#I have overcome my anxiety just a little to engage in a small amount of april fools

[irene-dimension]

a guide to overcoming stomach growling

a bit of a lengthy post here! let me start by saying anyone with a k*nk or f*tish on this topic can kindly leave and DNI freak

so, stomach growling is something i have dealt with a lot, especially in academic settings. there is nothing more humiliating than eliciting a loud noise completely out of your control in a silent classroom. i wanted to make this post to share a few tips i’ve learned over the years, things id wish id known sooner. this topic can be really embarrassing to talk about, and those who deal with this issue often have no one to turn to for help. so if i can help even just one person with this post i would be satisfied :)

firstly, i think it’s important to understand what exactly stomach growling is. It’s the sound of food being processed through your digestive system, a perfectly normal process. food provides a buffer to those loud noises, the absence of it removes that buffer making the noises more noticeable.

minimize the possibility

- when getting dressed don’t wear tight clothes that will press into your stomach

- don’t skip breakfast. make sure to eat a balanced breakfast. for example, I’ll have a yogurt with granola mixed in with a side of grapes and strawberries. any combination that you find works for you

- chew properly, this makes the food easier to digest and will minimize the noise

-try not to inhale through your mouth while chewing

- make sure to drink water with your meals/snacks !! personally i have seen a difference by drinking the correct amount of water with food. however, you don’t want to over do it. if you’re in a situation where you only have access to water and you begin to feel the grumbles come on, take a few small sips. don’t take huge gulps or drink too much, this will make the sounds louder

accommodate and adapt

- pack a small snack or multiple snacks to bring with you to school or any activity. it may feel a bit embarrassing to be eating during class, but i promise no one really cares that much. it is much less embarrassing to eat a little snack in class than to have your stomach growl

- make a snacking schedule ! this is something that really helped for me. for some, small snacks throughout the day work better than 3 meals. id see what classes allow food, then decide which periods to eat. for example, id eat at the end of second period, then the beginning of 6th

-bring a smoothie. ive done this for the past 3 years

- know your limits. of course, you should try not to let fear of something out of your control hold you back. how and ever, i know personally just how much it can affect decision making. don’t feel bad for accommodating yourself, you deserve to feel comfortable. this can be applied to anything but here’s an example—if it is possible, opt for a shorter class length. take a 1 hr class when possible over the 4 hr one.

mental aspect

personally i believe that the mental aspect of this issue plays a HUGE role.

anxiety can actually worsen these sounds, turning it into a terrible cycle. you fear making the sounds, which in turn causes you to make the sounds. i think anxiety is so critical to this. maybe you have anxiety about something completely different, maybe anxiety about interacting with people in social situations. your brain picks one thing to hyper focus on and redirects all your attention to something you weren’t even worried about in the first place. it is also interesting to note that the gut has the second most nerve endings, after the brain. some research has been conducted to look into their connection, but it’s still a pretty new topic.

- if you are in class, try to really pay attention to note taking. it helps to be focused and physically engaged on something else

- have a bracelet or something to fidget with

- EARBUDS. i truly don’t know what i would have done without my earbuds. they definitely provide a distraction, and this distraction can lessen the sounds

-gum. this can be another helpful distraction, the chewing may trick your brain and buy you more time until you are able to leave the situation or have a snack

- try to remind yourself that everything will be alright. if someone wants to make fun of you for something every human on this earth experiences then that makes them an asshole

~~~

i think ive covered most everything here ! i hope you were able to find something in this post useful and are able to apply it to your life. if you have any questions feel free to ask under this post or dm me. stay safe out there 🫶

#stomach growling #stomach #stomach problems #tummy ache #stomach ache #stomach grumbling #girlblogging #hungry #hunger #help #chronic illness #chronic pain #belly ache #stomach noises #how to stop stomach noises #school #school problems #work #embarrasment

[escape-rock-bottom]

Hey There (Discomfort Challenge)

One day, a harsh reality hit me like a crowbar slamming me square in the face: I don't have many friends. I literally only had three very close ones, and two of them were high school friends I haven't spoken to for years. As you know, humans are social creatures and rarely is someone truly content with little to no social interaction and friends.

I personally fall into the category of people who are highly social but prefer a handful of really good friends over a large amount of acquaintances. I'm also in the category of socially anxious shy dudes who are secretly extroverts and love a good conversation. I just find it insanely hard to approach people for a variety of reasons I discussed in more detail in a previous blog. To summarize, I overthink things regarding socializing.

Apparently, the answer is painfully straightforward: People tend to ignore you unless you approach them. It seems like 90% of your relationships exist because you approached first, and 10% are from them approaching you.

Also, people generally keep to themselves and assume that others do the same. In my case, my resistance to making eye contact and approaching people makes it seem a whole lot like I'm not interested in chatting regardless of my actual intentions and desires.

People can't read minds, but they're great at reading body language. The difference between me and most other people is that my body language rarely betrays my intentions, emotions, or thoughts. That in itself creates complications with communication.

In order to take the guesswork and misinterpretation out of social interactions, I have to verbally express my intentions. If I want to talk, I need to make it clear with a greeting. If I want to be left alone, I'd need to ask for space. In reverse, I'd need to ask the other person what they need and learn to understand general social cues.

Yeah I can argue its unfair that I have to put in so much work into socializing but I have to be honest with myself: Who doesn't? Most people struggle with relationships in a variety of different ways.

Alright, I know my problems, but what good is that without a potential solution to them? How do I extinguish my anxiety regarding approaching people without freaking myself out? I came up with one idea after trying a previous method and realizing that was a little too scary at that time:

Just say hi to people I am familiar with.

That's a full on entry level baby step to conquering my fear right there. About two weeks ago I set out to greet people with a short and simple "hi". As of writing this post, I have still been doing so. It's getting a bit easier, but I still struggle with it. However, I've met quite a few cool people and was able to have more conversations than before.

It's nice to feel like I'm connecting to people where before I just sat there being pathetically lonely even though people were reaching out and engaging with me. It's even nicer to know that most of my relationships grew distant because of my lack of reaching out to them. Yes, I previously lacked that awareness and I will admit it's knowledge I only recognized after 24 years of my life.

Once again, with most types of anxiety, the way to deal with and overcome it is to take small steps to face it. Ignoring it or shifting blame to some other circumstance doesn't help you conquer that anxiety. Since I know my anxieties mainly surround social interactions, I set discomfort challenges to put me in a position to face my fears, but I know plenty of people who suffer the same or similar anxieties in their life.

Of course, it's up to you to test methods and choose the best fit. What will work for me may not for you, but the concepts themselves are universal: To overcome fear of socializing and building relationships, you need to practice putting yourself out there.

#improving relationships #social anxiety #overcoming fear #lonliness

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[scouthearted]

🦀 time for crab 🦀

today i summoned one crab and became best friends with it. it's just me and my crab friend against the world! 🦀🌼

#time for crab #I have overcome my anxiety just a little to engage in a small amount of april fools #also this is #jau

[aalapdavjekar]

8 Lessons from Vipassana

2010 was a peculiar year. It was the year in which I found the great fortune of stumbling upon a book about the bizarre incidents and experiences of an Australian girl voyaging through the Indian subcontinent. The book — a 21st century rewrite of the lore of the hippie trail, offered little towards cerebral surprises, but made for a curious viewing of the life of someone who was brave (or foolish) enough to have gone through all the trouble that she did for the experiences she sought.

The author chronicled days spent discovering religion and spiritual heaven while avoiding hell — nosy neighbours, opportunistic rickshaw-wallas, and the odd would-be rapist. She portrays an all too familiar India — the world’s spiritual shopping mall serving food-poisoning on Tuesdays, vehicular accidents every Friday, and frightening latrines as a daily course. Not all of her pages carried so much drama, but they laid out a rough sketch of the trials and tribulations of the average foreigner in attempting to make sense of the country.

The smallest chapter in the book spoke to me the most. There was a tiny passage that depicted the joy and punishing solitude of the type rarely considered as thrill — monastic rituals, austere and rigorous routines, distress and hardship — it seemed a bit too much for anyone, let alone a solo adventurer. And yet, it seemed like just about the only thing she really enjoyed during her trip.

That was my introduction to Vipassana. That first memory is still fresh: the desire to confront this awkward specimen of a situation for myself, only because, at the time, it seemed so bizarre. To my ignorant mind, I could not have comprehended the result of ten long days (and nights), sitting around without the utterance of a single syllable. If nothing else, it would just be yet another substance: to taste, chew on, spit out, and rave about having conquered yet another mountain of sensory input; spin it all into a tall tale of profundity and wisdom.

Thankfully, the taste was sweet. To me, this became pretty important. It felt like a gigantic discovery and I often found myself proselytizing like a broken record for days after the first course. I eventually stopped for being seen as a bit of a nuisance, however, my fascination with the practice only grew with time. In those ten short days, I had experienced a deep, resounding change from within. As difficult as the journey had been, I only knew I had to keep going.

That was all ten years ago. 2010 was peculiar, but a dozen Vipassana courses later, life only became weirder.

It’s the stark contrast that gets you; the juxtaposition of life inside a course, and then witnessing the world outside. It is hard to illustrate and is not really the point of this post, but I mention it only because I’d like to warn you that many of the lessons I’ve learnt are all experiential truths. Simply engaging the intellect is not enough. You can’t describe the taste of salt to someone who has never experienced it before, and you can’t learn to swim simply by reading about it.

With that said, understand that even though I have been practicing for a while, it does not mean I have achieved any form of mastery over my practice. I still consider this as the just the first step in a very long path. I share these insights, all of which have broadened and enriched my understanding of not only myself, but of all-encompassing experience existence in itself. My only hope is to encourage you to sit down and focus on your breath.

1. Relaxing meditation is more like aggressive deconditioning…

The mind is a big ball of accumulated, tightly-knotted habits. Habits are not merely mundane proclivities like picking your nose, or a preference for K-pop. Habits are the set of all unconscious tendencies, picked up over the course of one’s life and through generations past, resulting in present thought, action, or both. Natural instincts such as the struggle to survive and the urge for sexual gratification are among the densest of elements residing within the mental landscape.

Mental forces are easiest to imagine when you think of them as analogous to Newton’s Third Law: each action has an equal and opposite reaction. As the mind sees, the mind does. Cause and effect. Through millions of years of evolution, the mind has been shaped to recognize and react to patterns. Certain emotions may result in specific thoughts. Certain thoughts may result in specific behaviours.

When you sit down to practice Vipassana, you essentially train yourself to observe the mind without reacting. The process may not seem like much but, with time, the simple act of observation decreases the rigidity and impulsiveness of the mind. Gradually, the simple act of watching it unravel before you, unveiling its knots until they loosen and eventually fade away, brings about a significant change. This does not mean that after ten days of meditation you will deprogram your mind and achieve liberation. It is a very gradual process. Believe me. Even after all these years, I’ve only scratched the surface and, so far, I’ve managed to adopt a slightly better diet. But I have better focus, more clarity of thought, less anxiety, and things that used to drive me crazy don’t annoy me as much anymore.

Meditation will change your brain. Thoughts included.

2. You are your mind’s weak, pathetic slave.

At any given time, you have very little conscious ability to overrule your genetic programming, emotional state, and natural surroundings (many have even argued that there is no such thing as conscious control and free will is an illusion, but that is a discussion for another time). The goal of meditation is to break free from the mind’s thrall: it’s patterns of thought. That’s the liberation that meditators keep referring to time and again.

If you find it hard to believe how little control you have over your mind, try to focus continuously on the breath just for a few minutes and notice the amount of thoughts that manage to pop up. You’ll quickly see how easily the mind is carried away. It’ll drift away, either to the future, or to the past. Bringing it back and keeping it in the present is a constant, seemingly endless struggle.

Our toxic addiction to our own thoughts creates the biggest hurdle. Over the course of our lives, we have been conditioned by our parents, school, society, even language, to think a certain way. Like the words we associate with objects to learn the alphabet in kindergarten, we continuously associate abstractions — words — to ideas; to the way things work. Our names for objects, people, places, feelings, situations, etc. are just names. They are concepts that are formed in the mind. In other words, our brain holds maps to reality which are drawn and redrawn over the course of our lives. But the map is not the territory, yet we are constantly under the delusion that the map is real.

Our fascination and attachment to our artificial concepts of what is real, important, and urgent is what hinders progress— the practice is essentially training the mind not to identify with one’s thoughts. In other words, to heal trauma, you need to learn to dissociate with the feeling which triggers the trauma. Trauma comes in many shapes. It may take the form of the stories that we forge for ourselves to make sense of who we are. The story we tell ourselves turns into the very bondage that keeps us in indefinite servitude to the mind.

The mind is a slippery serpent, as dangerous when untamed as it is powerful when mastered. Most beginners often find it frustrating how difficult it is to ‘control’ their minds. But therein lies the effort. It is a skill to be cultivated like any other. Exasperation and the desire to stop is a natural byproduct of the conditioning described earlier. There is an inertia to progress that needs to be continuously overcome. With time, it gets easier.

Meditation is simply a tool to harness and rein in the unruly mind.

3. Everything is connected. Every action has a consequence, and it matters.

This can be argued as a simple scientific principle. Richard Feynman in his lecture, “The Relation of Physics to Other Sciences,” describes the artificial divisions we create, forming a myriad of distinct models of understanding to comprehend and explain to ourselves aspects of the same reality. Brian Cox takes it even further.

My understanding leans towards the philosophical side, but bear with me. Most religions and spiritual traditions preach purity of mind, speech, and deed. Whether through scripture or ritual, they teach compassion, loving kindness, mercy and wisdom. I’ve realized that there’s more to this than mere morality.

To greatly simplify this, let’s imagine the world as a closed, finite system — something like a small swimming pool. Any kind of movement results in ripples that gradually extend across the body of water, affecting everything in their path. Eventually, given enough time, those ripples will bounce right back to whence they came. Sooner or later, your actions will meet their maker. But don’t mistake this as a need to be nice out of selfish necessity. The picture is bigger than this.

The world, much like our hypothetical swimming pool, is a melting pot of events resulting from simultaneous interactions causing countless, spontaneous consequences. It’s a chain reaction and an ocean of chaos, with the ebb and flow of individual currents that mingle, coalesce and form waves, crashing into one another to give us the great churning of the wheel that Buddhists speak of, and the agitation that we are almost too familiar with.

The turbulence, in essence, is the mind being washed away with the tide, engulfed and drowned in the vicissitudes of a constantly changing life. To remain steadfast and solid in such stormy waters would require nothing short of supreme mastery in the art of mindfulness. A cornerstone of such an endeavour requires the cultivation of a conscious effort to sustain complete awareness and acceptance for the present moment.

When one remains vigilant of thought, speech, and deed, and acquires a resolute and unwavering focus, then all the torment the ocean can muster will be but powerless against this tranquil state of mind. But even beyond that, tranquility will give way to reflection, understanding, and empathy. In other words, when you respond to anger with love, you cast water over the fire.

With practice, each action undertaken will arrive with more effort, more purpose and consideration. That is the delicate insight to be gained — that every action, every moment, every breath is sacred. Every bit of conscious presence is a gift to be treasured.

4. Nothing matters as much as you think it does…

Vipassana meditation is an exercise in cultivating insight through self-observation. You watch your breath and the sensations across your body as they arise and pass away, each time acknowledging their transient and impermanent nature. That, you come to realize, is the truth of all reality.

You realize that suffering is a form of mental attachment, not to any external object, but to the sensation that object has on your mind. This attachment is sometimes so subtle and imperceptible that it is impossible to witness it without a mind that is steady and calm. These attachments are what cause dukkha or suffering. Attachments are not limited to sensations that feel good. Any sensation that makes you feel like had more of it or less of it — desire and aversion — is attachment. The mind runs after pleasure, runs from fear and pain. These are attachments and they are a hindrance to the practice.

As you grow into your practice, you will gradually slip out of your old patterns of thought, replacing them with a more open, willing, and fluid presence of mind. What once bothered you may gradually dissolve into nothingness. What once seemed as part of you, possessed you, caused emotional havoc when you didn’t get what you wanted, might simply vanish from existence. No, you won’t turn into an emotionless robot. No it won’t make you give up everything in life, turn into a vagrant and move to the beach, unless you already desired those things. Meditation will only help sort out what you really want.

Practice will help you detach yourself from your thoughts until you realize that your thoughts are not you. Feelings come, feelings go. They are impermanent, and they don’t matter. All it requires is time and the simple act of observation.

5. You are not an experiential bubble.

For many beginners trying to embrace the many forms of mindfulness, one of the toughest obstacles to overcome is doubt. It may be doubt in oneself, doubt in the practice, doubt in one’s teacher, and so on. But it’s a natural response to something new, especially to those completely unfamiliar with these types of practices. Imparting trust is a transactional habit. Unless one is certain of attainable benefits and can measure their worth, they may find an unwillingness to take even the first step.

Couple a doubtful mind with the myriad of mental encounters one may face during meditation and the result might just kill the desire for practice. People have reported everything from swirling lights, out-of-body experiences, synesthesia, to demons. This is not unusual. Meditation is a gateway into the unconscious — a surgical procedure as S.N. Goenka, the person who brought the teaching of Vipassana back to India, describes. Through the process of Sankharupekkha (observing mental formations with equanimity), the practitioner encounters dormant impurities in the unconscious that rise to the surface of the mind, and manifest themselves as physical phenomenon.

Juxtaposed with modern-day culture, the meditative experience stands out like a sore thumb, often causing its students great confusion and mistrust in the very quality of what they are learning. It doesn’t help that the ideas and general philosophy presented by spiritual traditions are outright antithetical to “western” schools of thought.

Concepts such as avidya, anicca, dukkha, shunyata, samsara and nirvana are like salt. These are concepts that are almost impossible to understand through mere language—one must personally taste them. They are often horribly misconstrued and usually thrown out, replaced by a far shallower understanding that barely skims the surface of the teaching, conflating meditation with stress reduction and labour productivity. After all, these are the values our industrial societies can easily relate to.

We often make it harder on ourselves by letting our experiences fester. Remember to talk about them, discuss them, debate their true essence, and let them be out in the open. Let these ideas, however alien, achieve coherence and solidity. Give them a better chance to struggle and survive. There are many people out there experiencing the same reality, watching the same movie, feeling the same thing. The emotional outlet, especially when you are starting out in this practice is immensely valuable. It’s a small thing but it matters.

After my first ten-day Vipassana course came to a close, as the new students could finally open their mouths and start speaking with each other about their ten days spent in silence, we could all see the benefits this strange new thing had given us. I was in a room full of fifty-odd people that seemed to have had a similar experience in the course as I did. They all seemed calmer than on the first day, happier for having made it through; in the process, they had visibly changed. That’s what brought forth trust in the system; not only because it seemed to work across a diverse set of people, but because it made me realize that we are all in the same boat.

6. Compassion takes practice.

There is no absolute right or wrong. Understanding which is which requires not only context but patience. An impulsive and ignorant mind does not have the capacity to form correct judgement. An angry and intolerant person cannot be trusted to make rational and thoughtful decisions. Why do you need to develop proper judgement? The simplest possible answer: to progress in your practice. Hence, while Vipassana may bring insight, on the last day of each course, students are taught a slightly different type of meditation.

Metta, meaning ‘loving-kindness’, is a type of meditation that involves concentrating on directing love towards ourselves and others, even those (especially those) who may have hurt us. A daily practice of metta has its benefits, but most significant of all, is the way it complements insight meditation and brings out lasting, positive changes in mind and body.

The feeling is hard to describe, but all I can say is that (at the risk of sounding cliched), through the course of one’s life, pain is an inevitability, but suffering through the pain is a choice. With regular practice in metta, instead of being swept away by one’s emotions, one learns to consciously bring awareness to the suffering being experienced and replace it with compassionate and loving thoughts. Suffering is simply a negative reaction of the mind to any form of pain. With practice, mental aversion to pain gradually fades. Like mental ointment, compassion can heal the deepest of wounds.

But compassion takes practice. Think of it as learning a new language. Even if you have no prior experience reading the script or pronouncing the words, with time, you might just achieve fluency.

Compassion towards all beings, regardless of the situation, is an important goal for anyone serious about walking the path. When you emanate a constant stream of loving thoughts without ever missing a beat, then you might definitely consider yourself having changed for the better.

7. It’s all just glorified play.

By the time children reach the age of 3 or 4, their ego begins to form a cohesive identity — a map of themselves: I am this, I like that, I want to be so and so. Whether through nature or nurture, the child learns to take on a role for themselves depending on what the situation may bring: during interactions with their parents, with other children, and with society in general.

From an early age, children are engaged in play. Their games may be diverse, but are usually a form of role-playing: tea parties, dollhouses, make-believe — simulations of the adult world, to test its boundaries and see how things react. Fueled by curiosity and the joy of discovery, they rehearse and solidify their understanding of their surroundings, finding their place in the greater familial and societal picture, and simultaneously strengthen their masks of identity.

The masks we carry, birthed from the ego, may be necessary for our survival, but they are simply roles — the games we continue to play even as adults, with ourselves and with others. When the student of Vipassana comes to notice their own desires and attachments to the world, the identity of the self is often seen as the greatest attachment. It is the great epic; the story of ourselves that we’re so engrossed in writing and reciting— and madly in love with.

This story never ends. It lies permanently in the state of becoming: I am like this, I like that, I want to be so and so. The attachment to a false idea of oneself is the most difficult thing to witness and understand. It is the biggest delusion of the mind, and the greatest hindrance to one’s liberation from samsara — the endless cycle of birth and death. Whether you choose to believe that is unimportant, but recognising one’s tendencies to cling to one’s beliefs, one’s masks and identity, is a crucial process towards self-discovery and insight.

Recognising the mind for what it is — a constant stream of consciousness always in flux — will bring you a step closer to deciphering it.

8. You Know Nothing.

I know nothing. For knowing involves being certain, but if everything is impermanent and things are constantly in flux, then nothing can be certain.

To understand how truly inept we are at comprehending reality, consider the incredibly narrow spectrum of perception our brains provide. Our sensory organs: the eyes, ears, nose, tongue and skin offer only a slice of all the information that they come into contact with.

The eyes, for example, see only a thin slice of the electromagnetic spectrum, which we call visible light. Similarly, our hearing is restricted to frequencies of sound that fall between 20 Hz and 20 kHz. In the same way, we carry only a limited cognitive capability and intelligence.

It’s a humbling thought. At the very least, reminding oneself of the fragility of one’s understanding is a way to minimize cognitive bias. Further, since no one knows anything, knowing you know nothing will actually put you a step ahead of most people.

“I am wiser than this human being. For probably neither of us knows anything noble and good, but he supposes he knows something when he does not know, while I, just as I do not know, do not even suppose that I do. I am likely to be a little bit wiser than he in this very thing: that whatever I do not know, I do not even suppose I know.” — Plato’s Apology of Socrates

Similarly, from the Dhammapada:

“A fool who knows his foolishness is wise at least to that extent, but a fool who thinks himself wise is a fool indeed.”

Lastly, Shunryu Suzuki, a Japanese Zen Master calls the state of knowing nothing the “beginner’s mind,” the constant prerequisite for progressing in one’s practice:

“The goal of practice is always to keep our beginner’s mind. This does not mean a closed mind, but actually an empty mind and a ready mind. If your mind is empty, it is always ready for anything; it is open to everything. In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities; in the expert’s mind there are few.” — from Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind

May all beings be happy.

#meditation #vipassana #insight #zen #buddhism #philosophy #wisdom

[queenofcats17]

Wanted to do a follow up to this story.

Eternal Stream belongs to me, @liliflower137, and @lady-lampblack.

The G-man replacement idea is not mine. I won’t tag them because the subject matter makes them uncomfortable.

Warning, this does kind of have some abusive undertones

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

Choosing the Benrey had been a mistake. 

The fact that he’d had to hold the Benrey down to tame the rat’s nest that was his hair and shave him should have told him exactly how this was going to go. 

But he’d convinced himself that he could make this work. He’d convinced himself that he could shape the Benrey into a proper replacement. 

He came to regret this decision.

First of all, the Benrey refused to let go of his engagement ring. The other man had actually bitten him when he’d tried to take it away. The Benrey still possessed some shapeshifting capabilities and had shapeshifted fangs in order to defend his ring.

Second, the Benrey was absolutely awful at being mysterious. While his debilitating social anxiety could be used to maintain a mysterious front, it was only when he was given time to prepare and rehearse what he had to say. When the Benrey was caught off-guard he became soft-spoken and awkward, shifting back into his natural “gamer” speech.

Yes, the Benrey could always pause time to compose himself, but his control over his powers was still poor and more often than not the Benrey ended up tiring himself out and being forced to retreat as he was unable to complete his mission with the necessary amount of mystery.

The Benrey also got bored and distracted easily, and had a hard time focusing on the tasks he was given. He’d forget his task and need to be reminded of what he was supposed to be doing quite often, which was beyond irritating. 

And that wasn’t even counting the Benrey’s issues with being left alone.

All in all, choosing the Benrey had been a mistake. He saw that now. 

Best to just drop him off and let his family deal with him.

He could find another replacement. 

.

Chester had been holding B’s hand the whole way back to the house where they apparently lived. 

B didn’t notice anything except for that single fact. 

Chester was holding his hand. 

He felt all warm and fuzzy inside and he didn’t care what the reason for it might be. He never wanted this moment to end. He was tempted to pause time just to enjoy the moment, but he didn’t want to get tired out again.

“We never stopped looking for you, you know.”

“Huh?” 

B snapped back to reality at the sound of Chester’s voice. Chester was looking back at him. His smile was soft and tender, making B’s heart skip a beat. 

“We never stopped looking for you,” Chester repeated, squeezing B’s hand. 

“Really?” 

“Really,” Chester nodded, rubbing his thumb over B’s hand. 

“Oh, uh, I mean...Thanks,” B mumbled, feeling his face get warm.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Chester laughed, squeezing B’s hand. “I love you. I’m always going to try and find you.”

B let out a small squeak, his face getting even warmer. He dipped his head, trying to look anywhere but at Chester’s face, which was still radiating so much love and warmth.

“Right, sorry.” Chester laughed again, the sound a bit softer this time. “I’m probably overwhelming you a little.”

“No, uh, it’s fine,” B tried to compose himself. “‘S fine. ‘Sall good. Just...” He trails off, biting his lip. “‘S nice hearing...hearing you say that. Makes me...Makes me feel all warm.”

Chester’s eyes widened slightly before the surprise gave way to a tender loving look that probably would have made B blush even more if he hadn’t been furiously avoiding looking at Chester’s face.

“I’m glad,” Chester said softly. 

They continued the rest of the way to the house in silence. For once, B didn’t mind the quiet. 

His relationship with silence was...a complicated one. On one hand, there were times that he found the lack of noise comforting. But more often than not...More often than not the silence filled him with dread. 

B had spent a lot of alone. His supervisor would often leave him alone for long periods of time, which never ended well. Whenever B was left by himself, he got...He wasn’t sure what the best word for it would be. A sense of terror the likes of which he’d never experienced washed over him as well as a visceral need to know that there were other people out there.

He’d torn apart the void dimension he was left in more than once due to this terror. His supervisor had tried to leave him with what B could only describe as NPC’s but...that had gone even worse. 

But this silence wasn’t the sort he was used to in the void. This silence came from being comfortable enough with another person that you didn’t feel the need to fill every moment with noise. He felt...safe.

He quickly became so lost in holding Chester’s hand again that he didn’t notice when they arrived at the house. At least not until he ended up literally running into Chester. 

“We’re here,” Chester said, gesturing to the house before them.

It was small and a bit shabby, but seeing it made B feel immediately at ease. Like he was coming home. 

Likely because he was.

“C’mon, let’s get you into something more comfortable,” Chester grinned as he led B up the steps.

“Sounds good.” B couldn’t help but grin back. 

Entering the house made him want to cry, but in a good way. Walking through the door, he was overcome with a feeling of safety and joy. He started to cry a little, overwhelmed by the feelings. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way.

“Are you okay?” Chester asked, putting a hand on B’s shoulder. 

B all but melted into his chest. “‘M just really happy. Feels....Feels right. Feels...safe.”

Chester’s expression softened and he wrapped his arms around B. 

“I’m glad,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to B’s head. A moment later, though, he drew back, spluttering. “What the- Is that hair gel?”

“Huh?” B looked up at Chester, still crying a bit. “Oh, uh, yeah. Boss said I had to look professional.”

“You look ridiculous,” Chester shook his head, smiling fondly as he ruffled B’s hair. 

B instinctively leaned into his touch. It felt so good to have someone run their fingers over his scalp. He almost started purring. He was pretty disappointed when Chester finally removed his hand.

“There we go,” he said. “There’s the soft head I fell in love with.”

B’s face felt warm all over again and he ducked his head, starting to fiddle with his tie. 

“Oh, right. That’s...probably kind of weird.” Chester laughed nervously, smile faltering. “You don’t remember me and all.”

“’S fine,” B mumbled. “Was...Was good. You’re, uh, you’re a big cool.”

Chester laughed softly. “Let me go get you some clothes, alright? We can get you out of that suit.”

“Thanks.” B watched him shyly as Chester moved to a different room. 

“Hey! Hey Chester!” A voice came from that same room. “I heard someone talking! Who’d you bring back?”

B frowned. The voice sounded familiar, much like everything else in the house felt familiar. But something about it also made him...afraid. Slowly, he approached the room, poking his head in.

Chester was rummaging in the drawers of a dresser on one side of the room, right next to a bed. A blue sweatshirt was already laid out on the bed, along a pair of sweatpants. Strangely, there didn’t look to be anyone else in the room. So where had that voice come from?

“Give me a minute,” Chester said. “I’ll explain soon.”

“But I wanna know!” The voice whined. It sounded like it was coming from the monitor on the desk shoved in the corner. It also sounded a lot like B himself.

“Issat computer talking?” B asked, unable to stop himself. 

“Holy shit! Is that Benrey?” Looking closer, there was a Sim on screen. For some reason, B couldn’t help but be reminded of a Half Life 1 soldier. 

“Why’s the Sim talking?” B pointed at the computer. 

“Why’re you asking that?” The Sim frowned. “Why’re you acting like you don’t know who I am?” 

“He got his mind wiped,” Chester explained to the Sim. “B, this is Forzen. He’s...kind of my son? Or, well, our son.”

“Uh...Nice to meet you?” B said slowly. “My name’s B? Agent B? Or, uh, that’s, uh, that’s what my superior always called me.”

“Agent B?” Forzen perked up. “Like Agent P? Like Perry the Platypus? Is Benrey Perry the Platypus?”

Chester immediately had to stifle a snort, clearly fighting back laughter as he leaned on the dresser. 

“I mean...I could be,” B replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t encourage him!” Chester said, losing his battle and beginning to laugh.

“Nope, too late.” B’s smile widened. “I’m a platypus now.”

In his computer, Forzen was chanting “Benrey the Platypus” over and over.

“Go get changed,” Chester snorted, shoving a set of clothes into B’s arms. 

B couldn’t help but giggle as he was sent into the bathroom. For the first time in a long time he felt...light. He wasn’t weighed down by fear or anxiety. He was...happy. Actually happy. 

He hugged the clothes to his chest, giggling and bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had the strongest urge to start flapping his arms. His superior had always said it was unprofessional, but he didn’t care. He set the clothes on the toilet and began to jump around, flapping his arms. He was flooded with relief and joy and a feeling that he was finally safe. 

He did this for a few minutes before growing tired.

Alright. Now he’d change. 

He started to eagerly fumble with the buttons to get the suit off. He’d always liked the way he felt in it, but only for short periods of time. When he wore it for too long it started feeling stuff and uncomfortable. And the clothes Chester had picked out felt so soft. 

He paused when he was taking off his gloves, staring down at the ring on his finger. Now that he was home...Maybe he could take it off? Before he’d been so afraid he’d lose it that he’d refused to take it off for anything. Which meant it could probably use a cleaning. He bit his lip, worrying with it a bit. It would be fine. No one would take it now. He could take it off. 

It still took him a good few minutes, standing there in his underwear with his shirt half undone, before he finally got up the courage to take it off. He instinctively braced, ready for it to be snatched away. But it wasn’t. It remained in his hand. It seemed so much smaller when it was off. 

He started to turn it over, finally able to inspect it without worrying about his superior snatching it while his guard was down. There seemed to be an engraving on the inside that he’d never noticed before. He had to squint a bit to be able to read it. 

No tragedy could ever come between us. I will forever be here for you. -CM

Tears began to well up in his eyes as he was once more overcome with joy and relief. Sniffling, he slipped the ring back on, quickly putting on the clothes Chester had provided and leaving the bathroom.

He found Chester talking to Forzen in the bedroom and immediately threw himself onto Chester in a hug. Chester was clearly surprised, but didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around B. 

“You feeling more comfortable?” He asked softly. 

“Mm-hm...” B nodded, closing his eyes and breathing in Chester’s smell. He felt so safe here, being held by Chester.

It was good to be home.

#fanfiction #eternal stream au #agent b au #abuse tw

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Hurt, pt.6 (E.D.)

Summary: Ethan finds out about Y/N.

Warnings: ANGST, swearing, talk of depression and blood and miscarriage

Word Count: 2300

Hurt - Series Masterlist

There are moments in life when time stands still. When great fear and anxiety arise, our brain and body tends to shut down to protect ourselves from the trauma.

For Y/N, it felt like every time she opened her eyes she found herself someplace new.

First, it was on the porch, tucked into Grayson’s arms as he carried her away. She couldn’t hear much aside from the pain that spread through her stomach or the ringing in her ears. She felt his chest vibrating as he spoke but nothing resonated with her. She clung to his scent, the woodsy, grass-like smell he and Ethan would have after being outside all day for it had comforted her.

Second, she was in the back of the car, her vision blurry and her mind hazy.

Third, she was in the hospital. She couldn’t say or do much, but she knew what she needed.

“Henstridge. Doctor Henstridge.” Once the nurse nodded, she allowed herself to close her eyes. It was just enough to keep her strength, to rest up and focus on her surroundings. But she didn’t really want to. She didn’t want to hear them say she’s lost the babies.

There is an infinite amount of things she’d offer the universe for her children to be safe, but none could compare to the guilt she felt. After all, her initial thought was to end the pregnancy when she learned of it. Was this her punishment? Was it a way to tell her she had caused it? Now when she accepted this unexpected change? Now when she loved them?

And where is Ethan? Why does he seem to be gone whenever things go wrong in her life? He started the fire and he didn’t stick around to watch his work as everything she is made of burned to crisp.

She managed to survive losing him, but losing the babies? She didn’t want to survive that.

“So, what now?” Grayson sighed as doctor Henstridge concluded his exam.

Y/N had begun coming to, something she’ll be very thankful for later on because the last thing she wanted is for Henstridge to be the one conducting the exam. She just wanted his expertise, his presence as a way to anchor herself. He was more than helpful the first time around.

“I gave her some medication and we’ll run some tests. She has to stay in bed, with no stress.” Edward turned to her, noticing her eyelids are moving but the medication he put her on would keep her out of it for a while. He was sure of it.

In a sense, Edward wasn’t able to face her right now. She was pretty panicked when they first brought her in, pale and crying. He could tell she wasn’t quite there in a sense, it was more of an instinctual reaction. He felt as if he had failed her. He felt as if he should have seen this coming, especially with the stress of a divorce looming over her head. He hadn’t even talked to her since she came to get her stitches removed a week ago. He was aware he needed to create some distance between them for he had become too attached, but now he wondered if it had hindered his ability to do his job.

Sighing, Edward rubbed his chin.

“I suggest you prepare yourself for everything. Just be there for her. Let her know she’s not alone.”

As Henstridge left, Grayson found himself unable to move. He watched her chest rise and fall and he saw just how frail she is for the first time in a long time. He knew Ethan asked him to stay away, but he couldn’t honor his wishes tonight. Grayson had to see his brother. Lucky for him, Ethan was just three floors down.

“Why are you here?” Ethan didn’t hide his animosity, irritated by Grayson’s visit. He needed time alone and he couldn’t focus on healing when Grayson reminded him of all the things he had done wrong and the woman he had broken because she dared to love him more than he ever thought he’d deserve.

While he’s learned how to recognize intrusive thoughts and to differ them from his own, Ethan was still very much emotionally tortured. He still carried too much guilt and anger and so much sadness than he could take. He prayed his antidepressants would work soon, knowing it takes about a month to start feeling the effect. He had circled the date on the calendar, knowing it would probably be the day he gets to leave and see his wife and hopefully begin building his life back up.

That’s why he needed time alone and why he had been anything but happy about his brother’s unexpected visit just before his evening session.

“Y/N is back in the hospital. Something happened.” Grayson didn’t bother sparring with him, wanting to get it all out in the open. It was pretty clear Grayson felt out of sorts as he picked at his nails and chewed on his bottom lip mercilessly. He was always the anxious type.

“She was bleeding and in pain, so I brought her in. She’s at risk of a miscarriage and they have her on all sorts of pills and IVs and they’re talking about stitching her cervix and she’s so weak and vulnerable and she is carrying your kids!” Grayson got progressively louder, his emotion overcoming him. While he tried to give Ethan time he asked for, Grayson knew this would have gone so much smoother or could have been possibly avoided had Ethan not been so secretive about how bad he got. Had he just been open with one of them, none of the bad would have happened.

“Kids?” Ethan stood, the blood rushing to his head despite his pale appearance.

“Triplets, E. And she’s scared to death. She just checked out…even when she was conscious she wasn’t there. I’m scared of what will happen if she loses the babies.” Grayson’s voice cracked, his head between his hands as he swallowed tears.

“I want to see her.” Ethan walked past Grayson, very aware of the irregularities of his leave. He didn’t care, not when Y/N was all alone in a hospital bed with not one, but three of his babies inside her. She is scared and she is lost and he’s probably the last person she’d want to see, but he has to see her. Just for a moment.

With a pass his psychiatrist lent him, Ethan and Grayson returned to her room, but Grayson didn’t come in. He let his brother have this moment.

When Ethan saw her, the very sight of her had frightened him. She laid unconscious in a hospital bed, her usually rosy cheeks now pale, her soft lips cracked where her teeth broke skin in an attempt not to scream. Her bed was tilted so the head would be lower than her waist, probably a gravity thing to keep the babies in place.

Ethan walked closer, so quiet in fear of waking her. He didn’t know what he’d say if she did open her eyes. He didn't even know would she want him here, by her side. A part of him found the thought of her opening her eyes and telling him she hates him destructive, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

He lowered his eyes to her abdomen, tilting his head to see if it grew already, but it wasn’t likely just yet. It’s been three months since their last time, she would start showing soon, but not tonight. Ethan wasn’t going to be graced with a small bump, he knew.

Reaching out, Ethan had his mind set on placing his palm on her stomach – carefully, very tenderly. His hand is shaky, hovering above but he can’t seem to put it down. You see, he was afraid. Ethan thought even a light touch of a father’s loving hand would be enough to harm his children – the kids he always wanted and always with her – just her.

“I know how badly I messed up.” He speaks so quietly that the words can’t be heard easily. Not by anyone who could be listening in. “When the guilt comes it takes me down the old familiar path. I want to refuse to walk it, pretend that I am the person I demand that I be – your husband, the man you fell in love with. I want to be who you need me to be, but I’m still so damn torn apart by my own mind and a big part of me is ashamed I let it get so bad…that I let myself hurt you in the process.” Ethan sniffles, retracting his hand. He couldn’t touch her. Not without her permission, not even if it wasn’t sexual. He lost that right.

“I’m going to make things right. Even if you never forgive me, I want to be a good dad. I want them to know I’ll do my best to be what my dad was to me.” Ethan sighed heavily, trying not to cry.

“Even when I’m not here, my mind is on you. Always is.” Ethan turned to walk away, gasping once icy cold fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was a loose fit, a small act of desperation of a girl who struggled so hard to open her eyes to see him – the man she had been missing all along. Even if she was completely certain he’s just a mirage, she wanted to keep this hallucination going.

“Same here. Infinity times infinity, remember?” She smiled meekly, remembering the day they got matching tattoos.

“You sure you want to do this? Once you do, there’s no going back. You’ll be mine forever.” Ethan chuckled, pecking her lips as she nodded. She grasped his hand tighter when the needle first pierced her skin, her wrist burning with the painful sensation. But she had his hand to hold and the infinity times infinity sign had always been theirs – something they could now share.

“Same goes for you, hotshot.” She smiled through the pain, licking her lip. Not only did they both consider number 8 as their lucky number throughout their lives, but they’ve met on August 8th, got engaged on August 8th and planned to get married on the same date. It wasn’t just a coincidence anymore, but they absolutely adored each other and they wanted to make the symbol mean something.

“I’m fine with that. You’re my infinity times infinity – because that’s how much I love you. And that’s how long I’ll love you.”

“Of course I do.” Ethan couldn’t help but smile, noticing her tattoo under the faint lamplight. She had always managed to captivate him, even now when she looked like she stood on death’s doorstep.

“I hope to share that love with our babies too. All three of them.” Ethan clasped her hand in his, a little braver now. He wanted to warm her up, be her sun in this moment of need.

“Now I’m sure you’re a mirage. The Ethan I’ve seen lately would have said they aren’t even his.” Her smile dropped, but her eyes remained on his. “He’d say I’m a whore or something worse.” Her tone is defeated, her voice breaking, her eyes watering.

Ethan didn’t know what to say. He was shocked she saw him that way. Had he really crossed so many lines she’d expect the worse of him? Because he never had any doubt those kids are his – not even for a moment.

“Do you really think that low of me?” He managed to utter, his heart-shattering. There is a mental tornado in his head, which no-one can see nor comprehend. It seemed unfair that no matter how much he strived to be the man his conscience wanted him to be, it would keep taunting him with his failures. Each time his regrets reemerged he would analyze them again, hoping that this time his mind would be satisfied with his self-professed remorse, but it never was. Like an unforgiving ghost, it would be back tomorrow to haunt him all over again. He’d see it in her eyes, in her smile and in the way she’d retract her hand from his. He’d feel it in her half-assed hugs and short, polite answers. She’d always remind him of his mistakes, never intentionally. But they’re there and he can’t make them go away.

“I don’t know.” She spoke with a slight disbelieved smiled on her face. “Because, when I wake up in the morning….I hate you. With all I am, I hate you and I curse the day we met and I want to throw acid on my wrist to remove this permanent mark of my love for you…but as the day goes by and my heart softens…I go to bed loving you…mourning you. So, I don’t know. I’m not sure what I think of the Ethan I’ve come to know in the past months. I miss my husband…the one who married me and promised me a lifetime of happiness and love. That I do know.” A tear slipped her eye so quietly, almost disappearing into the pillow unnoticed. Ethan had caught it just before and while it weighs next to nothing, that tear made him feel heavy.

“I miss that guy too.” He whispered, noticing her eyes are opening less and less, her body tired and mentally frazzled. She needed rest.

“I promise to find him for you.” Without restraint, Ethan leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead, leaving a warm, longlasting kiss before leaving.

Tags: @melodiesforari @brittttneyyyy @beautorigin  @dolandolll @xalayx @godlydolans @heyits-claire @peacedolantwins @dolanstwintuesday @accalialionheart @ethanhes @lanadeldolans @ebbach-03 @dolangels  @xxaamzxx @cutestdolans @yaren-ates @dolansmith @vintagebitttch @primadolangirl @caqsicle @jjustjoy @justordinaryjen @graydolan12 @imaginashawnns @graysonslovie @fandomsfeministsandothershit @bdsmdolan @graysavant @ethanspillow @dopedoodes @anything-dolan  @sugarfootdolan @joyrivh @reblogserpent @jonesana @emiemille  @herewegoagainandagainandagain​ @adventureswithmell 

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan x reader #dolan twins #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan au #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan x yn #ethan dolan x y/n #ethan dolan x you #grayson dolan #ethan dolan series

[isitreallyok]

Super Hero Time and My Very Own Kamen Rider Club

[A quick note before we get started here.  In this post and likely in all posts to come names of people in my personal life have been changed to maintain anonymity.] After last week’s heavy topic regarding the pressures of positivity, I thought it would be better to at least start this week off lighthearted. It’s very likely that the vast majority of the readers of this are going to be from the US and as such likely have grown up with or at least seen an episode of Power Rangers. While there are a lot of things that the Power Rangers franchise does that are beyond silly and seem absolutely ridiculous to many of us that see them as adults, the things that are presented in these shows seem absolutely incredible to their target audience. These shows are marketed towards children in case that wasn’t obvious.

Power Rangers is a nostalgic thing to watch for me and I still greatly enjoy it!

Well dear reader, I am glad we agree on that. I grew up watching Power Rangers and as time has gone on I have found that I still enjoy the monster fighting, transforming, masked heroes presented therein. There are even a number of series in the franchise that I have enjoyed even as an adult. Though as I have grown older, and in turn begun to use subtitles on everything I watch, I have developed a fascination with Asian television as a whole since it tends to feel vastly different from most of what is made available in the US. This fascination extends to tokusatsu television shows including but not limited to Super Sentai and Kamen Rider.

For those who aren’t aware, Power Rangers is actually based on the long standing Super Sentai franchise in Japan. Each week on Sunday mornings, similarly to the Saturday morning cartoons of yore, a television block called Super Hero Time airs. This consists of the most recent annual series for both Super Sentai and the annual series of another long standing series called Kamen Rider. Both of these play into the gimmick of transforming masked heroes that have a different theme with each season. Of late I have been enjoying watching episodes of each of these series with a small group of folks on Discord and let me tell you all about the joy of finally finding a group of lovely people that are interested in these series the same way I am.

Sounds like it’s time for a story. Shall we queue the “Long Ago In A Galaxy Far Far Away…” scrawl?

You know what. That sounds fun. Lets imagine this as an opening to a cinematic experience. Lets travel back to June of the COVID times, a mere six months that feels like it is 87 years ago . At this point depression had grabbed a hold of me and thrown me so deep into the pits of despair that I wasn’t sure where I was going to find a light at the end of the tunnel. I had just been through a breakup with my first girlfriend in four years, I was living at an extended stay with my father taking care of him as best as I was capable, all while sacrificing my own ability to take of myself and cope with the emotional break down that was happening as my social life and many of my friendships were falling to shambles.

Enter Kenshiro. I started interacting with Kenshiro on Twitter earlier in 2020 and saw that he posted a lot about One Piece (which I was actively catching up on at the time) and things in the tokusatsu genre. Eventually I noticed that he had posted about a small group of folx who ended up getting together on Tuesday nights to watch Sentai together. I managed to quickly, and very temporarily, overcome my social anxiety and asked if it would be possible for an invite to this group. Kenshiro had a “the more the merrier style” approach to this group and I was welcomed in with open arms. Thus beginning a journey that has lasted six months and is still going today.

I think it’s wonderful that you managed to overcome your social anxiety to get into the group, but don’t social interactions overwhelm you regardless?

Though I was able to get an invite into the server and start enjoying these watch parties with the crew, the social impact was still quite overwhelming. On any given night that we were watching Sentai shows there were between 14 and 20 people all typing (we mute our mics when we watch) at the same time and the wall of text that forms while there are four to six different discussions going on about the show was really overwhelming at first. I struggled to really feel like I belonged even though people were engaged and encouraging me with everything that I was talking about.

That all changed when Ex-Aid started up Rider Time on Thursdays. When I first joined up we were watching intermittent episodes of both Carranger and Gokaiger on Tuesdays and it was a blast. Carranger, the series that Power Rangers Turbo was based on, was easily the most 80s nonsense I’ve seen in a long time with multicolored jobber baddies that ended up being completely over the top and I loved every second of it. Eventually though we moved towards watching Gokaiger, a pirate themed anniversary season of Sentai, in its entirety. Once we moved to the stick to a single series and watch it all the way through it only made sense that someone would start up a different night for us to watch Kamen Rider.

This was originally an effort spearheaded by Ex-Aid to further the scope of the tokusatsu shows that we were watching as a group. We were running Sentai on Tuesdays, Kamen Rider on Thursdays, and Ultraman on Fridays. It was a wonderful time to have such an incredible community to surround myself with even if I was a little bit intimidated by the amount of interaction on some of the busier nights.

It sounds like a really nice time. How did you manage to overcome your social anxiety though?

Oddly enough, it came pretty natural to me when I started actually plugging myself into the Thursday night crowd. When we first began the Thursday night watch parties it started off with Kamen Rider Drive. This was a series that I had tried to get into before but never really managed to enjoy so I was a little hesitant to go through it because I didn’t think I’d enjoy it. Since we were only watching 3 episodes a week I figured I could carve out an hour and a half of my time to watch some stuff with like minded individuals even if I wasn’t the biggest fan of what we were watching. Guess what, it turns out that my gut reaction to the series was completely wrong and now I absolutely love it and am excited to revisit it when the show is a little less fresh in my mind.

The first few times I tuned in on Thursdays I was a little bit shy. I didn’t say much, I didn’t want to really engage because of the smaller atmosphere, and I sure wasn’t willing to divulge anything going on in my personal life to this new found group. Within two weeks that all changed. I began to joke around with people and participate in the call and response type stuff that we now do during opening and endings even if it’s just typing in all caps the English lyrics in the opening song.

I think the small environment really did wonders for my anxiety because since I wasn’t heavily invested at the start if I felt like I butted heads with any of the group I could have just politely backed out and stopped watching with that small group. By having this group of four to six other people instead of the routine fifteen to twenty that we were drawing on Tuesdays, in time, I felt much more comfortable putting myself out there and letting my voice and opinions be heard. In a very short time, I managed to get very comfortable with this small group and even was more confident and open during the Sentai streaming on Tuesdays with the larger group as well.

Though I absolutely adore the entirety of this community that has been built surrounding both One Piece and tokusatsu shows as a whole, I particularly enjoy the time that I’ve spent with my very own Kamen Rider Club!

Kamen Rider Club?! Frankly that sounds a little childish when worded like that.

It kind of does, doesn’t it? It is what we in the Thursday night crew call ourselves. It is also a reference to what the main cast of Kamen Rider Fourze call themselves. One thing that this weekly gathering of the fans has taught me it is that its okay to enjoy childish things. I’ve even bought myself some of the toys that have come from various Kamen Rider series as I have seen them during our very own show and tell segment where we all showed off our collectibles and various toys. So while yes show and tell is a bit of a childish thing to do it brought joy to our little group. The amount of serotonin I have generated in the last few weeks by playing with the aforementioned toys is astounding. Getting in touch with my inner child and remembering that it is actually rather fun to play pretend has been a real delight.

As adults, we often work ourselves day in and day out to take care of mundane tasks that are essential to our survival. We wake up, go to work, come home, make or order some dinner, eat, and then get ready for bed. I’ve chosen to add finding happiness in doing the things I wasn’t able to do as a kid to the list. Staying up late to find that next save point in a game, buying toys neither myself or my family could afford as a kid, watching nostalgic b movies that brought me some joy as a child, and following along with all the tokusatsu shows my heart can desire are just a few ways I’ve managed to embrace my inner child and cater to my own personal and emotional needs in doing so. There is nothing wrong with being a little childish from time to time. Doing this has introduced me to so many people that I never would have met otherwise.

It really does sound like you’ve managed to build yourself a group of friends here. Isn’t it pretty cool what can happen when you trust that others aren’t going to have your worst interest in mind.

You’re right. I let some people in and was actually surprised with the results. I absolutely adore this little crowd I’ve got. They have all done so much for me without ever realizing it and I am beyond appreciative. Ex-Aid started the KRC on Thursday nights and drops some incredible trivia all over the place. OOO and I have a ton in common and they are an absolute delight to talk to. I am always excited to see them pop into a conversation on the Discord because we tend to have a similar line of thought and form of humor we do have some differences in personal taste that account for unique perspectives and I absolutely love hearing about them. Epsilon and I both are not afraid to make lewd jokes about what we are watching. Tastefully of course. … Most of the time. Epsilon has also offered to be a conversation partner as I continue to get back to my study of the Japanese language! Zi-O has managed to convince me to revisit series I had otherwise written off because I didn’t think they would be of interest, but they managed to sell me on them so I now have an expansive list of series that I want to watch and a planned order to revisit them. Kiva and I aren’t particularly close as I haven’t done much to actually talk to them, but I’m excited to see things develop more in that regard because they seem like a really fun person to talk to. Finally there is Chaser. They are our newest member of our Thursday night group and they have managed to have me laugh so hard I’ve done spit takes. I appreciate each and every one of our little Kamen Rider Club more than words can ever say.

Quick aside and mushy feelings bit here, but if any the KRC are reading this I want you to know that you all have absolutely made 2020 better for me. We’ve had an incredible amount of laughs together. We’ve seen each other through being both happy and sad. Frankly, you all have reminded me that I do have people who I can call friends on days where I didn’t think there was anyone who wanted anything to do with me. I appreciate you, I absolutely adore each of you, and words can not express my gratitude for the warm welcome that I have received into this lovely community. You all have helped me grow as a person in ways that I didn’t expect going into this group. Shaking off my depression blues and finding confidence to embrace my love of these silly kids shows has been in large part thanks to you all. I love you all. Thank you.

Outside of our usual Thursday crew there are so many more people in this community that have put a smile on my face and some joy in my heart, but there is one other person that I would like to take a moment to express some gratitude for. Scipio was one of the first people I actually felt comfortable bantering with in the Tuesday community before the creation of our Rider Time segment on Thursday. They had an incredibly warm and friendly demeanor about them and naturally I didn’t mind bantering with them during the Sentai watch parties. After a while I followed them on Twitter and recently I reached out to them there and they were willing and able to listen to me when I was feeling overwhelmed about the state of chaos in my life and that alone solidified my feeling of being appreciated inside of this community. Thank you Scipio for taking the time to support a stranger and make them feel like they are a part of something bigger.

I’m so glad that you managed to find these people. It seems like they are really helping you in a lot of ways.

They truly are. The joy of it is that they aren’t even doing anything special. They are simply treating me like a comrade and that alone has done wonders for my self esteem. This year has been among the most challenging in my entire life for a myriad of reasons and just having this community to be a part of has honestly saved my life. I don’t know where I would be without them, but I do know that I would be a lot worse off.

So to wrap things up here for today I want to challenge my readers to do two things. Firstly take a moment to appreciate the people in your life that make you happy. If you feel inclined to tell them how much you appreciate them that’s great. If you just take a moment to reflect on it that’s great too. Secondly, I want to challenge everyone to embrace the things that might embarrass you if you talked about it to your friends with more conservative interests. Embrace the wild things that you enjoy. Don’t let anyone take the joy that these things bring you away. Finally as a reminder to all of you, you are stronger than you think, you are beautiful, and by goodness you are worth it. Lets go into this week ready to kick some butt and join some fandoms.

#tokusatsu #inner child #friendship #fandom #Mental Health Awareness #depression #coping mechanism #watch party #appreciation post #Kamen Rider #Super Sentai

[holdmedownlaw]

2019 – the year I hope could be the start of my renaissance.

Some people know I have chronic insomnia. I often talk about it with my family, friends and those others whom I think should know about it. But nobody really knows how difficult it is to be battling such illness. The suffering is unspeakable; much worse than I can ever describe it. Allah knows.

It started the night before my birthday in 2008. I couldn’t sleep not because the following day was my birthday but because it was my first day in College. I thought it was just that normal night when you don’t get to sleep “because tomorrow is a special and you are so excited about it.” So I went through my first day in college tired but I still had fun nevertheless.

I did not able to sleep again the following night. This time I was alarmed. What could be wrong why I couldn’t sleep? I went to school again the following day but this time I can hardly managed the exhaustion.

I was not able to sleep again on the third night. I started to feel my heart pounding so hard to the point that it made it more difficult even to just calm myself down. I tried not to lose myself. I’m going to a see a doctor tomorrow, I said to myself. But I didn’t. I am so worn out after that day. Maybe I can finally sleep tonight.  But still I had no luck. I started to feel incapable of sleeping. I was getting crazy. “God, I have not slept a single minute for four consecutive nights. I would trade everything to get my eyes shut for even just a few minutes,” I complained to God.

The morning came and I never felt so awful in my life. Later that day, Dad accompanied me to a doctor. I explained how I feel and how I struggled to get sleep. What the doctor did was just gave me a prescription. It was a sleeping pill. To be honest, I was cynical if it could help me get sleep. I believed deep down I needed more than just a pill. I took the pill and tried to sleep. It didn’t work! That time I knew I was screwed.

The torture continued for many, many days. My life was never the same again. As about my studies, I still continued to attend classes despite my deteriorating condition. I just took every class-break I got for rest. And what I mean by rest is that I just lay down and close my eyes and tried to get as much energy as I could get without sleeping to keep me going.

I was able to endure over a month of sleep deprivation. And then there came one night, I was talking to myself, “This is my fate. This is what Allah has ordained for me. I have to be strong and accept it.” I recalled stories of sacrifices of Prophets to keep my spirit alive. While expecting a long night, just like the other previous nights, I closed my eyes. The next time I opened them, I saw the morning light through the small window of my room! I finally get the much needed sleep! I’ve never been so grateful in my life! All praise is due to Allah!

Sleep came back to me but the fear of not being able to sleep didn’t leave me. Every time night falls, the chance of getting a good night sleep is like tossing a coin. And so it did not really last long before insomnia came back again. I was just like given a few nights to breathe and then get back to wrestling again. It has continued to be the case since night of June 13th of 2008.

And just when I thought insomnia could be my only health problem, there came anxiety. It was like that monster who wanted to hurt my almost lifeless body, mercilessly. I did not know what kind of anxiety disorder it really was. I didn’t consult a specialist. I didn’t want to. I just knew I have it.  I couldn’t maintain an eye contact when talking to people. Imagine how devastatingly awkward was that and its negative impact on my social life. I lost a lot of friends. My ordeal served like a filter machine that made me identify who my real true friends are.

Sometimes I sweat excessively even in cold weather. I could remember one time in class my seatmate touched my arms and she felt I was soaking in sweat in a fully air-conditioned room. Goodness!

Many years of my life since anxiety touched me were nightmares. It took a great toll in every aspect of my life – relationships, jobs, studies, etc.! Anxiety also made me become critical of myself – my actions and decisions – which I was not used to be before. And when a person sounded so harsh in criticizing himself in front of his friends or family, imagine how brutal he is to himself in the privacy of his head. Although there were many days I had thoughts of harming myself, I never attempted to. But my devastating health condition made me begged God many times to either cure me or just take me.

My family started to notice although I never told them about it. Sadly, the core of stigma covers our home. I tried to learn more about anxiety and discovered that one in every four persons has anxiety. I also sought inspiration from people who advocate mental illness. Indeed, it is true that when you see others fighting the same battle and more if they fight to voice out what the society has always neglected to address, you feel a little better.

Fast forward to year 2019. Its been already 11 years of seemingly endless struggle. Then, in the dark came a friend who has her own story of struggle with anxiety. She became my classmate in law school in my third year.  She said she was experiencing panic attacks. Honestly I felt glad there was someone in law school who can somehow relate with the situation I am in. From then, we talked frequently about mental illness until one day I opened up to her about planning to see a specialist. I never thought about seeing a Psychiatrist before. It was not in my options. My parents would not approve either. They’ll kill me for worrying so much about what people would say if they find out I am seeing a Psychiatrist. But I was already in my senior year in law school. I had to seek professional help to survive law school.

Then one day, that friend of mine discovered a Psychiatric clinic located near the school. I expressed my desire to make an appointment with the doctor and she enthusiastically offered to do it for me because she said she personally knew the doctor’s secretary. I accepted. I didn’t ask but I speculated she was also planning to get checked but it turned out later that she engaged the services of another Psychiatrist. Maybe she just wanted to know if the Psychiatrist she referred to me is preferable to her. Kinda weird but I didn’t really mind given the fact that people like us who have anxieties really do things weird.

But before I got to have a meeting with the Psychiatrist, I had to go through my parents first and convince them to let me get professional help. My father was strongly against it. He said people would mock our family because one of its members is mentally ill. Nonetheless, I insistently convinced them to be more open to talking about mental illness and overcome the stigma until they finally permitted me to consult a Psychiatrist. What happened with my meeting with the Psychiatrist was different than what I expected though. I thought that before the doctor issues the prescription, I get to share first the entire story of my struggle - how it started, how it has been affecting my life, how I have been trying to cope up, etc., – sort of a counseling. He did ask me how I felt but the questioning I thought was too fixed and limited. It seemed he did not want a long conversation. I could somehow understand because he still had a long line of clients to treat after me. He diagnosed me with General Anxiety Disorder coupled with panic attacks. Then he gave me four medical prescriptions. I have to take four medicines a day! That was the first time I have to take that many medicines a day and probably the most ever in my life.

The following night after my meeting with the doctor, I took the bedtime pill. I was glad with the result. I had like 3 to 4 hours of sleep. That was much better than not getting sleep at all. I didn’t feel perfectly rested but that was a great improvement!

I continued to follow the doctor’s advices religiously and I have been feeling better and better as time goes by. Although I have not really been satisfied with the consultation processes with my Psychiatrist because I think he has not been therapeutic in terms of our doctor-patient relationship, his professional advices have actually been effective so far. One problem I have with one of the prescriptions though, particularly the bedtime pill, is that it has made me extremely dependent on it. I fear that my drug dependency will become permanent but my doctor said he’ll eventually slowly reduce the prescription if I get in the right health condition.

Moving on with my health condition, I am now very happy, Alhamdulillah! I am slowly getting back my self-esteem and confidence. I can now look straight in the eyes making me enjoy communicating to people. The heavy-head feeling is gone. I still struggle falling asleep but at least I still able to get good enough sleep which provide me just the right amount of energy to accomplish my daily tasks. I think it is safe to say that the best decision I’ve made with regards to my health was getting professional help. It cannot be more true to me that sometimes what we are ashamed of to do (address mental illness) is what will actually make us better. By the way, I have been watching motivational videos which I’ve found greatly beneficial.

In Shaa Allah, I will continue to get better and get back the life I have been yearning for years. I have suffered so much damage and destruction in many parts of my life over the past decade. God-willing, I will have the time and health to fix them.

There are many lessons I’ve learned from my years of battle with insomnia and anxiety. I would have never learned the importance of addressing mental illness as a societal issue if I never went through it. The most important though is to keep up the faith in God and to never give up. When you feel pain; when you are tired; when you feel like giving up; when you feel like quitting; when you look around you and nowhere do you see anything remotely looks like success; when it’s all dark; just keep up the faith and believe that God has put you in that darkness for a reason and that after that darkness, you will come out stronger than ever befor

[padawan-historian]

WOW Analysis: White Male Schools of Thoughts

This week we will break down several white male arguments that are circulating across the media. The first school of thought is the Individual Identity Academy.

Some of their mottos include:

Just because I am a straight white guy does not mean I oppress people!

White men are the most discriminated group in the United States.

Why am I being held responsible for things that I have no control over?

The problem with these phrases is that, unfortunately, many of the students reciting these words are miseducated and lack context – especially about identity.

•

We each have a personal identity – a recipe that is uniquely made by us. But, outside of ourselves, we have in-and-out group identities. “Ingroup identities are beliefs about a group held by its own members . . . According to self-categorization theory, people’s ingroup identities (i.e., beliefs about the qualities that characterize their ingroups) exert a powerful influence on their personal identities” (Bosson and Michniewicz 425-426). However, unlike most marginalized and minority groups in the United States, white (heterosexual) men have rarely been labeled in groups outside of extracurricular or social activities.

•

When phrases like white privilege are utilized in discussions, young white men attending the Individual Identity Academy tend to think that they are being criticized. They are. White privilege is a broad term that is used to highlight white individuals who lack a certain amount of awareness in relation to race issues. They think that since, in their lives, they do not receive any forms of special treatment face-to-face that means white privilege isn’t really a thing. They fail to recognize the context behind the conversation – that there are systemic forces at work that have created avenues for white men to be successful while everyone else must overcome additional obstacles and parameters in order to have a chance at succeeding. Even though some individuals have overcome institutional barriers, that does not excuse the inequities that were put in place in the hopes that they would fail (there is a larger conversation we should have about poverty and the role of capitalism, but I will save that chat for another day).  

•

While some white Americans may experience prejudice based on their race (or be members of ethnic minorities who, historically, faced persecution in the United States – including Italians and Irish immigrants), black and brown Americans have endured a chain of unbroken discrimination and dehumanization that has left their communities with multigenerational trauma and little to no economic mobility. Along with these inequities, many people of color experience varying levels of double consciousness, an internalized sensation that WEB DuBois describes as “the sense of looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his twoness” (DeBois 12). He notes that since American blacks have lived in a society that has historically repressed and devalued them, these black and brown people have difficulty unifying their black identity with their American identity.

•

With the advancement of technology, black and brown Americans, along with other marginalized groups, have the opportunity to share their narratives and realities to a larger audience across social. Members of the African Diaspora (the millions of African descendants across the globe) can affirm our shared history, celebrate our ancestry and promote self-love and personal healing in the face of a world where many of us, still face economic and social barriers based on racial divisions.

•

From a very young age, I knew that I was black and that some people would not like me because my skin color was different than their own. In high school, this feeling manifested into one of profound anxiety and isolation as I stood alone as the only black girl in my year. Educator and author of Why Are All of the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? Dr. Beverly Daniel Tatum notes that “If you think about classrooms or workspaces or conferences, wherever we are, we go into these spaces and we look for ourselves. You want to see yourself represented. In that sense, when young people walk into a classroom, they want to see someone who they identify with, maybe because they’re the same race. It doesn't always have to be racial identification. [A student] can identify with a teacher because she likes music [or] identify with [educators] because they are into sports. But to the extent that kids of color walk into classrooms and rarely see someone who looks like themselves in that environment, that’s a missing link” (Anderson). It took me years to realize that, during that time, in my desperation to fit in, I was, in fact, unable to form truly meaningful connections with many of my classmates. I was profoundly lonely.

•

This sense of loneliness is often interpreted as being misunderstood. Everyone makes jokes about teen angst and broodiness, but we rarely discuss that behind that often lies a sense of alienation and loneliness. Those who are misunderstood want to find a place to belong and want to form connections with people, but a mixture of self-preservation, insecurity and anxiety often prevent them from taking those steps. Instead they remain isolated and defensive – trapped between systems.

•

Like many young people, young white men exist in an undefined state. Cultural anthropologists refer to this period in life as liminality – "a traditional phase of a rite of passage during a time where the individual is experiencing a lack of defined social status" (Understanding Spirited Away: Consumption and Identity). This stage is often best depicted during adolescence when young people begin shedding their old roles as children and begin taking on the social responsibilities as young adults. 

•

Pupils of the Individual Identity Academy see themselves as individuals, but exist in a world filled with ingroup identities. Black feminists. LGBTQ allies. Animal rights activists. Social reformers . . . or social justice warriors. The increased visibility of these groups - especially in spaces that were historically dominated by young white men, including video games and comics - is perceived as an attack on their sense of self. In their quest to find a place to belong, they have encased themselves in these small communities declaring that any changes that move towards inclusion and equity is, in fact, a form of oppression. They imagine a world where white men are vilified and denied opportunities because of their race when, in reality,

•

White privilege is the freedom from recognizing the societal and institutional policies that have denied (or limited) black and brown Americans’ access to professional services, economic equity and educational opportunities. When people call you out because “your white privilege” is showing, instead of thinking “Why am I being held responsible for something that, I feel, has nothing to do with me?” take a breath and try a few alternatives.

• Affirm Your Privilege: Dear students, having white privilege doesn’t make you the villain in the story. Laugh and say “I still have some work to do,” because WE ALL DO. I grew up in a middle-class neighborhood with two highly-educated (heterosexual) parents. My exposure to systemic racism and inequity is relatively low in comparison to black and brown (and white) Americans who are in lower economic brackets. I am physically able and while I do have ADHD, my parents had the economic means to connect me to specialists and counselors throughout middle and high school (THAT 👏🏿 is 👏🏽 privilege👏🏾).

• Find Your Identity: We celebrate our American blackness because there is a shared history and cultural language through our music, food, clothing, magic, spirituality and dancing. Connect with your heritage through art, music, food, folk costumes and jewelry . . . not through secessionist flags and arguing about old statues.  

• Use Your Tools: Inheriting privilege means that you have, within you, the power to help others. "The function of freedom is to free someone else," (Toni Morrison) and, in order to free others, we must first have the right tools. Education is one of the most powerful tools in our world. 📚 Educate yourself through reading, listening to lectures (not just YouTubers and bloggers) and limiting your Twitter intake 🧘‍♀️

• Complacency is Just As Dangerous as Ignorance: There is a noticeable difference between white men's (and women's) brand of oppression and the oppression black and brown people experience. White individuals tend to focus on themselves. Black and brown individuals focus on their ancestors and their descendants. We aspire to change discriminatory policies, strengthen legal protections and reform public education. White people . . . want people to stop criticizing them online. They are not trying to engage in conversations, they are seeking validation and acceptance based on misinformation.

• Its Not Always About You: Believe it or not, there are systems in place that create inequalities and inequities within our society (CAPITALISM flashes across the screen). Racism is a weapon of social engineering built upon constructs that are meant to segregate and control people. Unless I'm addressing you directly when I say "white people" to refer to social inequities, chances are I am not talking about you, Charlie.

Catch up with me on Instagram ☀️ +🍷

#wow + beyond #masculinity #white privilege #social just warrior #sjw #individuality #our history #oppression #Beverly Daniel Tatum #bell hooks #Individual Identity Academy #schools of thought #white masculinity #ingroup identity #capitalism #find your idenity #cultural studies #racism #double conciousness #web dubois #wow analysis

[voltron-s7-8-rewrite]

“A Little Adventure” & “The Ruins”

Here are the first two stories of my Voltron Season 7 and 8 re-write. For more information you can see here: My Voltron season re-wright

A Little Adventure

This story is pretty much fine as is. Getting the full background of Keith and Shiro’s story, Griffin’s appearance, and the other Paladin’s hijinks is all good.

The only thing about the story that I would change is the reasoning for Shiro being in the pod. Rather than another ‘Will Shiro survive!?” plot to deal with, he’s in the pod to heal the wounds from his and Keith’s battle, and for some observation that everything with the transference went well.

Because Shiro is not barely hanging onto life again, the setting is more relaxed for Keith, Krolia, and Allura. Keith and Krolia talk a bit about Keith and Shiro’s youth, which piques Allura’s curiosity, as she had never heard how they knew each other before Voltron. So, Keith shares with Allura how he and Shiro met and became friends, which is what the flashbacks are.

I know these are little details, but they have huge meanings for my version. First, from this point on Shiro will no longer be a character for the story to abuse. He’s been through the harshest of fires and has come out tempered and refined. He is now rid of the illness that plagued him for years, he’s completely free of any control Haggar had over him, and the Galra arm that was a reminder of all the pain he endured as the Champion is gone. Shiro has overcome all that life has thrown at him and is no longer a victim for the story, but instead has become a victor of the story.

As for Keith, willingly opening up and sharing some of his past with Allura shows that he has grown during his time away from the Paladins and is opening up to people. I’m not going to really go into detail about this yet, since it will come up more later, but this is the first sign of the growth he’s gone through.

   The Ruins

After Shiro comes out of the pod fully healed and in good health, they all decide to head to earth to get the plans Sam has to build a new Castle Ship. With their Lions’ powers depleted the trip is going to take over a year. Pidge tries to contact the Voltron Coalition but is unable to get any response from their friends. As they discuss things, the subject of Shiro’s Clone is brought up. Shiro begins to apologize for the Clone’s actions, but the others try to stop him, saying it wasn’t him. Shiro, however, disagrees.

Shiro explains he and the Clone are the same person, as they merged into one being. He explains that from the moment he had woken up on the Galra cruiser he had known that there was something wrong. Though he tried to act normal and continue on with things before his death, he was in a constant state of fear, anxiety, and had an ever present sense of wrongness. No matter what he tried he couldn’t get past it, and rather than opening up to the Paladins and allowing them to help, he felt he had to keep up the image of the strong leader, which led to him lashing out at them.

Shiro apologizes and thanks them for being there for him, and especially notes Lance’s help. Lance says he wasn’t able to do much, but Shiro says that him just listening and being willing to help meant the world to him. The Paladins accept Shiro’s apology and, calling for a group hug, they now see Shiro in a new light. No longer is he the untouchable leader, he’s just like them, a person who struggles and needs help at times, and from now on they will make sure to never let him struggle alone again.

As the Paladins get ready to leave, Keith stands in front of the Black Lion looking up at it. Shiro joins him and tells him that they are all waiting for his lead. Nothing needs to be said to the implication of Shiro’s words. They both know, Keith IS the leader now.

Keith asks how he feels, and Shiro says he’s excited. Keith asks what he means, and Shiro tells him that while inside the Black Lion he came to understand how the Lions see the Paladins. The lives of the Paladins are finite compared to the Lions. One day they will all pass, while the Lions will continue on, bonding with new generations of defenders.

Shiro says while his time as a Paladin of Voltron has ended, his story isn’t over. In fact, ever since he woke up, he’s felt a pulling, something telling him that he has a new purpose out there that he has yet to fulfill. Keith tells Shiro that he and the others will be there for him no matter what, and Shiro says he knows.

The two share a smile and he pats Keith’s shoulder as Lance and Pidge get into an argument over which Lion each of the animals will travel in. Shiro pushes Keith towards the squabbling Paladins, telling him that he gets to deal with the kids now. Keith glares back before going to break them up.

After the Lions head out we see a Galra cruiser’s scanners pick up on them. A crew member asks if they should engage, but they are told to follow at a distance, not allowing the Paladins to know they are there.

After having traveled for some time, Pidge picks up on some signals. When Krolia hears them she recognizes a Blade distress signal, likely made by a senior member. Pidge pins down where the signal’s origin is and they head to that location.

Landing on a desolate planet, and exploring the place for some time, the Paladins find a survivor, Macidus. They all head to his home, where Krolia discovers he has the swords of fallen Blade members.

Macidus explains that after the lions and Lotor disappeared, the Druids began hunting down the Blades. The remaining Blades came to Macidus’ world where they had their final stand. In the end, Macidus was the sole survivor.

Krolia finds Kolivan’s blade and when it flashes she realizes he’s still alive. Macidus reveals himself to be the Druid Keith once fought, and drops a device. Kosmo, sensing danger, teleports Keith out of there as the device goes off and freezes everyone else in place.

As the Paladins are stuck, a handful of living Druids appear and surround them. Macidus orders the Druids to kill them while he goes after Keith. Macidus vanishes and the Druids charge their dark magic to end the Paladins…

.::+::.

Alright, here’s my little commentary corner.

First off, we needed was the whole Kuron-Shiro merger addressed in canon, and not just by the creators in an interview. So, how I’m portraying it is, Kuron was basically Shiro. When Allura put Shiro’s spirit into Kuron the two souls merged. Shiro-Kuron (Henceforth just called “Shiro”) views everything from both sides as being him. He sees his time with the Paladins during season 3-6 as his past, as well as his time being with the Black Lion as his past.

This isn’t really how I would want the Clone story line to end, but since I’m sticking to the canon amount of episodes the show had, this is how I have to go in order to fit everything.

As I was writing this, I thought one of the things that might add some depth, and give us insight into Shiro’s character during this time, as well as give him some character flaws, was by having some of Kuron’s un-Shiro like behaviors be actual flaws of Shiro’s, and not just Haggar’s influence.

We’ve seen Shiro be pushed and struggle many times. His illness, time as a prisoner, PTSD, etc… He’s an exceptionally strong character, and has always been able to push aside his issues and carry on. Giving him this “ever present sense of wrongness” during his time as Kuron, something that he can’t push away, causes him to lash out in ways we never saw before. Sure, there was Haggar’s influence in there, but some of it was just his own struggles at dealing with what was happening in his head. It shows just how much he was effected and hurting during that time.

It also shows the flaws in the relationship Pidge, Hunk, Allura, and Coran had with Shiro. None of them approached him about his behavior in the show; they just accepted it as is, while occasionally discussing it behind his back. That’s so wrong.

So, how I view that is that, sense Shiro’s always been the strong leader, they just took his personal struggles for granted. He’s always pulled through his issues, so he’ll do it again. It’s not that they don’t care about him; just they fell into the trap of seeing him as “The Leader” as much as he fell into the trap of being “The Leader”. This is now something they will never allow happen again, he will never be taken for granted again.

This also helps show development in Lance, as he tried to step up as second-in-command, and actually tried to talk with Shiro. While it didn’t solve the issues, he was there, taking responsibility, and looking out for the health of his leader.

Now, I know a lot of people wanted Shiro back as the Black Paladin and Keith back in red, but it’s pretty clear that the creators always intended for Keith to become the Black Paladin. When they weren’t able to write the story the way they wanted, they cobbled together what we got with Keith leaving for the BoM and the Clone Saga. Some of it was good, a lot of it was a mess, and most of it was a disservice to both Shiro and Keith’s stories.

While I know there are people who won’t be happy, I am keeping Keith as Black Paladin, Lance as Red, and Allura as Blue. All I see from returning them to their original positions is regressing where their arcs should have gone. As you will see later on, it’s vital for them to be in these positions.

I will talk about what Keith’s story should have been in S7E5, and Shiro’s role and story in S7E11.

As a small note, there would be no scene where Lance arranges to have Romelle ride with him. If he’s truly interested in Allura like he said he was in S6E2, then he’s not going to manipulate things so he can flirt with a pretty girl. Not saying she can’t ride with him, just it wasn’t Lance with a motive that made it happen.

Thanks for reading, have a great day!

NEXT

#Voltron legendary defender #keith voltron #princess allura #lance voltron #voltron shiro #voltron pidge #hunk voltron #MyVoltronSeasonSummary #MyWritings

[kairi-chan]

Functions and Feelings (V) - BoruSara

Chapter 5: Stage Fright

Characters/Pairings: BoruSara

Rating: T

Genre: Romance and Humor

Summary: Boruto wins a bet with Sarada to let him be her personal body guard during the Five Kage Summit to be held in Sunagakure. The functions they attend help them both to slowly realize their true feelings for each other.

This is also a sequel to my one shot Perfect Balance. You don’t need to read it in order to fully understand the story, however reading it will give you a good start to understand the context.

Chapter 1: The Bet

Chapter 2: Transit

Chapter 3: Balconies

Chapter 4: Cover Up

Chapter 6: Escort I

Outside the function hall Sarada was pacing back and forth, furiously reading her talking points again and again. She wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her dress.

"What is that idiot doing?" she fumed quietly. He was supposed to be here to watch her speech. "Where is he?"

She opened the door a bit to take a peek. Standing on stage behind the podium, Iruka Umino was giving a lecture about the education system in Konoha's Ninja Academy. He was explaining how they patterned the new curriculum to the modernization that they were currently enjoying, while still preserving the traditional ways of forming young ninja. The room was filled with students, parents, educators, ninja, and business investors. It was common for large corporations to favor ninja academy graduates since they often showed a large amount of talent.

The thought that there were three hundred people in attendance made Sarada's legs feel like they were made of jelly. She had no problem single handedly facing ten rogue shinobi at a time, but public speaking was a fear she had yet to overcome. It was silly and she knew it. Being hokage entailed speaking in front of large crowds, to convey sincere thoughts and ideas, while keeping them engaged. Giving a short testimonial of the curriculum she had studied, and say a few encouraging words for the next generation to enter the Ninja Academy should be a piece of cake, right? Nope.

She closed the door and leaned back on the wall. She bit her lower lip, willing it to stop quivering. Sarada crossed her arms and held on to her shoulders. She could feel her eyes prick from the tears that threat to spill. She was standing all alone outside the function hall. It was well passed noon and the sun was baking the desert below. Despite this, Sarada felt so cold. Having a nervous breakdown before her speech would be unacceptable. Please, she begged herself. Not now.

"Sarada!"

She snapped her gaze towards the voice. Her dark eyes took in his form, and her tears were now pooling at the corner of her eyes.

Boruto came running down the hall, his right hand was holding a dark blue cape. This was the coat Naruto commissioned just for her. It was a gift to show her—and all the allied nations—that he was recognizing her as his successor.

She felt her stomach twist, and her heart flutter. Boruto always did have a knack for showing up just in time.

He stopped in front of her and draped the cape over her shoulders. Quickly, Boruto snapped the top buttons together to hold it in place. He then dusted her off. There was sand falling on the wooden floor.

He took in large gulps of air, trying to steady his breathing. The young Uzumaki ran across the entire Sand village to retrieve Sarada's cloak. She had left it hanging at the back of her chair at the restaurant she had lunch in with Kagura earlier. Boruto had realized she wasn't wearing it when they were already at the venue.

He looked at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank Kami I made it in time. You should really stop spacing out whene—"

He was cut off when he felt two hands clutch at his flak vest. Boruto looked down to see that her closed fists were trembling. He felt panic arise in his chest. "Oy!" He held covered her small fists with his warm hands. "What's wrong?"

Sarada lifted her head and gazed into Boruto's deep blue eyes. "There's so many people," her voice quivered. "I-I can't do this." Her grip on his vest tightened.

His blue eyes softened. He knew she had stage fright. Trying to cheer her up, he pulled out his best sarcastic voice and teased her. "Oh come on. How are you supposed to be Hokage if you can't even deliver a simple speech?"

Of course it didn't work.

Her dark eyes went wide and she gasped.

Sarada would usually get angry, and give him a witty comeback followed up with an insult. No one dared step on her Uchiha pride. However, her frustration in herself merely intensified ten-fold. Boruto was right. How was she supposed to lead the village and be acknowledged if she couldn't deliver a twenty-minute speech in front of three hundred people?

Her insecurities came rushing out, clawing at her. Naruto knew about her stage fright, which was why he insisted she take on this role in his stead. He wanted Sarada to get over her fear. Naruto was a natural with people, everyone just loved him. For Sarada, it was different. She was an Uchiha. The general view on her and her family varied. She would never admit it, but it always hurt her feelings whenever someone would say mean and judgmental things about her clan—especially if it was about her uncle Itachi.

Sarada tore her gaze away from her teammate. She clutched his vest a little tighter in hopes to relieve her anxiety. He was right. She couldn't become hokage due to this silly fear of hers. What was she even thinking?

Sensing his slip up, Boruto mentally kicked himself and went straight to plan B. He wrapped his arms around her small frame in an embrace, and pulled her close. Her cheek pressed against his chest. Boruto stroked her back up and down, and then in soothing circles.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," he apologized. "You'll do great," Boruto assured her. "I'll be inside the entire time. Just keep your eyes on me."

Sarada sniffled. She was blushing so hard it should be illegal. "Really?"

Boruto chuckled. He could practically hear her pouting through her words. He found it amusing how Sarada always wanted him to say these things out loud, despite knowing what the other was feeling. He knew it wasn't because she didn't trust him. A part of him liked to think she just enjoyed hearing his voice. "Of course!" He beamed. "I'll even walk around so it'll look like you're scanning the crowd."

Sarada laughed. "I have to admit, that's crafty."

He felt her loosen up, but decided to push his luck a little further to lighten her mood. "You're so tense! Come on, let it out!" He lifted his hands to his sides.

Sarada was confused. She pulled away from his chest and looked at him. His smile was full of mischief, but his eyes reflected nothing but sincerity. "I'll let you squeeze me like a stress ball so you can get that tension out of your system."

"What?" She screeched, momentarily letting go of her composure.

He and grinned at her. He loved it whenever she forgot to keep up her stick-in-the-mud-act. "Come on, go ahead!" He was still holding his arms up like a scarecrow. "Squeeze me as hard as you can, just don't break my spine so I can still walk over to the nurses' station," he joked half heartedly.

Sarada gawked at him. What kind of idiot willingly lets someone break his bones, just so I would calm down?

An idiot who had fallen head first into love.

Sarada smiled, shortly it turned into a face splitting grin—it even made her eyes disappear. She couldn't believe this guy, or fathom the lengths he went to support her. A light blush painted her cheeks as she giggled.

Boruto's an idiot, but he's her idiot.

He drank in the sight of her and relished the sound of her giggles. He felt his cheeks heat up, and butterflies flutter in his stomach. Again with this feeling. He looked away and pouted at her. "Shut up and just do it already!" She's such a weirdo.

The young Uchiha composed herself, but she couldn't stop smiling. "Alright, alright."

She stepped closer to him. Boruto shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself for the pain to come. He was expecting her to at least break a few ribs, and prayed to Kami even harder that was all he was going to get. Boruto knew it would hurt like hell, but he could easily have it healed. This speech was important to her, and he had to make sure it went well.

Boruto felt her hands touch his chest. He winced out of habit, despite not even feeling any pain yet.

"Stop being such a baby." Sarada rolled her eyes as she placed her hands on his chest, tiptoed, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth.

Feeling her soft, warm lips on his face, Boruto felt his whole body light up in a blaze. His eye lids flew open and turned to look at her. His daze must have lasted longer than he had expected, as he only saw the Uchiha insignia at the back of her cloak. Her long, raven hair was swaying as she walked into the function hall.

His body reacted far faster than his brain could function. The heat in his body intensified, and his face turned bright red. Boruto's fingers hovered over his cheek. "Wh-wha-"

After a few seconds, Boruto staggered back into the wall, now fully grasping what had happened.

Sarada kissed me.

"WHAAAAAT?!" He shouted.

The people passing by the hallway gave him dirty looks. He was disrupting the quiet needed for the talk.

His thoughts were racing a million miles a second. She kissed me! He screamed in his head as he clamped his hands over his mouth. Oh Kami. She's never kissed me before. His brain couldn't wrap around the concept. Other girls have kissed him before, but this was no 'other girl.' This was Sarada Uchiha.

His face was dark red, and he was still staring at the door that led to the function hall. He heard clapping from the inside. After taking in rapid breaths to calm himself, he finally came into his senses.

He realized why people were clapping—it was Sarada's turn to speak.

"Oh shit!" He staggered into the function room, and saw her climbing up on stage. Boruto ran to the back of the hall.

Sarada could still feel her lips tingle from the kiss. She looked straight ahead as she approached the podium, delaying her need to look at the audience for as long as possible. Finally, she reached the podium and looked at the crowd. The young Uchiha felt her knees go weak, and her mouth suddenly felt dry but when her eyes landed on a mop of blond hair and large blue eyes, she felt all her nervousness flutter away.

Boruto was at the back, waving his arms over his head to catch her attention. Once her gaze rested on him, he gave her two thumbs up and a million-ryo smile. He grinned even wider when he saw her lips curl up.

Sarada couldn't help but feel a smile creep up her face. The sight of him waving his arms around and grinning like an idiot knocked all of her nervousness away. She licked her lips, his taste lingering a little longer as if to encourage her on. She opened her mouth and begun her speech.

After three minutes, Boruto didn't even need to walk around anymore to make it look like Sarada was sweeping her gaze over the audience. She was doing it on her own, and had visibly relaxed. She even placed in a few jokes that everyone seemed to enjoy.

As for the young Uzumaki, he watched her fondly and felt pride swell in his chest for her. She was one step closer to her dream.

His heart tightened and his stomach flopped more and more as he watched her on stage. He was getting all of these strange feelings that he had been feeling since their encounter on her balcony. This is nothing. The heat's probably just getting to me.

He tried to shake it off, and finally convinced himself it was the high temperature that was playing with his thoughts. However, when their eyes met over a crowd of three hundred people for a split second, he felt his resolve melt away and the realization hit him like a thousand chidoris.

Oh shit. I'm in love with Sarada.

A/N: This was one of my favorite chapters to write. It’s also the idea (along with ‘Balconies’ that drove me to write Functions and Feelings. Thank you so much to everyone who has supported my story so far. An even bigger thank you to Poodie and @levadia for beta reading for me. You guys are awesome. <3 

Let me know what you thought about this chapter, please! 

You can read more of my stories in my fanfic master post or ff.net account.

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[shafferangelina95]

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God Save My Marriage

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Save Marriage From Affair

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