#we deserve to see it

[0multifandomweirdo0]

Can I please get a scene of all four of Rayla's parents at the table with Callum standing over them lecturing them about the unhealthy thought processes they have stuffed into their daughter's head?

'Who the hell put into her head that self-sacrifice is act of love?!'

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Nothing and Everything - Part 8

Summary: Certain times of the year are harder than others. This is the first year where they have all been present to face the memories of all the trauma. How can they come together when they each have their own traumas to face?

Pairings: Gen fic (they love Layla and she loves them)

Warnings: Heavy dissociation, Mentions of child abuse, some mentions of violence, Depression, mentions of self harm, PTSD, mentions of hospitalization.

Word Count: 5299

Part Eight: It's time to communicate. Or at least try. Why can they only get part of the story? What do they have to do to come to an understanding?

Previous Chapter HERE

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“I’m supposed to be happy. To be cheerful, aren’t I? To be this shining beacon of light in the dark.” Steven gazed up at the gray sky, feeling the wind shift as it rustled through the trees and the birds moved as if following the sun. 

He closed his eyes and let the last of the warm rays bathe his face before they faded behind the clouds. 

Today was the day. The day when he had become we. Perhaps that was what it really meant. The birth of a brother. When I became us and when mine became ours. 

The loss of a brother, when everything became nothing. 

Now here they existed in this nothing desperately trying to make it work. 

Steven felt like a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was hard for him to admit that he had done wrong when he was doing what he felt was necessary. It had never crossed his mind that it had the potential to hurt them. 

Yet, he had still kept it a secret and done it without asking. Perhaps a part of him had been afraid of being told no.

Marc had been so distant lately and hardly around. Steven had felt he was free to make that call. He had not thought that anything about the situation might trigger Marc out. 

You are lucky I didn’t answer the phone.

Jake had chastised him, making him feel like a small child, as Jake cleaned up the mess. The mess being Marc. 

He watched memories be swept away like so much dirt on the floor. The papers were pushed into a top drawer of his desk and locked away. Jake had elected not to dispose of the past, but had made it very clear that if Steven were to look at it, he had better do it when Marc wasn’t around. 

Why do you have to be difficult? You don’t need to know these things. These things don’t involve you. They aren’t your timeline.

But they did. They involved Marc and Jake. They involved the body. They involved the making of them. 

“What does involve me? What history do I have?” Steven had been angry. Demanding to know his place in how they got here. 

You have every happy thought and moment of peace. 

The message on the board was for them all. Talk. How did they talk? How was it possible to communicate when Steven sat alone in the light and the other two hid in the shadows?

Steven had asked Layla, much like a child asking for permission, if he could go outside on a walk through the park. She had hesitated, offering to go with him. “I need this. Please?” 

She had nodded, saying that she couldn’t keep them caged up forever. Perhaps a test of her fragile trust. Steven promised not to run. 

How could he run when the problem was very much a part of him? 

“We can’t heal if we don’t know what we are healing from.” Steven sighed. “I’m not some house plant that you feed and water and put in the sun so that it can look nice.” 

You are not the one with the trauma. You are here to support us. Jake argued. 

“Presumptuous, don’t you think?” Steven shot back. “My trauma and your trauma may look different, but they are still traumas. Bad memories can’t and shouldn’t always just be covered up!” 

I’m sorry you feel bad. I really am. Jake sounded tired. We aren’t ready to all sit here anguished in memories that just hurt. You saw what happens when it becomes too much. 

“So I’m just supposed to never be sad? To be upset or overwhelmed? That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think?” Steven hunched as he continued his walk through the park. His favorite oversized sweater kept the gusts of cool air from chilling him, even in the warm afternoon rays of the sun. Summer was ending but there was still some fight left in it. 

So what do you want to know? Do you want to know how many people we killed in the service? Do you want to know that we weren’t always the good guys? Do you want to know how many detentions we got or how we flunked out of chemistry? Do you want to know how to most effectively reload a gun when under fire? How to avoid getting stabbed in hand to hand combat? Maybe you want to know the best way to defend yourself against a belt buckle! Or do you want just the basics on how to pretend to be good so the psychiatrist will let you out of solitary after you tried to escape!

“Have you ever erased my memories?” Steven paused to let a happy family walk past him on the path. Two seemingly loving parents doting on their young child. Would it stay that way forever? The child had yet to disappoint them. The father had yet to look the other way and slowly disappear into a silent background. The mother had yet to fall into alcoholic dependence that both distanced her from them all and also sparked a violent fire that would burn them. 

You know the answer to that.

“No. I don’t.” Steven watched the family disappear down the path. “I know the fake memories. Those are mine. Those were my coping mechanisms. I’m dealing with that. I’m sorting it out and I’m dealing with the fact that I’m…” 

Not real. Made up. A fictive.

It didn’t matter how many times Marc and Layla both tried to reassure him that it didn’t matter. That Marc hadn’t made him up. It still didn’t take away from the knowledge that he now had that he was a person born from a desperate need to be someone and something else. It didn’t take away from the fact that Marc had a history and Jake was his own person from the start. 

You are Steven Grant. You are a man with your own wants and desires and stubborn ass beliefs. Jake sighed softly. I have never taken away your memories. I’d made up stories to explain why you suddenly woke up in Bosnia or Pakistan, and you accepted them happily because you were not ready for the truth. You once woke up in the middle of a gun fight and fought me when I tried to put you back to sleep. You won’t remember that because it didn’t fit into your narrative. I never had anything to do with how you handled your memories. I only take away what Marc can’t handle. 

“Dreams.” Steven nodded. “The feeling of restlessness and travel. It’s what I told myself.” 

His own coping device had always been to brush it off and continue on. On and on and on until it was too much not to look away from. Until Marc had crumbled at his feet and Steven had literally tripped over him. 

“Why didn’t you stop it? When Marc went back for…For Mum’s funeral. Why did you let it get that bad? Why let me out? Why did you let me wander off with our life and away from Layla?” Steven gripped his sleeves as he found a bench and sat on it. “Why let me wander into that gun fight in that village?” 

Jake was silent a moment and Steven could feel him shifting inside. 

I was…compromised. 

“Compromised? What does that mean?” 

When she died. I… went to sleep. I woke up in the Alps. 

Steven looked up as if he might see Jake standing before him, eyes on the ground and hat down low to hide his face. “You went dormant?” 

Not to that extent… But close to it. I didn’t think I was helping. With her dead it felt like I wasn’t needed. That maybe I was hurting things. That maybe we could get our lives back together and just be… normal. 

“I was dormant then too.” Steven looked down at his hands. “I know I wasn’t around. Years… There are so many years I have missing. You tried to give the live back to Marc. You didn’t think he would break down and try to give the life to me.” 

We all make mistakes, Steven. Was it so wrong of me to think that without me or you that maybe if we were one person that things might be easier? Marc obviously had the same thought with a slightly different twist. 

“Bloody hell.” Steven closed his eyes and listened to the wind rustle the still green trees. Soon their leaves would turn and fall. Bare limbs reaching for a sun that sat too far away and indifferent to care for them. “We are a mess, aren’t we?” 

It was nice for a while, wasn’t it? Just you out here living… Doing normal things… Being one person….

“I’m not one person!” Steven snapped loudly and winced as a jogger gave them plenty of space as they went by. 

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m not one person. I was given the stage without a script! I was alone and shouldn’t have been! I should have known what was going on and I didn’t! Some of that is my fault but you both left me drowning and did nothing!” 

I’m not here for you! Jake snapped back. My purpose was Marc! Not you! Every time I ran was because of him! Every time I had to protect us it was because of him, not you! How was I supposed to keep an eye on you when every time I looked away from him we died! 

“Try looking at yourself for a change, Jake!” Steven stood up, angry and wanting to stand his ground. “You’re a part of this life too! Try living in it!” 

I DID LIVE IN IT! 

Steven huffed for a moment then a thought hit him hard. “Did Marc go dormant before?” 

Two years. Maybe three. I was primary host. We were still very young. 

“Was I around?” Steven sat back down. 

A bit. You went to synagogue and major holidays. You were the good one. Marc started to dissociate so much that he became a problem. He couldn’t run the life and you were too…you. We were in hiding, Steven. This isn’t normal. You have to understand that. A little british boy has no place in a hispanic jewish family in Chicago.

Steven nodded. He understood the concept of masking but the thought to actually do it always made him feel ill. It was just one more thing Jake had been forced to do in order to protect them. 

I had to take over. Marc is missing those years. He faded so hard and fast that I thought he might disappear all together. 

“Like the others?” Steven probed gently. A suspicion that he had long had ever since he started looking into their condition. 

Jake quietly and carefully checked to make sure Marc was nowhere near. Steven could feel him locking doors and shuttering the place till it was like they were both enclosed in some sort of tomb. 

Yes. There were others. They came and went. Some split, some just showed up. They never stayed long. There was one that only showed up to eat since Marc went on a hunger strike once. They all had specific purposes. I can’t tell you how many. I don’t know. There was one that was obsessed with space. Another fictive maybe? I’m not really sure. It’s been a long time and they didn’t make it past our teen years.

“We really are just a small system, aren’t we? Is it still just the three of us? I want to know.” Steven didn’t mind if it was. What he did mind was the thought that maybe there was someone else inside that was in pain and he wasn’t helping them. Someone hiding or unaware that was just as lost as he had been. 

As far as I’m aware… It’s just us three. I check now and then. 

“Were they your friends? Do you miss them?” Steven couldn’t imagine having other head mates that just disappeared. The thought scared him suddenly. It was possible to lose purpose and fade away. What if Marc really did leave one day? What if Jake left? Would he ever no longer be needed and go like the others? 

The space guy was kinda cool. Jake smiled and Steven could feel a wave of sadness come off of Jake. They were not as well defined or developed as us. We got along and functioned as well as we could. I think maybe if things become as bad as they were, there is always the possibility for others to show up. 

“But as long as we can hold down the fort it will be just us three.” Steven sighed. “I want to know these things, Jake. I want to know our life. I want to know how we lived and what hurts. I want to be able to know why I’m sad and how not to make Marc spiral. I want to know how to help you.” 

I don’t need help. I need cooperation. We have to find our flow again. I can’t protect us if we’re all freaking out!

“Welcome to denial, Jake.” Steven laughed softly. “You aren’t immune to pain and hurt. We’ve all got trauma and some form of PTSD. I think you’ve been ignoring your own pain for too long.” 

Jake made a grumbling sound but he better than to argue this with Steven. 

They sat in silence for a moment then they felt a nudge. 

It felt strange and Steven felt himself shift as if he were floating outside the body. Marc had entered the room and things had gotten so bad that their communication suddenly felt like they were yelling across a vast field against the wind. 

Steven gripped the sleeves of his sweater and brought them to his face, covering his mouth with the soft fabric. He could smell their aftershave and a hint of Layla’s shampoo. There was a faint smell of their morning coffee and toast. He felt the light fabric, soft and warm brushing his cheeks and lips. 

It was comforting and brought him back down. 

They sat still, all three holding on. After numerous tries, Steven at last shook his head and stood up. 

“Sorry mates. It was worth a try, right? Maybe three is a bit much right now. I’m going to head back. Can I talk to Marc?” Steven waited patiently while Jake faded back and the field between them all disappeared. 

He could feel Marc shifting behind him. It felt like so long ago when speaking only happened through visual effort and control was fought for. He missed the moment of fluid switching when they were so close that they could share thoughts and motions. 

Now, a wedge sat between them and there was frustration, hurt, and confusion. 

Steven continued on his walk through the park. He looked at the sun burnt grass, the reaching flowers, the bees on missions, and the children that ran without care. 

He paused to watch a game of cricket, lamenting on how Marc and Jake didn’t understand the sport at all. Not that he understood baseball. Not that any of them had tried to understand the other… 

“We’re really shit at this.” He laughed. 

I’m glad you find it all so funny. Marc muttered. 

“Laugh or cry, Marc.” Steven smiled. “I’m tired of crying today.” 

Did you cry today? 

“One of us did.” Steven was starting to accept that perhaps he was the emotional medium between them all, if that was even a thing to be. He could feel their overflow of sadness, anger, and often brutal self hatred. He now understood them to be not his own, but it still affected him. 

Sorry. Marc apologized, though Steven wasn’t so sure it was Marc who had been the one to start the tears. He was always taking the blame. Always ready to assume the worst of himself. 

Steven shook his head. “I know what day it is. It’s okay to shed a few tears.” 

Marc nodded, his lips pulled thin. Was he ready? Would he ever be ready? 

“Do you think Randall would have liked London?” He continued on, leaving behind the cricket match. 

I don’t know. Maybe. 

“I think he would have liked the museum.” Steven couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to bring a brother to the museum. Pointing at the pictures and picking what they liked best about them. Would he have liked Egyptology? Maybe he would have been more into natural science and collected rocks.

I think he liked anything he was given. He was just a kid. I don’t know what he would have liked now. Marc sounded a bit short tempered. It was hard for him to imagine who Randall would have been. 

“Did you like things?” Steven changed directions quickly. “When you were little, I mean. What things did you obsess over?” 

They stopped walking and looked up at the sky, watching the clouds. 

I don’t know. I don’t remember. 

Steven thought back to their bedroom. The one in his memories and the one he saw in Marc’s memories from the afterlife. 

“Did you like cars? Space? Egypt?” 

No. Jake likes cars. You like Egypt. I think we got a telescope at some point but I don’t remember ever using it.

A warning flashed across his mind, some sort of signal from Jake to stop pressing on their childhood. 

So he was still watching. 

“Yeah. I don’t remember much from our childhood either. Guess it wasn’t that important, huh?” Steven turned up the path and settled into a comfortable stroll back towards the entrance to the park. “Do you hate Dad?” 

They stopped walking and Steven felt his legs stiffen on their own. He wasn’t sure if it was Jake or Marc. 

He stubbornly pushed on. “You were angry I talked to him. I don’t understand why. I have so few memories of him and I don’t know how he fits into my life. Am I not supposed to figure that out?” 

I think the general consensus was that we were going to cut out all the toxic bits from our life. He was a part of that.

“How was he toxic? Was he cruel to you? Did he hurt you?” Steven didn’t mean it at all as a sort of prod. Wide eyed and hands at his chest as he pulled on his sweater, it was an innocent question. He legitimately didn’t understand. 

Compliance in the face of cruelty is still cruelty.

Steven jumped as Jake’s voice cut across the space between them. 

Marc’s voice was a little quieter but still there. He’s right, Steven. He let it happen. He was very much a part of our abuse. 

Steven walked on slowly, hands gripping the fabric tightly as he struggled with this. 

“I don’t think he understands.” He thought about the few conversations he had had with the man on the phone lately. How surprised he had been at first and then how easily he had slipped into a normal conversation of ‘how are you’ and ‘how is the wife’ and further ‘you should visit.’ 

He doesn’t have to understand. Marc huffed. 

“But how will he know that he hurt us if we don’t tell him? What if he’s sorry?” A memory flashed across their minds of the old man in the window, beconning for them to come inside. To return home. Of the younger man pleading with him not to leave. 

It is not our place to tell him that he has caused us pain. It is his place to know and recognize that he should have done better as the father. He has every right to ask for forgiveness and we have every right not to accept it. 

Steven stopped again and felt himself drift ever so slightly. It was a lesson he had heard before. A teaching that he had never understood at the time. He was so gentle and soft, he had not understood what it meant to not forgive someone asking for it. He never wanted to hurt anyone. To cause conflict or pain. He wanted to be the peacemaker. To be loving and make people happy. 

Memories started to flow. Ones that never made sense before. Memories of an empty chair across from him at the table. Memories of his father sitting silently at the head of the table. Always silent and looking down. Memories of sad eyes watching him and turning away. 

When he thought of his father, he never could picture his father addressing him. Never recalled any conversations or praise or interaction. That was why he had become a hidden part of Steven’s life. Overshadowed by the mother that he thought and wished he had. Her attention had been on him. Her eyes always fixed on him. Her everything enveloping him while his father had given him nothing. 

Steven?

Marc gently reached out and Steven pulled back, physically taking a step back. 

Today was the day that he had become they. Today was the day that they had become a second thought and a third and then on and on until a mind shattered and now all the pieces were trying so hard to come back together but there were pieces missing. Pieces that would never be there again. Pieces that were too broken to fit. 

Steven, give me the body, okay? 

Steven shook his head and sat down there in the grass and dirt. He turned his face to the sky and felt the sun, colder now as it faded behind the clouds. 

Jake. Don’t… Don’t force it. Okay? Make it gentle. 

I have an idea.

Marc sounded tired and far away and Steven was distantly aware of his hand moving into his pocket to fetch his phone. A few buttons hit by feel and memory alone. 

The phone was a comfortable and warm pressure at his ear and against his cheek. 

Steven smiled as the phone rang. He searched the memories. Had it always been voicemail? Could he remember her voice? What would he say to her now? 

He would say a lot. He had so much to say. 

He heard the click of someone picking up. Or perhaps the machine. 

He could pretend. He could imagine just like always. It was no different than when he had thought she was alive and she had been dead all that time. Talking to ghosts. Celebrating ghosts… Everything in his past was a ghost. 

“Hey Mum.” Steven took a slow breath. “I’m glad you’re dead. I am. I don’t know what I’d do if I knew you were alive and had everything that I have now. Everything you gave to me.” 

There was a sound on the other end of the line but it was too far away for him to know it. He took a shaky breath and continued. 

“You gave me so much, didn’t you? More than pretend postcards. I wonder if you knew that you birthed another son when you picked up that belt. You lost one and gained another. Was it a fair trade? Was I enough like him?” 

He breathed softly, listening to the machine record. It was silent but he could hear breathing. Was it her listening? 

“I think I tried to make up for it, didn’t I? In a way. Marc felt so bad about how we lost Roro that he tried to give him back, didn’t he? But I wasn’t right. Did you notice? Did you notice me at all? Did you notice Jake? We tried, didn’t we? I wanted your love so much and what did Jake want?” 

He dug his free hand into his sweater at his chest and twisted tightly. 

“I realize now that I never asked about Dad. In all our conversations, I never once asked for him. He didn’t care for me. Even now, he calls us Marc and I realize I’m still masking. Without trying, I wear the mask around him. He wouldn’t give me the time of day. Now here I am reaching out and all he can see is Marc. And it isn’t even Marc he sees. He sees who he wanted Marc to be!” 

Steven closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky, listening. “Jake took over when it was too much. Did you beat him too? Did you make Jake listen to you as you made him nothing? As you told him not to exist? Is that why Jake doesn’t want to exist now? Because you hurt him so much? Did Dad ignore him too? Or did Dad talk to Jake? Jake was more of the son I couldn’t be. Did Dad tell him to be a better son? Did Jake ask Dad for help? Is that why Jake hates him?” 

He could hear the breathing on the other end, quiet and trembling slightly with emotion. 

“I hate you for how much you broke us. I hate you every time I wake up from a nightmare. I hate you for every tear I’ve had to shed without knowing why. I hate you for the doubt and self destruction you embedded into our heart! Every time Marc drinks and every time Jake sits in his car trying not to have a panic attack! I hate you for every moment I was alone and didn’t understand why! I’m glad you’re gone. I don’t know what I would do if I had to know you were there hurting us by refusing to love us! All I wanted was a mother and all you gave us was this broken house!” 

Steven wiped the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. “Today is Roro’s birthday. Somewhere in another timeline I like to think that he’s still alive and I don’t have to exist. He’s celebrating with his big brother and a loving mother and father. But those people don’t exist here. There never was a loving mother and proud father. Roro is dead and so is that happy big brother. He died and now it’s just these ghosts inhabiting this body. We aren’t who we are supposed to be because of you.” 

He took a slow breath and looked at the sky, gray and filled with colors as the sun started to set. They were pretty. In the past, he would have glowed about it to his mum. Told her about the gorgeous sunset and amazing weather. Now he could only focus on the clouds. 

“I got your death certificate in the mail. Dad sent it to me.” He took a moment to swallow back the tightness at the back of his throat. “Long term alcoholism. Destroyed your liver. You must have been sick a long time. Dad must have known. We don’t let Marc drink anymore. It’s hard. We also made Jake stop smoking. I won’t let them destroy us the way you did. You took everything. You even took away our chance to tell you how much you didn’t deserve us. So I’ll say it now. You didn’t deserve us. We were too good for you. We deserved better. And we still do.” 

Steven choked back a small sound and wiped his nose. “Bye Mum.” 

He hung up and slowly put the phone down. 

The world was silent for a moment, and he floated over it. He floated in a space where he was happy and unaware. He lived in the light and acted as a beacon of happiness. He had to. There was too much darkness in their lives and someone had to help guide them out. 

He felt gentle hands wrap around him and strong arms pull him close. It was imaginary, deep inside where touch was odd and sometimes communication didn’t work. Yet still he sank into it as Marc and Jake wrapped around him like his favorite sweater. 

Distantly he heard the phone buzz and sing a jaunty tune. A hand picked it up and he wasn’t sure who it belonged to. 

“Hello?” No one was certain who was speaking. All three of them felt the body a if they were controlling a puppet on strings. Real but not where they were. They existed in a far away place where nothing could hurt them. 

“Baby?” Layla’s voice reached out. Even she didn’t know who she was talking to. She couldn't find their accent. 

Steven smiled at the cleverness that was Jake. Jake, unsure if they were in danger or not and knowing that they needed her, had called Layla. Always her. 

They struggled to reach through time and space, all three happy to hear her and all three unsure where they were in the head and body and world. “Hey. We’re… We’re okay. Still at the park, I think. We didn’t go far. There’s… Families and kids.” 

“Do you want me to come get you? Are you okay?” She was crying. They could hear her crying. Was she crying because she was scared? Had they hurt her again? 

No. She was crying for them. Because she at last understood where their pain came from. Where it started and lingered across their lives like an unending storm. 

They looked around. “Could you meet us at the exit? The one at the corner. We can get there.” 

“Of course, Baby. Do you want me to stay on the phone?” She sounded worried. 

“No.” They thought about it for a moment. “No. I… We want to be us for a moment. See you soon.” 

“Okay. I love you. Call if you have any trouble, okay? I’ll wait for you.” 

“We love you too.” They hung up and stared at the phone for a moment. It was odd. Before, in the rain and storm inside, they had all wanted different things and fought. Now it was different. They all wanted the same thing and moved without argument or asking. 

Standing up, they brushed the dirt and grass from their pants then moved carefully as if expecting the body to not function right. Taking a step, they expected it to be like walking across the moon. Yet gravity and the world was still there. The body moved and they blended in a way they had never felt before. 

It was odd. Both unsetting and comforting. They deeply disliked the loss of autonomy but there was a greater sense of comfort in knowing they had support. They were functioning as a team. 

They made it to the end of the park and stared at the people around them. People that moved and functioned every day as single units with one purpose and thought. None of it seemed real. How one body and mind could house so many and endless worlds and realities. 

One of those people smiled to them and hugged them close. “Layla.” They sank into her, hugging her, though they could only feel it from a distance. “Sorry. We aren’t sure who…Who is where.” 

“Do you need help? I’m not sure how I can help…” She looked them over as if maybe she could find a button or something that might separate them out again. 

They shook their head. “It will sort itself out. We’re just going to be for now. If that’s okay… We just want to exist right now.” 

She slipped her hand into theirs and held it tightly, anchoring them to her as they walked back towards their flat. “Exist. You deserve to exist as much as the rest of us.” 

They smiled and held her hand. It was nice to exist together. 

Part Nine (last one) HERE

[yeonjune]

tomorrow, yeonjun rover and set me free challenges. i'm manifesting.

[honeyedlashton]

I’m happy for Luke right? Because yes queen do your thing on the runway bitch, model your shit…but also I’m begging for Ashton on the cover of some rugged sexy magazine. Like I want him lookin like Bruce Springsteen on the cover of mens health or some shit. I want the women and twinks of the world to claw up the walls.

[dirtytransmasc]

the men and boys are innocent too.

we cry "the innocent women and children" to appeal to the masses, to try and force their sympathy, but the men and boys are innocent too.

I have seen sons crying out for their mothers, their fathers, their siblings. I have seen them break down at the loss of their families. I have seen them cling to their dead and grieve.

I have seen fathers cradle their dead children, seen them kiss their faces and hold their little hands. I have seen them faint with grief when asked to identify the dead. I have seen them carry their sons and daughters. I have seen them fasting to provide what little they can for their families.

I have seen men and boys digging through the rubble with just their bare hands, I have seen them comforting strangers, playing with children, rocking them, hushing them, even if the face of such imminent danger. I have seen them cry, seen them grieve, seen them break down into each other's arms, seen them be selfless, beyond selfless, becoming something I don't have a word for.

I have seen the men who are doctors refuse to leave their patients, even when they have no medicine or supplies to give them, even when they're threatened with bombings. I have seen fathers who have lost all their children pick orphans up into their arms and proclaim them their child so they are not alone. I have seen men and boys digging pets out of the rubble.

the men are innocent too. the men and boys are being hurt and killed too. the men and boys are grieving too. the men and boys are scared too. the men and boys are fighting to save their people too. the men and boys deserve to be fought for too.

[hamletthedane]

You know what time it is….

* Regardless of whether you like your actual workplace or specific current practice (e.g. if you hold a nursing degree, you work as a nurse even if it’s in an area of medicine or a clinic that you don’t like)

Survey questions adapted from survey issued by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

[talaricula]

Things I've seen tumblr memeing about James Somerton doing à la "How did no one see how bigoted he was!" as if those things haven't been a significant part of tumblr culture for over a decade :

Presenting untrue and bordering on conspiratorial versions of (queer or otherwise marginalised) history without any sources

Completely disregarding and disrespecting any expertise on socio-cultural topics/humanities and distrusting academics and historians (incl. acting as if no academics or historians could be queer or marginalised)

Downplaying the role misogyny played in the historical oppression of queer women and concluding that queer men must have been more oppressed than queer women

Bi women are, at best, not as queer as "real" queer ppl, and at worst, simply equivalent to straight women

Despite nominal trans inclusivity, transmasculine ppl are functionally women when convenient (combined with the above, bi transmascs are functionally straight women)

Despite nominal trans inclusivity (bis), shamelessly attacking, threatening and actively endangering any trans woman who questions them or smth they find important (often by unfairly presenting her as violent or as a threat)

Having absolutely fucking wild and reductive takes about ace ppl, the oppression they face and their place in the queer community

Stating that marriage equality is an assimilationist fight while completely ignoring its direct roots in the horrifying consequences of the AIDS crisis for partners of ppl who died of AIDS

Praising western media creators from the past for queer coding even under censure and in the same breath condemning current non western media creators for being homophobic bc their representation isn't explicit enough

Blaming China for all existing homophobic censoring in western media

Assuming all queer media would be better told by western creators and by western standards

Only out queer ppl get to tell queer stories

Heavily criticising almost all queer media created by women or ppl they see as such (see above points about trans ppl) or involving/starring a significant amount of women for any perceived or real amount of "problematicness", but fawning over and praising and negating criticism of queer media created by and starring mostly or even functionally exclusively men (even when it could be argued that, you know, not involving/seriously sidelining women is a pretty clear example of misogyny which should probably be considered "problematic")

And I'm probably forgetting stuff or there's stuff I have internalised myself and don't recognise as an issue

Like idk but I feel like the takeaway from Hbomberguy and Toddintheshadow's videos should maybe be "be aware of such patterns in your communities bc they definitely exist" and not "this guy is uniquely awful" and I feel like a lot of the discussion I've seen surrounding this has been severely failing at that. Most ppl who've spent any significant amount of time on tumblr prob either have internalised at least one of those thought patterns, have had to de-internalise them, or have had to be extremely vigilant to not internalise them (which is done by, you know, seeking out other sources, which also seemed like an important takeaway from the videos)

[wanderinggoddess]

Claudia, c. 1970s

[stil-lindigo]

when people reblog donation posts and say "donate what you can", I really feel like people aren't actually internalising it. not all of us can afford to donate $50, $100, more than that. but i know for a fact that there are thousands of us that can spare $2 or $5, and that all adds up.

it hurts so much to sit here and feel the limits of our own ability. we're not millionaires. we can't instantly fund these escape attempts. but these are bids for life, by people who never asked for the hellfire being rained upon them by sadistic colonialists, greedy for oil and land. they committed no crime other than being born in palestine. and of course it's unfair, to have to shoulder the weight of people's lives when we're all struggling to get by as it is. but our governments relentlessly fail us, they fail to scrape at the bottom of their cold dead hearts for their last dregs of humanity. it is so, so unfair, but it is up to the common man to save each other.

please. look at this spreadsheet. find a fund that resonates with you. and DONATE WHAT YOU CAN.

[eriochromatic]

cross guild poster redraw but with colors inspired by the new ep! 😤😤😤

[lotus-pear]

two mimir.. 🤲🏼🤲🏼

[hilacopter]

conflating diaspora jews with the actions of the israeli government is not okay, yes, but have you considered it's not okay to conflate israeli jews with them either

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The musical episode.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[juuuuunaaaaaooooo]

They are negotiating for business, so when Rio say, I have other plan for him….for me it's can only mean…death…I mean why he would keep him alive…it wouldn't make sense at all…And if the writers would him for coming back, I don't think they wait until s5 right????

[lazyjellyfishcreation]

Duke meeting the JL but it goes wrong.

We've all heard about Jason getting apprehended by the JL because they don't know Red Hood isn't a villain. Now get ready for, Duke Thomas getting apprehended by the JL because they don't believe he's new and they don't believe he's part of the bat clan.

They just see this new vigilante in Gotham who's the only one that works the day shift, has not been seen with the batman in person (that they know of, bc they don't actually have a pair of good eyes in Gotham that isn't Bruce and Bruce ain't telling them shit.) with no history of being a Robin.

They draw their conclusions, realize that this must be a copycat and therefore dangerous towards other and himself and decide to bring him in, because Bruce is of world somewhere.

Duke just lets it happen, faintly complaining about racial profiling while he waits for the rest of the family to break into the watchtower and embarrass the fuck out of the justice league.

[corpsentry]

pick your battles