Technicolor Ch. 4
In which a stranger becomes an ally.
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Then.
“Sasuke,” the boy glanced over at his mother, Mikoto, who was crouched on the cracked tile floor, picking through a cardboard box he had yet to empty. Her slender hands were wiping at her dark eyes, and he realized, with an uncomfortable quiver, that there was water dripping down her face. “I – I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to come over and help you.”
“No, mom, you’re fine.” He hesitated in grabbing the next clean bathroom towel to fold.
“With your father and his…” she winced and sighed, biting at her mouth. “I never know when you’re here. You’ve had… I don’t - ” she tossed the object back into the box, which gave a loud clatter in the small room. She jumped at the sound and frowned in an apology, quickly pulling the object back out and inspecting it for damage.
“I know you need space from us… me, that’s why you…” she folded into herself for a moment, arms crossing between her chest and legs, face pressed into her knees and Sasuke listened helplessly as her breath rushed in and out of her lungs. “I didn’t mean to drive you away.” She sobbed; voice garbled as she spoke weakly into her body.
Sasuke shrank, a layer of icy dread rested around his shoulders like a heavy cloak. He shuffled closer to her, feeling completely out of place with her small breakdown, in the apartment he had been relegated to because of his big breakdown.
He kneeled beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Her head shot up, nearly identical sets of eyes meeting, and Sasuke realized for the first time how tired his mother looked. She had matching navy bruises decorating the soft skin under her eyes and elegant stress lines ran along her cheeks.
“Mom, you didn’t,” he shook his head, palms damp and heart racing. “You didn’t push me away. It was…” his voice died as his brain worked to explain what he couldn’t describe to himself. A frustrated hand ran through his hair, and he offered her a hollow smile. “It wasn’t you; I can promise you that.”
Mikoto slowly unfolded, coming to rest on her haunches, a slender hand reaching up and wrapping her fingers around her son’s. “He’s said that before too.” She breathed softly; sniffling, black eyes blank as she stared at the faux wooden grains in the cupboards.
“Who?” Sasuke asked, a black brow raising, but she simply blinked and shook her head, squeezed his hand before dropping it.
“No one,” she said, “excuse me.” She stepped away from him and into the bathroom. He was left kneeling on the cracked flooring, still slightly sticky even after he had deep cleaned the entire space, and he frowned as he stood and turned back to the living room. He was in the process of folding a shirt, mulling over the uncomfortable show of emotion, when she came back in, the redness of her cheeks was gone now, any blemish of streaked mascara had been removed, and she was holding herself as though everything were normal.
They were back to business now.
The small glance through a crack in the wall of his ever put together mother had snapped shut in the short moments she had left the room. And like a distasteful book, she had put the moment back on the shelf to gather dust.
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i really can't emphasize how heartbreaking it is that the recent harassment campaign against @/90-ghost (among others; see: 1, 2, 3) has led to well-meaning people telling others not to listen to him. he is one of the most visible survivors of the genocide here on tumblr. his entire journey of escape is so well documented! and yet, it only took a few people confidently pointing fingers to create an entire witch hunt accusing him and other palestinians of being disreputable scammers and liars.
i can't help but feel like the reason why people were SO eager to believe those accusations, is because it was uncomfortable to see posts from palestinians every day asking for our time, attention, money, and support; so when someone presented the perfect excuse to ignore all those posts and asks while also taking the high ground, people just LEAPED onto it. they wanted to believe it, because it would be more comfortable.
honestly, i understand feeling overwhelmed by bad news, by the number of asks and messages in your inbox, and so on and so forth. i understand needing to set boundaries for yourself so you don't get burned out. i think this is really when you have to have a set of principles to fall back on, even when you're tired, uncomfortable, angry, and/or sad. so here's the one i suggest, which has been working for me best: don't make your discomfort with this situation into someone else's problem, and for god's sake don't make it a public problem.
if you hate seeing fundraiser posts or news about gaza, i can't emphasize this enough, JUST MOVE ON. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND SCROLL PAST! all you have to do is absolutely nothing. which is what you were doing anyway, so it shouldn't be hard. if you don't have the heart to read, or reblog, or share, or donate, or support in other ways, at the very least, don't obstruct the efforts of people who ARE trying to make a difference. this is, quite literally, the least you can do.
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When BoJack Horseman (2014-2020) said "you can't keep doing shitty things and then feel bad about yourself like that makes it ok. you need to be better" and "all we have are the connections we make" and "I really should've thought about the view from halfway down" and "sometimes you have to take responsibility for your own happiness" and "you do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around, you turn yourself around, THAT'S what it's all about" and "things have to get worse before they can get better" and "in real life, the big gesture isn't enough, you need to be consistent" and "if we hadn't met each other until now, we wouldn't be the people we are now" and, my personal favourite, "every day it gets a little easier, but you gotta do it every day, that's the hard part, but it does get easier".
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