#their emotional response to it is already engrained and THAT is what they will remember about it!

[singwhenyoucantspeak]

inflammatory headlines that imply something that is not true should be illegal. i dont care if the article itself sets the record straight. that is dishonest and irresponsible journalism.

[meara-eldestofthemall]

Tim and Damian: A Tale of Two Robins

The latest issue of Batman (# 147) clearly underscores the differing ways Tim and Damian each approach the role of Robin. It's why DC has been able to get away with having two very different characters simultaneously wearing the mantle.

For Damian, Robin is fundementally a position of honor and a source of pride. It's an affirmation of his unique status as the biological child of Bruce Wayne. Damian wants to do good and he wants to be the best at it. There's nothing wrong with that per say. Many heroes are driven by the same inner need for validation. Being Robin is an honor to which Damian feels he has earned the right.

For Tim, Robin is foremost a calling or vocation. The Robin mantle is definitely an honor but it's not the primary driving force behind why he's in the cape. To him Robin is much more than just a kid who fights with Batman. Tim is heavily invested in in protecting the symbolism of what both Robin as well as Batman and Robin stand for. Please note that it's not Damian or Dick that tracks Bruce down in this issue even though they're both quite capable of doing that. It's Tim who goes after Bruce.

Tim being the one to step up to save Bruce from his own worst impulses is what he does. He's an Emotional Support Robin as much as he is a partner to Batman. From the very beginning Tim saw Robin as someone Batman needs to function properly.

To this day Tim still maintains that Robin's primary responsibility is not to be a sidekick but be someone who will save Batman from both external and internal threats when required. He's a vital balance, a counterweight to the shadows that Batman inhabits.

In many ways that idea is at the crux of the differences between Tim and Damian's approach to being Robin.

Damian initially saw the mantle of Robin as his birthright due to his being Bruce's biological son. Yes, it seems like a strange idea but let's cut the kid some slack. Damian was all of ten years old when he first met his father. He'd also been raised in a cult that all but worshipped the AL Ghul family. He was an arrogant little princeling because that's what he was raised to be.

Tim sees Robin as Batman's partner but not his subordinate. Sure, all the Robins started as "sidekicks" but Dick and Jason's Robins never had the kind of independence Tim's Robin enjoys. Remember that it was a lack of autonomy that drove Dick away from Bruce in the first place. Jason's Robin rarely, if ever, worked independently of Batman. Tim, on the other hand, started handling his own cases less than a year after debuting in the role. Tim doesn't see himself as an apprentice but as a full partner. What's more he throughly enjoys that aspect of being Robin.

People wonder why Tim hasn't created a new identity that's not linked to Batman. The short answer is that Tim feels that he's already doing that. Robin is an independent hero and has been for years. He's been more than capable of operating without a net since before Damian showed up. Tim isn't shy about that view point, either. When Bruce tries to push Tim's Robin in ways Tim doesn't like, the kid will tell Batman "no" then continue doing things on his own .

Damian, on the other hand, constantly chafes against how Bruce's Batman wants him to act as Robin. Just like his father Damian doesn't like to be wrong and that shared stubbornness causes the two of them endless arguments. Damian's earliest teachings within the League will forever be at odds with Bruce's demands of Robin. The clashing expectations cause an internal conflict that leaves him at war with both his father and himself. No wonder the poor kid has a short temper. Trying to be both Damian al Ghul and Damian Wayne has got to be exhausting.

It's a testament to Damian's strength of character that he's been able to overcome the indoctrination from the League as much as he has. It's never going to completely leave him, however, because the lessons engrained into Damian at such a young age formed the core of his personality. Working with Dick's Batman helped him to learn some empathy and the value of tempering his worst impulses. Unfortunately Damian is primarily working with Bruce not Dick.

Damian is also 13 years old who has been seeking his father's approval and respect since the day he met the man. Bruce, being the emotional disaster that he is, fails to recognize that most of the time. This is why Damian is so completely taken in by Zur pretending to be Bruce. For the first time Damian is getting both approval and positive attention for being more violent than is necessary. His dysfunctional childhood and his work as Robin are finally in harmony and Damian loves it. It's also why poor the poor kid is so crushed when he figures out what's going on.

Tim, meanwhile, has stepped into his role as Emotional Support Robin (whether that's a good or bad thing is a debate for another time). His ability to ground Batman is why he can have this conversation with Bruce:

Tim also has one other crucial advantage that Damian, Dick or Jason never had. Tim was Bruce's partner long before he became his son. He's able to slide back into that role at the drop of a hat.

Damian will always be the son of Batman first and Robin second. That father/son dynamic that Bruce isn't very good at will try and lock Damian into a subordinate position in a misguided attempt to keep his son safe. That kind of micromanaging is something Dami will only tolerate for so long. Leaving Robin to take up a mantle of his own creation is all but inevitable.

Tim and Damian may both be Robin to Bruce's Batman but their perceptions of who and what Robin should be is radically different. And as I said before, that's not a bad thing at all.

[writing-on-standby]

time of dreaming (pt one)

Summary: Soulmates meet in their dreams from the age of 16 until they meet for the first time. Once they meet, they share their physical and emotional feelings with one another until they die. Tom Holland was just starting to learn how to take over the family business and ignore the urge to find his soulmate when everything changes and he’s found face to face with you. You’ve always wanted to meet your soulmate and spend the rest of your life with them, until you actually meet yours and life changes forever.

Warning: blood, language, violence, angst (this story is gonna be dark so prepare yourself)

                                          part one: the encounter

Tom knew from a young age that his family’s business was dangerous. He knew that he needed to keep what his family did a secret because his family could get hurt if outsiders knew. His father engrained it into Tom’s head that the family business went ahead of everything ever since Tom was a kid. Tom vividly remembered the time he asked his father to come to Career Day at his school. Tom’s father had never hit Tom harder.

When Tom turned thirteen, his father began teaching him how to conceal his identity in dreams in preparation for meeting his soulmate. Tom knew never to argue with what his dad wanted and instead started to train with his father and experts in the field of dream manipulation. He learned from a young age that even though he wanted to meet the person he was destined to be with, he couldn’t, not unless he gave up his family’s business, but he wouldn’t turn his back on his family. It was all he had.

On Tom's sixteenth birthday, he prepared to see his soulmate. He tried to ignore the butterflies that he felt as he fell asleep, excited to see the person who he'd meet every night. Despite knowing that he could never be with his soulmate, he was still shamelessly excited for the possibility of having a friend in his dreams, no matter what he did when he was awake.

He didn't meet his soulmate that night.

In fact, Tom didn't meet his soulmate until a couple months after he turned eighteen. He figured it was due to an age difference, but he didn't care to focus on the why or the logic of dreams. All he could focus on was the excitement of meeting his soulmate even though he knew he shouldn’t feel anything.

"hello?"

Tom felt as though he was floating. He knew he was standing on the familiar pink floor he always stood on when he dreamt. His dreams were lonely, but tonight, he heard you for the first time. He knew that your voice wasn't distorted and he had to ignore the slight flutter he felt when he heard your timid voice. He focused all of his available energy into masking his voice. "Hi."

He turned around, looking for you. His dream world was always the same, but he never knew how to describe it other than being in a soft pink cloud. He stood on a flat pink surface and was surrounded by a warm pink haze. He turned, one more time, and stopped when he saw his soulmate standing in front of him.

He couldn't make out details, but he didn't care. He could see your hair cascading around your face and falling beautifully. The color of your hair was fluctuating and your face was foggy, but he could see your vague features shift into a smile. "I can't believe you're here," you whispered.

"Likewise," Tom spoke, but he didn't recognize his voice. He knew it was the voice you heard, yet it still sounded weird. He ignored the slight tinge of guilt that rang through his heart at the thought of disguising himself from you. He knew he had no choice, but it still hurt him.

"I've been waiting for this moment for years. What took you so long?"

Tom did his best to ignore the ding his heart echoed. He tried to ignore the sadness that ricocheted out of your vocal cords and into his heart. "I've been here."

A soft sigh escaped the vague lips Tom could see. "Me too."

Tom awoke the morning after first meeting you in the best mood he'd been in in what felt like years. He had to physically fight the urge he had to smile as he walked down the stairs for breakfast. He felt light, airy, and happy. Your voice was angelic and the conversation you had echoed around his heart for the rest of the day.

The two of you didn't always meet every night. Tom chalked it up to different sleep patterns or just not being able to remember every dream he had. He could tell that you wanted to meet him, but he kept brushing those hints off. Usually the two of you were only together enough to say a few sentences back and forth, but he cherished his time with you just the same.

It had successfully been almost six years since you first appeared in his dream without meeting you. Tom had officially decided that you didn't live in London. You couldn't have, he reasoned, but the nagging thought in the back of his head reminded him that your accent was exactly the same as his.

Tom eventually came clean to his family that you had met in his dreams. Tom's father was stressed, but Tom assured him that the pair would never meet, despite every part of Tom's body aching to touch you. Tom knew that his family and his business came first. It also wasn't a secret in the Holland Mansion that the reason why his father was so adamant against soulmates was because of the death of their mother, but no one talked about it.

No one talked about anything.

Tom was just starting to learn how to take over the business when everything changed. He was barely getting the hang of ignoring the pain of getting his ass beat. He was barely getting used to ignoring the guilt of killing enemies and breaking the law. He had just figured out how to ignore the thought of one day meeting you and had just stopped craving the small interactions he'd get with you every night.

But the universe was funny in that way.

"Tom," Harrison breathed, heavily. Tom looked up from the computer he was typing on and looked at his best friend. His blue eyes were burning into Tom's. "It's your dad."

Tom knew the tone was too distraught to be anything good. He knew Harrison wouldn’t barge into the study without reason. Tom ran his rough, calloused, and dry hand over his face with a sigh. He tried to prepare himself for the news he expected to get ever since he had started taking over the business. HIs body grew stiff and cold as he tried to prepare for what he knew was coming, but it wasn’t that easy. Life was never that easy.

“He’s dead.”

*

“I saw him again last night,” Jazmin hummed as she carefully stabbed the lettuce in her bowl. Her brown hair fell over her shoulders, despite her being on call for a shift at the emergency room, downstairs. Her brown eyes looked up to you as she smiled. Her eyes were always warm, but somehow always pierced through the defense layers you built. “Have you seen yours in a while?” She carefully raised one of her arched eyebrows as she waited for your response.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to remember the fact that you hadn’t seen your soulmate in three weeks. “No,” you whispered. “I know he doesn’t want to meet me. Every time I ask for any information, he leaves.” You picked at the leftover pasta you brought for the impromptu date you and your best friend could fit in your busy schedules. The nagging voice in the back of your mind reminded you that not only did your soulmate refuse to give you information to find him, but he also was hiding his face and his voice from you. It wasn’t uncommon for soulmates to be able to hide parts of their identity, but it was difficult to master the ability to disguise both your face and your voice. When you noticed that your soulmate had disguised both features, you reciprocated by disguising your face to the best of your ability. You hadn’t told any of this to Jazmin, though, because you were embarrassed at the thought of your soulmate refusing to even show you his face or his voice.

“I know he wants to meet you, y/n. Why wouldn’t he? He’d be absolutely lucky to have you,” she spoke, matter-of-factly.

You shrugged. You had always loved the idea of having a soulmate and being meant to spend the rest of your life with someone. It was always a goal of yours to be able to meet your soulmate, but after the first few dreams with your soulmate, you could tell that this wasn’t his intention. The two of you rarely met and it was usually once a month that you would have an overlap in time and meet. “I don’t know, Jazmin. I just -“

Before you could finish, you were interrupted by the scream of an ambulance. You looked out the window you sat by and sighed. By the time you looked back at Jazmin, she was already getting called into her shift. The two of you had both started internships at the same hospital, but in different departments. You usually had a laidback schedule in the Psychiatric Ward, but Jazmin was always busy with her shifts in the Emergency Room.

“Sorry, y/n. I’ll see you later, okay?”

You nodded and began packing up your things. Your shift ended thirty minutes ago, but you stuck around to be able to spend time with your best friend. Once all of your belongings were stuffed into your purse, you stood up and began walking to your car.

Since you worked downtown, you almost always had to park a couple blocks away from the hospital. You usually welcomed the walk as it gave you time to prepare for your shift and decompress afterwards.

Tonight, the sun was setting over the horizon, painting the world a hazy pink. You smiled, softly, thinking of the dream world you always seemed to meet your soulmate in. Every place that soulmates met was unique to the couple. You were shocked when you met your soulmate in a beautiful, warm, pink world. Seeing the real world mimic your dreams caused a tug in your stomach.

As you entered the near-empty parking lot where your car sat, you noticed a tense exchange occurring. Three men stood, facing another man not too far away. You saw your car on the other side of the group of three and began making your way towards them. You pushed away any feelings of anxiety and tried to push forward to your car. It was a long enough day and it didn’t need to be longer.

“Tom, now is not the time or the place,” the man on the left spoke. He had piercing blue eyes, but you quickly looked away from the group and instead pretended to send a text.

“I don’t care,” the man named Tom snapped. You could hear the pain in his voice, causing your eyes to find him. You recognized the grief that screamed through his words. His large brown eyes were bloodshot and tears were stained on his cheeks. His hands were clenched into tight fists and you noticed the blood caked on his knuckles. Your heartbeat sped up as you slowly walked closer.

“What’s wrong, Tommy boy? You not ready for the crown? Pathetic,” an Irish accent mocked from behind you. You were close enough to the group to now be in the middle of the commotion. You tried to pick up your pace, not wanting to be in between this intense exchange.

“Shut the fuck up, Luke,” Tom growled as he took a step forward.

“What’re you going to do, Tommy boy? Shoot me? Try. I dare you,” Luke chuckled. Before you could register what was happening, rough hands gripped at your arms and you were pulled roughly against the Irish man, identified as Luke. Fear danced from the man’s fingers and up into your chest. Your heart pumped the fear through your veins and into your bloodstream. The man gripped you tighter as you felt a cold metal dance along your arm. You tried ignoring it, but the fear was bubbling up your throat and into all of your thoughts.

You closed your eyes, trying to think of the man you had met in your dreams. The man you were destined to spend the rest of your life with. The man that was your soulmate. “Let her go, Luke.” Your eyes opened and your gaze was locked with the man named Tom. His eyes were cold and calculated, but you noticed that him and his two friends took a step closer to you. Your heart was racing and you tried to say something, anything to get this man to let you go, but the fear swallowed any attempt to speak.

“Come and get her, Tom. Or are you going to let another poor innocent person die today?”

Before you could process what was said, a searing pain exploded from your chest. You looked down and saw a large and deep gash that started from the center of your chest and followed the line of your collar bone to your shoulder. Blood began pooling out of the wound as you cried out in pain. Your head began growing lighter as you shut your eyes in pain. You heard the men in front of you yell various threats and insults to the man who was holding you hostage. Your brain began to process that you were in a life-and-death situation. Without thinking, you threw your foot into the stranger’s knee and kicked as hard as you could. The man groaned as his grip loosened. You threw your elbow back into his stomach, causing his grip to completely disappear. You took a few steps away from him, but your brain was clouded with the pain of the massive gash on your chest. Blood was dripping down your arm and onto the cement, but you didn’t care. All you could think about was getting as far away from this man as fast as possible. 

Despite moving as fast as you could, the man caught your right shoulder and yanked you back. You heard a pop as more pain erupted from the same shoulder he had cut. You knew it was dislocated, if not broken. Panicking at the thought of being killed, you started throwing your fists at this man, but your vision wasn’t focusing on anything as the blood was pouring out of you. You knew that it wouldn’t be long before you lost enough blood to be damaging. The man gave you sickening laugh as you felt his knife sink into your stomach. You screamed in pain, feeling his knife pierce through your skin and into your organs. You had enough training in the hospital to know that pulling the knife out would cause more damage, but your hand still groped the handle of his knife as you stumbled back. A warm feeling danced up your throat as you coughed blood on the cement.

You turned and stumbled further away from the group, but your feet were heavier than cinderblocks. You began to fall to the cement. Before your shoulders and head could hit the ground, you were caught. You looked up at the man who had stopped the impact and saw those blue eyes you had connected with earlier. You blinked a few times, growing tired and pained. “Hey, hey, look at me,” the man whispered. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Just focus on me and nothing else, okay?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but you were instead interrupted with another cough. You knew it was blood so you turned your head and spit onto the cement. Sure enough, a dark sticky substance hit the ground next to your head. You looked back at the man in front of you. Your head was spinning and you were struggling to ground yourself in reality. You lifted your hand and put it on the man’s cheek. You noticed the blood that covered your hand and your arm. You gasped at the sight and dropped your hand to your side. The man chuckled, but the sight wasn’t comforting since you had covered half his face in your blood. “It’s okay, hon. I’m Harrison, what’s your name?”

“Y/n,” you croaked. Speaking hurt, breathing hurt, everything hurt. Your eyelids slipped shut and you heard the man above you asking you to open your eyes. You forced your eyelids apart and looked back into his piercing blue eyes. “So hard. So sleepy.”

“I know, y/n, help is on the way, okay?”

You looked up at Harrison’s blue eyes and felt safe. You nodded, slowly. “I never met my soulmate,” you murmured. “I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t,” Harrison spoke with a smile. “We won’t let you.”

You slowly nodded. Before you could respond, the man referred to as Tom sat down next to you and Harrison. “EMT’s are about a minute out. Luke’s taken care of.” Tom’s voice was beautiful and strong as he spoke to Harrison. He looked at you with his bloodshot and pained eyes. “You’ll be okay.”

You sighed and slowly gave up on the fight to stay awake as your eyelids slipped shut. Maybe you would meet your soulmate. Maybe you wouldn’t.

                                                     part two

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

Ok, so I’ve tried and tried several times to get this posted, we’ll see if this is the time it goes through. Half the reason why this review series has slowed down is not just the multitude of real life stuff I have to deal with, but also Tumblr just refusing to work with me and deleting my posts. I also can’t save my work else where due to Tumblr messing up the formatting. It’s been a frustrating mess and so far no one @staff​ has come up with a tech solution or work around. 

Summary: Rapunzel helps to rebuild Old Corona, (after its near destruction from the Black Rocks) which will become the permanent home of Red and Angry, who have returned to Corona to settle down. However, she begins to notice strange footprints around the area, as well as the livestock becoming more unruly and fearful. The group comes across a monster hunter named Creighton, who explains to the group that the area is being stalked by a werewolf, who possessed one of Corona's citizens. Aiming to save this person rather than kill them, Rapunzel sets out to find who it is. 

When Was This Decided?

No seriously, when was this decided? It’s a pretty big leap go from ‘the rocks makes various towns inhabitable’ to ‘let’s rebuild!’ What’s changed here? Cause the rocks haven’t been removed and Rapunzel failed in her mission to nullify their power. In fact the rocks were not only reawaken in the second season finale but shown to be under the power of someone who’s intentions were made unclear to the heroes.

So I ask again; who thought this was safe thing to do now? What provisions have been made to accommodate the rocks? They blocked the well, remember, and destroyed the fields; how are the people getting food and water? 

And most importantly why wasn’t the audience informed beforehand? When you change up the status quo in a story you need to provide just cause to the viewers. I legit thought I had accidently skipped an episode when I first watched because this plot point was not set up properly.  

Why Were They Ever Left Alone to Begin With?

In a story where neglect is a central theme and motivating factor for all the main characters, it is super tone deaf to have those same characters perpetuating neglect themselves. The decision to live on their own should not be left up to Angry and Red because they are children. Children are not mature enough to provide for themselves neither emotionally nor physically and when placed in situations where they have to do so it psychologically damages them. Which the series already showcased with Varian so why is this suddenly deemed ok? 

This Completely Undermines the Past Two Seasons

The entire conflict of the past two seasons was the rocks forcing people out of their homes. Eugene was made an orphan from them, Varian lost his entire support group because them, they drove out the Saporians from their encampment which prompted them to invade Corona, and Rapunzel and company spent an entire year on the road trying to find a way to stop them from spreading supposedly. 

All of that has now been flushed down the drain with this decision. And its super insulting to watch because it’s the writers telling us that we’ve wasted our time caring about this plot for two years. You don’t resolve major conflicts off screen and without explanation; it’s lazy!  

Also Where Is Varian and Quirin During All This?

This is not only their home and legal charge, but it’s also the ending to their ongoing story, and they’re not even here in a silent cameo. 

Wouldn’t Quirin be overseeing the rebuilding of his town? Wouldn’t Varian be using his skills to find workable engineering solutions for them, fulling his season one goal of saving his home and making his village better with his inventions? Also wouldn’t Edmund want to catch up with his brother and help out now that he’s here? 

In fact not a single person who actually lives in Old Corona is to be found in these opening shots. 

Oh, But We Do Get Earl

Earl might be from Old Corona, or he might not be. We’ve literally never seen him before. The artists had to create a brand new character model for this character, the writers had to write new lines for him, and the casting director had to hire an actor and have him record these lines for only less than a minute of screen time, never to be seen again. Even though they legit had shepherd models already to go from season one that they could have used. It’s a waste of resources and a prime example of the mismanagement going on in this show. 

It’s Too Late In the Series to Waste Time On a New One Off Villain

Speaking of a waste, Creighton might have more story reasons to appear in this episode than Earl does but her inclusion is still a poor decision. The show already has an overabundance of villains, so many in fact that they shipped the bulk of them off in season two, and this is the final season; the season where we should be wrapping up plots and minor characters stories not kicking off new ones.

Taken on her own Creighton isn’t a bad character presa, she works for the episode, but when we could have gotten a resolution to Caine’s, Hector’s, or the Disciples’ story arcs instead it highlights how misused the series assets are. 

All This Lore Will Be Forgotten In Just a Few Episodes Time

We finally get like some magical rules and backstory only for future episodes to ignore it from here on afterwards. Red can turn into a werewolf whenever she pleases, night or day, with little explanation as for why.  

Just Arrest Her Rapunzel

You’re the acting queen. You have the power and the right to arrest or even merely detain someone who is threating your citizens and refuses to leave. In fact it’s kind of your job. You don't even have to throw her in a dungeon if you thought that too cruel. Just lock her up in a nice room somewhere in the castle until you’ve sorted out the mess yourself. 

The series wants to treat Rapunzel as the underdog when she isn’t, and her failure to wield her power effectively doesn’t make her look ‘nice’ it just makes her look stupid and grossly incompetent. This is a conflict that didn’t need to have happened and Rapunzel let it happen.  

Oh, So Now Y'all Riot

You didn’t complain when the king orphaned children with his crack down on crime. You rolled over as he dolled out overly harsh punishments to poor people who committed minor offences. You gleefully went along with the royals as they  scapegoated a child for their mistakes, even as they endangered your homes.  And ya’ll sat on your asses while invaders pulled off a coup and enslaved you. 

But this is what you get mad over? A rumor about a mythical creature existing that your princess has zero control over. Seriously? 

Man, I hate the townspeople in this show. 

Pointless Dream Sequence Is Pointless

This scene tells the audience nothing new and just wastes screen time. 

This Is the Wrong Lesson to Focus On Rapunzel

We do not tell the 12 year old to unload their phycological issues onto their baby sister!

You’re telling me parents were involved in writing this show? What the hell!?

Rapunzel you are the adult here. At 20 now you should be more adept to handle listening to the deep seated emotional traumas of a little girl than a fucking 10 year old! And if you’re not, or don’t want to, then it’s your job to find another adult who will. 

That’s the core problem with this entire episode. It treats Red’s and Angry’s problems as some eternal issue that they need to work out and not as the inherent failure of the adults around them that it is. 

It is neither Red’s nor Angry’s decision on weather or not they get live on their own. Nor is it their responsibility to be each other’s therapist. Yes, a change in living arrangements is always stressful and for children with abandonment issues it can be hard to readjust, but that’s when you need to step it up and deal with the problem; not shove it off onto the kids themselves! 

Monty Is Useless

Is this all Monty is good for? Being a red herring in ridiculously simple mysteries? Is this why we wasted a whole episode introducing him back in season one? Really?

Why Are We Still Treating Old Corona As Being Separate from Corona Itself?

Look, I get that it’s a joke, but it’s a joke that highlights how poorly thought out the worldbuilding is in the series. Is the Coronan government in charge of Old Corona or not? If so then you can just make those lease laws yourself as the acting regent Eugene. If not then Frederic shouldn’t have had any say in the matter of relocating Old Corona’s citizens nor putting a child outside of his jurisdiction under arrest.

But more importantly this is a just a repeat of that vague level of responsibility Rapunzel has for people who live off the island. She can’t order a whole village to be rebuilt while simultaneously claiming that she bares no accountability for Varian and Quirin’s problems in season one. 

Replacing Guns with Crossbows Isn’t the Safe Option That the Censors Think It Is

I find it kind of amusing that censors will ban showing a 17th century blunderbuss but allow it to be replaced by a weapon that is still mass produced today and can be bought in any Walmart across the country. Like I’m a major advocate for gun regulation in real life, but even I have to find this to be a bit silly. Crossbows aren’t some fantasy weapon. People still own and use them. But it would be seriously hard to get ahold of a working antique firearm.  

Seriously This Is How the Girls Have Been Living and the Adults Haven’t Done Anything About It Until Now?

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse by now, but it’s so engrained into the episode I have to keep bringing it up. The show itself is visually telling us that Red and Angry can’t keep living this way, but it never wants to call Rapunzel and the other adults out for not rescuing them from this life sooner. 

So All This Tells Me Is That Rapunzel Could Have Easily Checked Up On Varian In Painter’s Block, But Didn’t.

Remember they’re right next to Old Corona; meaning that Janus Point is also right next to Old Corona. Meaning that Rapunzel could easily have checked up on Varian right after Painter’s Block and choose not to. With each passing episode Rapunzel has less and less excuse for her behavior in season one. 

Yeah Remember that Plot Point That Wound Up Being Entirely Irrelevant to the Story?

In jokes don’t cover your ass when you make poor writing choices. Quite the opposite in fact as all you’ve done is remind the audience of all the various dangling plot threads that you will fail to follow up on. The disciples plot goes no where and serves no purpose, and it should not have been introduced as this big important thing if you weren’t going to do anything with it. 

Nice Idea, Poor Execution

I’ve heard fans of this episode tell me that they enjoy it because of this scene with Red. If you’re a naturally introverted person or neurodivergent and have trouble communicating at times then Red’s speech here can strike a cord. Which is cool; I’ll never deny someone’s feelings and if a piece of media speaks to you on a personal level for whatever reason that is great. What I’m here to discuss though is story structure and whether or not the story’s themes are presented well in context of what it’s set up. 

The conflict here does not work from a pure structural standpoint because it’s a surface level deflection of the real issues. Red’s problem isn’t that she is being ignored, it's that she’s been abandoned. Now communication issues can arise from that abandonment and feeling heard can be step forward in working those issues out, but Red’s central trauma isn’t going to be magically fixed by people ‘listening’ to her, i.e. being granted whatever she wants, but by providing her with a real home and with a real guardian to look after her. 

Because what Red wants on a surface level is harmful to her, and the reasons why she wants what she wants needs to be addressed more so than then sedating her angry outbursts in the moment. This is treating the symptoms not the cause.

So What Is or Isn’t Real About the Curse?

Once again, we finally get some actual lore and rules for magic and the writers are already throwing it away during the same episode they are introduced. I now have as little context for how the wolf curse works within the Tangled world as I did before the episode started. 

This Is Sweet, But Once Again Context Brings It Down.

So just to reiterate, this a surface level resolution to the conflict of the episode that doesn’t actually address anything. It might feel like an appropriate ending but only if you ignore the fact that Red and Angry are orphans who’ve been abandoned but the adults. 

Angry apologizing here to Red does not solve any of their problems, especially since Angry, as a child herself, is not responsible for her sister’s behavior, feelings, nor well being. That falls to the adults and they fail to address Red’s core issues and their own failings to her in their apologies as well. Not to mention that the very next scene undermines any optional progress that could have been made here. 

Listening to Someone Does Not Mean Giving Them Whatever They Want

This does not fix anything. Red and Angry are still left to live on their own without any real supervision. Giving them a big play house is not providing for them, it’s spoiling them. Would you let all the other orphans in the local orphanage roam free without an adult to take care of them? No!? Gee I wonder why? Could it be because letting a 12 and 10 year old raise themselves is a very stupid idea? One that will potentially damage them later in life assuming that they don't get themselves killed in the meantime. 

Moreover this is yet another example of the series overall problem with not understanding that compromise and resolving conflicts does not mean rewarding the characters at the end with everything that they want without having them work for it. That’s not how life works and it’s not how good story telling works. 

This Is Beyond Irresponsible

No! Bad Show! Bad! 

You do not get to pretend that negligence is the same thing as compromise. Yes I know Eugene said to come to him when they have a problem, but as demonstrated by this very episode children do not always know when to ask for help nor can they always find it when needed, that is why parents exist!  

Nor does the show get a free pass for turning it’s main characters into child abusers who neglected three minors multiple times now. Even when they themselves are victims of that same abuse!

How utterly blinkered do you have to be to not see the problem here? 

It’s the Return of the Pointless Parallels

Let me count the ways for how stupid this is. 

Red and Angry’s conflict has no impact on the on going narrative. Even with them now being reoccurring characters they still manage to contribute nothing to the future storylines involving Cass. 

Neither Rapunzel nor Cassandra learn anything from Red and Angry’s spat; Rapunzel because she refuses to acknowledge her own flaws and Cassandra’s not even here for any of it. 

The sister’s dynamic between Raps and Cass is not well established and the writers mange to piss all over it by series end because of gay baiting and poor writing. Therefore relying on lazy parallels to other siblings in the show to bolster this connection falls flat.  

Red and Angry’s argument has nothing in common with Rapunzel and Cass’s current fighting. One is about abandonment issues and the other is about shallow validation. Trying to tie these two themes together actually winds up undermining both conflicts. 

Red and Angry are children. Rapunzel and Cassandra are not. That very much matters. 

Red and Angry didn’t drag innocent people into their petty bitch fight and endanger them because they wanted to feel special. 

This Makes Zero Sense

I don’t know; she looked pretty happy during Crossing the Line. 

She was also able to control the rocks just fine then, so what happened? 

Not to mention soon after this Zhan Tiri is telling her she needs some sort of incantation to control the rocks, despite being able to already control the rocks.... 

It’s almost as if the writers are full of shit and don’t actually know what they’re doing. 

So Are We Remembering the Burnt Hand or Not?

Does the hand matter or not? Is it ever a motivating factor in what Cassandra decides to do? Is her waning control over the rocks connected to her burnt hand; even though having a burnt hand is what allowed her grab the moonstone in the first place? Did the moonstone heal the hand? Does Raps singing the healing incantation later on heal it? Does Cass have a forever burnt hand? 

Who the fuck knows! 

Not the writers that’s for sure, cause it never comes up again. 

Don’t introduce plot points and then not resolve them. That’s writing 101 guys. 

Wait if she needs the incantation to control the rocks and the angry thing is a lie, then how the heck is she controlling them just now? Make up your dang mind show! 

I swear I lose brain cells whenever I have to rewatch the evil Cassandra plot. It is so dumb  you guys.... so, so dumb. 

Conclusion

It’s not the worst thing ever but series has far better episodes on offer than this one. Even in a season as suck ass as season three. 

So there’s praying that this review posts this time and if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me in my projects feel free to leave a tip on my Ko-Fi. Thank you. 

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[neuxue]

Hello hello. I just started watching The Untamed and found your blog and it's been a lot of fun because, somebody has already put my mental screaming into words so thank you for that! I'm kind of mentally stuck on the events of the Lotus Pavillion massacre tho and just had to get my thoughts out because I haven't seen this said anywhere yet? So,1- When JC and Sis are in mourning they leave everything so WWX. except he just got whipped and it would've taken him a month to heal. Soooo (1/2)

(2/2) yeah WWX in also in excruciating physical pain on top of emotional and mental and nobody notices or remembers that his back is shredded.

Oh man okay, so. On the one hand, you are not wrong. On the other hand... 

I’ve said this before, but something I like about this show is the approach it takes to letting everything go to shit, in that it’s often not any specific person’s fault so much as it is a whole bunch of people’s virtues and flaws and insecurities and intentions good or ill all snagging against each other.

Because my own interpretive lens tends to be biased towards... looking from every character’s perspective and optimising for maximum pain to maximum number of characters (dark ethics, show me the forbidden utilitarianism) rather than assigning blame to any specific one. 

So, with that lens in place, my take on this (and yours may be different!):

On no one noticing/remembering Wei Wuxian being in pain

I’m always here for the ‘how are you even standing’ trope and it may not be outright stated in the episode but Wei Wuxian has been whipped by magical lightning to the extent that it’s a believable claim to make that he won’t be able to walk for weeks. (Whether Yu Ziyuan exaggerates in an attempt to convince Wang Lingjiao to leave them alone is... a topic for another time, but either way it’s a pretty sure bet Wei Wuxian’s in agony). 

Thing is (and this, too, is its own kind of devastating), Wei Wuxian is not unaccustomed to ignoring, downplaying, and enduring extreme pain. And he has effectively conditioned everyone around him to go along with it. Maybe they don’t always completely believe him, but he’s just so good at drawing everyone into his pretense with him that I don’t think they always see the degree to which he’s hurting (or at least they know it’s futile to push it).

I also think it’s not unlikely that he’s experienced this specific pain before (and, if so, likely has practice in pushing through this exact experience, so that his siblings won’t worry, won’t feel guilty, won’t have to choose between him and their mother. Which would only hurt them if they knew, and really any way you spin it that family is a mess on so many levels, ow). 

Also, not insignificantly, adrenaline is one hell of a painkiller, while it lasts.

So he’s able to take pain that should have anyone else on their knees and just... put it aside, ignore it, push through it without a word. 

Enough so that Jiang Yanli (who wasn’t there and therefore actually doesn’t know what has happened) doesn’t realise. Enough so that Jiang Cheng (who was there, but is, I think, practised at not seeing or not thinking about certain things--another topic for another time, but Jiang Cheng has been hurt and shaped by this family just as much as Wei Wuxian has, though in different ways) doesn’t question Wei Wuxian standing up with a makeshift oar to try to bring them all back to their family.

It’s as if we’re seeing the damage of all three of them, with respect to the particular dysfunction of their family, playing out here. Wei Wuxian masking pain in order to protect (prioritise) his siblings. Jiang Cheng seeing the image he is presented, rather than dealing with the truth he fears. Jiang Yanli being set aside, shielded (overlooked). This feels like a pattern that has played out before, all of them playing their roles. Which, you know, hurts.

On everything being ‘left’ to Wei Wuxian

On paper, that is pretty much what happens. But I tend to read this as... all three siblings’ established characterisation, their existing dynamic, and the ways in which different people respond to crisis, panic, and grief.

Firstly, this is what Wei Wuxian does. He sacrifices himself at every opportunity to protect those around him (especially but by no means exclusively his siblings). 

That’s even more true now, with the last words of both his adoptive parents in his ears (‘protect them’), the reminder of what he has written into the very fabric of himself: that he owes them, that they are more important, that his only value is in his capability, and even that has value only when used to help others. That he is nothing and they are everything, and so the only acceptable option is to sacrifice himself in whatever way is necessary.

Which, you know, hurts. And we can put no small portion of the blame for that on his upbringing, and on the cultivation world as a whole for the way it regards reputation and bloodline and family and obligation and role.

But here’s the thing: there’s plenty of emotional damage to go around! Because Wei Wuxian does this, each time, unasked and unasking. He just... steps up quietly, ignores his own pain, and does what he feels is necessary--regardless of whether those he is doing this for would want that from him. 

(I’m not going to argue the ethics of that one way or the other because that’s not really my point here; my point is more just that he makes that choice unilaterally, and it hurts for all of them. Wei Wuxian because he has so deeply internalised the thought that he has to do this, and his siblings because they probably don’t want to see him hurt).

Finally, there’s the whole issue of how people cope in a crisis. No one in this scene is operating at 100% rational capacity. They’re shocked and hurt and grieving and terrified, and that combination makes for a kind of... not always tunnel vision, exactly, but snap decisions and narrowed focus and a kind of brutal triage: if it’s not immediately relevant and vital, it doesn’t register. So, the ability to think about what you say before you let the words out, the ability to hold back the urge to cry or lash out, the ability to look past yourself and register the suppressed signs of pain in your sibling--all of these are pretty much offline for the time being.

For Jiang Cheng, that manifests first as a frantic need to get back to his family; that takes priority, consumes him, in this state of panic and fear and the world crumbling around him, over anything and everything else. Later, that turns to anger because again he’s just not in a headspace to be able to process it further than that, to hold any of that back. 

For Jiang Yanli, it manifests as sadness, as grief, as reaching out to her brothers and trying to hold them close, but also as a fear of confrontation, of doing anything that could make this worse. Where Jiang Cheng’s desperation is get to my family, hers is keep my family together.

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian defaults to his base state of There Must Be A Way Self-Sacrifice Can Solve This Problem. It’s... a heartbreaking kind of altruism, but in its way just as irrational and panic-driven as his siblings’ responses. This is what he does, so he throws himself into it without considering any other option, because he’s not in a place where he can. His desperation is that ingrained protect my family above myself. 

(Also, he’s very much a ‘throw yourself into the task at hand in order to keep the trauma at bay’ kind of person, so this is basically his coping mechanism, just as anger is Jiang Cheng’s). 

tl;dr: somewhere in there I had a point, and I think it’s basically ‘everyone in this sequence is hurting so much, and they’re all so raw and exposed, and falling into these deeply engrained patterns that hurt all of them and help none of them and yet it’s all they can do, because this is what their world has made them’.

[unstoppableforcce]

waves crash. ships don’t. ( 9 )

The Mandalorian x reader

previous part - epilogue - masterlist (for waves crash)

oh! it seems I figured out something angsty and soft for the conclusion. stayed tuned for a sweet epilogue.

The second his foot hit the sand; a strike of lightning hit down. It didn’t matter, besides the flash of light, he barely noticed.

Sand at his feet kicked up with every step, stars did he hate sand. He knew he’d find it engrained in the soles of his boots, the fabric of his undersuit, every crack and crevice and all he was doing was treading through it. It was okay, he reminded himself with a holding stare on your form as he approached, it was okay.

He faltered in his step only when you looked up to see him and flinch for your weapon.

He slowed about ten yards from you, beginning to sink into the sand which dampened as fast as he was with the rain picking up, holding his arms out in a brief show of hesitant surrender until you relaxed.

Except you didn’t.

Not for several seconds as you watched him carefully.

“I don’t need help.” Was all you could think to say, the only reasonable conclusion you could draw from his approach.

He knew you well, and even if he didn’t, hovering around for the past few days watching you work, he didn’t need to be told you didn’t need any help. It broke his heart slightly more to know you thought he didn’t already know that about you.

It was a pain he had to push through. He was riding a wave of confidence from somewhere, a burst he had never had before, and he had no choice but to use it while he had it. He wasn’t losing you, not again.

As soon as your hand fell from your holstered knife, he took several strides until he was closer, careful with every step, sinking deeper and deeper and the grainy sand turned almost to mud with the pelting rain.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” The warning came out as you easily slipped back to work, grabbing a fish and swiping over it with a stare of examination before tossing it along.

His silence got your attention back. You had no choice as your heart pulled your stare to him, your stare of careful examination taking a long hard look at his form when the neck strike of lightning hit with the storm behind you over the ocean and his beskar helmet reflected it back to your eyes, each intricate detail of the light showing for the quick second over his visor.

The rest of his form was stripped of his armor, left back in the house you assumed. He was only beginning to stand on his own, the extra weight would only keep him down. But without it…

He wasn’t a small man. But without the armor, he looked smaller, he looked softer, he looked as you always remembered him. He looked real. Not some dutiful bounty hunter with only a sense of purpose when it came to work and nothing else, ruthless by reputation. That wasn’t the man you remembered so fondly even as your brain wished you didn’t.

You remember his passing moments, moments when you swore you could see him smiling through the solid steel, moments when he lingered his hand for a second longer on yours when passing a pack of ammunition, the small moments.

You remembered the pain he caused you when he left right after that, washing any warmth you got from the past away with the cold and constant break between who you were and what you were now.

The rain stuck his new tunic to his form no matter how hard the wind persisted in blowing it away.

He shouldn’t be out in it; he was still recovering.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” you repeated, gesturing back to the house before bending over again, “You’ll tear a stitch, you’ll freeze-”

“Come with me.”

You furrowed your dripping brow, wiping over your face as you looked to him where he stood still spare his heaving breaths. If you didn’t have as tuned an ear as you did for his voice, you weren’t sure you’d have been able to make it out of the sounds of the ragged water behind you or the blabbering of the jungle behind him.

But you did hear him. You didn’t need him to repeat, you heard each and every syllable and froze, fish still in one hand, not having been dropped to the pack yet, just floundering in your hand.

“What?” The words came from your lips only because you weren’t capable of any others. You heard him. Each of the three words was still echoing in your head.

“When the Crest is fixed, come with me.”

You didn’t have a response that time, not even a stutter, every word fell dry and dead in your throat. Three simple words that said more than he had ever said in his entire life, certainly his entire life with you.

Essentially saying that he wanted exactly that, a life with you.

Dropping the fish was all you could manage when your hands went nearly numb, not from the cold. Your lip began to tremble as you took a step away, not from the cold.

The storm continued to rage, a particularly abusive gust blowing all your damp hair from your face and nearly pushing you over because of your slowly weakening knees. You took another step back just to stay stable, he took another step to you, just to stay close.

“I wanted to stay.”

He didn’t know how to say what he wanted to, it came out in separate sentences of vague ambition and want. It was all he could manage when he watched you so entirely overwhelmed with what you were feeling. You weren’t cold this time. You weren’t stoic. Your face remained calm and collected but he caught every turn of your lips, every extra blink, every bend of your brow.

He caught each and every emotion as it coursed through you and all he wanted to say that he was feeling something similar, but he lacked the vocabulary. He lacked the ability to even breathe when he looked at you, he wasn’t too sure he wouldn’t collapse right there in front of you again, his ribs even screamed as he thought of it.

But he was too deep now. He needed you to know. He couldn’t turn back. He’d bear any storm if it meant you knew what he was feeling. If you knew what he wanted to tell you that day on the desert beach way back when, when you smiled and splashed him with water.

You were the only person he knew.  

That was the only thing close to the language he had to describe it.

He just didn’t have the tongue, the heart, the lungs… he didn’t have the physical strength to speak it to you as you stood, continuously doused in rain in front of him.

“I wanted you to stay.” How you maintain his stare, you still aren’t really sure, but something within you refused to let go. It was like there was a voice in the back of your head warning you that if you looked away, he’d be gone again.

Usually, the voice existed to remind you of everything wrong you had ever done, that was if the screams of your memories didn’t drown it out first.

“I wanted you to stay-” it caught in your throat as you tried to repeat it, so you swallowed it and kept your stare, hoping he understood.

He took a step closer to answer.

“I trusted you and you left me-” you finally fought out, a brief second of a seething anger slipping through your calm façade, one deep breath in, one out, but you didn’t calm as he expected. “I thought you knew what I did, I thought you saw what I became, I thought I lost my use to you-”

“I don’t want you because you’re useful-”

“I’m not useful. Not anymore.” You interrupted with a scoff. You didn’t mean to. He was being so open, so much more vulnerable than either of you had ever been, you didn’t want to shut him down.

Shaking your head, a curse in your native tongue slipping out beneath your breath, something he wasn’t sure he’d understand even if it was audible over the storm. “I haven’t shot in years, I haven’t fought- I’m not useful anymore, I’m broken, and you can’t fix me, that was why you left-”

“You’re not broken-”

“I-”

“I was wrong to leave. I thought I was broken, not you. I didn’t want to be a burden on you. But now…”

He didn’t have the words. He searched through every basic word he knew, every word or phrase in Mando’a, every word he knew in your tongue, or any of the few others that he knew. None of them felt right, none of them conveyed the weight he had felt on his chest for years thinking you were here and better off without him only to now know the two of you were anything but.

There was no argument. There was nothing he could say to excuse that. He made a mistake. He did this.

He couldn’t fix it.

You waited for words on his lips that just couldn’t come. He didn’t have the capacity for them.

But he wanted to. When he looked at you… he wanted to.

You broke the stare and turned back to the waves shattering against the shore behind you with a ragged echo, not unlike the thundering in your chest. The lightning struck the horizon, not moving closer or further, the storm was right where it wanted to be, right where it would stay as it raged on.

“You’re the only person I know.”

He didn’t know how the words escaped him without his lips moving, how he heard them over the storm even though he didn’t speak them. He didn’t understand until you turned back, the simple sentiment falling off your lips, off your perfect bottom lip, scar and all.

Taking one final step closer, he needed you to know just how hard his heart was beating, he needed you to know it felt like it was only beating for you.

As the water dripped from his helmet, your hand caught it before it reached his chest as you accepted his gentle touch and allowed your calloused, scarred, and bloodied hand to be pulled to his chest, to lay against the thinner fabric of his undershirt, to feel his chest beat up and down just as you had when he collapsed.

You let him take your disgusting hands because you knew his bore a similar filth.

The lives you had both taken, the tallies along your rifle, the bounties he brought back frozen in carbonite.

“I can’t stay.” He spoke carefully, holding your hand with his gloved one over his heart. “The child, he’s a foundling, I have to…” He shook his head, “Come with me.”

“I haven’t fired my rifle since I came here.” You said as the only way you could get the words, I’m no longer useful to you, out of your mouth without them searing your tongue too badly.

He knew. He understood the second he saw your stare fall back to the mud-like sand coating both of your boots, splashing up with every heavy droplet that rained from the sky.

“I don’t need you to be useful.” He said just as hesitantly, hoping you heard, I just need you, slip through his modulator.

You wanted to pull back, but you couldn’t, you were caught in his pull, no matter how heavy your heart weighed, you couldn’t escape. You could only hold your stare on his visor, follow the drips of water as they raced each other down the immaculate metal.

All of it sat right on the tip of your tongue, everything you wanted him to know, everything you hoped he already did know.

That you were only ever able to sleep aboard the Crest. That for years, you could never fall asleep in the presence of another person because there was no one you trusted. But aboard the Razor Crest, with him piloting to whatever planet, for whatever job, it was the only real sleep you ever got.

That the day he found you in that cantina and you started a fight to escape him, you didn’t do it off first instinct. It was the first time that you almost didn’t flinch. You saw him, and the first thought through your head wasn’t to run like it was with everyone else, it was that you’d give anything to have him squeeze into the booth next to you and just be there.

That he was the only person you knew, and you didn’t even know his name or face.

You didn’t wear the helmet or swear to a creed, but you were just as isolated over the course of your career, just as isolated as he was. It was what snipers did just as Mandalorians did it seemed.

He had been the only person you ever wanted to see again after a job. There were crews you ran with on and off, some for longer than others, some for longer than you should have, but there was never any safety to them. You weren’t a member, you were an asset, you didn’t get the family or the protection, you just got a paycheck and the ability to flee whenever you wanted.

There were other people. People you’d been with, friends you’d laughed with, mercenaries you worked with, but there was no one you trusted. No one you ever knew besides him.

Not because you knew his name or his face. You didn’t. But you knew him.

You knew he hated sand. You knew that he loved you.

“Come with me.” He repeated, holding onto you with a tighter grip.

He had spent two years without you. He wasn’t doing that again, not if he didn’t have to. He was done punishing himself for something so long gone. He was done keeping himself from you out of some sense of protecting you.

He squeezed tighter.

He wasn’t leaving you again.

You gave a small nod of your head. You weren’t leaving him again either.

If the storm raged on, you didn’t notice. If it was another crack of lightning that illuminated his helmet, you didn’t connect it. If the rain still streamed down your face, you just ignored it.

The waves crashed. You didn’t notice

.-> my ko-fi

-> tags

@im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @bva14 @steve-thotgers @bonkybaaarnes @persephonehemingway @scintilla-morningstar r @sarcasm-n-insomnia @jellyfishpoptart @tedpicklez @morgannope @vaultingphilosophy @fan-g0rl @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @ginger-swag-rapunzel  @afootnoteinyourhappiness @sinon36

[haich-slash-cee]

Being Human (UK)

This is a show that I recommend to people... but I add a lot of caveats.

The recommendation: A werewolf, vampire and ghost are flatmates. This show is hilarious! So much macabre and slice of life humor! And horror and whump!? Also, the show was run by a side-channel of BBC (BBC3) and I guess they had no production money, so the actors mostly look human and they just refer to each other as being a 500-year old vampire or ghost or whatever. Which makes it even better. The werewolf is Jewish, recites a Jewish prayer at least once, and hangs out watching “The Real Hustle” with the vampire. They work in a hospital as janitors. The ghost has a habit of making everyone tea to soothe herself and the flat is cluttered with tea mugs everywhere all the time. Also, people do get fang-y or wolf-y or do weird poltergeist stuff. And gore happens.

Longish post, more below the cut.

PS, this is the 2008-2013 UK version of Being Human, which I hear had a cult following. There’s certainly stuff on Tumblr. I found the BBC version through the US remake of Being Human, but I’m much more charmed by the BBC version. (The US version has the vampire and werewolf as hospital doctors? Why?) Also I watched the show maybe 4, 5 years ago, so impressions are from that.

And the caveats: There’s a lot of sexism which was hard to watch. It’s engrained in the premise and plot and occasional gross sexist jokes. And there’s other problematic stuff in the writing. It’s like having glass shards show up the meal you are enjoying, and it’s why I’m not sure I’ll rewatch the series (or not in it’s entirety, anyway). There’s also a limited spinoff web series called Becoming Human which also had some problems for me, including some gross sexism and fatphobia. (John Boyega from Star Wars does show up as a character in that series, for anyone interested.)

Back to Being Human and overall series recommendations. So the 1st season was good. I kind of forgot what happened in the 2nd and 3rd season (I think they got depressing and slow?). The 4th season picked up again, much to my surprise, and I remember liking the 4th and 5th season a lot. Even though [spoilers] there was a complete cast change by this time. But it worked, somehow. The show did go from at least having one woman of color to having an all-white cast at the end, which was not great. And there’s other racism too.

For people who like their happily-ever-after: uhhh so I vaguely recall that a lot of characters don’t really get a happy ending. Granted, half of them are walking around dead already, so...? Overall, the ending of the 5th season is... Is that a happy ever after? Happy for now? The Bonus on the DVD kind of makes it a happy-for-now with a continued possibility? It’s an acceptable HFN?

.....And now, the notes for all the hurt/comfort people and whumpers:

Holy crap people, there is SO much h/c and whump!?

OK first -- George the werewolf. George’s transformation sequence, SUPER whumpy.

Also, George ends up naked often, come to think. And he screams a lot during the show, for various reasons. The actor himself, in the bonus DVD interviews I think, cheerfully says something like, “People really like the way George screams, I do too.” (This is like when David Tennant cheerfully talked about how he enjoys playing a character who is unconscious and sick and gets fussed over by people.) And George is a very sympathetic, nerdy character who is easy to feel for. Who occasionally turns into a SNARLY SCARY WEREWOLF AGAINST HIS WILL. As mentioned, I think I liked season 1 George more than seasons 2 or 3.

Emotional hurt/comfort -- so Annie the Ghost provides a lot of the emotional centering, as I recall. Throughout all 5 seasons, all the characters lean on each other for support and there’s a lot of lovely warm fuzzies from that. Also, one of the later werewolf characters, Tom, is generally a sweet kid. I’m glad they didn’t do too much of the transformation horror with him, honestly. George/Russel Tovey could carry that, but I thought Tom’s strong point was looking puppy-eyed and folorn-eyebrow’d and trying to navigate the world with a mix of naivety and half-feral-ness.

Above: exhausted naps on the couch.

Below: Classic Being Human humor. A review of house rules and vampire stabbing etiquette, between Annie and Tom --

[Spoilers from here on] Okay, so as mentioned, the cast changed over between season 4-5. And to my surprise, I think I loved the new trio as much as, or more than, the original trio. I liked how loud Alex the ghost was. And I liked both Annie and Alex.

Also, I did not expect this either, but I got so interested in Hal! Yo! First of all, Hal is a centuries-old Vampire and speaks/looks like, idk, a Regency Character. And then 19-yr old Tom puts Hal to work at a fast food shop and bosses him around, and Hal’s indignation is hilarious. So already, this is excellent.

And somehow, Hal is very, very whumpy? So: the character of a “vampire who is trying to be good and suffers” is not new, and I’ve encountered versions where I haven’t been interested. (I was lukewarm about Mitchell, the original vampire in the show.) But for whatever reason, I really dug Hal. Maybe, for me, Hal was just the right mix of very serious and earnest but also ridiculous and tragic all at once. (I read some interviews with the actor Damien Molony, who mentioned how he’d done a lot of history and addiction research in to prep for the role. The new trio actors also had a lot of chemistry and fun on sets, it sounds like. So I might be picking up all that.)

Also, Hal is actually two characters -- the ridiculous indignant serious Good Hal who is desperately trying to keep the horrible, rude, murderous, Bad Hal from taking over. But, as one of the show producers, a woman, cheerfully commented in the DVD extras: “And then Bad Hal shows up, which is great, everyone likes a bit of Bad Hal”. 

Honestly, why do we even pretend to hide our fascination with the macabre and the whump, when showrunners and actors are cheerfully not hiding it all.

Here’s clips of Good Hal in Season 4:

Oh, I forgot about this part until I rewatched the last clip -- but at the end of season 4, Hal asks his flatmates to forcibly bind him to a chair, because he’s trying to fight off Bad Hal. Based on my perusing of the whump community, pretty sure that scenario is of interest to someone.

Also notable is the episode “No Care, All Responsibility” (Series 5 ep 3). In one scene in particular, where Natasha has offered Hal a way to control his bloodlust and there’s this mix of vulnerability and power with Hal asking Natasha to put a stake against his heart, I remember thinking -- “I bet a woman wrote this ep and I bet she knew exactly what she wanted”. And I was right, that woman is Sarah Dollard, a queer woman who has also written a lot of other things (including Doctor Who). She also wrote Being Human goofy web extra eps with Alex, Hal and Tom called “Alex’s Unfinished Business” and they are so good ! (Interview). 

Also... the opening 3-minute backstory in “No Care...” made me cry. You get a glimpse of the show’s baddie showing real care and emotion in rescuing this little kid (an important character). When this kind of scene is done well, it just gets me. every. time.

Anyway here’s an appearance of Bad Hal (much later), being completely awful, murdering people and turning them into vampires and singing Broadway tunes during this.

Side note on Vampire narratives. Although Hal’s narrative arc of season 5 was interesting, and I’m aware this is show is urban fantasy, I still have qualms of the show enforcing IRL stigmas/ideas that addition is incurable and addicts are doomed. They’re not. (General overview on NIH page.) Addiction research is a growing field. From listening to NPR and reading articles, my impression is that addiction treatment will change quickly in the next few years. Related to the vampire blood addiction trope, Terry Pratchett covers vampires finding ways to be “dry” (one vampire, Maladict, swaps out blood addiction for coffee addiction) and you can find fanfics about the topic as well. (General link to Being Human Ao3 fanfics, why not.)

Side note on Hal’s dual characters -- recently, I did consider, “Is there overlap with Hal and portrayals of Dissociative Identity Disorder (MPD) folks?” IRL DID people have complained about movies with gross portrayals of people with DID. To me, Being Human’s Hal feels removed from that and closer to a fantasy.... but, I’m also not multi, so.

* Update: after having learned more about plural history, I’m even less sure now. (Note: my opinions are of someone who isn’t plural, as far as I know, so note that.) There’s a number of early problematic movies and books that hugely affected the popular narratives of plural people in the west, and still affect how therapists and non-plural people treat plural people even today. These include the movie “The Three Faces of Eve”, which has the narrative of “Good Eve, Bad Even, and later smushed together become ‘Fixed Eve’ or whatever”. There’s practically a whole lecture series on how the books/movies were made with sensationalism and formulas in mind and pretty gross things. Chris Costner Sizemore, the IRL Eve, had to fight the movie studios in court because the studios claimed they owned her life story. (There’s practically a whole lecture series on early plural history in the west, I might link more information later). Like, even today, multi people feel pressured to hide their plurality because they are afraid singlets or other people are gonna say “oh so which one of you is the ax murderer”, or that they are going to be fired from work. So.  

This post turned into a “Being Human seasons 4 + 5 Appreciation Post”. I guess Season 1 and 4, 5 were my favorite. I watched the show through library DVDs, but I think there’s eps of the show on YouTube. The DVD extras are probably on this YouTube playlist?

(Also, there is a pilot episode, with different actors except George/Russel Tovey. I don’t think one needs to watch the pilot to watch the main series; I kind of recall that the main series recycled some of the pilot. There is a funny scene in the pilot where George and Mitchell meet Annie.)

Being Human: a macabre, hilarious, horror-filled, flawed, sometimes dragging, emotional, whumpy, oddball show that I still think about sometimes.

[joie-university-rp]

Dear NATHAN WESTON,

It is with great pleasure we invite you admission to Joie University! Welcome to the Thunderclap family!

–

Congratulations, DANI! Please be sure to check the New Members’ Checklist and send in your character’s account within 24 hours from now. We cannot wait to see all that you will bring to this roleplay! We love you already!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias; pronouns: It’s me Dani. I was here a while ago and now I am BACK (muhahahahaha) Pronouns: She/her

Age, Timezone: 24/EST

Activity, short explanation: Uh I mean I work full time and I’m in school but also christmas time and procrastination? I’ll probably be on everyday

Ships: Nathan/chemistry

Anti-Ships: Nathan/no chemistry

Triggers: Nothing sticks out at the moment

Preferred photo for Character’s ID (please give a link):

Link here

Anything else: uhhhh no hi, I missed you guys

IC INFORMATION:

Full Name Nathan Allen Weston

FC: Jack Falahee

Age/Year at University: Graduate Student, first year of student.

Birth date (MONTH DAY, YEAR): September 24th, 1995

Hometown (please be sure to check the hometowns listed for characters your muse is related to!): South Haven, Michigan

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male, He/Him

Sexuality: Bisexual

Major(s): Law

Minor(s) [optional]: Psychology

Housing request (remember, only the president of a Greek Organization is required to live at a Greek House to be in it!): Double apt. 242 or a single

Extracurriculars (Click here for the list. Be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, secretary, etc.] If something isn’t listed, please put it here and we will add it to the masterlist!): Cross Country.

Greek Life Affiliation [optional] (Please be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, pledge educator, etc.] or if your character is not yet a member, but plans to rush): Nah.

CHARACTER PROFILE:

[At least] 3 Headcanons for your character:

The Weston’s father was a dick. He was always a little disconnected from the family, but after his mother passed away his father turned to alcohol, and somehow the home situation got worse. Nate needed control and he lost more of it than he knew he had. But no one could know, his father had engrained the idea that they had the perfect family. If anyone found out about the home problems, Mr. Weston threated to send him and his siblings to the state, and Nate didn’t want that.

Nate is the bottle it up and let it explode type, being the older sibling meant that he had to take the brunt of his father’s aggression, physical or verbal. He hid it well. It was like he could just turn it off, and keep going.

Nate runs to hide his emotions. Whether that be metaphorically or literally. When he’s stressed? He runs. When he’s scared? He leaves. Relationships, situations. He’s never been able to confront his own issues because that means uncorking all of his problems.  

STUDENT CENSUS SURVEY:

(Please answer the following questions IN CHARACTER. Responses can be as long or short as you see fit!)

What made you want to attend Joie University?

A change of scenery, and the law program, to be entirely honest. This is the only school I’ve seen with a clear overlap in criminal psychology and law psych.

What are at least 3 positive or neutral and at least 3 negative traits that you believe you possess?

I’d like to think I’m strong, level headed, and smart. Negative? I’ve been told I’m stubborn, I know I have…issues communicating some things, emotions and what not. And I suppose I’d say I avoid some of my bigger problems too.

Which of your traits do you value most?

My intelligence and strength. Perseverance is what’s gotten me here today.

How can that trait benefit the University (or its student body) as a whole?

I plan on being a damn great lawyer when I’m done here. It’d look great for the school.

What do you hope to gain from your experience at JU?

Friends and colleagues would be cool. I’m excited to work with the cross country team, get my run times up. New experiences too. I’m open to a lot.

What is a quote or song lyric that describes you?

“I tell myself one little lie and the pain don’t phase me”

[loverdrew]

The College Boy | Noah Centineo Imagine

It’s finally here.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Standing wide mouthed at the front of the field, I eyed Noah. I was in full shock and disbelief. I crossed my arms over my body, as we stood awkwardly. Noah’s hand came up to scratch the back of his neck as he usually does. It was a mesmerizing little quirk he did, but he couldn’t be doing this now. He blatantly kissed me, his own action, by his own doing. He can’t just back down now.

“W-What...why Noah? Why haven’t you told me this before? Why wait 4 fucking years, while being with someone else? I-It just doesn’t make sense.”

“So you don’t believe me? After everything I just told you and how I kissed you?” His eyebrows scrunched together, his voice raising a few octaves in tone.

“No I don’t. I’m sorry Noah...”

“What can I do to prove it to you?”

I stood there, dumbfounded. I honestly didn’t know what Noah could do to prove he meant what he said and what he did. As my silence kept going, more and more people were starting to show up for the game. Noah huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Please Y/N, help me figure this out.”

“Well I don’t know! This has never happened to me before, no guy has ever even looked at me for more than 3 seconds let alone confesses his feelings that he’s had for me for years!”

“W-W-Whoa whoa hey, calm down I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m getting all worked up.” He grabbed my hand, softly rubbing over my knuckles and bringing his face close enough to mine that I could see the stadium lights illuminating his hazel eyes. I never realized how beautiful they really were. The swirls of color, how they glisten, so full of emotion.

“I’ll prove it starting tomorrow. I’ll see you at the coffee shop in the morning beautiful.” and with that, he winked and slyly made his way to the side of the field getting ready to start the play. I slowly walked up to the gate in a daze, wondering and wandering. What feeling was I experiencing? My hands were shaking, my rings were ringing, everything around me seemed to be in slow motion and the only person in my view was Noah. It was almost like a permanent vignette was surrounding him. 

“Wow wow wow, Y/N at a school event? I’m surprised.” I heard the too-high-too-peppy voice come from the other side of me from where I was looking. I rolled my eyes before cranking my neck to see the last person I’d want to see. 

“Looking for something? Or should I say someone?” Victoria sneered at me.

“Not at all Victoria. Shouldn’t you be practicing your leg kicks or whatever you call them?” As shy as I am to others, Victoria was never someone I was scared of. If I ever showed her any sort of weakness, she would roll over me with no problem, and one thing I was always taught, especially before leaving for college a few hours away from home, was to never let anyone take advantage of me. And I will see that through.

“Shouldn’t you be cooped up studying for a test you have tomorrow?”

“I don’t need to study to get an A, or pay anyone to do it for me.”

“Hey don’t pull that one on me that was a one time thing in senior year!” She got close to my face still on the other side of the gate. Of course I didn’t back down though, I continued staring straight through her. As she was about to make another remark about me the game was starting. “I’ll make you remember what it feels like to live in my school.”

“I’m so scared.” And I once again rolled my eyes before walking off the field, but not without turning back to see Noah, already staring at me with a slight smile on his face. I smiled back and continued to walk back toward my apartment. I’ll definitely be seeing Noah in the morning. 

6:30 am.

Freezing cold, bundled in a scarf up to my mouth and beanie covering my ears, I walked into the school’s coffee shop. I instantly pulled my scarf down sighing with relief. My eyes scanned the shop for that familiar boy with brown moppy hair, and once I found him, engrained in a book, I began slowly walking up to him. Upon getting closer to his table, I saw not only one, but two cups of coffee on the table with a nice surprise of a coffee cake also present. His head rose from his book, smiling brightly, offering the seat across from him to me.

“So you really did decide to meet me here.”

“I just wanted to see if the Noah would stick to his word.” I snagged my coffee and took a small sip of the still piping hot liquid, and pulled the coffee cake toward my side to take a piece.

“Girl c’mon, I always keep my word.” I giggled at his playfulness.

“So is this it then? Buying me my regular before my 8 am?”

“Uh...” he seemed nervous. His hand reached into his backpack side pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, folded into a weird octagon shape. With a hand slightly shaking, he reached over and handed me the note. “I wrote you something. I thought I’d write you little notes everyday since you’ve always liked those cheesy romcoms that do that. I just assumed what you saw in those movies, was what you wanted in real life.”

I took the note and held it in my hand tightly. I was almost scared to read what was bound to be inside. I nodded my head at him, thanking him for the note and put it aside in my book bag.

“You’re not going to read it right now?”

“N-no...it’s okay, I’ll read it on my own time.”

“You’ll like what you read.” He stood up towering over me, throwing on his jean jacket and hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. “C’mon, your class is all the way across campus and it’s 7 am let’s get a move on it.” I shook my head slightly laughing, getting ready to brace the cold once again.

I finally had time in between classes to read the note Noah slipped me. I was sitting on a bench under a tree mixed with orange and yellow leaves next to the building I had class in, and I inhaled finally opening the piece of paper.

Dear Y/N,

You say you’ve never experienced this kind of thing, that what’s happening between us doesn’t ‘work out’ for you. Well, now it’s my mission to make sure it does. After your last class, there will be a package by your door. It’s a little something that is as ‘sweet’ as you. Enjoy it, you deserve it beautiful. 

Yours, Noah.

The corners of my lips curled in a small smile without even thinking about it. Instantly the cold wasn’t an issue, as my heart warmed my body making my cheeks flush. I continued to swoon over the little words he wrote, but how they still meant so much. At this moment I only wanted to skip this hour lecture and rush to my apartment to see what was awaiting me, and only hoping no one would steal it.

Finally after a quick 15 minute walk back to my apartment, I scurried to my front door seeing a light brown box propped in front of it. With a little bow on top and of course, another note handwritten by the man himself.

I squealed quietly, and practically bombed down my door setting the package on my dining table. 

Dear Y/N,

I know you needed this sweet treat during this stressful time, what with all of this between us and your schoolwork, you need to just relax and unwind without feeling any sort of guilt. Gorge down on these delicious donuts from your favorite dessert shop. I know it’s 35 minutes from campus, but I knew it’d make you smile. 

Yours, Noah.

My heart skipped a beat upon opening the box to 6 huge white glazed donuts. I instantly picked one up and devoured it in seconds, feeling the sugar rush go through my veins. But I also couldn’t help but think about the drive Noah would’ve had to have made to get these. The donut shop is all the way across town, and the line is always out the door so just getting the donuts would’ve had to take another 20 minutes. As I licked my fingers clean of the melted glaze, my phone started to ring in my back pocket. 

“You like it?” That cheeky boy’s voice rang through.

“I really appreciate it Noah. You didn’t have to though, that donut shop is across town! I’m not worth that drive.”

“When it comes to me I’d drive hours for you. Just to see that damn smile of yours that is so rare.” My only response was a smile, bigger than I probably ever have. “And I bet you are right now, so it’s worth the extra gas. Hey listen, let’s go study at the library, I know it’s your go to place and we’ve got that paper to write for English by Friday. I’ll be at your door in 2 secs.” And with that, he hung up, and I heard a knock at my door.

I opened it wide, looking at a perky Noah. 

“You ready nerd?”

We began our walk to the library, laughing at some things we both said and sharing little stories here and there to pass the time and fill the awkward space. It was nice, because we weren’t focusing on the cold or how the walk seemed longer than we thought. 

We eventually found a table on the third floor where I usually study, it’s two seats near the big glass windows overlooking all of campus and the beautiful colors of the fall trees surrounding us. It helped me think, and appreciate all that was around me. It gave me hope that even in the mindst of all the stress, there was some beauty to look forward too in this world. We settled in our seats and brought out our laptops to start typing this 8 page paper. 

Not even 10 minutes into writing, I saw Noah making something from across the table, but I could only see his arms moving, not what he was actually making. I squinted, but then shook my head confused, going back to typing. I was too engrossed in my writing to finally hear Noah stop shifting around, and then I felt something hit my forehead. I gasped, looking straight at Noah with wide eyes as he laughed. People started to turn their heads, so I tried to hold in my own laugh as best I could, throwing the paper football back at him.

“What’s your problem! We’re suppose to be writing our paper! How far did you even get?”

“Two words.”

“Oh yeah? And what are they?”

“My name.” He said, aiming the paper football at me once again, shooting it by missing me by a few centimeters. My laugh continued, shielding my mouth with my sweater covered hand.

“Don’t cover up that smile. I told you, everything I do is worth it if I get to see that. It’s rare, and it makes me feel good knowing I’m the one that makes you shine like that.” I smiled to myself, finally moving my hand away to push a strand of hair behind my ear.

“C’mon Noah, don’t get all sappy with me now. We have 7 more pages to write.”

After a night of studying, we made it back safely to our apartments. Noah and I stood outside my door, staring at each other, both of us clearly not wanting this day to end. He grabbed my hand swiftly and pulled me into him so tight I could smell the abercrombie and fitch cologne he was wearing, and gave me a big hug, kissing the top of my head lightly. 

“I know this isn’t your kind of thing, so I’ll take everything slow. Just so you’re comfortable. But I need you to know that I want to pursue you, Y/N. I want everything that comes with you. Your weird quirks, your outrageous study hours, your unhealthy obsession with donuts.” We both laughed at that last one for how insanely accurate it was. “You’re different, and different is beautiful, especially on you.” I just continued to stare at him in awe. No words could compare to his. Somehow he was always so good with words and could come up with the best things to say without even thinking about it. I didn’t know whether to believe it was because he had done this time and time again with Victoria, or if it was because he actually felt this way about me. I quickly shake the thoughts from my brain as I realize I’m zoning, and I looked down at my shoes.

“And with that, I will say goodnight Noah.”

It felt unfinished to leave him, with nothing, so instead, I pulled up my sleeve to reveal my red scrunchie, one that I used everyday to put my hair up. I never part with it because it was something my family gave to me before I left for college, so it holds deep value to me. I knew that if I gave this to Noah, I would be obligated to see him again tomorrow, instead of wondering if I would see him ever again after this. I still couldn’t fully trust in his feelings, but I could trust in him being a decent human being to give it back.

“But here’s a little something to ensure that we will see each other again tomorrow.” 

He smiled down at his wrist where the red scrunchie now rested. 

“Goodnight, I will definitely see you tomorrow.”

I’m so sorry this took forever, and that this wasn’t a great chapter but it’s a lee-way for what’s to come ahead! Please let me know your feedback and if you’ve like to read what I have in store! Thank you!

[apoet333]

from @doctor_jess_md - When I was younger, I looked to everyone but myself for answers. I've always been smart, but I remember second guessing myself after exams if someone put a different answer than me. I questioned nearly every emotion & ignored my gut instinct bc others told me I was wrong. I look back on those times now & realize that I did this bc I didn't trust myself or value my own opinion. I was raised very religious & there were punishments for having beliefs that weren't shaped by your elders or in religious philosophies. I bet I'm not the only one who thought adults were basically gods; that they had it all figured out. I was brainwashed to pack my own wants away as they were secondary, but the adults, they knew what was best for me, right? Why did it never feel right then? . ✨ . I even carried this belief, that was engrained so subtly, into my adulthood. I thought higher institutions, teachers & companies knew better than me too. They had already "Made it." Most of humans have this sickness-it is why we think vaccine manufacturers know our bodies better than we do. I firmly believed following the rules, being a good USA born country girl, & working hard would lead me to my dreams. You know what it did? I woke up & realized I was building other people's dreams. I discovered that I cared too much what others thought & that there are no rules when it comes to what feels right for you. Your happiness is an inside job. No one else can pretend to understand your journey. Sometimes your path will make others extremely uncomfortable. . ✨ . Just the other day I was discussing our organic supplement company with my dad. I love my father dearly but he is still stuck in the 3D paradigm & is quite fear based. His knee jerk response was, "better be saving for taxes!" How can we expect those who have not liberated themselves in their life to understand our own liberation? (Work in progress😂). . ✨ . I want to give y'all permission to live your life. You are not here to please your elders. You are not here to make others comfortable. We often worry about how we appear. Don't. Worry about how you appear to yourself. Those who don't walk in your 👠, won't https://www.instagram.com/p/BtbLFwgAGvo/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1s52hodwdkn51

[whizsolutions]

Easy and Simple steps to the eCommerce website development process

According to the Nasdaq, by 2040, ecommerce will account for 95 percent of all purchases. Fortunately, we’ve worked out a 13-step procedure that will guide you through the process of creating a successful ecommerce site in no time.

Understanding the market you’re about to enter isn’t enough when it comes to creating an internet store. You should also have a good understanding of branding, site design, and content strategy. This may appear to be a significant lot of labour. We’ve broken it down into 13 steps to assist you streamline your ecommerce development process and achieve your company objectives.

Understand what products you are going to sell

Finding out what you’re going to sell is the first stage in which ecommerce website development company can help you. What piques your interest? Creating an internet store based on your interests leads to a business you’ll enjoy running. Finding your niche doesn’t have to go any further than what you already know, whether you’re into boutique guitar effects pedals, fishing lures, or high-end timepieces. However, many businesses have been started for a variety of reasons. Maybe you notice a gap in a market and want to fill it by offering potential clients goods solutions to their difficulties.

Know about your business model

There are several different types of ecommerce business models, but the two most common are business to business (B2B) and business to consumer (B2C) (B2C). It’s critical to understand the distinctions and where your ecommerce business fits in. A good ecommerce developers team can help you know these things better.

Consumer to business (B2C)

The majority of the internet stores we contact with are B2C. (B2C). When we click the checkout button on a B2C website, whether it’s Amazon, Zappos, or Target, we’ve completed a transaction. On a B2C website, products or services are sold directly from businesses to the general public, with no third parties involved.

From one company to the next (B2B)

Businesses that sell to other businesses are known as business to business (or B2B). These are businesses that may produce goods, operate as wholesalers, or provide services and products in a specific industry. A wonderful example of a B2B ecommerce firm is ROOM.

Understand your audience

One benefit of beginning an online business in a niche you’re familiar with is that you already know your target audience since you’re a member of it. Even if you already know your clients, putting forth some effort to gain a better understanding of them is valuable to any ecommerce firm.

Every aspect of the ecommerce development process is affected by knowing who your potential clients are. Everything, including the user experience and user interface, site design graphics, content, and more, must be targeted to your potential clients.

Make a strategy

Content-first design is a favourite of ours. Building a website with genuine information rather than filler results in a more accurate portrayal of the final product sooner in the process. Working backwards and adding images, text, and other aspects later in the process might make things more difficult.

A content strategy is required at the start of the development process. This entails figuring out what kind of material you’ll need to tell your brand’s storey and explain what your products do. This could include writing, images, videos, infographics, and other forms of media that you’ll need to provide the greatest possible service to your consumers.

Think of a good name

Avoid cliches and naming your company anything that is too similar to that of your competitors. You must make an impression. A distinctive name will set you apart from other competitors in the same market.

Make it brief.

Shorter business names are more memorable. Is there any ecommerce site or storefront that has more than one or two words? We’ll give you a second… No, we didn’t believe so. Apple, Etsy, and Google are examples of companies with short names that have stronger brand recognition. People desire something that is simple and easy to remember.

Be unique.

No matter how good a company’s products or services are, a boring, uninspired name might detract from its image.

Purchase a domain name

Okay, you’ve decided on a business name and discovered a suitable URL. Go ahead and register the domain name before you start developing the store. On the internet, things move rapidly, and your ideal URL might be taken at a later point of your ecommerce website development. Now is the time to buy your domain name so you won’t have to worry about it afterwards. You can rely on us.

Determine your branding

Coca-Cola, Starbucks, and Apple have been engrained in our common consciousness. These businesses have a stronger connection with their customers than organisations with less established identities, thanks to distinctive logos, visual identities, and ways of speaking. Branding offers firms emotional resonance, turning them from faceless entities into ones with whom we have strong feelings. It’s what makes customers loyal to a brand.

A unique logo, colour palette, and distinct voice are also required for an ecommerce website. All of these diverse web design aspects come together to create a user experience that is guided by the brand’s personality.

Find the right ecommerce platform

When it comes to ecommerce systems, you have a lot of alternatives. You may use Magento, Shopify, or a plugin like WooCommerce with WordPress to manage your ecommerce website. And there are advantages and downsides to the many ecommerce products available. The ecommerce platform you choose to power your own website should include these crucial features:

Responsive design: The ecommerce platform should provide a consistent experience whether visited on a PC, mobile app, or other mobile devices.

Product management: Every step in the process of adding, editing, and tracking inventory should be straightforward. You should be able to offer different variants of a product as well as promotional or sale prices when appropriate.

CMS stands for content management system.

A CMS is required for updating and altering dynamic material such as blogs and news, as well as other recurring content blocks in a design. Having a content management system (CMS) can help you keep your website updated with new content that supports the products you sell.

Shopping cart: Ability to personalise and style a shopping cart so that it blends in with the overall shopping experience. Checkout page: You shouldn’t be trapped with a checkout page that you can’t change or edit, just like the shopping cart.

Payment processing: Have the ability to accept credit card payments as well as electronic payments such as Apple Pay, PayPal, Stripe, Google Pay, and other popular payment gateways.

Knowing your audience is linked to content strategy. What are their most frequently asked questions concerning the things you provide, and what information would be helpful to them? You should answer any simple queries they might have and supply facts that your competitors don’t. For an ecommerce web development site, a content strategy outlines what you’ll need and how best to present it in a design.

Wrap up

The information architecture of your website is shaped by your content strategy. Consider your content to be cargo on a train, and your information architecture to be the tracks that transport it. You must understand what your customers require and how best to deliver the content to them. You must hire ecommerce website developer like Whiz and get the right quotes.

[washington-elijah]

About to post this to facebook for my f a m i l y)

(Some stuff here may sound contradictory, but as my thoughts are constantly scrambled this will have to do for now.)

2020 is a new year and decade. I've lived now, for a little over 19 years, shutting my emotions and thought processes out from other people because no one ever seemed to understand me, or even take me seriously. (Wow cliché statement, I know.). I was always either overdramatic, melodramatic. My feelings weren't good enough because it always seemed to fall under the “you're generation this” or “you Millenials that” So here I will go and start right off the bat and say everything I've been trying to get out for a few years now and haven't been able to. I understand the backlash I may get, but I feel it may simply prove my point to myself even more and I don't even know what that point is.

There are only a few people that do not make me feel like a failure of a person for being unable to simply “get over it”. It, being my depression and my anxiety. If I could simply throw it all to the wind, I would believe me. What people do not see is how far I actually have progressed. I would never have even posted something like this before, let alone thought of it. I don't audibly depreciate myself as much as I used to, though some people make me feel like I should? Not that I want to. I love loving myself to an extent for once lol. So how about I simply start off and let you know EXACTLY how I felt for a good portion of my life.

(Let's keep it to what I can remember, 10 to about 17-18 years old)

I hated myself. Nothing was ever good enough, not one thing. Too friendly, too open, not open enough, not smart enough. Funny thing though, I was great in school UNTIL people started getting on my case to keep my grades PERFECT. That and my onset of anxiety and depression caused by bullying from peers and mentors alike. Trauma is not always some horrific thing that happened in life, it can be a built-up response that happens over time. Especially for a kid who couldn't talk to people. Especially for a kid who barely had any friends, and was ignored outside of school. That really never stopped. But oh well, Wonder why I spend so much time on my phone?

“Oh just go talk to people and make friends!” Guess what? I do, they just don't stay in contact, even when I initiate. But I'm over that, I don't need 500+ friends to make me happy. I still find talking to people hard now, and I don't know why. I either overshare, or get too friendly, or both. I'm overzealous or under enthusiastic. It really wasn't until a few years ago (maybe 2015-16) that I stopped giving a shit. Like really, nothing I ever did would be good enough for anyone other than myself, so why not just go ahead and only focus on how I felt for once. It's okay to be selfish once in a while. Especially when all you ever worried about, and tend to still worry about, is how it would make everyone else feel.

At this moment in time, there's still the thought in my head that everyone is holding me to the standard of needing to be absolutely 100% perfect. I should be making my own appointments and talking to my own officials and all that jazz. How so when I don't know how? When no one ever taught me or gave me a chance to try it myself or even just walked me through it? Most of the time I'm shooting in the dark for this sort of thing ^_^”

Now, the anxiety is something I cannot get over. Especially when much of it has been YEARS in the making and caused in some form by those telling me to just get over it. Not to mention, after high-school I kinda was just thrust into the college life. I'd had plans on how I was gonna do all of that, and now I'm trying to figure something out to actually fit college into this. But that's my fault, isn't it? Should have been more open in the first place, something I had always gotten backlash for doing in the first place. I wanted to take a year off, get my mental bullshit in check. Not get rid of it, by this point I can't, but at least get a better grasp of it. Just to handle it a bit better, and THEN thrust myself into more school. I'm grateful for the help and support I have, but sometimes I just feel rushed in nearly everything.

Here's another fun one, Why do I procrastinate? This one I have a solid answer for. Because I'm a perfectionist who's stuff is never good enough and I don't like cleaning when people are around. Who does something immediately if I don't have it planned out in my head A-Z right that very moment? (Bad process, but it's been ingrained). I don't clean when people are around because there was also that engrained bit. It was never good enough, I'd have to redo it, I wasn't doing it right, and so on. (Despite what may be said, I actually have gotten better with that too.)

Math just sucks in general, so imma leave that there.

Now here's a big one. My status on being transgender. There's a lot of stuff people don't seem to understand about that either. My brain itself sends signals to stuff that isn't there. I'm extraordinarily uncomfortable in a female body. You see, us big bad transgenders have a package deal, we get to figure out we weren't put in the right body, but we have to deal with this thing called dysphoria. It's a painful awareness that you aren't built right yet. A hyper-awareness of parts. It isn't fun at all.

And yes, I will be a very feminine looking boy until I get this lil thing called hormones.

No, my current hormone level has nothing to do with being trans.

No, me giving letters as coming out to those I live with was not melodramatic. I say this because there are so many bad stories and visual evidence of people disowning their kids for this. People who never gave ANY indication that they would do something like that. Be it just a verbal thing, or even physical. Those who have accepted me, thank you. I appreciate you guys so much you don't even know. To those who have wished me well, thank you. To those who haven't accepted it, oh well. I'm not hanging onto the negativity this year, and that is my choice.

Becoming independent is going to be difficult because I was raised in a way that I felt I had to be totally dependent on others. And I hold no animosity to that, but I can't just drop everything I know and be a perfect adult. If you want me to be successful you need to give me time. I already have a plan, and I don't need to share it. We're all only human and I'm gonna be making the most of my life, in a way that I want to (within reason.)

I love my family and friends, but I also love myself, and if that means having to be a “cliche” or “petty” person online to be able to actually unscramble the words that won't come out of my mouth, then I will. This year, my mental health comes first for me. This year, I come first for me. And as it being something I have never done before, I might slip up, but I'll get back up and keep on going. I'm not softspoken, I'm not okay with being told who I am gonna be or where I'm gonna go based on how I identify or work. I believe firmly that I can be successful this year. But I don't think other people do.

Anyways, happy new year and let's have a good 2020! I love you all a lot, don't think I don't. This will probably be worded better and expanded on in the future, but this is all I have for now.  

[segadores-y-soldados]

Dear segadores-y-soldados, I'm a young adult that is trying to be more socially conscious and respectful of LGBTIQA, and I get most info primarily from the web and similarly conscientious PDHPE teachers. However, I've been stumped on the idea of gender as a concept; if gender isn't determined by gentalia, or performance actions ( e.g. wearing dresses isn't = female), what is it? As a transman, how do you personally define gender? Feel free not to answer if you feel its intrusive in any way.

I forgot that I put that question thing on the queue, haha.

This is a very interesting question.  

The simple answer is that I perceive gender as a gradient spectrum, or even a “grid” - at the ends we have non-visible “segments” that are different for every single person that define the boundaries of a person’s internal beliefs on “masculinity” and “femininity.”  Because it is a spectrum, these boundaries are often ill-defined, even internally, and where a person “places” themselves on a spectrum is up to them, and up to their internal sense of self and identity.

I put it like this because I have often moved my own “internal boundaries,” considering myself nonbinary for several years before I recognized that I fell within my own internal category of “masculine” instead.But even then I worry that is too restrictive.  Maybe gender is less like a linear spectrum and more like a circular one that wraps back to itself.  Maybe it’s even more like a sphere - somehow both large and “all-encompassing” and yet because we are positioned somewhere inside it, we can’t actually see everything about it.

And there’s something to be said about the concept of gender being “fluid” instead of being a line or a solid shape.  That gender “fills to fit a mold,” so to speak - and intersectionality is hugely important.  The crucibles of our experiences that come to shape us are all different - cross-sections between gender, ethnicity, cultural heritages, economic class, physical and mental health, job history, your “relevant skills,” your personal interests, even whatever we might consider some sort of “personality core.”

(OH HEY, I WAS ABLE TO PUT A CUT IN HERE SWEET)

(Read a lot more under the cut!)

Full-disclosure: I come from a background of a combined Materialism (historical materialism) and Performance Theory.  Materialism describes that you are affected by the world around you - no person is born in a social, political, or economic vacuum.  You are born into a position that already has history attached to it - your family, your parents, your living situation, your actual physical location in the world - and from the moment you are…well, I guess, conceived, this history will be engrained in you before you ever have the ability to decide things for yourself.

You are a product of a history you inherited without you ever getting a say in the matter.

It sucks.

I’m not saying it doesn’t.  Life is not fair.  There is literally nothing but sheer luck separating me from someone who may have almost exactly the same circumstances as me, except maybe we differ in eye color.  Or hair color.  Or my parents buy one book and their parents buy a different book.  Your physical world will shape you, and this is why extending better social supports to everyone of all backgrounds and circumstances is so important.  We will never be exactly the same and that is not the point.  The point is that we should all have the same opportunities presented to us regardless of our spectrum of minute (or large) differences that we inherit (physical, mental, emotional, social, political, economic, personal, etc).

In my personal experience - mine and mine alone, I do not speak for any other trans or non-binary individuals - I’ve found that being transgender (or non-binary, back when I considered myself like that) is that you often find yourself at internal odds with the external history and life “product” you are given as you grow up.  When you start getting a mental, emotional, and social grasp on your internal  consciousness and your external appearance, you begin to feel…funny.  You don’t know how, but you’re suddenly 12 or 13 and you don’t fully remember how you got to this point, but wearing dresses makes you feel…uncomfortable.  You don’t really know why.  You look back and try to find a point where this feeling started.  You cannot fully pin it down.  When did your internal, personal story begin to be at odds with the external physicality you’re engaging with?

And it’s not like your realization about being uncomfortable with certain clothes suddenly makes you “less of a girl.”  There are other girls around you who don’t wear dresses.  Dresses make them uncomfortable too!  But when you start asking about other questions, their answers don’t perfectly align with yours.  You’re like 15 or 16.  You’re confused.  If no one particular “femininity” is the same, then what defines it at all?  And “masculinity?”  You are internally drawn to intangible things about masculinity.  It’s not the stuff that people who stereotype transgender individuals think: you don’t sit there and make a laundry list of “the manly things I like” and the “womanly things I dislike.”  You are drawn to…how the boys around you act.  Their “style.”  Their ability to talk a certain way.

Their performances of themselves, or rather, apsects of themselves.

But even then, that’s just one set of cross-sections in the “liquid matrix” of your internal, personal story.  A ciswoman can engage in performance styles that are “traditionally masculine” (by Western standards) and still be…well, a woman.  A ciswoman can present herself in any way she wants to, and she completely has that right.  Remember, the point isn’t to make us all fit into neat boxes, but to engage in ourselves and each other reflexively.  We are liquid, fluid, freeform existences that are given slightly different molded shapes from the histories we inherit, and these shapes can be changed or restructured with our different, lived experiences.

So you start asking yourself why certain points for you are different from the friends you have.  I have literally asked cisgender female friends if they are comfortable with being considered “a woman,” and when their answers - regardless of all their other cross-sections of personal identity - were “yes” without hesistation, I knew, personally, that I needed to ask myself why my answer was different.  Why did it make me uncomfortable?  If I wasn’t “okay” with being “a woman,” then what was I okay with?

…Again, full disclosure, one of the most difficult, excruciating questions I had to ask myself was if I was a misogynist.  It physically pained me to think that I might hate women, girls, and femininity on an irrational level, but it was a discussion I had to have with myself.  But I am glad I did it, because it forced me to understand that I DO like certain aspects of “feminine performances” (aka things Western culture considers “feminine”).  I loved, and still love, many things that are considered “feminine” - high heels, jewelry, flowers, pop music, etc.  I loved - and still love - many of the women who have been strong, inspiring presences in my life.  My mother, grandmothers, sister, and several friends in particular will be lifelong role models to me.  And whether I like it or not, my actual physical existence will inevitably be tied to how women and girls are treated in my country.  Even though I will eventually need a separate, specialized care, my rights to healthcare are permanently tied to how women, girls, and feminine individuals (including transwomen and non-binary feminine individuals) are treated in this country.  And that goes for all of us - men, boys, and masculine individuals too.

What I came to realize is that I was deeply and personally uncomfortable with apsects of myself that (I thought) I had no control over - cross-sections of my existence that were integrated into me long before I even had the ability to “cogito ergo sum.”  I was so deeply uncomfortable with these aspects that I frequently mentally detached my internal, personal self from the external physical self.  I often felt like I was a brain stuck in a body I did not choose to have.  I was on reddit some random day several years ago when I came across a comment expressing the above situation - “I feel frequently detached from my body.  I don’t like it.  I feel isolated inside myself.”

And the response someone else gave back was, “You may want to check if you have gender or body dysphoria.”

I literally cannot describe the intensity of relief I felt to finally have a term to describe this feeling.

Gender dysphoria.

What a relief to learn it has a name.

Gender dysphoria sucks.

…And that’s putting it mildly.

Life is not fair. There is literally nothing but incredibly minute, incredibly small differences that separate me from my cisgender sister - theories range from hormones in the womb, to exposure in the first few years of life, to “brain chemistry,” or whatever.  I don’t know the answer.  I don’t have a theory I favor over others, because many of them do not include the experiences of my non-binary “siblings.”  I gave up trying to find a “scientific answer” for my situation because so many of them wanted my fluid, liquid, freeform “self” to fit in a box that I didn’t actually care about.  I don’t really need or crave a “scientific answer.”  As far as I can tell, the most “common solutions” for transmen and transmasculine individuals have already been found and, frankly, been in place for hundreds of years (even if they weren’t all recorded).  They are simple things - engaging in “masculine performances,” getting specialized healthcare (in the form of surgeries and hormones), changing your name and pronouns to the ones that suit your liquid, fluid self best.

Incredibly minute, incredibly small differences

That can finally - finally - help me bridge my internal, personal story with the external physicality and the product of a history I inherited.

My shape will never be “perfect.”

But no one’s is.

We are all products of histories we inherited without ever getting a say in the matter.

But that does not mean we are solely defined by them.

Nor that we cannot reshape them ourselves.

Gender is a social construct you inherited without you ever getting a say in the matter.  It intersects and makes cross-sections with other aspects of identity and history that you, unfortunately, did not get a say in choosing.  But because it is merely a construct, you can, with time and effort, push back against it.  The liquid and fluid aspects of who you are - your personal identity - do not have to be defined by it.  The mold of your shape can be hammered out however you want it to be, however you feel it should be.  The crux of the issue is that we also live in a material, physical, real world that will push back, and this material, physical, real world has certain expectations about who it thinks you are and who it believes you should be.  It will try to construct you.  You and I and everyone are shapes being put under constant pressure by inherited histories, cross-sections of social, political, and economic spheres, and constantly changing situations.  We make progress not to make everyone the same, but to understand, learn about, celebrate, and reshape our differences.I choose to define myself as a transman because I believe that the experiences and situations of other transmen mirror mine.  There are differences between us, certainly, and I will never fully understand another transman’s situation or his life or his experiences, but many of our internal, personal stories and our cross-sections of identity align.  I have chosen, like many transmen, to engage in “masculine performances” that make me feel more comfortable with the story I am telling about myself, to myself.

In the end, the only story that matters is the one you tell yourself.

Apologies for the long post.  I hope this helped answer some of your questions.  And thank you for asking all this stuff!  I can really only speak to my own personal experiences and what educational frameworks I can utilize.

[undyinghappinessblog]

Working through difficult emotions.

Oh hello. Its been a minute since I have written here. It seems like any time that I come on here, it kind of turns into a catch-up session. So. If that's what happens here today, then cool. Lets get caught up. 

So. Its been an...interesting couple of months. Hahaha I mean. Fuck. So pilot season has come and gone. I had a few auditions for very small, one-liner roles.  Which first of all,  I AM VERY GRATEFUL FOR. I am happy that I was able to see some casting directors that I haven't seen yet and I was happy to have at least one audition a week for a good....month ish? HOWEVER. (I dont like that this is how I feel, but I am learning in therapy that it is important to acknowledge all emotions.) Anyway, however, I can't help but feel that I want more, bigger opportunities, you know? I am obviously happy with any sort of audition, but dude, I also know that I am not working my ass off on myself and my craft to not be receiving bigger opportunities. I also know that I am good enough to GET bigger audition opportunities. (I was about to say that ‘I am better than the single line auditions’, but I dont want to get too ahead of myself..or too big headed...Even though, I TRULY know that I could do it!!). 

SPEAKING OF BIG HEADED. So while I was praying and hoping and trying to manifest bigger auditions for myself, my fucking roommate WAS OUT THERE GETTING ALL OF THEM. One thing you gotta know about my roommate is that she and I are VERY different. Physically ( I am a six foot, white, red head, she is a tiny, curvy, beautiful mixed woman), politically, personality wise, etc. We are just fuckin different. So, I understand from a casting perspective why they would bring her in more-they are FINALLY (slowly) starting to have accurate representation of what the fuckin population of the planet is like (I won't be happy until they start casting more people who identify as First Nations, but I digress). That being said, as happy as I am for this change, I am finding it very difficult to be happy for my roommate who has tendencies to act entitled, and receives opportunities in a very different way than I would. Long story short, her responses to certain situations seem very ungrateful, narcissistic, self absorbed and just completely disrespectful to me. 

Being in such close quarters with someone who is SO different from me has been very challenging to say the least. First of all, I am finding it difficult to justify why the universe would reward someone with such selfish (in my opinion) perspectives. Secondly, it has just been hard to see someone like that get everything that I want in life. Sometimes I (dramatically) feel like she is LITERALLY living the life that I want, or that all of the things that I have been praying for and manifesting have been given to the wrong person, you know? Like because she is literally RIGHT above me-her room is above mine-she has been receiving all of the gifts that I have been asking for from the universe. 

Okay, obviously, I am aware that these thoughts are completely delusional and are also a result of my anxiety and perpetuating self doubt that has been deeply engrained in me from trauma in my childhood. 

Situations like these have given me an opportunity to look at how I view myself, how I view other people, how I view how the world works, how I view life. With this particular situation, I have learned that:

a) My roommate has shown me a perfect example of how I DON��T want to be. As an actor and as a human being. 

I will ALWAYS be kind to extras on set. I will ALWAYS feel grateful for any acting opportunity, no matter the size of the role or the fucking trailer. I will ALWAYS be understanding and patient with other actors who are having a hard time remembering lines on set. I will ALWAYS put the importance of the story before my ego and my want to ‘look good’. I will ALWAYS take responsibility for the amount of work I need to do to tell a story truthfully. I will ALWAYS keep that responsibility for myself and no one else. 

b) I had been raised to believe that you must work hard in life to receive what you want. Nothing will be given to you and life will be very very hard for me always. 

The second lesson is particularly interesting (and actually quite bleak to realize). This isn't always true. Of course there is the obvious truth that yes, in some instances, working hard for what you want in your life can and most of the time DOES result in getting what you want. However, there are instances where things simply ARE given to you. Especially in this industry. Many things and opportunities are given and will continue to be given to people because of how they look. Now, depending on how I look at it, this lesson can either make me or break me. I can choose to see that the world is backwards and rewards beautiful people for simply being beautiful-even if the beautiful person is less beautiful on the inside. OR. I can choose to see that yes, beautiful people will be chosen. But not for their talent. These people may get the roles, but they won't get the wisdom or the lessons of humility that you get when it takes more than looks to land the role. 

Ultimately, perhaps the universe grants people with things because they TRULY believe in themselves, regardless of how ‘hard’ they have worked for it. 

I have had many realizations through very heavy therapy lately. I have realized that because I was a child raised in constant abuse and many years of trauma and very difficult situations, I had developed a habit of seeing myself as worthless without any valid words to say. Constantly apologizing for myself simply because of the fact that I was and am the way that I am. I have always been taught to take the hard way, because that's how life is going to be. But by living with someone like my roommate, it has taught me that life doesn't always have to be that way. I dont always have to struggle, I dont always have to work hard in order to receive something that I want. I can be gifted with an opportunity and deserve that opportunity simply because of who I am. 

I already have the work ethic down. I am now in the midst of loving myself and taking care of myself in a way that I always needed as a kid. Believing that I deserve things simply because I am me. Letting everything else fall into place instead of forcing what I was taught to believe. 

I think my job, right now is to love and care for myself. And the biggest thing that I can do in order to achieve this is to let go, block out the hate and just believe in myself. 

I do. 

[sagebodisattva]

Externalization

Yeah, I hear you man. You are externalizing.

I hear that too, brother. And you are externalizing.

Yeah? Well, you may be only speaking metaphorically, but guess what? You are still externalizing, nonetheless.

When we talk about deconstructing our preset conditioning that dictates to the consciousness where to focus the attention, it's important to understand just how crucial this maneuver is towards redefining the old description of reality with the truth of existentiality. And this is no easy task, for the old description of reality is deeply engrained into us, and we are even trained to automatically defend it's position without giving such fortifications any thought. So you can clearly see why, despite a possible initiative to undertake such an endeavor, that it's going to be a very difficult task to employ.

Indeed, it will be a very arduous road to take, but do yourself a favor and don't waste time trying to take any shortcuts, for they don't really lend towards accomplishing the objective at hand. This is most usually evidenced by assumptive efforts to try and circumvent various paraphernalia of indulgence, but this is misspent effort; for the way to master cravings is not attained by avoiding external objects of desire. Remember, avoidance, despite the impression of refrain, is still an attachment, for it still invests in the desire for specific outcome, and therefor isn't conducive towards the necessary detachment required to facilitate the sublimation of the attention. The attention must be re-directed by way of applied implementation, and so the awareness must learn to do this empirically. So it needs attachments to practice on. Removing the objects of desire doesn't get the job done. And forcing someone to do what they don't wanna do, because someone thinks they know better then someone else, won't get the job done either. It has to be a willing enterprise that is fully prepared to confront obstacles and address them accordingly.

So the way to begin to reel in the attention, so to speak, is to reframe how we believe reality is produced. We are conditioned from a very young age to over look our own awareness, the conduit from which the stream of projections manifest, and to focus exclusively on the reflections, that is, the so called external phenomenon. This conditioning is what is known as externalization. It's a conditioning that takes no responsibility for reality; due to a false outlook that distances itself from that which is looked upon. Hence, imaginary separations are established, and the facets of existential reality become compartmentalized, and therefor are, for all intents and purposes, no longer recognized as existential, therefore deemphasizing the attention from it's own agency and redirecting it towards getting stuck on the projected perceptibles, which are no longer seen as projected reflections and, thereof, are only appreciated as externally existing fixed configurations of content.

From here, the delusions of illusion are inaugurated. This is where the finger is pointed outwards from, in an attempt to explain that which is being manifested from the mind. And when I say "mind", I do not mean any ingredient of reality. Whenever I say mind, I am referring to that which precedes the body, the brain, the emotions and the perceptions. This is where it begins to become very difficult to navigate our way back out of, towards the truth of reality, and by the time we come of age and are in a position of increased autonomy to do so, it is often already too late. Then. it becomes a matter of intervention, which is where I come in. And I say unto you, stop pointing outwards. Stop searching outwards. Stop blaming outwards. Stop externalizing. You are looking in the wrong place, and are concerned with exactly the last place that needs to be addressed. You may explore the external world from here to eternity, and search through content from soup to nuts, but all you will be really doing is sifting through layers of appearances. Understand that the spiritual journey doesn't even begin, until you start to look introspectively, towards the source of all these things.

“Look inwards for the source? Sage, it sounds like you are saying that men are gods.”

What man? What god? These are both equally inventory items of illusion. Obviously men are not gods, for we are limited and very powerless, but that's mainly due to the self imposed mental enslavement; the kind of mental slavery that looks to assign power and authority to some external property. And looking outwards towards external properties will only trap the attention further and further, for this is the nature of details; they ensnare you, and reveal even further details to sink you deeper and deeper into. And it never has an end. For every answer illusion provides, 10 more questions will arise. And all the while, the vehicle from which you are operating, of which you have only a limited time to negotiate the situation, rapidly fades away; and before you know it, the end of your form will have arrived, and you will die chasing phantoms.

So this is why it is important to make some tracks redirecting the attention. So far, you have only shifted your attention between a variety of different inventory items, and I am not asking you to focus your attention on another inventory item. I am asking you to redirect the attention towards itself. Not to YOUR self, but to ITSELF, meaning, not towards your ego, or your personification, but towards awareness itself. This is all part of understanding the nature of potentiality; you don't get caught up in attaching to it's appearances. If you do, you will certainly be at it's mercy, which in itself, is yet another distraction that snares the attention; as it reinforces the idea of the inventory by verifying itself to the attention via contention. This is another trap, for fighting against the external, while overlooking it's root cause, doesn't improve one's chances of self recognition, which, in turn, further convolutes the situation by the inevitable use of deductive reasoning based on premises that simply aren't true, and before long, one will be fully entrenched in the game of grasping and avoiding, whilst fighting adversity, all of which, keep one mired in illusion.

As with details, adversaries will increase the more the attention is placed towards them. This is where people find a plethora of excuses for not looking inwards:

“Introspection isn't going to stop the tyrannical governments of the world from spreading corruption and seeking to enslave us under a totalitarian rule.”

“Introspection isn't going to put food on the table, nor provide any practical means by which to make the world a better place.”

Can you see how these are the wrong areas to address? These concerns can be dealt with by you, personally, by looking towards where they originate from. This realm is a training ground, not a place to seek repose and security. This realm is necessarily going to stick unfairness and injustice in your face, any chance it gets, but this is exactly the trick used to fixate your attention on the perceptibles, and keep it away from the truth. Almost everything in life is this type of device.

“But what about the conspiracies! The symbolisms! The phonetics! The double meanings! The anagrams! The ancient texts! The evil that seeks to enslave us!”

Sigh.

You are reading into the inventory items way too much. All the language, memes and symbols reflect the psychology and the zeitgeist of your current state, which is manifested as a world full of confusion, paranoia, demonization and righteous indignation. These are all the apparatuses of your addiction to externalization, hence the complaints about all of this is more of the same: scheming ploys to try and get the conversation right back on the external inventory again.

Look, it doesn't matter how dramatic you try to make the cosmic horror narrative out to be, it's still a projected externalization of the inner state that created it. All of these types of assertions are insights into your own subconscious mind, that you are projecting outwards and alienating from yourself as external phenomenon. What else do you need to know? You want to address these issues? Then look within yourself. The outer world is a reflection of the inner condition and the inner predilection. The crux of your misunderstanding, the lynchpin to your entire disempowerment, is the conditioning that makes you believe that you are byproduct and not source. This is the spell that everyone is under.

And what's that you say? No matter how much you believe that externalizations originate from within you, nothing you do within yourself is going to stop what's actually occurring on the external? And that this belief does not change the situation, but only how the situation is viewed?

No, you don't know that. Because it's only a matter of belief, and not the result of realization and experimentation, do you chalk it off as such. If you had the actual knowing of it, then you would see and experience how you can mold what's occurring on the so called external. Those who know about the nature of the source have a task that is almost insurmountable. Especially since they are in slim company. People all start out deluded and then some wake up. But the quest isn't found in making illusion more comfortable and ideal, the quest is found in simply waking up yourself and then to assist all individuals towards the same. No projection can allow or disallow you to wake up, it can only, at most, distract you and invite you to get lost in it for awhile. And whether or not you do is completely within your power to control.

[parapluiepliant]

Token

Content: Bellamy and Roan are on their way to fulfill a mission when Bellamy starts to remember his encounter with Abby on the day before. It triggers another memory of the moment he left Arkadia, a moment of which the token at his wrist, given to him by Clarke, is a constant reminder of.

Word Count: ~ 3.300 words

 Loosely inspired by scene 33 “The Evenstar” of The Lord of the Rings – The Two Towers.

If you look closely, you might recognize the dialogue from that scene. The rest is copyright/trademark of my brain’s imagination at 2 o’clock in the morning. The character and settings are the property of The 100 writers.

 Tagging:         @eskimo-whispers and  @vkjazzy

because they were quite eager to see that idea on paper. :)

But I would be happy if my other followers would take a look too, especially fanfic veterans such as @rosymamacita and @rashaka (no pressure though)

 I tried to eliminate major mistakes but without a beta reader, things tend to be overlooked. So, please, bear with me.

Now, enjoy! :D

The rover was moving with relentless speed. Bellamy’s hands were holding onto the steering-wheel and his grip tightened gradually. The passengers inside were shaken violently whenever they passed another hole on the road. Holding onto the steering-wheel with considerable force was the only chance for Bellamy not to be thrown back and forth everytime. The uneven ground had been annoying him for almost an hour and there was still no end in sight.

 His growing annoyance was not only the result of bumpy roads but also the accumulation of many different intrusive thoughts and unfortunate circumstances that had happened in the last few days. One of them was occupying the seat next to him. Roan, King of Azgeda, was looking out of the window with a bored expression. They had  come to a mutual understanding with a strange form of respect blooming between them. Both men saw something in the other which made them realize that they might be more similar than they might have wanted to admit.

 Bellamy’s knuckles have turned into a pale hue by now, a mere shade of the glowing warmth they usually radiated. The accessory on his right wrist had been slowly moving downwards with every bump in the road. The heavy atmosphere which only silence can produce was almost suffocating him, making him even more aggravated. He considered the unspoken agreement on silence between Roan and him as a nice gesture. Roan didn’t talk much, unless when he was giving some directions or pointing to a pathway to turn the rover to.

 The atmosphere that was settling in the rover during the last hour was becoming unpleasant nonetheless. Shortly after they had set off on their mission, Roan had been starting to take glances at him from the side, always eyeing his wrist. An unspoken question was hanging in the air between them. All those irritating feelings combined made Bellamy irrationally angry when Roan was about to take another look at him again, his expression calm and undecipherable.

 It was the final straw. Bellamy was about to open his mouth, a snarky response on it’s way to stab the King’s eyes out, when Roan managed to speak first.

 “Who gave you that wristband?”

 A bit taken aback, Bellamy met Roan’s gaze that shifted from his wrist to his eyes. There was no mockery, only a mild interest maybe. Roan had taken him by surprise with asking such a question which was personal and unrelated to their mission. A rather unusual move of Roan so far. The King of Ice Nation seemed to have come to the same conclusion after having seen the growing astonishment in Bellamy’s face. The King was about to look away, a little smile on his  lips when Bellamy started to answer. He had his eyes back again on the road but they were darting further away then the path in front of him. He remembered the day before, the day he left Arkadia, the day he left...

 “Clarke.”

“Our time here is ending.”

 Bellamy knew.

 “Clarke’s time is ending.”

 Bellamy knew that too and his face grew darker. Stern eyes were looking at him and they had a hint of a plea in them. One would have missed it but he knew that look. Luckily, it wasn’t the pair of sky-blue eyes to which he would have normally responded to. Abby Griffin was standing in front of him, the examination table between them. Her eyes were pleading, her voice was even and calm as if she would talk to a patient.

 A second passed and Abby continued, now with a voice more suitable for a mother than the current chancellor’s advisor. The last sentence, however, was quite insistent.

 “Let her go. Let her take the ship into the west.”

A few weeks ago, they had been able to recover some old boats and a small ship. With the help of Luna, the Arkadians who still had some fight left in them, had been more than eager to repair the vessels. The first one had been finished just yesterday. Now, they would be able to reach some of the safe spaces in the west, or at least those which were more favourable than some of the other regions according to Raven’s calculations.

 “Let her bear away her love for you.”

 Bellamy whinced, a noise caught between pain, desperation and anger. She knew. Who knows how long already. It’s maternal instinct, he thought. There had been so many people taking looks at him whenever he appeared with Clarke by his side. It was only natural for them to suspect something. Judging by some comments he had received, his feelings had been quite visible for a considerable amount of time, his actions as transparent as the tactical board in Raven’s lab. Abby’s knowing glances darting back and forth between him and Clarke after they had left Polis had been indication enough.

And of course he knew too. A realization which had been hitting him hard on more than one occassion. So it was no surprise that Abby would know how to make him listen by addressing his spot of weakness.

 For the first time during their conversation, Bellamy looked up and desperate large brown eyes met another pair of marron ones that belonged to a mother about to lose her only child.

With a raw and quiet voice, Bellamy spoke. His answer carried the ghosts of the past that had themselves engraved into his soul, so deep that even his personal light had trouble to reach the bottom.

 “But never more than a memory.”

 to a far greater and deeper concept some could imagine or even fathom.

 The dam broke.

 “I will not leave my daughter here to die!”

 Abby’s shout exploded into the silence of the medbay.

In a move full of desperation and helplessness, she hit the top of the examination table with force, the surgical instruments jangled. Overall, it was a cacophony of despair and rage.

A deafening silence settled in the room. Abby, teared up eyes facing him and her face contorted in a patchwork of conflicting emotions, brought her hand up to hastily wipe away the tears. She was turning away, seemingly ashamed of her sudden outburst.

 Bellamy understood Abby’s agony quite well. Their situation wasn’t that much unlike.

The moment he had to let his sister go, after all these years of hiding and caring for her, felt more like a parent letting go of his child than a brother encouraging his sister to follow her own way. He still struggled with the fallout.

He also knew that she didn’t blame him for Clarke’s strong-willed and self-determined decisions which were hard to accept sometimes. However, Abby Griffin knew her daughter and he did too.

 It took a few moments for him to register the various sounds and noises of the medical equipment again. Slowly, the former heavy silence was replaced by the faint bleeping and the different mechanical noises of the machines that ran constantly nowadays. Regular bloodtests and examinations for signs of radiation have become the norm. They were observing any changes in people’s blood or any signs in Luna’s. It was a glimmer of hope to find a cure by experimenting with some of her blood samples. Hope and belief. Something Clarke had tried to engrain into the mind of Arkadia’s remaining population just over a week ago.

 “If we stick together, we won’t just survive. We’ll thrive!”

 With a hint of defiance, he repeats Clarke’s view on things once more.

 “She stays because she still has hope.”

 Abby turned around. Her shoulders were hanging in defeat and only emphasised her exhaustion and tiredness. With a sad smile gracing her face but a firm gaze nonetheless, Abby responded to him in a soft voice.

 Her words were unexpected but would determine the end of their conversation.

 “She stays for you.”

 A quick eye flutter and a small headshake of disbelieve was all he could manage. The implication Abby just made, no, which Abby had made throughout their conversation was something he didn’t consider. Didn’t want to consider for her sake.

 Had he really been blind all this time? They loved each other, yes. And he had slowly began to realize that he had been falling in love with her ever since they had landed with the dropship. It was a feeling that liberated and drowned him at the same time. It was scary. Yet, Clarke? Sure, she loved him. He wouldn’t deny that. They were a matching pair with their different kind of love. However, Clarke reciprocrating the kind of love he had in mind when it came to her, a love so different than the one he felt for any of his friends and family, a feeling even he could barely fathom, was something he wished for but would never suspect to become a possible reality for him.

 Whatever Abby might have seen in his face, the next words were wisely chosen on her part. She knew her daughter and she knew what kind of person Clarke would trust the most, if not the band on his right wrist had already given away the bond he and Clarke shared.

 “She belongs with her people.”

 Her people, his people, their people. Their friends. Their family.

Flashbacks of the past crossed his mind. His mom, the dropship, the first dead kids with Fox among them, Mount Weather, Finn and Lincoln.

Images of his friends raced in front of his inner eye.

Jasper being brave in taking the rifle for the bombing of the bridge, Raven working like a force to be reckoned with, Miller at the gates with his father waiting for Bryan and his team to come back, Monty and Harper on their way to help Kane with the preperations for evacuation, Murphy and Emori helping Luna and the rest to coordinate Grounders and Arkers, the last time he saw Octavia.

And finally, Gina crossed his mind.

 Bellamy closed his eyes.

Bellamy’s heavy boots produced a steady sound like a heartbeat that reverberated within the corridors of Arkadia. The artificial light threw eerie shadows that followed his every step along the cold and dreary walls. Shadowy figures similar to malicious creatures of old and long forgotten fairy tales and myths danced along them, an effect that the token on his wrist evoked by reflecting the dim lights.

 Quick and on the quiet, he had prepared to leave. Under the disguise of a routine check-up, he had gathered some of the needed equipment a few hours before. Nobody should know about the life-threatening mission he and Roan were about to go on. Unfortunately, Raven had seen him and after a moment of quick thinking which subsided to a look of disbelief, her anger got the better of her. Yet, before she could explode at him, Bellamy had grapped her upper arm, voice pitched low.

 “Not a word to her.”

 Raven’s face changed immediately. Bellamy nervously licked his lips and tilted his head.

 “Please”, he added urgently.

 He knew that Raven still didn’t like his idea but being Raven, she immediately went back to work, explaining the equipment in detail and filling him in on all the necessary information for the mission.

 Most people had already gone to bed. The remaining louder noises originated from the mess hall. Some Arkadians had decided to take the rest of their time to good use in different ways. Some tried to seek peace with themselves in the quieter parts of Arkadia, and others gulped down enormous amounts of moonshine in the mess hall. All of them preoccupied in their own ways, nobody would take notice of him. Bellamy didn’t have to fear that he might be discovered, especially by a certain someone.

 He rounded the corner, once more checking on his radio, his flashlight and other necessities for the trip. He was about to put on the helmet of the radiation suit when a clear and playful voice echoed from behind.  

 “Is this how you want to leave?”

 Bellamy stopped dead in his tracks, the helmet he wanted to put one was rested above his head in mid-air. An ice-cold bucket of water would not have had the same effect on him. Of course, she would be awake and he cursed himself for his foolishness to not have assumed otherwise.

They both were tortured by nightmares. Different for each but with reocurring themes: guilt, torture, violence, death.

And it wasn’t that unusual anymore to take comfort in each other’s company during the days and more so during the long hours of the night.

 He hadn’t seen her all day because she had been demanded in medical the whole time. The necessary number of treatments had increased every day for Arkadia’s patients that have been contaminated by radiation. He, in contrast, had a long meeting with the council, and an even longer one with Kane in private. It should have dawned on him that Clarke would be looking for him the moment she was finished with her shift.

 He lowered his arms, still clutching onto the helmet and turned around stiffly.

Clarke stood a few meters behind him, one hand leaning against the doorframe. Curious eyes were fixed on him but a small, playful smile tugged at her lips. With a little push away from the doorframe, she took her first steps towards him. Bellamy tried to stay in place, though he couldn’t help himself but slowly gravitate towards her before he got a grip on himself and resumed his former direction, head bowed down. She mustn’t see what he tried to conceal for so long.

 Clarke had used the time of his brief hesitation to overtake him, now directly facing him but always taking a step backwards when he made one forward. Under different circumstances, this would have been funny to look at. It was their kind of dance which they had always done since they have landed on the ground. Opposing each other, back and forth but always close, never really closing the distance between them. Being together in many ways, walking towards obstacles and facing them side by side was only one among them.

 “Did you really think you could slip away at this hour? And on top, unnoticed?”

 Yes, he thought. He knew her wake-up routine by heart now. But her nightmares might have been stronger than usual and without having seen him all day, she had decided to go looking for him, he contemplated. Pondering about what he should do now, Bellamy stood still and looked up.

 “Going for a routine check-up. I will not be coming back.”

 It was Clarke now who was frozen into place when he passed her, deliberately not looking at her uncomprehensive and slightly pained face. Recovering fast, she followed him on his heels.

 “You underestimate yourself, Bellamy. And your skills. You will come back.”

 Her tone was convincing and reassuring at once. Not only for him but for herself as well. She might have misunderstood and might have even wanted to because the thing he actually implied scared her. With a low pitched and scratchy voice, Bellamy tried it again.

 “”Dying in battle is not what I meant, Clarke.”

 In that moment, Clarke rounded him and was again facing him with. Her eyes were now bigger and more fearful than moments before. In fact, more than he had ever witnessed.

 “What do you mean then?”

 She had put her hands on both his arms. They lay heavy there, a sensation which imprinted itself onto his very being. In retrospect, it might have been the reason why he told her the truth rather than dropping the subject altogether or simply running with a bended truth.

 “You have a chance for another life.”

 Jaw clenching and his look hard and determined, he saw how Clarke’s eyes swiftly wandered over his face. They were trying to find even a hint for him lying or any sign that he was joking.

 But there was no hidden message to decipher and with the true meaning behind his words slowly seeping in, a sudden unrest settled in her. Her mouth dropped slightly open and started to quiver a bit, her heart being gripped by the cold hand of understanding when Bellamy continued.

 “...away from war...grief...despair...”

 It was everything he wished for her, for them, but if he had to chose it should be her to experience all that and he hoped she would understand. Nevertheless, Bellamy wasn’t really surprised by her next words.

 Eyebrows drawn together, more questioning than with a look of anger, she demanded and answer of him.

 “Why do you say this?”, Clarke was asking him in a pained whisper.

 Bellamy remembered Abby’s words and knew that to make Clarke understand, he had to chose his next words wisely. He was about to be overwhelmed by all the conflicting emotions raging within him, feverishly running his hand down his face.

With a plea in his eyes, he tried to appeal to her rational judgement.

 “I am beyond redemption, and you are about to save the others, leading them to a safe haven. It was a dream, Clarke. Nothing more.”

 Clarke’s sceptical side didn’t give in to his reasoning. With firm resolution in her voice, she delivered her response.

 “I don’t believe you.”

 It would have been too easy. She knew that he was lying. She knew that they both had made the agreement to fight until their last breath, together.

 He remembered what he had told Brian and Monty a few months ago. Sometimes, it would be necessary to lie to those you love if you want to protect them. Brian had been disgusted by that thought and more so, of himself and his actions that had involved the deception of Miller. Bellamy was terrified by the next step and measures he had to take.

 Suddenly, Jackson called from behind them. Clarke was needed and she quickly assured him that she would be there soon. In the meantime, Bellamy tentatively took Clarke’s hand and placed a little object into it. With an incredulous look, Clarke was staring at the object and then at Bellamy’s face.

 “This belongs to you”, said Bellamy with a flat and hollow voice, accompanied by a blank face.

 It was Clarke’s watch which she had inherited by her father. It had been secure in Abby’s quarters all the while after Clarke had decided to leave, the events of Mount Weather haunting her. Clarke had been happy to have it back but was reluctant in wearing it. She didn’t want to risk losing it again. It was precious to her, the last keepsake of her father beside the wedding band around Abby’s neck.

 It took a moment for Clarke to realize this simple act that had a far deeper meaning attached to it. After a few tormenting seconds, she pulled herself together. Only the glistening in her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil that was covered by her steady voice and the attempt of a genuine smile.

 “It was a gift.”

 Clarke’s eyes stayed fixed on him, staring into his soul while taking his hand and closing it around the watch.

 “Keep it.”

 It was all she could manage to say before she went after Jackson. Bellamy followed her with his eyes, her back straight and her golden hair flowing with a lightness that reminded him of one of the first woman he had admired: Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, craft and war.

 She had just disappeared behind the corner when Bellamy was made aware of the arrival of the Ice King. Roan had entered the corridor through the door to the hangar, provided by the pneumatic hissing of the door. He casted an expectant look at Bellamy.

 Carefully, Bellamy fastened the watch around his wrist and with a determined look, he turned towards the former prince.

 “Let’s go.”