shoved into it), humanity was just a part of the struggle against it or other forces such as Undeath or the Greenskins.  Not even the biggest part, with the High Elves, Lizardmen, and Dwarfs all bearing more of the burden than the Empire or Bretonnia.   Meanwhile, while theoretically 40k is a setting where non-chaos bad guys are more relevant and more able to defeat Chaos and take over as the one; the non-humans actually do less.  Chaos is the only bad guy faction allowed to have permanent wins, to be undefeatable without any asterisks marks and whose fanboys (including GW’s writing team) love to endlessly circlejerk about how opposing Chaos is useless because they’ll get you in the end. And how 40k is really about humanity’s inevitably doomed succumbing to Chaos and how the Chaos Space Marines and Daemons are the destined victors and blah-de-blah.  Any time an effective counter to chaos is written about in any other faction’s lore; the Chaos favouratism gets to show with ���akshually chaos overcomes this because phhbbbbbt” with eye-rolling descriptions of how Chaos overwhelms say; the Tyranid hive mind by scattering it with the great rift, or how the death guard can infect nurgle, or how actually Tzeentch only pretended to lose to the Eldar or how Slaanesh actually pulled a fast one over the T'au.   Nobody is allowed to be more of a threat than the Chaos Space Marines and Daemons even though the former are literally a bunch of spoiled paramilitary stormtroopers salty about the Emperor saying they weren’t allowed to rule over normal humanity like god-kings and the latter have lore that is fifty million variations of “lol inevitable victory”.  The Chaos Space Marines are so lacking in numbers, so incapable of large scale cooperation not riven with petty fratricidal personal rivalries, so bereft of a functional logistical train, and are lead by such an insufferable band of edgy cartoon villains that they should honestly be little more than a nuisance that the Imperium only focuses on because of their symbolic threat. An annoyance compared to the much more organised and vastly more numerous and far better at exponentially scaling up power of the Necrons, the Tyranids, or the Orks. One that is carrying out an empty, pointless rivalry sparked largely over a bunch of stormtroopers being furious about not being allowed to be kings.  Wouldn’t it be more thematically meaningful and fit better into the cosmic horror that 40k wants to be if Chaos was actually mostly a symbolic threat that would be ignorable if the Imperium wasn’t still spooked over what amounted to an attempted religiously motivated military coup ten thousand years ago and that ultimately; this petty rivalry doesn’t matter? That the bitter hatred over Horus’ coup ultimately is meaningless in the face of the fact that this galaxy, this universe, has never belonged to humanity or anything spawned of it?  Khorne may feed off the violence of humanity and many minor xenos species; but Gork and Mork are a far more pure form of warmongering and what we now know as the Greenskins are just the tip of the iceberg compared to what they can really do when the WAAAGH! gets rolling. Nurgle may be an infestation of humanity’s despair and inability to progress but the Tyranids are the cancer that will kill the universe itself. Tzeentch may be clever and ancient as the firstborn of Chaos; but the Necrons have plans stretching back to before even the very idea of Tzeentch came into being.   And of course, unlike the Dark Elves; the Druklhari aren’t really a major villain or threat. Vect is just kind of an asshole in his own little corner, not one of the top big bads the way Malekith was.  But nah instead we get CHAOSCHAOSCHAOSCHAOSCHAOS coupled with ADB and Reynolds’ bizarre (but in hindsight, given what we’re shown of Chaos; sensible) revelation that actually Chaos is even more racist than the Imperium.  It leads to 40k’s central conflict being between Satanist Ethnonationalist AnCaps and TradCath Ethnonationalist Reactionaries. Creepy bloodthirsty edgelords versus Roman bust twitter pfps.  None of the other villains are ever allowed to “usurp” Chaos’ place as “the real threat” and any time non-chaotic bad guys get a time to shine, the Chaos writers pitch a fit and force in awful reminders that Chaos is actually the real threat behind everything and can never ever lose.   It makes Chaos come off less as an interesting villain and more of a childish edgelord fantasy written by a bunch of kids who go “nuh uh!” everytime they take the L or insinuate that spikelord edgy mcgee is anything less than the coolest bad guy ever made.  The fandom makes fun of Abaddon because he textually hasn’t really done much in thirteen tries? Well actually retcon in some outlandishly complicated super duper secret plan so that he and his army of *checks notes* less than one million racist storm troopers in ancap colours are actually totally the greatest threat in the setting and not the vastly more organised Tyranids or more tactically competent Necrons or the more numerous Orks.  People still make fun of abaddon because he looks like a goofy mook rather than an awesome overlord (at least Archaon looks like someone you’d immediately figure for as the big bad of a setting; Abaddon looks more like…the real bad guy’s stupid but strong brute muscle enforcer)? Have an entire novel series written to squee about how awesome and cool he is which literally none of the other “big bad” factions’ primary characters have ever gotten.   Also I am sick to death of how GW pushes Khorne as the unbeatable poster bad boy of the entire setting over and above even the rest of Chaos. Yeah his aesthetic is simple, marketable, and he’s incredibly easy to write into plots (even if I think there’s never been more interesting takes on Khorne where he’s shown as actually capable of cleverness in the pursuit of maximising mindless death and destruction as we see in Dawn of War 1 and Dawn of War 2 Retribution; where the Khornate villains have an impressively clever scheme even if the end goal is just “kill people”) and you can explain his concept to anyone.  Please stop trying to throw him into literally everything and let other bad guys have even a little bit of spotlight.   Octarius and Armageddon? Khorne crashes the party. Tzeentch threatens Luna? Well akshually Khorne invades Terra, take that nerds.  Where does Khorne even get all these worshippers to yeet themselves into every warzone in existence when he probably offers the least to his followers that most people would want? 

So on some points I agree with you, others I disagree, and in some places I understand the general feeling you’re conveying but am not quite so vitriolic.

Yes; I wish 40k as a setting was more akin to WHFB and AoS in that it permitted more factions to matter. 40k is, I agree, so myopic in it’s focus that it becomes frustrating. If the other factions weren’t playable I would understand, certainly, but if you’re going to offer players a chance to invest in the Xenos factions but then just never give them any return on that investment it feels like nothing more than lying to people.

Similarly; I also wish we saw more of a non-Human (and even then more of a non-Chaos Space Marine) component to Chaos. I find it hard to take Chaos seriously as a universal force when, over their supposedly non-linear/infinite period of existence they seem to never have done anything other than obsess over one species who, compared to the majority of other playable species in the game, have been around insanely briefly.

Yes; I do agree that I wish at times Chaos wasn’t used to usurp Xenos threats just to pull the old ‘but Chaos was the true villain all along’, see what you mention about the Hive Mind and the Great Rift, about Chaos usurping Orks on Armageddon etc. etc.

However, I disagree that Chaos is remotely as irritatingly favoured in the lore as the Imperium. Yes, it is true, that it is not infrequently written in vague terms that ‘you are all doomed, Chaos comes for you,’ but, in the majority of cases, this is purely informed, never shown. It is akin to the lines that tell us ‘Aeldari are so smart and elite,’ but then we just get shown them being curbstomped over and over again. We’re ‘told’ Chaos is some great looming threat which will win...but in practise they do only mildly better than Xenos in the lore, with Chaos losing the vast majority of everything they ever do in the lore, just like Xenos. I will admit Chaos has, lately, done *marginally* better in the lore, and that is definitely connected, as you say, to the active focus to make Chaos the ‘big bad’ now, but it is still only marginal.

I do agree that I would prefer not to see Chaos made to eclipse all other threats but my main motivation here is just because in 40k, as you point out, Chaos is never separated from the Imperium. In WHFB and AoS Chaos can take on a plurality of forms and is not just a ‘spikier’ version of the main human faction. For this reason the recent feeling I have had is just that 40k is increasingly becoming a clone of the Horus Heresy which, as someone who likes Xenos, is obviously a disappointment.

I don’t share your very strong disdain for Chaos. For the most part, in 40k’s lore, I feel Chaos is largely akin to Xenos in that we’re all glorified punching bags for Space Marines (you yourself point out Abaddon’s memetic loser status). I concede Chaos does *marginally* better but, at current, that is so inconsequential to me that it doesn’t bother me anywhere near as much as the treatment of Xenos vis-a-vise the Imperium.

My personal take is I think the favouritism as an antagonist, shown to Chaos, is less detrimental to the cause of Xenos agency in the lore than the raging boner GW and BL have for the Imperium and, in particular Space Marines. 

I also, in general, think Chaos would benefit from being developed in a more nuanced way. I don’t see them quite as cardboard-cut out as you seem too (not denying many are because BL and GW can’t write non-Imperium characters well mostly) but I think many of them have, and to an extent do also, get treated more nuanced in some of the literature. I do think a big failing here is that Black Library has made *some* efforts to make *some* of the Chaos characters interesting and nuanced but, for some reason, GW tends to just ignore this. Hence Magnus can in his own novels be portrayed as sympathetic due to his loyalty to his people and desire to not persecute Psykers, but then when appearing in a campaign supplement just makes the stock-generic ‘bow before me mortals/I am your doom/all shall fall’ comments with little to no character.

Personally, and this is recognizing as I said above that I do understand some of the points you’re making, I feel like Chaos players and Xenos players, in terms of the lore treating us like crap, have more in common than not. But, again, that’s just my personal opinion! 

[poychachi]

How to Write About PTSD

@writinghaven on instagram [source: https://lisahallwilson.com/how-to-write-about-ptsd-in-deep-point-of-view/]

PTSD is featured in many fictional works, primarily as a source of internal conflict for a character. However, many writers simply research symptoms and run with it. There is so much more to PTSD than flashbacks that can add emotional layers, depth, and connection to readers, as well as increase the accuracy of the representation. Here are some important things to remember/consider when writing about PTSD! 

What do writers get wrong about PTSD? 

Giving characters a traumatic past and an ongoing condition that hinders their ability to move on is great for character arc if you can pull it off. Otherwise it can come off sounding trite or melodramatic. The character struggling with PTSD is facing overwhelming odds, and any character who stands up to a bully of any kind (even when it’s a mental illness) is someone readers will cheer for.

Do more research than just symptoms. Flashbacks seem to be the most appealing aspect of writing a character with PTSD, but actual recurring flashbacks are a symptom of very severe PTSD which is absolutely debilitating in every way. Try talking to someone who struggles with this. Read blogs written by those who live with or struggle with this, or have a loved one who struggle with this. Know that the symptoms don’t encompass the whole struggle but are simply the tip of the iceberg.

What else is there to PTSD other than flashbacks? 

Yes, flashbacks can happen with PTSD, but here’s the truth about flashbacks – not everyone has them frequently or even at all. Most writers love the idea of using flashbacks, I’ll admit they’re fun to play with, but where writers often miss the mark with PTSD are all the OTHER symptoms that are debilitating and soul-crushing. Far more common are triggers which require more subtlety and art to really convey how devastating they can be.

PTSD is a filing problem – basically. Where most brains are able to process and appropriate file away a traumatic memory, for whatever reason – a particular memory or file gets left out and never gets filed away (processed). It’s kept front and center for easy access essentially rewiring the brain.

When triggered, (a smell, a place, a feeling, a person, etc.), the inner-most part of the brain (the amygdala – stay with me) sounds off like a fire alarm. When that fire alarm goes off, the rest of your brain diverts all power/energy to that alarm center. So, once the fire alarm goes off, you’re incapable of “thinking” your way out of a situation. Instead, you’ll instinctively react in the way that’s most likely to “save you” whether it’s fight, flight, or freeze.

When PTSD rewires the brain, that fire alarm (which is useful, which is necessary) is now super super sensitive. It’s like placing a fire alarm over your toaster. You’re going to get a lot of false alarms. So, in real life we might take the battery out of the alarm, move the alarm or move the toaster. But with PTSD, because the brain can’t figure out where to file that memory, you’re kind of stuck with these constant false alarms. So most or at least a lot of energy goes into avoiding setting off that fire alarm.

This creates a near-constant hyper-vigilance that is exhausting. Utter, soul-draining, bone-weary exhaustion. To the point where you can’t think clearly – you struggle to order your thoughts or prioritize things correctly. It’s debilitating and can very thoroughly undermine your self-confidence. Every small task or outing gets weighed against the emotional and physical and mental toll it could exact. And let me tell you, this foggy thinking makes life seem pretty hopeless pretty fast.

And while only the most severe cases have persistent flashbacks, that hyper-vigilance and exhaustion is pretty common. The mental fog caused by the hyper-vigilance or a trigger is common. The frustration and internalized shame of not being able to sort your thoughts, or trust your own thinking is intense.

Give your character a coping mechanism

Most people learn coping mechanisms to manage the symptoms of PTSD simply to function, but those mechanisms wear out, their effectiveness wanes over time, our tolerance of them grows thin. If a trigger is the fire alarm, the coping mechanisms are essentially the broom being used the fan the fire alarm to prevent it from going off.

If that “broom” is the only way you can manage life at all, you’ll go to some pretty extreme lengths to prevent having it ripped from your hands. Now, that “broom” can be expressed in a wide variety or combination of ways: anger or violence, self-medicating with drugs or alcohol, workaholism, eating disorders, becoming a hermit, suicidal, etc.

At the same time, someone with PTSD is going to cover up their pain at all costs. People stare. They avoid you. They whisper. And all of that gets internalized over time. They’ll be fine in a social situation until they aren’t and they react in (what might appear to be) an irrational or erratic way, but internally they’ll have clamped down and “soldiered up” as long as possible.

Show the consequences of how ineffective that bloody broom strategy is! Show what happens when the broom is taken away (alcohol, a person, a schedule, etc.).

Show don’t tell a PTSD Trigger

You want to show and not tell, right. The person struggling with these kinds of anxiety or PTSD is going to go to great lengths NOT to think about the original traumatic event. Who consciously relives traumatic events? Nobody.  

More likely, the traumatic memories are shoved to the very back of the mind and actively avoided, and numbed when avoidance isn’t possible. They’ll be ruled by emotions, and unless they dig down into the WHY of their strong emotion, the PTSD may go untreated for a very long time.

Instead, show the coping mechanisms (the broom) used to control the symptoms or turn their mind off (escapism, fantasy, porn, drugs, alcohol).

“For me there’s a predictable progression that happens that tips me off to that fire alarm detecting smoke. I feel it in my gut first, a clamping down, a tension, a tightness, and a feeling like I don’t want to be in that place. Then I start to blush, my face feels like it’s on fire. Then I start to tremble. I’ll look down and notice my hands trembling, but at times it won’t feel like I’m looking at my own hands at all. Then my last warning is profuse sweating – regardless of the environmental conditions.” - Lisa Hall-Wilson

When PTSD is triggered you’re at war with yourself quite literally. It will seem to come out of nowhere or can build up slowly to a crashing crescendo. A moment ago you were rationally able to recognize there wasn’t any danger, but then the switch is flipped and your body is absolutely convinced you’re in mortal danger.

Know what your character’s primal goal is when they’re triggered. Is it safety? Is it survival? Is it escaping? Have them seek that out at all costs.

They could have a mantra they recite to control their thoughts. They might have a safe person, someone they trust to watch their backs in new or upsetting situations. The slow removal of their dependence on their grounding techniques or coping mechanisms is a great way to show growth.

Those who know what their triggers are will actively avoid situations that might set them off. This is a potential for conflict – force them into a situation where they’re uncomfortable, where they feel threatened or unsafe. Spring it on them. Put them in new situations. 

“I wasn’t aware that exercise fatigue mimicked my PTSD symptoms, so I was triggered by a jerk at the gym and couldn’t feel it coming on because I was in the middle of a workout. The times when you’re triggered without warning are the worst. Being blindsided sets you back days, weeks, even months.”

A blindsided character could be an “all is lost” moment

Being blindsided by a trigger at any point. A situation that’s been fine a thousand other times can trigger you that one day because someone new is there, because you can’t get your usual seat by the door, because someone’s wearing the cologne that your attacker wore. This is a great device to save for a pivotal conflict.

It’s like a two-by-four to the head. Show their emotional wounds bleeding all over the floor and have them keep going anyway. Show them growing stronger, trusting people again against their instincts, forgiving themselves because they couldn’t get a hold of themselves again, etc. Let the whole process be messy, two steps forward and one step back. The stories that end in a pretty bow and leaves everyone “cured” simply aren’t authentic.

SOURCE: https://lisahallwilson.com/how-to-write-about-ptsd-in-deep-point-of-view/

[rawlinacademia]

Multiverse

‘Space. Time. Reality. It’s more than a linear path. It’s a prism of endless possibilities, where a single choice can branch out into infinite realities, creating alternate worlds from the ones you know.’ Sounds familiar? Well, these are wise words from The Watcher of the Marvel show What If, whose sole role is to be a mere spectator, to watch different realities and characters as their story unfolds in …the Multiverse.

‘Multiverse’, a merge between the words ‘Multi’ and ‘Universe’ is, for now, I like to believe, a hypothetical group that contains an infinite number of universes like ours. ‘Parallel’ or ‘Alternate Universe’, ‘Other Dimension’, ‘Alternate realities’…all are only synonyms for this, each of which has been used profusely in fiction. From fantasy, sci-fi books to movies, people have never really held themselves back from making or writing about the unknown, including me 😊.

Why is this concept so popular and widely used in fiction, as a base for the stories? Personally, the concept of having alternate timelines and universes existing adjacent to our universe is a very revolutionary thought. If the multiverse exists, this is a huge IF, it would quite literally change how we understand many already mind-blowing concepts and ideas of physics. In addition to this, it provides a prompt to the writers and directors, to explore possibilities of an existing story, a blank slate for a fictional universe to exist alongside ours and a ton of conflicts to make the plot interesting and extraordinary. Listing just the popular names of all kinds of literature and cinema that have hypothesized multiverse and its possibilities, will be like touching the tip of the iceberg on a very small planet in a constantly expanding universe.

Cosmologists, physicists, astronomers since before the beginning of the 21st century have found themselves debating various Multiverse theories and schemes. Both Scientific and common ..minds.. have proposed theories, none of which have been accepted. Blog pages, chat rooms, social media websites witness a daily uproar with new theories revolving around this topic. From the proposal of ‘A wormhole connecting a black hole in our universe to a white hole of a different universe’ to ‘Mirror theory’ and ‘The-Dream- world-not-an-imagination-but-a-projection-of-the-parallel-universe’ …are equivalent to a molecule of water in a swimming pool of theories.

The Physics community is extensively divided among proponents and sceptics of this theory. The Sceptics have emphasized that the Multiverse is theorized to be so far away that it is unlikely any evidence will ever be found. They are extremely critical of theory since this is a metaphysical issue that cannot be resolved by empirical science. On the other hand, Supporters think that this could explain the origin of our universe and why it is so fine-tuned for the development of life. Some have argued that the Multiverse, unfortunately, is still a hypothetical and theoretical concept with no practical evidence. This is because the reality of a Multiverse is currently untestable — and it may always remain so. Astronomers may never be able to observe the other universes with their telescopes. Particle physicists may never be able to detect the extra dimensions with their accelerators. So, although physicists such as Leonard Susskind favor the Multiverse, other physicists regard the idea as just as metaphysical.

I, on the other hand, really enjoy the idea of multiverse simply because of the whole aspect of the possibilities being endless and every choice being important and making a valued difference to ones’ story and future. Like Robert Frost said, ‘I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference’ just like a single choice could branch out into infinite realities and could alter the course of one’s life.

Science has always had a history of disregarding important scientific theories and discoveries to acknowledge and accept them later. Copernicus' heliocentric model- Earth and other planets revolving around the sun was disregarded and received a lot of backlashes when proposed in his time. But now this is an established fact that even a third-grader is aware of. The longer we have studied the world, the larger it appears to have become. Nothing is wrong with scientifically based philosophical speculation, which is what Multiverse proposals still are, irrespective of the efforts of movies and books that try to convince us otherwise.

Although there is a probability that Fiction could end up being a futuristic projection. What is fiction now could change into reality decades or centuries later. We are just going to have to live with that uncertainty.

--------------------- This was the essay that I completed almost at the last minute, even though I had created a rough draft almost a month ago... and the rough draft began with -

{-buckle your seat belts mfs because in 2 short pages I’m going to learn you a thing that I put together a month ago but had to complete at the last minute, in about two hours, so sit down shut up and enjoy the experience of my 10PM coffee-crepe and used self-hatred fuelled writing extravaganza-}

Believe me, this worked like magic.

[escher-room-with-a-view]

williams family headcanons

this will focus largely on my HCs regarding the dynamics between different members of sarah’s family. jeremy is also there.

looooong post under the cut!

for much of her life, especially after her mother left, sarah has felt like she hasn’t had anyone to talk to or anyone who cares about her. because of this, she would often keep her feelings to herself because she didn’t think anyone would understand, and she didn’t want to bother anyone who wouldn’t care anyway. it’s this restraint that used to make her feel like lashing out and hurting people whom she knew didn’t deserve it, particularly members of her family. linda was usually exempt from this anger; sarah feels tremendously guilty for her occasional violent desires and is trying to work on them, but she appears to be clinging to the vain hope that linda might someday change her ways and the two can be at peace. even after her journey, she seems to have difficulty accepting that that “someday” might never come.

whether sarah inherited or learned her temper from linda is up for debate; what is known, though, is that it runs in her mother’s side of the family. when the two argued, it was often because sarah felt that linda was putting too much pressure on her or not understanding her. in the heat of the moment, linda has said things once or twice that one can’t exactly take back. sarah once justified this to herself by thinking that she provoked her mother, but she’s coming to realize that it isn’t what she thinks so much as it is what she believes she’s expected to think. either way, it hurts her deeply. in fact, sarah is so close to linda that the idea that her mother can do (and has done) anything wrong still comes as a shock to her. she’s especially inclined to forgive her mother for having been petty and nasty in the past because of linda’s affectionate (and admittedly sincere) way of trying to make up for it. sarah’s RSD is the type that makes her feel enormous relief whenever she has some sort of closure. she can spend days agonizing over the idea that someone might hate her, but the minute she’s told she’s been forgiven or even that the other person was never angry at all, she can let it go in an instant. (in fact, this is partly why she’s so kind to her friends, especially hoggle. she knows how it feels to think you’ve done something horrible and unforgivable, even if that isn’t the case—and she doesn’t want anyone to feel the same way.)

sarah likes jeremy, who is exceptionally nice to her and genuinely wants her to feel included. he does his best to be a “fun” sort of father figure, but also acknowledges that he can’t replace her own father and doesn’t try to pressure her into accepting him the way irene somewhat did when she moved in. in fact, jeremy treats sarah almost like a friend and is more lenient with her even than her own mother. he’s always standing up for her and buying things for her that he thinks she’ll like. the two also have several inside jokes that they find hilarious. in general, whenever jeremy cares about someone, he’s very keen on making it known so that they never doubt his authenticity; this is partly why linda gravitated toward him, as she felt like he was more compassionate and cooperative toward her than robert was, and they had more in common.

sarah wasn’t pressured into sharing her mother’s interest in theatre; it came naturally. though linda had some influence, most of sarah’s special interests developed largely on their own. however, sarah tends to be saddened by the fact that linda doesn’t seem to care about her interests unrelated to theatre and never really has. when it comes to anything she has no personal connection with, linda seems indifferent and unaffected no matter how excited sarah is. linda wishes she could bring herself to care more, but she simply doesn’t know how and in some cases isn’t even willing to put in the work. there are few subjects on which linda and sarah are able to have in-depth conversations; one of these is the performing arts, so whenever sarah is around linda it makes up the bulk of what she talks about. sarah desperately craves her mother’s approval, still blaming herself for linda’s departure, and often catches herself acting in ways she thinks will earn that approval even when linda isn’t around.

this is compounded by the fact that sarah has no way of knowing whether or not robert and irene are interested in her thoughts at all. if they are, they certainly don’t show it. on most occasions that they do show intrigue, sarah has some difficulty not interpreting it as them judging or interrogating her. in other instances, she’s simply gotten frustrated and given up trying to communicate with them because she doesn’t feel like they understand or listen. irene in particular wishes she was closer with sarah; however, the two have very little in common. irene has difficulty expressing warmth toward others’ children and doesn’t exactly know how to foster a good bond with them, aside from disciplining them and following the rules she’s read about in her parenting/self-help books. her collection of these books is enormous; many are under the impression that, because of it, she fancies herself an expert. irene tends to be a bit literal and persnickety with rules. she would like to foster emotional and mental health in both her son and her stepdaughter, in addition to raising them to be upstanding citizens; however, she doesn’t quite know how to do the former and is kind of learning as she goes along. though she has difficulty expressing it, she’s fiercely protective of sarah and would like to shield her from anything that might hurt her.

linda and robert separated partly because they had very different ideas on how to raise sarah. while they both had relatively equal expectations for her, they wanted her to pursue different fields; robert sought to push her in the direction of something more conventional while linda wanted sarah to pursue her dreams in the arts—so long as they aligned with linda’s dreams, as well. however, this was just the tip of the iceberg. in reality, the arguments that eventually led to their divorce (sarah was 10 at the time) began when each parent felt that the other’s career wasn’t supporting them as much as they would have liked. linda and robert had lost the spark in their relationship over time; they simply didn’t connect with one another. the phrase “you’re not the person i married,” or a variation of it, was said often on both sides. when the environment in the williams household became too stressful to her, and robert grew too obstinate, linda decided that she was leaving; this happened after she met jeremy, who understood her in a way that she felt robert never had. the realization that linda was forming a relationship behind his back was, for robert, the straw that broke the camel’s back. i think that when it comes to the relationship between sarah’s parents, the song “moral of the story” by ashe applies pretty well. like, really well.

linda’s love language is giving and receiving gifts. she sometimes sends presents and letters to keep in touch with sarah; over the years, though, the influx of gifts has declined for reasons sarah doesn’t understand. linda is usually just too busy or too forgetful to bother; it’s often jeremy who sends gifts in her stead and apologizes on her behalf. furthermore, it’s made sarah uncomfortable how linda always seemed to expect something back whenever she gave a gift or did a favor for as long as she can remember. sarah considers herself lucky that linda sometimes finds the time to send her mail without having to be reminded. because linda can’t be there to physically provide sarah with affection, she instead appears to use gifts as substitutes. in fact, she’s almost always used material objects to convey the things she couldn’t figure out how to communicate otherwise.

part of what makes sarah feel so angry is, ironically enough, the feeling that she isn’t allowed to be angry. when she gets upset, she wants to mouth off or yell, throw things or hit someone; because all of those things will get her into trouble, and she has some difficulty handling her emotions, she has no idea what she’s supposed to do to not be upset anymore. all she feels like she can do is wait for it to go away—which is not only something that she rarely manages to do, but also something that makes things far worse in the long run.

overall, sarah has a complicated relationship with her mother. on the one hand, the two are very close with one another. linda loves sarah dearly and is immensely proud of her; in spite of all her flaws, she seems to be coming to the realization that she should try and be a better mother even if it’s from a distance, and that just because sarah isn’t physically with her anymore doesn’t make the two any less related. on the other hand, though, linda has quite a few selfish tendencies she hasn’t matured past; her love for sarah doesn’t stop her from using her as a pawn to stroke her own ego. she also isn’t afraid to lash out at her own daughter for bruising said ego, intentionally or otherwise. the only reason she initially considered doing better was because she didn’t want sarah to stop talking to her entirely, though she’s begun considering the principle of it all. it would be interesting to juxtapose linda’s selfishness with sarah’s at the beginning of the film, with the implication that linda is the way she is today because she never got what she needed in the past and/or made the conscious choice to put herself before other people—but sarah doesn’t have to be the same. in fact, throughout her arc it’s proven that she won’t be the same—not only because her journey provides her with courage and her friends provide her with support she may not have and otherwise, but because she chose actively to be a kinder person out of compassion and not because she feared repercussions.

sarah’s insistence that linda has never done anything wrong ever is almost certainly denial. logically, sarah knows that some of linda’s actions have been wrong; that doesn’t stop her, however, from scrambling for a million different ways to justify it. part of this can also be attributed to what sarah feels is an unspoken rule that forbids her from being angry, especially toward the people whom she loves and who love her most; she wants to say that linda has hurt her on several occasions, but doesn’t know how to communicate it and is afraid of setting off some sort of nightmarish consequence. as such, she settles for trying to rationalize it when no amount of explanation can make it okay.

linda is also fiercely protective of sarah and doesn’t want her falling in with the wrong crowd by any means. it does sadden her that sarah doesn’t have many friends (at least to her knowledge), and she’s always encouraging sarah to put herself out there; however, a small, wicked part of linda has wondered if it would be better if she just had sarah all to herself.

sarah has felt ever since the divorce that, to her father, she’s more of an inconvenience he has to “deal with” than his actual daughter. of course, robert doesn’t see her that way; but he doesn’t know how to communicate with her or connect with her, as much as he’d like to, which results in a wall between them. despite this, she does know that he loves her and is doing her best. as bad as it makes her feel, she explains it to herself by saying that she sometimes wishes his best was better.

i personally interpret sarah putting away linda’s pictures at the end of the film as her realizing that there’s someone else who has no power over her: her mother. granted, sarah doesn’t destroy the pictures because she still loves linda and hopes she gets better as a person. but the fact that she puts them somewhere safe can be thought of as symbolizing how she isn’t going to let linda manipulate her anymore and it isn’t her responsibility to help her get better—let alone be her personal echo chamber. sarah has decided, in my opinion, to keep a reasonable distance from linda (to the extent where “i can talk to you, but you can’t hurt me”) until she can be certain that linda has changed. in particular, sarah feels safest interacting with her mother when jeremy is present, as jeremy isn’t afraid to come to her defense and has made linda reconsider her behavior on several occasions. i also think it could be interesting to contrast maria’s fierce and unconditional love and linda’s genuine, but often self-serving and distanced love toward her own child.

sarah remembers her family being happy before things went downhill and still finds it difficult to grasp the fact that it wasn’t her fault in some way. when her family tells her that, she doesn’t think they’re telling the truth. when her classmates tell her it wasn’t her fault, she feels like they just don’t understand.

robert feels like he didn’t pay enough attention to linda’s needs back when the two were married, and he thinks that’s most likely the reason she left. to make up for what he perceives as his neglect of his ex-wife, he does his best to make irene feel like a queen.

i think of sarah and toby when i listen to “evelyn evelyn.” i’m not sure exactly why, but it would make a good comic or animation someday.

i also made picrews!

post-canon!sarah - in this one, she’s about 16. i always loved the idea of her just deciding to cut her own hair one day and her parents being shocked about it. shorter hair is also especially conducive to speedrunning the labyrinth every other week

link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/1272810

adult!sarah - my headcanon is that she was a stage actress for a while and later went on to have a film role, but eventually decided that the life of an actress wasn’t for her and settled down to become a college drama professor. once she cut her hair as a teenager, she never went back. her family was frustrated by it until she got older and they mellowed out about it because they realized there was really nothing they could do

links (in order): https://picrew.me/image_maker/457566 and https://picrew.me/image_maker/696219

adult!toby - i don’t know why, but i feel like he’d be really into alt fashion. like i think sarah would introduce him to her punk and hair metal vinyls one day and he’d just latch onto those and never let go. i also think that he didn’t leave the labyrinth unchanged, and sarah does her best to help him readjust and cope with it all; i’m tempted to also headcanon him as ND, so it’s possible that she’d be able to relate to him a lot in the future and that would make things easier for him

link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/696219

sarah and toby! i think they’d get along really well as toby was growing up, with sarah telling him these wonderful stories and playing fantastical games with him and whatnot. she’d have some of influence on his taste in music and books, too, i think, as explained above. but because of the whole “evelyn evelyn” thing i’m considering incorporating some degree of angst into their relationship when they’re adults. i do have an idea, but i’m not quite ready to spoil it yet! i’ll wait until i manage to draw At Least One Thing for it!

link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/399481

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[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

About the frozen fandom ask :

🎨, ✍️, and 👗

P.s remember to get enough sleep~

@like-redhead-probably I got enough sleep I swear ;-; actually I overslept TBH

🎨- Favorite fanart(s)/ artist(s)?

I’m gonna limit my answers to those who are currently active in the fandom otherwise we will be here all day xD. Anyone who has seen my tags knows this  to be true. My favorite fan artists are:

@giuliaciulia89 - because asdfghjklssh have you SEEN her line art?? And her expressions?? And how she does shading and color (with markers!! Traditional Art YO!!) literally is just... takes my breath away. Her recent Hogwarts Elsanna commission was absolutely delightful, but I am always delighted to see her original content as well such as her 101 Dalmatians au and her All For One And All For Love Three Musketeers au. It has so many mysteries, I’m very intrigued. Watching her process is very relaxing as well, like *sketch, sketch, sketch* and suddenly WHOA, there’s like, a whole concept outlines in no time at all. Incredible

@zero-kiba - because while much more active on Deviantart, I am ALWAYS extremely gay for Copper! That’s been going on 5 WHOLE YEARS Y’ALL! I stayed up until the sun started creeping through my windows catching up on every single page that I’d missed out after about 2017 when I started working full time. Zero-kiba’s work is BOMBASTICALLY expressive and really hits that mark between UTTERLY badass and heart-meltingly soft. Also do yourselves a favor and read their other works too! Tip of the Iceberg is Copper characters in a comedy setting, The Realm is 65 pounds of concentrated whoop-ass, and The Whole Shebang?? Gay has hell. Really gay. I cannot stress that enough (also it’s a little self plug - I help make that one alongside Zero-Kiba, daughterofhel and giuliaciulia89)

@ice-bjorn - because like.... do I even need to....expand?? Y’all have seen my tags. Ice-bjorn’s got the kind of content that just pulls you up short. Doing something? Concentrating? Not anymore you’re not! Ice-bjorn posted new art and you’re gonna FEEL ABOUT IT for the current conceivable future! Unbelievably emotive, you can see all the hard work that goes into each piece (including writing!!). I’ve gone OFF in my tags so many times about their stuff and I aLWAYS anticipate doing it again XD I can’t possibly pick a favorite piece, but this one gives me the warm fuzzies (Edit: although I did link another further down)

@jabs-wocks - because they constantly surprise me. One day ADORABLE! Next day ANGSTY. Next time? New style?? New type of coloring?? Always has a great sense of humor and unique ideas. Also, such an enabler xD Always makes me want to make something in turn <3 Like, remember when I went OFF with that angsty piece of Anna drowning after the dam collapses? Or when I nearly ditched my (already very long) project to idea bomb on about their Skadi!Elsa piece? Yeah, I love their work very much

 @gracepago0314 - because I’m a long time fan from when they had a different username! Great style, strong short comics, and WOW have they come a long way! They already had such a strong aesthetic, but seeing their work at the top of 2020 was such a treat because it was SUCH a change! I loved seeing what I recognized about their unique style and getting to see all the ways they’ve improved and expanded! Also that reincarnation au goes straight for the heart ;-;

✍️- Favorite fanfic(s)/ author(s)?

Limiting my answer to the same for the same reasons. Many of my favorite authors are no longer active, but my heart is very big, and I am always making room for new stories and writers to love!

@fruipit - because every time I get an email from ao3 that they’ve updated I go ballistic. Every story I have ever read (or reread... many times) by them is just SO INCREDIBLE. Their writing makes me make bad decisions: like fighting sleep to make it through one last chapter xD Their work makes me ask questions, their stories flows like a needle and thread, their diction makes me believe. I have nothing but the highest praise for Fruipit’s work, they’ve been writing for years and continue to pick at that gentle thing called wonder. Choosing a favorite work of theirs is GENUINELY DIFFICULT, but I love Risky Business, Koselig, and When Spring Comes very much. Tiny Hearts is a riot tho xD Oh wait and Who Dares Wins! .....Look just... go read Fruipit, you won’t regret it xD

@arendellesfirstwinter - because after years and years they just bang out one badass story after another. Their most recent (and with the dawn, what comes then?) has reduced me to tears twice. No. Three times, I reread a chapter. Their writing is exceptionally raw and pointed, but they are never angsty for angst sake. Their prose has the kind of weight one gets from having a huge amount of intent and care for what they create, and the characters they foster along the way <3

@daughterofhel - because I enjoy the simple pleasures of comedy. Literally just makes me laugh. Her dialogue SLAPS. Her world building is effortless (well, it’s not, she works very hard but it FEELS effortless, which is quite the trick xD). Her stories just WORK, her scenes are so alive and colorful and I adore how she makes characters interact even under the most RIDICULOUS prompts xD Exceptionally creative and silly, I guarantee she will surprise you for the better

@themountainsays - because every story idea is completely fascinating. Even if it’s not like, written yet? Just idea bombing or musing? Totally cool, I love reading them because you can feel the excitement behind them. Or the spite xD. Ara’s writing is also almost lyrical, it’s lovely to read, and honestly? Read out loud too! I’m a huge fan of spoken poetry/spoken stories and Ara’s always gives me that vibe. I’m behind (orz) on Creatures of the Arctic, but it’s SO FUN, I’m always keen on updates :D

@theseerasures - because I adore their frohana stuff. So freaking much. Kristanna + Icebros with so much tenderness that I just stare at my screen and go “holy hell someone MADE that.” Reading their work is like... being given a soft blanket to wrap yourself in, receiving a mug of hot chocolate, and then being told “Okay, now here’s a story that’s going to make you feel feelings really hard,” and you kind of nod back like, “Okay, seems fair.” Idk man they just get me real good, every time. For years.

👗- Favorite outfit? One you’d like to see?

Picking a favorite is hard! But please for the love of god: bring Anna’s military-esque jacket/dress to the silver screen. Holy hell. I’m such a sucker for how absolutely DASHING Elsa and Anna look in masculine/military dress. @giuliaciulia89 and @ice-bjorn both here and here get me xD But I also love their highly feminine outfits? Anna’s coronation dress in F1 is a fav and of course Elsa’s ice-dress is iconic, but my absolute favorites? I don’t know, they’re all so beautiful...

Oh! You know what else I’d want? Casual wear. They’re always dressed up for adventure! Or a fancy party! Let the crew relax more! More day-to-day, more cozy pjs! Kristoff in a big oversized shirt, Elsa in Fifth-Spirit inspired sleepwear, Anna in clothes made by their new Northudran family - complete with little hexagons but like, lined with soft reindeer fur <3. I’d love to see them when the world isn’t falling down around their ears, for more than 5 minutes, please ;-;

Thanks again for asking!! I know this is a few days late but I hope my jabbering made up for it ^_^

[fire-angel]

DRAGON HEART

Firebender x ???

Hey guys, just anted to say that if you want, you can request one shots. Also dm me if you want to be tagged to be updated with this series.

Also the parts are somewhat long because I try to fit a whole episode in each part.

Prologue       Part 1

PART 2

A few days ago we left the Northern Air Temple, so much happened in the little time we stayed there. I was starting to get along with everyone, except for Sokka that is, we always seem to argue and maybe it's because he hates me??? Because I was Fire Nation, but that's my past. Anyways, the people living in the air temple gifted me a new set of clothes and even warm coats for my journey to the North. I am so thankful for them.

We are now headed towards the North Pole so Aang and Katara can find a water bending master.

"I'm not one to complain, but can't Appa fly any higher?" Sokka says indeed complaining.

Appa does seem tired, we're getting lower and lower to the ocean.

"I have an idea-" Aang says looking back "-why don't we all get on your back and you can fly us to the North Pole?"

"I'd love to! Climb on everyone-" he wiggles his butt at everyone "-Sokka's ready for takeoff!"

Momo jumps up on Sokka in response to his invitation.

"Look, we're all just a little tired and cranky because we've been flying for two days straight." I tell them and Katara agrees.

"And for what?" Sokka exclaims "We can't even find the Northern Water Tribe. There's nothing up here."

Suddenly a noise is heard up ahead. Ice is moving rapidly towards Appa. We all scream and Aang pulls Appa's reigns and avoids the ice, but almost tips us all off the saddle. Appa then moves as another jet of ice erupts out of the waves, but this one slams into Appa's underside, who drops in an uncontrolled spin into the water. Out of the icebergs several ornate wooden skiffs come to surround us.

"They're waterbenders! We found the Water Tribe! " She shouts with excitement.

------------------------------------------------------------

Aang gets up " There it is! "

"The Northern Water Tribe..." Katara continues

"We're finally here..." i whisper in awe.

The water benders leads us into their village and through the canals.

The city is loaded with beautiful streams, waterfalls and fountains. They pass another boat with a waterbender and a beautiful young Water Tribe woman with white hair, Sokka focuses on her, blushes and tried to follow her by running down Appa's tail.

"This place is beautiful." Katara says

"Yeah, she is." Sokka replied while looking dreamily at the girl from the boat.

I roll my eyes and look away. From what Katara told me, it seemed to me like he was friendly with a girl from Kyoshi Island a few weeks ago. I start to chuckle.

Sokka turns to me with a serious face "What's your deal?"

"Oh nothing nothing" I wave him off.

Later on we were invited to see the Chief because he wanted to celebrate the Avatars arrival. Katara and I finished getting ready and met up with the boys outside as we started to head out towards their palace.

--------------------------------------------

We arrive and we take our seats at the table, Katara to my right and Sokka to my left.

I'm admiring everything around us until i hear Sokka whisper.

"You should probably keep to yourself that you're a fire bender-"Wow is he trying to look out for me- " we don't want you scaring people off and ruining the mood if everything"

Ouch. How can he say that? I feel my skin starting to get hot as I was starting to turn that sadness into anger and noticed I was starting to melt a hole on the table and I quickly took my hands away.

"And what's the deal with you literally burning up like some-" Sokka was gonna continue but the Chief was about to speak.

"Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe, and they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now. The Avatar! We also celebrate my daughter's 16th birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age.

Princess Yue is walking towards us.

Sokka looks at her with wide eyes.

"Thank you, father. May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times."

"Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform! " the Chief indicates.

As the waterbending show continues, a figure walks behind us and sits down next to Sokka. It’s Princess Yue.

"Hi, there. Sokka, Southern Water Tribe. " He says trying to act all cool.

Princess Yue smiles and bows slightly "Very nice to meet you."

"So... uh... you're a Princess!” She nods and smiles “You know, back in my tribe, I'm kinda like a Prince myself!" He says

I just couldn't hold it in " Ha! Prince of what? "

Now an angry Sokka looking back at me "A lot of things! Uh, do you mind? I'm trying to have a conversation here!"

With a smirk on my face I mock a bow "My apologies, Prince Sokka."

Sokka turns to Yue and attempts to flirt by asking her to do an "activity" or something. What the spirits

Very smooth.

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It's the morning and I'm left alone to wander around the town. Aang and Katara are getting trained, Sokka went to find the princess and I am currently walking up a mountain of ice so I can be high enough to feel the Sun and do some meditation.

I come back to our place at nightfall to see everyone except Sokka is back.

"What did you do today Y/N? Practice your fire bending?" asked Aang.

"No, I was told to not even try that while I'm here, so I just did some meditating"

"What? Who told you that?" Aang asked me seriously concerned "Momo I told you to be nice"

"Don't worry” I laughed  “it wasn't Momo and I understand"

Sokka walks in all mopey.

"How's warrior training going?" Katara asked.

In response Sokka kicks a bag on the floor in anger, falls to his knees, and then flops on the bag, using it as a pillow.

"That bad?" Aang asks him.

"No, it's Princess Yue. I don't get it. One minute she wants to go out with me and the next she's telling me to get lost! So how's waterbending training?"

I sit up excited to hear about how it went, but Katara flops onto her sleeping bag, depressed.

“Master Poophead won't teach her because she's a girl." Aang replied.

"Why don't you just teach her, Aang? " I suggest.

Katara raises her head with a smile "Why didn't I think of that? At night, you can teach whatever moves you learned from Master Pakku. That way you have someone to practice with and I get to learn waterbending. Everyone's happy!"

"I'm not happy." Sokka cuts in

"But you're never happy. Come on, Aang."

They go off.

"Hey Y/N, I’ve been thinking about it and I'm sorry about what I said yesterday. It isn’t fair to you. It's just, we've never had a good experience with fire benders. Katara and I personally, we lost our mother because of the Fire Nation..."

I just listen to his story without saying a word until he finished. He tells me about how his mother died and how they are being constantly chased by the Fire Nation because of Aang.

"Look Sokka, I understand the fear and the hate, I really do. I know how dangerous and destructive fire bending and the Fire Nation can be. When I was young, my parents died giving their life for the Fire Nation and so I was raised by my grandfather Jeong Jeong. Growing up I had many try to train me fire bending but they all quit on me because my fire bending was ‘too different’ and at times ‘out of control’. They thought of it as a weakness for the Nation and their pride.....You've seen it first hand, my emotions is like some kind of fuel to it. I burn up every time my feelings get strong and sometimes lose control over it."

"Yeah, like what happened back with Master Jeong Jeong after Aang burned Katara" Sokka recalls.

"Yeah, I end up hurting the people I care about" I look down and take a deep breath before I continue "With time my grandfather realized how wrong the Nation was and their beliefs and decided to escape with me. We barely made it out alive. My grandfather later trained me to have some control over my bending through meditation. He says I'm more powerful than I realize, and that that's why the Nation didn't want me, because they were afraid or something...but now he's gone too."

"Hey, you have us now. We'll be your family and we can help you." He reassures.

"Thanks Sokka. You did have a point though, I should try to keep myself under cover because if the Fire Nation finds out who I am, then we'll be an even bigger target."

"Yeah, we'll protect you Y/N. I promise" he smiles.

Suddenly Aang and Katara comes in with a face with mixed emotions. They sit down and tell us what happened when they tried to train and how Master Pakku caught them and kicked Aang out from his training. We decided to go the next morning to talk to the chief and try to negotiate.

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"What do you want me to do?" says Chief Arnook "Force Master Pakku to take Aang back as his student?"

"Yes – please!" I try to reason for them.

"I suspect he might change his mind if you (looking at Katara) swallow your pride and apologize to him." He says.

"Fine." Katara says clearly unhappy.

"I'm waiting, little girl." Master Pakku smugly says.

"No! No way am I apologizing to a sour old man like you!" As Katara speaks, cracks open in the floor beneath her. She ends up by pointing directly at Master Pakku, her finger almost in his face.

"Uh, Katara..." Aang begins to say

Katara has a look of challenge on her face "I'll be outside – if you're man enough to fight me!"

You can hear a group of gasps

"I'm sure she didn't mean that." I try to say.

"Yeh, I think she did." Sokka replies.

We start to go after Katara this is halfway down the steps of the palace.

"Are you crazy, Katara? You're not gonna win this fight!" Sokka tries to knock some sense into her.

Katara takes off her coat and throws it at Sokka, hitting him in the face "I know! I don't care!"

"You don't have to do this for me. I can find another teacher." Aang tries to reason

"I'm not doing it for you! Someone needs to slap some sense into that guy!" She tels them.

The boys look at me for some help.

"Guys She has a point, I mean if I had a chance to show my old teachers that I was worth bejng taught, I think I would have"

As we reach the bottom of the steps, Master Pakku appears.

"So, you decided to show up?" Katara starts to say but He walks past her "Aren't you gonna fight??

"Go back to the healing huts with the other women where you belong." He says without even glancing her way.

3rd POV

Insanely angry, Katara draws a water whip out of the ground and whips Pakku on the back on the neck. He stops

Master Pakku finally faces her " Fine. You want to learn to fight so bad, study closely! "

He begins to bend and Katara runs towards him but he flings her backwards.

Master Pakku mockingly says "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you!"

Pakku creates a whirlpool and it begins to constrict, but before Katara is knocked back down she swings her arm, almost as if she were swinging a baseball bat, deflecting the wall of water off on a different trajectory. Cut to a shot of the spectators, including Aang and Sokka. The errant wall of water hits Sokka

“OW!”

Katara runs at him with a water whip. He raises a ramp of ice in front of her which she slides up and then back flips off, landing neatly on the guardrail of the citadel steps behind him. Pakku liquefies the ramp and throws it at her while catching her feet in ice. The wave breaks around Katara, however, as she bends it out of the way.

"You can't knock me down!" She says

The crowd formed starts to cheer

"Go Katara!" Aang shouts.

"You got this Katara!" Y/N encourages.

The fight goes on and Master Pakku is still decided on not teaching Katara.

Katara now standing in front of Pakku, but Master pakku sends shards of ice towards her, the shards land closely all around her. She is trapped. She struggles in vain against her prison of ice, her hands and arms unable to move.

Master Pakku walks towards her "This fight is over."

"Come back here! I'm not finished yet!" Katara yells.

"Yes, you are." he replied. He stops in surprise, picking up the necklace that fell from Katara's neck during the fight.

"This is my necklace!" He says with wonder.

"No it's not, it's mine! Give it back!" She tells him."

"I made this sixty years ago – for the love of my life." He continued saying.

Katara's ice prison liquefies behind him, freeing her "For Kana."

"My Gran-Gran was supposed to marry you?" Katara says in awe.

Master Pakku still holding the necklace, sadly says "I carved this necklace for your grandmother when we got engaged. I thought we would have a long, happy life together. I loved her."

"But she didn't love you, did she? It was an arranged marriage." Katara says.

The Princess' eyes water.

Katara walks up to Pakku "Gran-Gran wouldn't let your tribe's stupid customs run her life. That's why she left. It must have taken a lot of courage."

Proncess Yue begins to cry openly and runs away.

"Go get her." Y/N tells Sokka and nod to her direction.

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