#but now I have actual genuine solid proof to believe that it is true rather than just people being nice

[our-happygirl500-fan]

You know the whole Baterang to the throat thing that causes a lot of discussion in the fandom? I think Bruce might not have been aiming for the throat

It ricochets

This point in comics Bruce has been through a ringer Steph's died, Barbara and Jim have left, Leslie betrayed him and he's had to send Cass and Tim away and now Jason is back but for revenge so Bruce isn’t at his best and I think Bruce threw the Baterang in a moment of panic and either over or undershot which ended up with well that.

This moment causes a lot of debate but I don't see it as “Bruce harming Jason to save the joker” the way a lot of fics paint it I see it more as he'd been aiming for Jason's arm or something to disarm him but overshot and it’s kind of like a symbolism of their relationship. 

 Which is basically Bruce takes an action to stop Jason from going down a path that he thinks will end up hurting Jason, but ends up hurting Jason in the long-run.

Like when he discussed taking away robin from Jason (because he thought Jason needed time to deal with issues that were becoming more prevalent) which only ended up making Jason feel insecure about his position in the Wayne household, contributing to why he so desperately pursued a stable parental relationship in his biological mother.

Bruce knows that if he gives in and kills the Joker he'll never stop killing we've seen timelines that prove that and I think Bruce also thinks the same of Jason that if Jason kills the Joker he won't stop at all so it’s not that he’s saving the Joker but that he’s trying to save Jason but Bruce ultimately misunderstands Jason’s needs and winds up hurting him.

Bruce is trying to save Jason from what he sees as a downwards spiral, but he ends up hurting him not just emotionally, but physically, and in the most extreme way possible. It's like an even darker echo of how trying to bench him as Robin led to his death.

Bruce has spent YEARS haunted by the memory of Jason’s death his death fundamentally changed Bruce's entire character Alfred said that Jason's death affected Bruce more than his own parents death.

In Underworld Unleashed it's revealed that his greatest desire is to have Jason back, in Hush he talks about how he wanted to put Jason in the Lazarus Pit and how he believes Jason knew he always loved him, and in As The Crow Flies we learn that his greatest fear is Jason coming back as an enemy and then in Under the Red Hood he gets Jason back (his greatest desire) but as an antagonist (his greatest fear) and moreover his belief that Jason 'knew' he loved him is WRONG.

Jason's insecurities from before his death combined with the perceived betrayal of Bruce not avenging him have led Jason to the point where he genuinely believes Bruce doesn't care, and in Jason's eyes, killing the joker is the only way Bruce can prove that he does but instead, in that moment, Bruce's attempt to diffuse the situation backfires.

Bruce misunderstands what Jason needs in that moment like he misunderstood what Jason needed at the start of Death in the Family it's just the ultimate representation of their constant emotional feedback loop. They trap themselves in a cycle of fighting because Jason can't read how Bruce really feels and Bruce can't read what Jason really needs and in that moment both those things are true, with Jason not seeing that Bruce truly cares anymore, and Bruce not knowing how to properly deescalate the situation and show Jason that he still cares.

It's extremely easy to read the batatrang throw as purposeful even though I wholly believe it was accidental but if that moment was explored more, I'm positive that Jason would believe it wasn't an accident, and would view it as proof of his already held view that Bruce doesn't love him anymore after all, that could have killed him, symbolically disowning him in the most extreme way possible.

Heck in Jason's appearance in Green Arrow (2001) Bruce had thought Jason might have died again! Before Jason turned up to mess with Mia.

The thing that's tragic about Jason that actually leads to a lot of his own suffering is that Jason doesn't really know what a healthy relationship looks like so I'm not sure when his actual 'last straw' would be.

Jason is the kind of person who sees love and acceptance as entirely circumstantial. He believes he must /earn/ love and acceptance, i.e. by being Robin, rather than it being inherently given.

A huge piece of understanding Robin Jason is understanding how much he lacked proper support systems back then. School was his only connection to his kids his age, and he didn't benefit much from that connection, his life was essentially: manor, school, Robin, repeat.

Jason loved school, but his school life was also pretty depressing. Jason kept to himself, he didn't have the time to participate in extracurriculars even when he wanted to and his peers didn't view him very positively. Jason was also really isolated from the rest of the hero community, there was his stint with the Titans, but it was pretty brief. He was also penpals with Kid Devil, but for the most part, he just had Batman.

The lack of support is actually one of the reasons I give for Jason and Steph dying in universe since they were the two Robins without support systems outside of Gotham. When Bruce was a jerk Dick and Tim could be like 'fine I'm going to go hang out with the Teen Titans or Young Justice' but Jason and Steph could only be like 'oh no' plus Bruce would deliberately try to take away Steph's support systems that she did have multiple times like when he ordered Cass to stop training with Steph.

But that's besides the point, I wouldn't be surprised if Jason confused being Robin with being accepted in the manor so when Bruce threatened to take away Robin from him, he might've seen it as his only proper support system being taken away from him, his world felt rocked back into instability once again.

When you look at it like that, it's very easy to understand why Jason sought out his biological mother. He had a hope that Sheila would offer him that stability once more, and that he'd get support and trust and unconditional love.

And that’s what make it all the more heartbreaking to me he came to this woman seeking love and gave her his greatest secret and she repaid him with a horrific death.  Jason’s death is one of the saddest to me because there’s no high stakes 'he died saving the world stuff' he’s just a kid who wanted a mom and got killed for it.

DC’s habit of taking away who he was is so detrimental to his backstory as the Red Hood because the transformation from someone who tried being kind and who did give it their all being killed for it and coming back like ‘no more’ is so much more interesting than ‘we always knew this would happen’.

Robin disobeying orders is nothing new. If that was the core of why Jason died, then any Robin disobeying orders should never be put in a positive light, but often it is. Jason (and Steph) were just the ones unlucky enough to emerge dead and judged for it instead of alive and praised for it.

Jason died because he was a child who just wanted to be safe and loved.

So many times Robin disobeying orders saved lives it’s nothing new and Jason had a pretty solid reason, the story of Jason Todd should be portrayed as the tragedy not make him some warning sign.

This is why I always hated the victim blaming after Jason & Steph's deaths because they died doing what if it had been Tim or Dick a Robin would be praised for, like take Steph for example we've seen constant stories of Bruce firing Robin, them going off on their own & Bruce realising he's wrong & taking them back but when Steph goes off on her own she dies the only reason Jason & Steph died is that the writers forced them to fail where they would have allowed the others to succeed.

But anyway back to my point the thing about Jason feeling like he had to earn love is why he was initially so hung up on the idea of Bruce 'replacing' him when he came back to life, he viewed Tim being robin as Bruce /transferring/ his love for Jason to another person, rather than seeing that Bruce could love Tim while still loving and missing him.

The reason Jason sought out his mother after Bruce benched him as Robin was that he viewed Bruce benching him as Bruce rejecting him and latched onto the idea of finding someone, i.e. a birth mother, who is supposed to give /unconditional love/.

The fact that his birth mother REJECTED HIM and then played a hand in his murder undoubtedly affected his attitude when he came back, if even his mother didn't want him, and then Bruce let the joker live and replaced him, then, in Jason's eyes, OF COURSE Bruce doesn't care and as mentioned previously Jason didn't really have any friends in school or the hero community, believing that the only real close personal connection in your live, someone you spent all your time with, had forgotten about you and rejected you is bound to mess a person up.

#DC comics #jason todd #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #dc

[adorethedistance]

9 P.M. - Alive!Luke Patterson x Reader Modern Day!AU

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide, painful breakup, and angst.

Words: 1991

Summary: Luke breaking up with you made your world stop turning, and when it finally starts moving again after four long months, Luke is back in typical agitator fashion.

A/N: Not requested, and I wrote this in about two hours so bear that in mind. I’ve been toying with an angst idea for a little bit now, and because all of my requests rn are fluff, I decided why not give Luke a little love since it’s been a minute since my last Luke fic. This isn’t proofread so proceed with caution.

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Dana’s voice cuts clear over the mindless chatter in the busy diner. She tucks a stack of menus under her arm to brush a loose strand of sandy blonde hair out of her face.

“I’m here to talk to Y/n. She isn’t returning my calls and she only has her phone on silent when she’s working.”

A solid four months ago, Luke Patterson had broken Y/n Y/l/n’s heart into a couple billion pieces in this very diner. After Luke requested to meet up as soon as possible, Y/n told him she’d be clocking out for the night around 9 PM, and true to his previous request Luke had arrived at 9 on the dot. He considered taking her to his car for more privacy but in fear of forgetting his long, crafted speech, he opted for a secluded booth in the very back corner of her diner.

He still remembers the evening, clear as day. They sat down across from one another on the red vinyl seats with nervous tension exponentially rising between them. He remembers the way she ruffled her loose hair after having it pulled back for an 8-hour shift. He remembers the way she rested her right ankle on her left knee to massage away the calf pain from 8 hours of waiting tables. And he remembers the way her warm smile disappeared after he uttered the words “I think we should break up.”

Y/n was so shocked she couldn’t respond. Everything seemed to be going well between them. They had said their first ‘I love you’s and she had even opened up to the possibility of giving him her virginity. And here he was, a mere week later, claiming that he had fallen out of love with her over the span of a month.

Tears clouded her vision. She was quick to wipe them away before they fell, something Luke noticed that she only did when she was crying out of anger. With her normal sadness or even stress she just lets her emotions run their course. But the anger swelling inside of her at that moment, she so desperately wanted to hide. As a result, she brushed them away. She bit her tongue. She saved face, not wanting to let Luke know just how much he had hurt her.

Luke expected a full-on interrogation. He knew Y/n’s mind was one of insatiable curiosity and she had to have at least a million questions. However, if she did, she didn’t show it. The only question she asked, “Is this really what you want?” Her voice was steady, but Luke knew how badly she wanted to tear him apart, to ravage him right then and there. But after losing such a huge part of herself, Luke, she held onto her dignity so tight it nearly crumbled into dust and blew out of her clenched fingers. Without asking for any more information, she slipped out of the booth and hurried to her car as fast as her walk could take her.

At the time, Luke felt guilty for making her cry. Now he feels guilty for ever having let her believe she wasn’t good enough for him. The only problem is she wouldn’t give him the chance. And her best friend, Dana, didn’t seem like she would give him one either.

“Well, she’s not here. Have you ever considered she’s not returning your calls when she’s off of work, too?”

“Dana, I need to talk to her-”

“What could you possibly have left to say, Luke? Whatever you said to her that night broke her, it absolutely destroyed her. She hasn’t been the same since.” Luke had no trouble believing that was true, which is why it hurt so bad to hear, granted it didn’t hurt as bad as how Y/n felt that night.

“What? No- I-I really need to talk to her.”

“You really don’t.”

“I have to get her back, Dana!” A tornado of shock and anger consumes Dana to the point where all she can do is let out a bitter laugh. The look in Luke’s eyes indicates how hurt he is by her laughter, and Dana’s desire for vengeance has never been so strong. So, she continues to tell the truth. The ferocious, unabridged, hurtful truth,

“You don’t deserve a second chance. You don’t even deserve an attempt at a second chance. Knowing her, Y/n would never tell you this, but I will: you fucked up so bad, you made her almost make the biggest mistake of her life.”

“What?” Luke almost hesitates to ask, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“That night, she came to my place and cried so hard for three hours before she could even get a coherent word out. She stayed with me for three days and, had my shift not ended early that Tuesday, she wouldn’t be alive today.” The dumbstruck look on Luke’s face is only more motivation for Dana to twist the knife, “She almost didn’t survive losing you, Luke. And god forbid she gives you a second chance because she won’t survive losing you again.”

The diner is just crowded enough that no one is paying the two of them any mind as they faceoff by the hostess stand. Dana spent four long months consoling her best friend back to life, and she was not about to let Luke destroy all the hard work Y/n had put into healing.

“I can make this right.”

“How could you possibly make this right?”

“I know more now than I did before. I’ve changed!”

“So has she.” Dana’s biting words render Luke speechless. Once she realizes her work here is done, she continues setting up tables as they’re disinfected.

__________________________

Luke’s conversation with Dana in the diner left him shellshocked, but it also lit a fire under his ass that he needed to move forward. Rather than discouraging him, Dana’s words gave him a greater incentive to win her back: proof that he was willing to do what he said he would. At least, that’s what Luke told himself. Rather than stepping into the future with greater clarity, Luke went into the world with confidence so large and blinding, his actions may sabotage his true intentions.

That’s how he found himself so determined to win Y/n back. And that’s how he found himself face to face with the front door of her home. It’s 9 PM, just early enough to where she’d be home for the day, just early enough to where she wouldn’t be asleep, and hauntingly just the exact time he had broken her heart all those months ago. Before giving his conviction a chance to back out, he was raising a steady hand to ring the doorbell of her residence.

Y/n opened the door without much thought, expecting a food delivery; she was drastically off-put by Luke’s presence at her doorstep this late.

“Oh.” Was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“Hi. Can we talk?”

There it was. The phrase that was a paradoxical toss-up regarding her emotional state. Half of her has been waiting for this day for so long, dreaming of the boyfriend she once knew to come genuinely heartbroken and remorseful to win her back. The other half was terrified of this impending day as she realized she wasn’t nearly as emotionally strong enough to handle the situation as she thought. 

‘Oh’ was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please just give me five minutes and if you never want to hear from me for the rest of your life, I’ll never bother you again,” he rushes out, knowing his time is finite. For what short period of time he thought it over, Luke always imagined pouring his heart out on her front doorstep. That’s why her silent sidestep and opening of the door caught him so off guard. He hadn’t anticipated her to actually give him a decent chance. Why would she? He broke up with her in the very diner she works in full time and crushed her heart so completely, the only things left behind had to be contempt and resentment.

Luke crossed the threshold of her small, cramped LA home with his heart on his sleeve. Reluctantly closing the door behind him, Y/n walks to her living room and sits on the couch amidst a mess of popcorn, her favorite chocolates, used tissues, and a bottle of Advil. The night Luke broke up with Y/n was four months ago and she’s still spending her Friday nights alone crying on her couch with a rom-com on the tv. A sharp pang of guilt cuts through Luke’s chest like a machete and his previous confidence completely dissipates into sadness. Though, he can’t tell if it’s actually remorse or just general pity.

“What did you want to talk about?” Y/n asks as if she doesn’t know what conversation they’re about to have. Luke takes a deep breath to prepare himself as best as he can before explaining what’s been on his mind.

“I am so sorry, Y/n.” His hopes for any sort of reaction are crushed once her blank stare doesn’t waver. In spite of everything that’s happened thus far, this is the moment Luke realizes this would be a lot more difficult than he anticipated. “That night, you asked if taking a break from… us was what I really wanted.”

“I remember.”

“I said yes and you left right after that. I know you’ve blocked my socials, but you haven’t blocked my calls, you just don’t answer. I’m sure you’ve got to be interested in why, you’re a very curious person.”

Luke wasn’t wrong there, Y/n had been wondering why. She had been wondering why since the words left his mouth that night, but she repressed that curiosity. She repressed it because she knew that whatever the answer was, it didn’t make any difference. Luke wasn’t hers to have anymore and that was what really mattered.

“I did it because I thought I was falling out of love with you.”

“You thought?”

“I wasn’t actually falling out of love with you.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you break it off?”

“I thought I was falling out of love with you but really my attraction was just changing. Instead of just spontaneous and passionate and exciting, I began to see our relationship as comforting and secure as well as those other things. I thought my comfortability was falling out of love, but really, I was falling in love. I was no longer just super infatuated with you, I was in love with you. Genuine love.”

“Luke…” Y/n trails off. She has no real idea of what it is she’s thinking so she opts to let Luke continue until she can figure it out.

“I love you, Y/n. And I broke things off because, before you, I didn’t understand love. Hell, with you I didn’t understand it was love, but now I do! I love you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“So, what does this all mean?” Luke draws in a nervous breath, identical to the one he used to soothe his nerves as he stepped into the all-too-familiar house.

“I know I don’t deserve it because of what I put you through… but all I’m asking is for a chance to prove that I really do love you.” The looking shimmering across Y/n’s eyes tells Luke how her thoughts are running wild. She’s experiencing a new train of thought at a mile a minute and it terrifies both of them.

“You hurt me, Luke. And I want to hate you so much for everything that you put me through, but I don’t, and I hate myself for that. But, I’m sorry. I can’t give you a second chance.”

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas​ @crybabyddl​ @kcd15​ @kinda-really-lost​ @calamitykaty​ @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys​ @amazinggracy​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean​ @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99​ @ifilwtmfc​ @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker​ @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​ @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1​@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz​ @talk-on-the-street​ @phantompogues​ @konciousdreamer​ @sunsetcurvej​ @warmnesss0ul​

#Julie and the phantoms #Julie and the phantoms fanfiction #Julie and the phantoms fanfic #Julie and the phantoms fic #Julie and the phantoms writing #Julie and the phantoms imagine #Julie and the phantoms oneshot #Julie and the phantoms one shot #Julie and the phantoms smut #Julie and the phantoms angst #Julie and the phantoms fluff #Julie and the phantoms x reader #Julie and the phantoms x y/n #Jatp #Luke Patterson #Luke Patterson fanfiction #Luke Patterson fanfic #Luke Patterson fic #Luke Patterson writing #Luke Patterson imagine #Luke Patterson oneshot #Luke Patterson one shot #Luke Patterson smut #Luke Patterson fluff #Luke Patterson angst #Luke Patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n

[beardrabbles]

rock solid bonds.       pt. two

characters: zhongli, female reader, gimel ( geo hypostasis )

warnings: none

word count: 2,520

notes: well, this took me too dang long to get to! got caught up writing other things, but i hope it was worth the wait. i’m fleshing out a plot for this along the way, and i’m hoping it makes sense in the end! but for now it’s just fluff. lottsa fluff and semi-slow burn. thank you for reading!! you’re a treasure.

Even if you hadn’t arrived at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor the night before and formally signed your name on the contract Zhongli had meticulously drawn out, you would have kept to your word and arrived at Gimel’s island the next morning as promised. You had little with you, since you were reminded with a rather stony voice that this was meant to be an exercise in understanding and not an opportunity for battle. All you had in your little bag was a tightly wrapped lunch, a book and another vial of the concoction you had brought the day before — just in case.

No weapons. No hostilities.

You felt odd keeping your hulking claymore out of sight, but it was for the best. You weren’t looking to actively sabotage yourself, after all, and the arrangement wasn’t an awful one. All Zhongli had asked of you was to be civil towards the hypostasis and to sincerely make up for the damage you had caused. No matter how unintentional it had been, you knew it was right thing to do.

“Gimel?” You had considered hiding behind one of the walls and calling out, but concealing yourself now seemed like a silly idea. Although, calling out the element’s name to the open air felt just as silly.

The ‘ arena ’ was empty, the domineering shadows of the surrounding outcroppings shifting away as the sun rose higher over the horizon. You couldn’t feel the usual vibrations through your feet, and that only added to your concern. Every hesitant step took you closer to the center of the circle that made up Gimel’s home.

Was it still afraid? Or had it fled knowing you would be visiting more frequently? You wondered if it were possible for it to take up residence elsewhere and if that would, somehow, spoil both of the contrats you had agreed to. Hot panic was on the verge of squeezing you hard around the chest when you heard a sign behind you.

Startled, you let out a little squawk and whipped around.

“Mr. Zhongli!” You were partially relieved to see him, partially irritated that he had approached so quietly. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I apologize for the fright.” He sounded genuine, but the fact that his gaze was trained on the center of the circle didn’t elude you. “When did you arrive?”

“Not even five minutes ago.” You smiled sheepishly. “Had a rough morning, but I’m here.”

“I can see that.” A fleeting smirk flickered across his features before he pursed his lips and cast his eyes around the arena. “And our friend?”

“Hasn’t shown up.” You shifted uneasily but masked it as adjusting the shoulder straps of your pack. “Can’t really blame it.”

“Time and patience. Sincerity. The wounds you’ve left won’t be healed so soon.” Reminded your companion. You sighed and slipped your pack from your bag.

“I know. I just — I want this to go well.” You huffed and sat down heavily, pack beside you. When you looked up and found you were the only one seated, you patted at the ground beside you. Zhongli blinked once, processed the request, then came to join you. You weren’t sure why, but it was amusing watching a man so tall and proper folding his legs as he settled down. Yet he didn’t look the least bit out of place, his serene expression matching the gentle whisper of the wind. In the growing light of day, he seemed to glow, as if soaking in the blooming heat of the sun like light-starved soil and warming rocks.

“If that is your true desire, then I believe all will go according to plan.” He assured you. You were mesmerized for a moment — was that optimism or confidence? You couldn’t tell, but both were appreciated.

“You’re really sure?”

“I have been around for a long time, and I like to believe that I have become quite adept at reading people. Although.  .  .” He paused for a moment, lips turning down. You leaned in.

“Although?”

“Hu Tao says I can be quite oblivious at times.” Zhongli admitted. You snorted, drawing his attention.

“I wouldn’t have guessed it. Wait, Hu Tao. Isn’t she the director of the funeral parlor? Doesn’t that mean she’s your boss?” You asked. Zhongli nodded once, and you continued. “She doesn’t mind you slacking off and comin’ out here to see Gimel?”

“I am merely a consultant. My services are required only when they are needed. When I have no work to attend to, I tend to wander.”

You hummed and leaned back on your hands, eyes up towards the brightening sky. “Do you wander out here a lot?”

“I’ve found myself visiting Gimel more often as of late.” Zhongli said with a sideways glance. You frowned and refused to peek in his direction purely out of guilt. “I like to check on them every now and again, just to see if they’re recovering properly.”

“I didn’t think they needed to recover.” You grumbled.

“Our world is no different than our mortal forms,” started Zhongli, “it can and will hurt if people aren’t careful. We can leave wounds. Look around you — these islands are proof. Gimel is no exception. While it is acceptable to harvest from a hypostasis, harvesting too frequently can leave it permanently damaged. It needs time to rest, to regrow. Tell me, did you notice anything strange the last time you fought it?”

You thought back for a moment, trying to recall the last battle you engaged the hypostasis in. It had been two days ago, you remembered. It had rained heavily in the area, leaving the ground muddy, the stone slick and the sands clingy. It had been both a blessing as a curse, or you’d thought that then. Thinking back, you did think it strange that the basalt pillars it created weren’t as strong as usual. You wanted to blame the rain, but that had hardly been your first encounter with it in the middle of a drizzle.

 “I saw them crumbling. I thought it was the rain.” You finally answered.

“That is a logical assumption to make, but you are aware of the truth now.”

“Yeah, I am.” You slumped forward, elbows on your knees and chin held in your hands. “What about other people? What are we going to do if someone else comes here expecting to find Gimel?”

“We will give them the chance to change their mind.” Zhongli shut his eyes and took in a deep calming breath. “May I ask you something, Miss Y/N?”

“Sure. Go for it.” You shrugged and fell silent, allowing him the chance.

“Thank you. I hope I’m not being terribly invasive, but what were you doing before your contracts bound you?” The question was asked delicately, leaving you room to deny him an answer if it was one you were unwilling to give. And while it did surprise you, you weren’t sure that you had any reason not to answer.

“Honestly, nothing and everything. I didn’t have an actual job. I just sort of.  .  . did what people asked me to do. I ran errands, I lent a hand where it was needed, I’ve babysat.” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Now I’m a servant for the damn——!”

You clamped your lips shut and shrank into yourself. Without looking, you knew Zhongli was staring sharply in your direction.

“For whom?”

“Does it matter?” You pulled your knees up and scowled into them. A moment quietly slid past, and you still felt his eyes on you. His piercing gaze bore a hole in the walls you had abruptly thrown up, and you found yourself squirming uncomfortably. “Fine, it’s the Treasure Hoarders.”

“I had ventured a guess, but I wanted to hear you say it.” Zhongli sighed through his nose. “Have they hurt you or your family?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“You anticipate a change?” He wondered.

“I’ve never known them to be totally honest. They’re a small group with a dumb name, but they’re loyal to their leader. Well, both leaders. The guy in charge thinks that if he can get me to find all these treasures for him, he can present them to whoever’s above him in the ranks and get himself a lovely, safe position in the group.” You scoffed. Zhongli arched a brow.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this mans intentions.” He pursued carefully. At this, you allowed the barest hint of a simper appear.

“He’s an idiot. He talks loud because he thinks it makes him intimidating. It only makes him look like a moron when he tells everyone within hearing distance what his plans are.”

Zhongli couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Am I to assume he is.  .  . how have I heard it phrased before? Ah, right. All brawn and no brains.”

It was your turn to laugh now, but the sound was a surprise when it left you. Despite your first encounter with him being tense and awkward, you realized now just how at ease you were around him. He radiated peace and understanding, calmness and patience. Lately, those were all feelings you had seen a distinct lack of. Where the Treasure Hoarders were brusk and unforgiving, Zhongli aimed to educate and reshape.

You wouldn’t have assumed for a moment that you would find yourself casually talking to him after all that had happened the day before, but you were glad for it.

“He is.” But as you both fell into a comfortable silence, you began to grow curious about the man beside you. You didn’t want to shatter the quiet you two had created, but the realization that you wouldn’t have many days like this with him prompted you to turn towards him and devote all of your attention to him. “When did you meet Gimel?”

Zhongli was taken aback, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if he had become too comfortable simply sitting next to you. His amber eyes fluttered, then grew distant, as if peering at something in the far-flung distance.

“I don’t believe it’s an exaggeration to say I’ve known them my whole life.” He started. “I can’t seem to think of a time when I haven’t known them. The form has changed, but they’re still the same.”

“Sounds like you’ve always been connected. Guess that explains the Geo Vision.” You leaned back to glance at the crystal attached to his coat. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, but realized he couldn’t see it. Instead, he settled for admiring you and the way your eyes shone when you glimpsed his faux Vision.

“Do you have one?” He asked.

“No.” You sighed loudly and fell back, laying across the stone and resting your hands on your stomach. “Visionless! Not worthy. Haven’t done anything in my life that warrants the gods blessing me.”

“I don’t believe that.” Zhongli frowned, his stony expression marred momentarily by disapproval. “Lacking a Vision does not make a person unworthy.”

“But it does make the people that have one super special, right?”

���I.  .  .” Zhongli stopped, made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, then rerouted his thoughts. “You don’t believe you’re special?”

“Not at all. Do you?”

“Do I what? Believe I am special because I have a Vision, or do I believe that you are special?” His counter question was sudden and took you aback, like a sudden slap to the face. You gaped, and when you didn’t answer, he dared to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You huffed.

“Your face. It turned the most interesting shade of red just then.” The smile he passed you was soft and kind with the faintest trace of amusement. You felt your cheeks burn hotter and quickly turned away to hide it, but it was too late. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself. I sense potential in you.”

Your stomach knotted and your lungs were madly aflutter, all thanks to those words. Out of habit, you wanted to deny him, but the tender way he spoke was too reassuring not to latch onto.

“You’d be the first to.” You spared him a quick, embarrassed glance. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. It costs nothing to build a person up.” He reminded. You frowned, but not out of unhappiness. There was now a solid, burning determination in your eyes that Zhongli barely glimpsed when you stood. “What are you up to?”

“You just said that it doesn’t cost anything to build a person up. It should be the same for elements, right?” You grinned broadly, then cupped your mouth with your hands. “Gimel! I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I want you to know that I’ve always thought you were really amazing looking!”

You paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Looking down your shoulder, you found Zhongli nodding approvingly.

“You, uh.  .  . Actually, if I’m being honest, I’ve seen a few hypostasis! I’ve seen the ones in Mondstadt, and the one in Dragonspine! You were always the one I was the most excited to see, even if it was to come fight you. You’ve been the toughest too. And I’m sorry!” You enthusiastic shouting was met with silence, but you thought for a moment that you felt the ground beginning to vibrate again.

As quickly as the sensation came, it left again, leaving the bottoms of your feet feeling numb. Had the hypostasis acknowledged you, or had you mistaken your quickly beating heart and rushing blood for the thrum of an elemental life force?

Your shoulders drooped, and your chest felt heavy.

“Don’t lose hope. I think what you said was lovely.” Zhongli encouraged. You sat down again and dragged your pack forward, drawstrings loosened.

“Thanks. I know you’re right. I know it’s going to take more than just saying nice things to fix what I did, but I’m going to do it. Even if we hadn’t made that contract, I’d be here.” You pulled out the lunch you had brought with you and carefully unwrapped it. “But all that shouting made me hungry, and we’ll be here for a little while longer. You want some? I made it myself.”

Zhongli made to shake his head, but you gave him a stern glare before he could.

“Don’t even. You need to eat too, you know.” You portioned out your food, placed it in his hand, then giddily began to scarf down your half. Zhongli felt an odd stirring in his chest as he glanced down at the food you’d prepared. You misunderstood the sudden admiration and gratitude for hesitation, so you nudged him gently. “I’m not the best cook in the world, but I’m not bad either! Trust me, it’s decent.”

“It smells wonderful.” Zhongli bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it! Quick, eat it up before it gets cold.” You paused your chewed and pocketed the bite in your cheek. “I can bring something tomorrow too if you end up liking that. Sound good?”

Zhongli nodded, and the feeling in his chest grew more agitated. “I look forward to it.”

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #s: rock solid bonds #( these are all going to be silly dumb things until things happen ) #( chucks this and rUNS )

[ruby-whistler]

I recently took your latest survey and I was having some thoughts like I tend to do and thought I would try to understand your POV better and give some insight into mine. I wouldn’t consider myself a “apologist” for any character and actually really hate how the term is used, but in general I disagree with the main opinion I’ve seen on your blog which is that Dream should get a redemption arc. However, my reasoning isn’t one that I see you commonly argue against. (Being that dream shouldn’t get a redemption arc because he’s done bad things.) You always ask some interesting questions, I enjoy taking your surveys, I’ve done all the ones I’ve seen on my dash. So I’d like to in turn ask for your opinion on some things and see your opinion on my POV, if that is ok with you. I just find it interesting to discuss.

the view I see a lot of Dream apologist have is that everyone should have the opportunity for a good ending, which is true.

But I feel like it kind of misses the point of well, we are discussing characters, not real people. Now of course, what we say and write about characters can still have an impact, but I feel like sometimes this fandom in particular goes too far down the route of seeing these characters as people. To the point where anything said about the character is seen as proof of that persons morals, and not something said about a story.

For example, going back to the point about how everyone should have the opportunity to heal, I think that is true. But the fact of the matter is, not everyone will. It’s not realistic. So it makes sense that in stories, not ever y antagonist will have a redemption. I think there’s a huge difference between saying you don’t want a character to heal in a story, and saying you don’t want someone to in real life. For me it completely depends on how well it would work narratively in the story, not how much I think the particular character deserves it.

There’s a reason why the whole “power of friendship” trope is often mocked. It’s because it’s anticlimactic. It takes away all the stakes, leaving you with a rather stale, and hard-to-believe ending. People who have had a considerable downward spiral often can’t be completely derailed by a simple “no, this isn’t right” or a brief act of kindness. To better explain this I think it would help to take a step back from the story and characters we are attached to and just take a look at different stories that are pretty well known. Just to kind of put what I’m trying to say into perspective better.

I’ll take Marvels Infinity war/endgame as a example here because I think a lot of parallels can be drawn from Thanos to c!dream. (And I used to be really into marvel.) What with the whole “greater good” “one big happy family” thing they want to achieve through harm, murder, and total control. Also the disc war finale was literally pulled from endgame lol. With both characters we can see they have at the very least a not terrible motive. If you look closely enough it’s possible to sympathize with them. Less so for me with c!dream simply because we haven’t gotten a real solid backstory or reasoning from him, besides pieced together fanon that we have no real way of determining the accuracy of yet. But I get that some people do really like the character. But keeping along those lines of comparing the two, they’ve both done a ton a very terrible things, and don’t seem to feel any regret for them. (Actually, scratch that, there are scenes that imply thanos at least did feel somewhat bad about what he was doing, another reason that he’s more sympathetic for me. Of course you could claim that c!dream is less emotional or just doesn’t show it, which could be true, but there’s also the claim that he just doesn’t care, which could also very well be true. Again, we sadly don’t have too much insight to his character, which is a shame in my opinion. I’d like the see more of the writers intent.)

So the reason for my comparison is to ask this question, taking away all bias. do you think that giving thanos a redemption arc would of been the right way to take the story. Again, I think both their arcs are easily comparable, seeing as the dsmp pretty much took direct inspiration from those movies in the latter part of season 2. This might be a bit harder to answer if you haven’t seen it but you could easily look up a summary if you wanted to, or just take my word for it that they are pretty similar lol.

Becuase, if the answer is no, then I’m not sure how much some of the points you’ve made on this blog hold up. Besides being based off your liking of the character, which is valid. (there’s a reason why fanfic and fanart exists) but that doesn’t mean that such a ending would be good for a story. Again, I can understand why you would want a redemption for c!dream, just like I want my favorite characters to have a happy ending, but that doesn’t mean I actually want it to happen. Above all else I want a good story.

Just to clarify, I’m not asking if you think these characters deserve redemption. I’m asking if you think it would work well narratively and give a solid conclusion. Because, like I mentioned earlier, this is a story. We arnt discussing the fate of real people here. Having a villain not be redeemed is not the same as saying people who have done really bad things should not be redeemed. Likewise, having a villain be redeemed isn’t saying what they did was ok. Villain redemptions can be well done, but they have to make sense narratively and be satisfying. In this case, I personally believe a redemption for Dream would not be interesting or compelling in the slightest, for the same reason I don’t think endgame ending in a redemption arc for thanos would be interesting or compelling in the slightest, despite the fact that I like both characters.

Part of the reason I brought up marvel at all is I want to kind of reframe the story, because I feel like this fandom has a oddly unique way of viewing the characters and story. Like I mentioned, the characters are often discussed like they are real people. Discussing c!dreams fate is treated like your discussing the fate of a real man, not a character in a story. I think there are some possible reasons for this. For one, all the characters are somewhat attached to their steamers counterpart. So, we feel more attached to them as a whole, and they feel more like real people. Another reason could be that you can watch almost any perspective you like, and leave out any ones you wish to as well. It’s a bit like a choose your own adventure book. So, in a way, pretty much every character could be considered a protagonist.

Which is where I can see a possible argument against my point. In a story where every character is the protagonist, the only satisfying outcome would be one that pleases fans of every POV. Which is where I can see this argument take place of “well, do you think ___ deserves a good ending? Then what about ___?? Surely you must think everyone does, or you just have bad morals!”. It’s a unique situation that I don’t think I’ve seen before. Of course, everyone has their favorites in a story, but the difference here is there are no supporting characters or solid antagonist.

And honestly, I think originally Wilbur saw the possibility of that problem arising, which is why he once stated that he wanted the characters to serve the narrative, not the other way around. It’s interesting that we didn’t have nearly as much discussion like this back when Wilbur was writing, because the story was much more conventional. But by the time we got to season three, that sentiment had been pretty much completely thrown out the window, leaving us with what we have today.

This is why I personally prefer the previous narrative. On one hand, this current way of story telling is very unique, and has a lot of potential, but comes with a lot of downsides. Conventional story structure just,,, doesn’t work out as well. Which is why I personally see the best course of action as using Dream as the overall antagonist. Giving Dream a tragic backstory, hidden motives, and eventual redemption arc just wouldn’t do much for the story in my opinion. Sure, it would make people who enjoy and sympathize with his character happy, but it runs into the problem of all the storylines being very separate. Like yeah we can have a separate redemption arc for each and every character, but I just don’t see how we would get an actual story out of that. I think a central villain could really pull things together, but at the moment it’s unclear if that is what they are going for. I guess we’ll just have to see where things go? Maybe there’s some answers to our questions in the aforementioned Dream lore stream? I personally believe he is being written as a central antagonistic character, but I can see where the opinion that he is not comes from, despite not personally wanting the story to take that direction.

I know this is very long, and I apologize, but seeing as you often make surveys and things asking for others povs, which I would imagine results in pages of paragraphs, I figured you wouldn’t be opposed to this. I’d like to hear your opinion/thoughts, but if you don’t want to respond I am fine with that.

alrigh, putting this one onder the ol’ cut because the ask is long enough /lh

so, i don’t actually take “everyone deserves to heal” as an argument why c!dream should have a redemption arc - more like an anti-argument for why he shouldn’t. my main reasons for why i believe he should be redeemed is 1. it’s the only thing that makes sense for the story 2. it’s the thing that makes the most sense for the character 3. he just genuinely deserves better after what he’s gone through 4. at this point anything else would send a really bad message 5. he’s the perfect character with the perfect setup to get one. it’s not just because i like him.

i don’t take what people say about characters deserving redemption as proof of their real life morals, or an example for how they’d treat real people, however i can still say these takes are atrocious, make no sense, or even upsetting and make me want to interact with the person less. they’re often born from bias and are completely illogical from both an objective and a philosophical sense, which is why i speak out about them, not for real life morality issues. this fandom has some of the most ridiculous and unsettling views of the story i’ve seen.

stories are not meant to be 100% realistic. art is supposed to have an improvement of real life - redemption arcs in stories that are well-written aren’t invalidated just because in real life, people don’t become better more often than not. if all bad people became good people, that would be cool actually - it’s not what’s gonna happen in real life, but doesn’t mean i should be opposed to it if it’s pulled off well.

alright, full disclosure, i have never watched a marvel movie in my life. i don’t plan to, really, i read books instead of watching movies most of the time. with the limited knowledge i have of thanos, i’d say some parallels can be drawn, but they’re not the same character at all, nor is their personality, story, or narrative the same. we have gotten confirmation on the fact his goal is peace and for people to get along, and i don’t know what you mean by “pieced together fanon”, but people believe or deny what they want, so whatever. i’d argue he’s easier to sympathize with, but then again, i haven’t watched marvel movies, so in my mind thanos is less a “sympathize” and more of a “understand his motives” type of guy.

i think that if thanos was a character in an environment of less than thirty people, with a home he owned and his family torn apart and divided, becoming more and more ruthless in attempts to stop people from starting long-winded conflict, who has proven again and again to care about people, but employ horrible tactics less despite and more as a result of it, and was defeated and abused in a cruel prison system for several months, while the narrative deliberately shows of his humanity - then yes, i think he should be redeemed. if that is not thanos, then perhaps you should’ve chosen a better comparison, or not used one at all.

seems very out of character to me. perhaps if you think c!dream and thanos are really the same person, you should start considering actual canon more than your own feelings about the character. just a suggestion.

i myself think that everyone on the smp deserves to heal and be redeemed, however i think c!dream will be the only person to get an arc in the upcoming months, because everything is pointing towards the fact and at this point it is pretty obvious the story has picked that option to go with. this is purely story and narrative-based, and my feelings match up with it more than the other way around.

i believe that a redemption arc for c!dream would, because of recent as well as older developments, be the only compelling and interesting writing choice in the upcoming arc. you disagreeing - well, i guess that’ll be your opinion until you’re proven wrong or not. however i strongly disagree because of the themes, narrative and characterization that seem to strongly disagree with you on the subject as well.

cc!wilbur’s literal last wish when leaving the writing was to keep all characters morally grey, no overall antagonist or protagonist. and the writers did a hell of a good job with that, however i guess the fandom wasn’t ready for darker and more philosophically difficult themes to be explored so they promptly switched to a pure black-and-white view of the story (which cc!wilbur straight up criticized them for), i think to try and gain a moral high-ground or something?? idk, they ruined the thing for themselves though, it was definitely not the writers’ fault.

there is no “the story” from a narrative stand-point. all of the characters have wildly different narratives and outlooks. if c!dream’s redemption wouldn’t do much for the story you are watching? honestly why should i care, the dream smp is more complex than that.

if you think c!dream should stay the overall antagonist, maybe you’ve already lost track of the lore. quackity at the moment seems to be the character with the most potential to make a negative impact on several characters’ narrative (hence becoming an antagonist of at least part of the overall story) while c!dream is stuck being the literal victim of his in a prison that is deliberately framed by the writers as dehumanizing and corrupt. if “this character’s vulnerability is being exposed and he is being actively traumatized and outdone by a different villainous character” doesn’t scream “extremely likely redemption arc” to you, i don’t know what will.

c!dream hasn’t been the “central antagonist” for the past six months and there are like three characters already fighting over filling in the spot. if you don’t want the narrative to take that direction? i am sorry, but i don’t think there is much you can do about it.

#my asks #anon #long post

[luki-fanfic]

Helluva Boss 5: The Harvest Moon Festival

Huh, Helluva Boss usually drops by mid month. Wonder why this episode is taking so long to put toget-

*Episode airs*

0_0

Oh. That’s why.

I’ll admit it, my interest in HB was waning. Episode 3 and 4 honestly didn’t do much to keep me interested. Spring Broken had a lot of plot and writing issues, and I felt the concept could have been better executed. C.H.E.R.U.B was more solid, but did have some issues, and just wasn’t that fun to watch.

Harvest Moon on the other hand? Oh boy, now there’s an episode. I am, if you’ll pardon the pun, back on this horse. World building, the action scenes, incredible animation, relationship development of the bad kind, more worlds, interesting characters! It gives us so much to work with.

Spoilers abound, so read carefully.

That said, I will start this with my biggest complaint – and it’s one I’ve had for several episodes, but this one really rammed it home due to the ‘sneak peak’ clip we had of the opening. In the black and white boards, the swearing was limited, and honestly the writing was pretty witty. Then we got the finished product – certain lines were missing, and several words had been replaced with random swearing. Considering what the scene was, it felt like the finished product was a step down – I really wish the scriptwriters would realise random swearing isn’t always funny, and they’ve given proof that their writing is snappy as is.

Anyway...onto the actual episode. We learn that I.M.P seems to be building up their business as Blitzø has 15 clients looking for a kill. Considering he had to do a sale to get a multiple kill, and the other episodes show him basically going out straight after getting the job, they’re clearly building up a name for themselves.

This is further shown with the arrival of Striker, who compliments his decision to go into business for himself, since most Imps don’t. This is new information, since we’ve seen Wally attempt to start his own business – although clearly it wasn’t going well – but if Striker is to be believed, most companies in Hell, even Imp City, don’t have Imps as the owners. Maybe it’s a financial capital thing, maybe it’s partially Hell’s racism, or maybe Imps just generally prefer to follow, which Striker seems to allude later. It’s hard to say with the information we’ve got at this point, but it does put I.M.P in a slightly different light – and probably explains why Blitzø is fairly incompetent when it comes to running the whole thing. He has literally no one to ask or use as an example, and the society he lives in generally assumes he’s going to fail by the nature of him being an Imp.

In fact, even though Blitzø owns I.M.P, he is still completely dependent on Stolas and his Grimoire. Without it, I.M.P is screwed – the reason they’re even at the Harvest Festival is because they can’t work. And that’s what Striker tells him in the final act. Their society has made sure that he can never truly be successful on his own merit, no matter how hard he tries.

I’ve seen some debate on whether what Striker told Blitzø was true or just an attempt to let his guard down. It’s hard to say, because Striker says and does some very conflicting things, but I’m going to believe it was genuine. Why?

He lets Millie and Moxxie live to have leverage over him. He does insult Blitzø to their faces, but why would he need leverage once his job was done?

When Moxxie learns the truth, he doesn’t even try to talk him round, just kill him. Millie is also tossed to the side – possibly because neither of them are ‘superior.' Blitzø gets a full on speech about their superiority and how much he respects him, even if he’s hiding a knife in his tail for if he can’t talk him round.

When he has Blitzø on the ground at his mercy, he doesn’t mock him. Instead, he tells him he genuinely thought they’d be a good team. He had the advantage, but doesn’t take the chance to continue the insult.

Like most Imps, Striker seems to dislike the demon royalty, but at the end of the day, is also working for one (and can I say that twist was brilliantly well done? It made SO much sense but I honestly didn’t see it coming). What is his end goal? Is he envious that Blitzø has some kind of power of Stolas while he has to be obedient? Is he aiming to kill Stella once Stolas is down? Maybe opening an assassination business to take out anything Overlord and above? We just don’t know.

And with that, we’ll step off this train of thought to speak about something else very important in this episode. Stolas. Specifically his relationship with Blitzø, and precisely how wrong it is.

I admit it, I future-shipped them, especially thanks to the Instagram (which become a bit of a bait and switch when the insta-accounts were declared ‘non-canon’). I acknowledged that the relationship was problematic and needed some serious work on both sides before it could really be a functioning relationship, but this episode hammered home exactly how much needs to happen in a way the other episodes didn’t. The pilot and Murder Family treated Stolas as a gag, and then Loo Loo Land made us all care about him and his actions. But Harvest Moon showed the other side of it, and I'm not sure the ship can realistically recover.

Stolas considers Imps as inferior, to a ridiculous degree, and Blitzø is no exception. He has absolutely no respect for Blitzø, and holds all the power in the relationship. We saw this a little in the previous episodes, but they were either alone, or Blitzø was working for him, and surrounded by people aware of the relationship. His actions could be somewhat explained away.

In Harvest Moon, Stolas proves he treats Blitzø this way even in public. Blitzø has very obvious issues regarding his name, so Stolas persistently using a nickname and treating him the way he does around people who aren’t aware, says a lot about how much Stolas doesn’t care about Blitzø’s opinions. Even if Blitzø does have some feelings for him – which I do suspect due to his panicked attempt to explain it as transactional. If he didn’t care, he would probably find it easier to explain. At the same time though, he’d be happier if he could get the book without the monthly visits, because what he has with Stolas isn’t a relationship, no matter what Stolas tries to pretend. Any feelings Blitzø develops puts him even further under his control.

Part of me wonders if the relationship evolved between the pilot and the first episode in planning, and that’s why we have such a disconnect between the Insta relationship and the canon one. I’m really hoping the series addresses it in the future.

Finally, lets talk about that final reveal. Stella has hired a hitman to kill Stolas – even armed him with two angel-tech guns.

(Which, also finally gives us confirmation that Imps/Hellhounds/Succubi can die from conventional weapons, but the higher ranked native demons need angel weaponry to off them).

Stella is also confident enough to scream it over the dinner table. Stolas either doesn’t care, or isn’t paying attention – if he doesn’t care, if definitely puts his motives regarding the original invite up in the air, but if he isn’t paying attention? Then it’s another point in the anti-Stolas tab.

That said, this scenario does ask a question. Why don’t these two divorce? Stolas is clearly not in love any more, and living together clearly isn’t doing Octavia’s mental health any favours if she’s literally hiding behind her music rather than interact with her parents. He should be the first to offer a divorce, but he hasn’t brought it up. And if he hasn’t, maybe the reason Stella hasn’t is because they can’t?

It’s generally assumed that the two of them have an arranged marriage, and that Stella’s anger at his relationship with Blitzø is due to his status more than the cheating. But then wouldn’t it make more sense to hire a hitman to kill Blitzø rather than Stolas? Choosing to kill Stolas, even if it would hurt Octavia, suggests it’s the only option left to her.

I’m guessing we’ll (finally) get some Stella development next time Striker appears, and get an idea of what makes her tick. But for now, I suspect the two of them regularly had lovers on the side, but kept it discreet until this point. Stolas refusing to keep his relationship with Blitzø quiet is causing untold damage to their name and status. Stella wants rid of a man who not only doesn’t love her (if he ever did), but is constantly humiliating her for not hiding his much lower class lover (which we know by this episode he doesn’t even attempt), and since the rules of Hell for demons of their status doesn’t allow divorce (or perhaps their arrangement doesn’t), assassination it is.

Hell, maybe the plan was to kill Stolas, and frame Blitzø for it. Striker clearly knew about their relationship before they met (which should have been a red flag now that I thing about it), so Stella probably mentioned him. It would also put the recruiting on another level, if Striker actually did get Blitzø involved at the final moment and teamed up.

Oh, and as a final amendment? If that angel-gun that Striker left behind is not now in the hands of I.M.P and becomes a key piece when Asmodeus, Mammon and the real Fizzarolli show up? I will be very disappointed.

#spoilers #Helluva Boss #not fanfiction #helluva boss spoilers #Also adored the 'freelance' jokes Millie had to field #But can we maybe tone down the Moxxie torture? #It's only funny if he gets a win every now and then #Also #First episode starring Stolas where Blitz doesn't break a phone

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.  

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system  time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good  MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿  if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.

#LCZABIBU #deathwillonlybethebeginning

[pastel9girlbunny000die]

Age Gap... AU

Part 1

One Piece The Monster trio~

♡The characters are all between 27-29 unless said otherwise

♡The s/o is between 16-18

Warning: ...Kissing and Cuddles? PDA and nakedness, smoking and drinking

***

Monkey D. Luffy🍖

🍖Dating a younger s/o has never really been a problem or something bad for Luffy

🍖Cause his more of a child than you are.

🍖People outside of your friend group always assumed that you guys are good friends or relatives.

🍖When Luffy's friends found out you two where dating, they we're really supportive and made you feel part of a great social group... better than the poeple you hang out at school

🍖Same with Luffy's family. They accepted you as part of the family without hesitation, but still trying to wrap their heads around how you two even started dating???

🍖Umm ugh... Your family not so much... Your parents weren't very happy about you dating an older guy like Luffy.

🍖It made them worry

🍖But! You did reinsurer them it's was all fine. He has a decent job makes enough to support a family has a nice cozy home and a loving personality.

🍖it got them off your back for a while~

🍖Buttttttt~😏

🍖when it comes to Luffy's looks, he looks pretty young for his age already reaching his late twenties.

🍖When telling others that your in fact dating doing all the sweet loving couples stuff, they believe you since he looks like an older classmate from your school.

🍖But when you tell then his infact an working adult... they don't believe you, they just take it as a bad joke.

🍖You never ask your meat brain for help with homework cause you might start fooling around instead of doing it, if his presence is around you during school work or studying.

🍖Luffy doesn't really care about age since he loves you for who you are rather than what age gender or colours you are.

🍖And he does it unconditionally.

🍖He loves it when you cook a big meat feast for a king! or you randomly give him cuddles or cheeks kisses. It makes his heart beat exstra fast and butterfly's fluttering all around in his stomach.

🍖Luffy introduced you to a lot of new food and you love most of the dishes. But also found a few new food allergies you never knew you had.

🍖Let's just say you know the hospital staff pretty well now.

🍖Small loving touches like these matters a lot to him like all the little things you do for him. It makes him extremely happy.

🍖PDA 😏*Public display of affection*

🍖Luffy doesn't mind holding hands or little pecks here and there in public.

🍖But holding his hand comes with consequences... be prepared to be dragged from placed to place in a public shopping mall or market cause he won't let go when he runs from food course to food course.

🍖But when it comes to PDA kissing, he only allows the quick peck on the lips or cheeks he doesn't do the long make out session. His not one to sit still in one place for too long.

🍖His your man child after all.

Roronoa Zoro ⚔

⚔Zoro doesn't care.

⚔He dates you cause you are you.

⚔He has never been really the one to judge based on looks but when he met you he saw nothing but the most beautiful thing in the world.

⚔He has a really direct personality and isn't really the one to talk much or too clingy.

⚔Zoro doesn't have a solid job he switches from part time to part time, and one of his joba is the reason he met his s/o.

⚔He got lost on his way too your school and ended up bumping into you, literally.

⚔He nicely asked for directions and you gladly let him tag along with you, even though he sometimes turns the wrong way.

⚔It turned out he applied as a substitute teacher for a month at the boys kendo club.

⚔So you had a lot of time getting to know each other 😏~

⚔Other than that he hit it off pretty well with his s/o. From hanging out at school during lunch, to after school and weekends.

⚔That's how you ended up asking him out on a date.

(Definitely demanding to pick him up!!!)

⚔Than started dating. You later on met his group of friends which surprised you though to him not being a kind of person to hang out with a loud bunch but thier his life long friends and good people, you ended up liking them quicker than your school friends.

⚔Zoro's parents have already passed away and his is the only child so it was sad that you didn't get to meet his family and thank them for making this hard working lovable idiot.

⚔It took you awhile to work up the courage to let your family meet Zoro. It's not that you care about if they liked him or not all you wanted to know if they'll let you be with him and keep loving your marimo.

⚔Their reactions where priceless. But they were okay with it. Since they knew the swordsman from high school and he wouldn't do anything to seriously hurt you.

⚔Telling others that you and Zoro are indeed a couple is weird to them he has a bleak personality and a horrible attitude along with him being in his late 20s.

⚔You on the other hand are sunshine and rainbows all the time full of energy and always positive.

⚔How does that mix?

⚔In public you guys always gets mistaken for father and daughter/Son. But you brush it off and claiming your a couple.

⚔Which surprised them but they don't push further though to Zoro sending them glares.

⚔One thing you love about Zoro is taking little naps together. Anywhere the couch, bed, floor, bath tub anywhere you start cuddling him he'll fall asleep on you a few minutes after you'd follow.

⚔He tought you Kendo. And let's say you got a new hobby.

⚔You once asked him to help you with homework. Next day you came in with the excuse, "Ma'am my dog ate my homework."

⚔Zoro loves you with all his heart sometimes he can't help but feel like he doesn't deserve you or his holding you back?

⚔But you reinsurer him with him is the happiest you have felt in you life.

⚔PDA 😳*Public display of affection*

⚔His not really good with affection but he doesn't push you off when you want a hug or two maybe even kisses he will allow it.

⚔His also not clinging kind of guy. So waking around in public he won't hold your hand but he will put an arm around your neck.

⚔And in return one of your hands slips into the back pocket of his jeans giving you the opportunity to squeeze his ass whenever you desire.

⚔He let's it slide. With a tiny blush.

⚔While walking around in any public place you always keep an exstra eye on him (like a parent making sure not to lose thier kid in a large place).

⚔Your more relaxed when his arm is around you meaning you'll be near him at all times. But when his not your six sense activate to mama bear mode all eyes on him at every second.

⚔In one day at the mall you caught him almost mindlessly walking off in a random direction or out the store.

⚔You had to chase after him.

⚔PDA Kissing😚~ Like I said he doesn't mind it but when he gets a little drunk he full on gets you sucked into a full blown make out session he doesn't care where. In public, at home, in you home, out with his/your friends even near your parents. Nothing gets in his ways of what he wants.

⚔Not even your embarrassment.

⚔After all your stuck with your Marimo.

Sanji Vinsmoke 🚬

🚬Sanji is a complete different case than the other two mentioned above.

🚬He's a hopeless romantic.

🚬First time you met him he was dress as a okama. A first expression you'll never forget, For awhile you wonder who that woman was and thought you'll never cross paths again

🚬Destiny proofed you wrong.

🚬You met him again at the Baratie one of the most famous restaurants in town.

🚬In the end you guys talked the night away, you probably interacted with him more than the poeple you came with.

🚬Later on he invites you for a free homemade meal, personally made by him.

🚬He also gave you his number~ 😚😏

🚬That's how you met.

🚬And later on you two became closer there was just this unique thing about Sanji that made you like him more.

🚬Yes he treats woman with the at most respect and kindness, randomly complements any woman he comes across.

🚬Like a true gentleman.

🚬But in his eyes you felt different. He flirts more with you, he does small sweet things for you.

🚬And don't forget the mouthwatering lunch boxes you get to take school.

🚬Sanji spoils his s/o with a lot of affection he can't go a day without a hug or kiss, if he doesn't get either one of them he will genuinely worry.

🚬Sanji thinks it's cute that your younger than him, it gives him more of a responsibility vibe when his near you.

🚬He practically treats his young s/o like the rightful queen/King they are.

🚬But that doesn't mean his a little negative when it came to his age, his not that old reaching his late 20s, he has his doubts.

🚬But when he has these bad thoughts you can see it on his face, it made you sad that he thinks you'd leave him for someone younger.

🚬Your response is making him some nice relaxing hot tea and cuddle him in a blanket whispering sweet words of love to him

🚬It lights his mood a bit.

🚬From time to time, Sanji's s/o gets jealous by the way he treats other women, you could be a little selfish just wanting him to only look at you in that way.

🚬You weren't surprised when you met his friends they care about Sanji as much as you did, they also loved you, finally happy that he got a lover so they could stop hearing his complaints about his single life.

🚬And they kinda use him for free meals. Especially Luffy the leader of their little friends group he always whines for meat, it kinda cute.

🚬You can't really ask Sanji for help in school work/homework, his a high school dropout. And the only thing he can actually help with is cooking classes which you hate. But at least your grades picked up in that class

🚬Sanji never let's you meet his biological family, he forbids the topic and avoids it at all cost. But couldn't wait for you to meet Zeff his adopted father, he literally dragged you to his childhood home to meet the old geezer.

🚬Zeff took you in the moment he met you and treated you like his own daughter/son, he also said "Finally I can rest in peace knowing you won't die alone." At Sanji.

🚬Which result in a small argument.

🚬Like Sanji you refuse to let him meet your parents, afraid they won't accept the relationship and force you apart. So you always give him the excuse that you want to wait or not ready yet.

🚬He respect your decision, and won't interfere or go behind your back. If you can wait so will he.

🚬Buttttttttt😱

🚬One night your Dad/Father decided that the family should go out to eat, give your mom/mother a little break from cooking.

🚬You agree to go aswell. Without knowing which restaurant.

🚬Guess where you went😏

🚬Yes... The Baratie!!!

🚬Your soul left your body. I mean Sanji should be off right ? Right ? Its weekend.

🚬But it got worse when you saw a glimpse of him in the kitchen and your eyes meet.

🚬What go worst that your Mom/Mother took a seat in Sanji's section of the restaurant.

🚬Meaning he will serve you.

🚬At this point you give up and just let it be, tonight your life as well as your relationship will come crashing down.

🚬Mindlessly sitting down, at that moment Sanji came bursting through the kitchen doors like a tornado heading towards you

🚬Wrapped his arms around you kissing you all over your face, right in front of your family.

🚬They where far beyond shock.

🚬By the time Sanji let's go of you, you looked like a morning person who just got out of bed, hair messy clothes messy and a blank look on your face.

🚬It didn't take long for them to start drowning you with questions.

🚬In the end you made sure to tell them,

"Mom/Mother Dad/Father, this is Sanji his the head chef of the Baratie, his also m-my boyfriend."

🚬Your mom/Mother got offended that your dating a professional cook, that is most likely better at cooking than her.

🚬Your Dad got offended that your dating someone older close to his age. (He can't really give the if you hurt my little girl/boy I will end you speech, the blonde must've heard it for a long time and just wouldn't be treated by it.)

🚬But they saw how worried you looked holding Sanji's hand tightly, the blonde seemed ready to start a argument if they would be against you two.

🚬In the end they smiled and nodded.

🚬Sanji and his s/o couldn't be more happy as instant took over and you two kissed passionately and long.

🚬Your Dad/Father had to clear his throat reminding you where you are.

🚬You broke apart blushing.

🚬It all ended up happy.

🚬Telling your parents weren't easy but now that you know that thier okay with your relationship made it easier to tell others.

🚬Let me tell you, Yes Sanji is older than you and everyone can tell that by his looks, so they just assume you guys are relatives or brothers/brother and sister.

🚬Sanji always corrects them, Your his lover not family member.

🚬That's when they turn to you asking if his black mailing you.

🚬You just simply say "No."

🚬You don't need to give others an explanation, knowing you two love each other very much.

🚬Despise Sanji's appearance you ignore his good looking hot abs and body and turn to his eyebrows and personally others make fun of how unnatural they are but they are the most lovable features on him that you like the most.

🚬Sanji smokes, and yes you know that. You never complain or ask him to stop, but you did ask him why he does, he simply just said "I started to smoke to piss off the geezer, I was just a stupid teenager at the time."

🚬You don't like cooking so that kinda got Sanji down, but you didn't mind helping out once in awhile.

🚬You love make overs dressing up and looking pretty. Which made him happy that he can share his okama side with you, you love doing his make up. aswell as styling his blonde wig.

🚬That's how he brought you to meet Iva one of his friends at the kamabakka night club.

🚬You really enjoyed it there and all the others you met.

🚬It was really fun seeing Sanji in his more feminine side and dress as a girl.

🚬It made you happy that he even share his most inner self with you.

🚬Sanji is really happy that you accept and love him for who he is.

🚬PDA *Public display of affection*

🚬Sanji is all over you hand holding, kissing, hugging even making out.

🚬He let's you hold hands and doesn't mind random kisses on his cheeks but he personally prefers his mouth over his cheeks.

🚬PDA kissing 😏~ One thing he loves is being taller than you, so when you want to give affection by kissing you have to stand on you tip toes and only able to reach his jawline.

🚬So you just kiss him from his jaw to his collarbone. Secretly leaving a mark😏~

🚬But when you go out with him dress as a Okama he doesn't let you kiss him much or hold hands but he doesn't mind locking arms with you.

🚬Just to know you're near, and save.

🚬He has one hell of a kick, You found out that out when you guys went out to a bar with Iva and some of his other friends (You didn't drink, being a minor and all but you did have a glass of soda or water).

🚬At some point Sanji got up to use the bathroom. And when he got back he saw a drunk guy harassing his s/o

🚬So with one hit he kicked the living hell out of the guy. (It didn't ended well for that guy, must've hurt more with the high heels boots Sanji's was wearing kicked him😵)

🚬And Sanji angrily dragged his s/o home early.

🚬It surprised you since Sanji wasn't really violent around you much, but knowing he'd even get into a fight to protect you. Made you happy and felt loved. He is the blonde cook you fell in love with after all.

***

#One piece #fanfic #male reader #fem reader #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji vinsmoke #luffy #Zoro #Sanji #One piece fanfic #anime

[arlome]

prompt: baby, Phrack, Phryne's bedroom

Well, my darling nonnie, you’ve come at a very good time... Hope you approve.

And to the rest of you lovelies - unplanned pregnancy-related issues ahead. So read at your own risk. I mean it.

It takes her an entire fortnight to finally acknowledge that something might be... wrong. At first, she ascribes the whole thing to stress - not enough sleep, a difficult case, Aunt P and her countless luncheons - those notoriously tiresome tea parties can do that to a body, after all. She laughs it off and sleeps in later than she plans and acts as if this unnatural delay doesn’t bother her; but when she nearly faints at a crime scene, rising from a squat over the murder victim, she starts dreading the natural conclusion. When she starts bringing up her breakfast in the mornings, she finally gives up and seeks out Mac.

One compassionate look says it all. Phryne starts crying.

“What will you do?” Mac asks gently, handing her a soft, checkered handkerchief. It’s a lovely pattern, the same as Mac’s waistcoat. Phryne wipes her nose, dabs the sodden cloth under her swollen eyes.

“I don’t know,” she answers truthfully, angry at herself for the uncharacteristic waterworks. She’s usually much more held-together. 

Mac stares at her in disbelief. 

“You’re not actually thinking of keeping it?” she mutters, frowning. They’re at the morgue, there are people outside. This is hardly discreet. “Phryne, you were always so adamantly against the very idea - “

“I know,” Phryne sighs, worrying the handkerchief in her hands, “but this...it’s... it’s Jack’s, Mac; there’s a lot at stake.” 

Mac nods and bends to kiss Phryne’s forehead in a quite uncharacteristic move of her own. 

“Don’t wait too long,” she urges quietly, pressing Phryne’s shoulder with gentle fingers. She doesn’t say anything explicitly, but Phryne understands all too well.

Time is of the essence.

***                                                    

She waits another week to tell him. 

Her days are spent in sickness and not much health, her nights are spent in steadfast insomnia. She’s on edge - a raw nerve, a frayed wire - ready to ignite and split and fall at any given moment. The thought of telling him - of seeing his face at her confession - has her retching over the bathroom sink.

When he finally comes to her, she’s in bed with a book she’s not really reading, her fingers shaking with anxious trepidation. He takes one look at her and smiles that thrice-damned half-smile of his, leaning in the doorway, with his hands in his trouser pockets.

“In bed by nine, and no cognac or D.H. Lawrence in sight,” he quips. “Are you ill, Miss Fisher?”

She’s got a whole speech planned - her reasons, her plans for the future, everything, detailed and explained, right there on the tip of her tongue - but what bursts forth is a choked “I’m pregnant”, gasped into the suddenly stifled air of her boudoir. She watches as the smile and colour drain from his face, follows his stagger into the bedroom, after he barely manages to shut the door behind him; her eyes mist over as he stumbles to her side of the bed, as he lowers himself awkwardly to the edge, by her hip.

“How?” he asks, his voice no louder than a rasp. He’s shaken, too; she can tell by the white-knuckled grip he has on the edge of her bed. She doesn’t dare look up at him.

“It happens,” she says, shrugging, the book slipping down her crossed legs, “these devices are not fool-proof, you know, and we have been rather... prolific in our bedtime activities.”

She feels his hand settling over her doona-covered thigh, squeezing softly.

“Phryne...”

The gentle timbre of his deep voice makes her tear up begrudgingly. She turns her head away, swiping angrily at the unwelcome droplets, not wanting him to see her tears. With her eyes averted, she feels, rather than sees, his body shifting forward. His arms encircle her, his chin resting at the top of her head, and she surrenders, and buries her face in his solid chest and trembles. 

“How long have you known?” he asks quietly and kisses the crown of her head.

“I’ve missed my courses this month,” she mutters into his waistcoat, “I suspected. Mac confirmed it a week ago.”

He exhales loudly enough for her to hear.

“Christ, Phryne; why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

There’s no accusation in his voice, no judgment; this is so much worse than she expected it to be.

“I can’t keep it,” she cries, her fingers digging into his arms, willing him to understand. “Believe me, Jack, I wish there was another way... this was not a decision I took lightly -”

Jack kisses her cheek, her nose, brushes his lips over hers, tastes the salt on her skin.

“I know,” he mutters against her forehead, “I know.” 

This dear man. This dearest man.

“You’re not angry?” She lifts her face to look at him. “You’re not cross that I’ve decided to - ?”

He shakes his head, blinking slowly. His eyes are soft, moist, full of compassion and understanding, and her heart tightens. She loves this man, oh how she loves him. It doesn’t frighten her. Not anymore.

“Phryne, I will support whatever decision you make. You know that.”

“Even if it involves the illegal abortion of your child?” This is not an easy question, but it needs to be asked.

He reaches for her clammy hands and brings them to his lips. His mouth is cool against her skin.

“Even so,” he promises truthfully, but seeing the sceptical look on her face, he sighs, and adds, “Yes, it’s true that once, eons ago, I wished for a traditional kind of family. A wife, children, climbing up the ranks – but, Phryne, it all changed with the war. I’ve everything I ever wanted, with you, and that’s enough.”

She reaches for his face, ghosts her fingers over his cheekbones, kisses him desperately for good measure.

“Jack Robinson,” she whispers brokenly against his lips. “You are the best of men.”

He scoffs and pulls her to him, his arms tight around her waist. She can feel his heavy breath against her neck, knows how overcome with emotions he is. Her hands thread into his hair, her lips press into his temple.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he mutters hoarsely into her skin. “Let Mac help. That’s all I ask.”

She buries her head in the crook of his neck, presses herself against his solid body. She wants to feel his heart thudding as wildly as her own, wants to cling to him until nothing else in this world matters.

“I promise,” she kisses his Adam’s apple softly. He shudders in her arms.

 ***                                                     

Dot cries when she confides in her; big, genuine tears for the sake of her soul and that of the unborn child she reluctantly carries. 

“And nothing can change your mind, Miss?” she wails, her almost full cup of tea rattling dangerously in her shaking hands. Phryne sighs and shakes her head.

“Afraid not, Dot,” she smiles sadly at the younger woman. “You know my view on the subject.”

Dot falls silent for a few moments, only sniffling loudly every now and then. 

“Will... will it be as horrible as Alice’s -?” she asks, at last, unable to finish the sentence.

Phryne reaches for Dot’s hands, squeezing them softly, feeling incredibly grateful that Jack’s name stayed out of the conversation.

“No, absolutely not,” she promises, smiling reassuringly. “Mac says she’ll take care of everything. We trust Mac, don’t we?”

Dot nods, a little heartened by this piece of information, and Phryne sighs inwardly in relief. After all, there’s no need for both of them to worry.

 ***

She rouses from deep, heavy sleep to the sound of hushed voices and clinking glasses. A rather rancid scent of antiseptic permeates the air, combined with the strong smell of spirits - her best single malt whiskey, if she’s any judge - and a lingering sickly-sweet trace of ether in her nose; it all makes her rather queasy. Her eyes are still closed, but she can tell that the room - her bedroom, she remembers - is dimmed and peaceful; the window is slightly ajar, there’s a fire burning. It’s over.

“Do you think me a hypocrite?” a man’s voice - Jack’s - rasps from somewhere to her left. She frowns a little at the question - why would she ever think that - but before she can further contemplate the nature of the soft demand, she hears liquid being poured into glasses - two, by the sound of it - and drops the matter.

“Why?” another voice - Mac’s - inquires matter-affectedly. “Because of the procedure?”

Phryne can hear the glasses shifting, a soft, clinking sound; there’s another silence as the two other occupants of the sickroom take their respective sips.

“Well, it is illegal, and I am a servant of the law,” Jack breathes a little hoarsely; if for the drink or for the subject, Phryne doesn’t know, “and yet I didn’t hesitate - not for a second, Mac - if it meant that she’s - “

“Jack,” Mac interrupts him, and to Phryne’s growing astonishment, her voice is soft, gentle, “nobody can blame you for wanting the woman you love to be safe and healthy.”

Phryne stops breathing for a few precious seconds, awaiting his response. 

Jack doesn’t disappoint.

“If anything were to go wrong, Mac... God, I would have never forgiven myself.”

This dear man. This dearest man.

She stirs deliberately in bed, announcing her presence as best she knows, loudly and extravagantly. They’re by her side in seconds; Mac taking her pulse, Jack tracing the lines of her face with cold fingers. She opens her eyes to see their relieved faces.

“Hello,” she croaks, smiling indulgently. “Are you two having all the fun without me?”

Mac laughs almost hysterically, Jack sags onto the bed and looks away from her. Her fingers snake towards his, gripping tightly. He takes a ragged breath and hangs his head.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes,” Mac says, wisely reading the room. “I’m pretty certain there’s a slice of pavlova cake with my name on it, awaiting in the kitchen. I’ll be back to check on you a little later.”

The soft click of the door closing sounds loud and clear in the sudden silence of the room, and Phryne reaches out to run her free hand over Jack’s back.

“Are you alright?” she asks him softly, and he nods, keeping his head low and his eyes away from view.

“Jack,” she whispers, “I’m here.”

His fingers in her hand tremble a little, and she tries to rise to embrace him, but he senses her intent and leans over to bury his face in her hair, instead.

“I was worried,” he confesses, his voice on the verge of breaking. “Phryne...”

“I know,” she whispers, her fingers brushing at the soft, short hair on the back of his head. “I know, darling.”

“Are you alright?”

She smiles, kissing his cheek. Dear, kind Jack.

“I will be sore for a while, but it will pass,” she divulges with surprising willingness, and he raises his face to look at her. She brushes the stray curls from his forehead, smooths the deep worry lines with her fingertips. “Jack, I want you to know... that the decision was so very hard to make.”

He blinks slowly, trying to clear his eyes, and turns his face into her palm, kissing the soft skin sweetly.

“I know.”

There’s no judgment in his eyes, no regret; only worry for her well being, and love - a lot of that.

“I do love you, you know,” she says quietly, her eyes growing heavy; she’s exhausted, and sleep beckons.

He kisses her lips so softly it might already be a dream, and rises to lie on her right, next to her. His mouth presses her shoulder softly, his large hand rests on her abdomen. She feels almost ridiculously safe.

They’ll be alright, her and him.

“Sleep, Phryne,” he whispers gently.

And she does.

#prompt ask #phrack #mfmm fanfiction #my fic

[oldsilverblood5]

Eyes

Phantom tried not to stare. He really did. He could tell the creature was uncomfortable enough with everyone else’s eyes on it and he didn’t want to make it worse. But just like everyone else he was intrigued by the strange creature.

Since bringing it back with them, everyone at their base had been wanting to look at it. This strange being that came from a flash of light and looked so different to them.

Phantom asked if his team could speak with Pandora about it privately, as they had been the one to find it and they shouldn’t draw too much attention to it until they knew what it was. Though it was really for the creature’s sake.

But some people had already started whispering theories. There was one term in particular that stuck, a word that followed them through the halls.

Human.

No one was really sure about that. Humans hadn’t been seen or heard of in centuries. But some of the older ghosts who remembered that time insisted the creatures were real. Pandora was one of them, so if anyone could tell them what this creature was, it would be her.

But if this creature was a human then it really shouldn’t be here. It’s existence alone would be of great interest to many ghosts and could prove or disprove so much about their own existence.

There were legends that said some ghosts came from humans. That when a ghost formed it came form the remnants of a dead human. And that it was a second chance at existence. There was a lot of speculation about the subject, their only proof being the words of centuries old ghosts and a few random objects that made their way into the Zone somehow, but it was mostly younger ghosts and the ones that were born and grew differently that doubted it.

When a ghost was formed from the light of the Zone, they were fully formed yet held no memories of anything before. It was easy to believe that this was all there was, and they hadn’t had a different life to the one they had now. But the older ghosts said that the only way to regain your human memories, was exposure to the human world. And since no one knew how to get there anymore, most people thought it wasn’t real.

If this creature was a human, then it could change all of that.

Pandora had yet to say a word about the creature, only listening as Phantom explained how they came across it. The flash of light that came out of nowhere and the thick swirling mass that had hovered in its place a few moments longer.

Only when he was done did she look at the being, and only then did Phantom allow his eyes to fall back to it.

It… him? It looked male by ghost standards, but he didn’t know if that were true for this creature. They looked frightened, anyhow. Curling in on themself and glancing around frantically. Phantom took in the alien features and found himself more and more entranced with each one.

The creature didn’t glow like ghosts did, but they still stuck out. They were wearing a strange white and black jumpsuit that covered everything but the face. Their skin was a pale peachy colour that was incredibly rare among ghosts. Phantom himself was one of the few that had it but his was a few shades darker than the creatures. The messy black hair wasn’t too unusual, but the lack of glow gave it a strange appearance. Though it was the eyes that were truly striking.

Bright clear blue stood out against the pale skin and dark hair; unlike anything Phantom had ever seen. Blue was an incredibly rare colour in the Zone, which was part of the reason why it was his favourite, and majority of things with this colour were the random objects that were considered human.

But Phantom had never seen anyone with blue eyes before.

Skin, it could happen, Pandora had blue skin. Hair, it was rarer, but could still happen. Clothes, sometimes it could be formed with ghosts but making it was incredibly difficult due to a lack of things to use for dye.

But never eyes.

It was entirely unheard of, and perhaps the most alien thing about this new creature.

And Phantom was struggling to look away.

“Can you understand us?” Pandora’s sudden question almost made Phantom jump. He was embarrassed for his distraction but thankfully only Ember noticed, giving him a strange look that he avoided.

Instead, he turned to the creature, waiting for an answer.

For a moment, they did nothing, and Phantom thought they couldn’t understand them, but then they nodded at Pandora, slow and unsure.

Pandora smiled softly, trying to calm the being. She still hadn’t said if they were human or not.

“My name is Pandora. Can you tell me yours?”

This time they hesitated longer, but eventually opened their mouth. “Danny Fenton.”

Phantom nearly stepped back at the voice and saw a similar surprise on his teammates’ faces.

When ghosts spoke, there was an echo to it. A sound that reached out and covered you completely, overlapping on itself. Sometimes the echo got stronger if the ghost were emotional about something, and you could hear it with more than your ears.

This being’s voice was nothing like that.

It was a solid sound, clear and jarring in a way. Phantom could only describe it as being focused or centred, like he was all over the place but now he wasn’t. It was deep and pulled him in, the clarity of it almost forcing him to listen.

Phantom looked around and saw a similar alertness on everyone else’s faces, as well as a bit of wariness. Youngblood in particular looked uncomfortable.

Pandora was the only person who didn’t seem affected and the creature, Danny Fenton, didn’t seem to notice the affect his voice had on everyone else. Which could probably mean that this was a human.

“I apologise for frightening you Danny. But no one’s seen a human here in centuries. And your arrival was a bit of a surprise from the sounds of it.”

“You can say that again.” Johnny mumbled.

Danny looked at Pandora curiously. “So… you are ghosts.”

Pandora nodded. “Yes, we are. Though if your world has become anything like ours then I assume there are very few who believe we exist.”

The human gained a sad look and turned his face to the floor. “I thought my parents were crazy.” Before anyone could say anything to the regretful statement, Danny’s eyes shot back up. “Do you know if there’s any way I can go home?”

Pandora frowned, which didn’t bode well. “I’m not sure. I don’t even know how you came here in the first place. All the portals were closed over 300 years ago.”

“My parents built one.” Danny answered. He held onto his arms and didn’t look at anyone. “But they couldn’t get it to work… I was showing it to my friends, and Sam… she dared me to go in. But I tripped on a wire and hit something. It got really bright and the next thing I knew, I woke up here.”

Their leader hummed thoughtfully and turned to Phantom. “You said that the swirling light he came from disappeared?”

Phantom nodded. “It was only there for a few moments. Then it completely vanished.”

She nodded and turned back to the human. “Danny if your parents were able to make a portal then your best chance at getting home is if they open it again.”

Danny, though, seemed afraid that that would be the answer. “But they couldn’t figure it out. I only did it by accident, I don’t even know what I did.”

“I’m sorry Danny, but there’s nothing I can do. As I said, there haven’t been any portals here in over three centuries. I have no idea how your parents managed it, but if you were able to come through then they can open it again.” The last part seemed to calm him a little bit. Pandora ducked down to catch his eyes and continued comfortingly. “I’ll have someone stationed at the area you came through. When it opens again, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here.”

The human said nothing for a moment, still upset but he gave her a small smile, “Thank you.”

Pandora nodded and stood back to her full height. “Phantom.” The ghost snapped to attention, having been distracted by the smile. If his leader noticed, she said nothing. “Can you please escort our guest to a room while I organise a patrol?”

Phantom nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

She turned to Danny one final time. “If you need anything, let Phantom know.” After receiving a nod, she dismissed them both and Phantom guided Danny outside while the others confirmed the location with Pandora.

The walk to the accommodation area was uncomfortably silent. There were a few ghosts who caught sight of them and when Danny started fidgeting under the staring, Phantom led them down some side corridors to escape the more populated areas.

“And here we are.” Phantom said with relief as they finally reached a spare room. They entered and he turned on the light. The room was pretty basic. A cot, wardrobe, table, chair, and a small bathroom.

He watched the human walk inside and look around and focused on the strange jumpsuit he wore. It didn’t look comfortable, so he wondered why the human wore it. “I can bring some of my clothes by later if you like. We look about the same size.” He hated that he sounded so awkward. But he didn’t really know what he was doing.

Danny looked back at him with a small but genuine smile. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

Phantom couldn’t find a response as he found himself staring again. The human was much closer to him than he was in Pandora’s office and he could see the strange eyes much more clearly now. Danny’s eyes weren’t just blue, they were different kinds of blue. Rather than the solid colours all ghosts had; Danny’s were a swirling mixture of different shades. They were darker around the edges and had lighter flecks webbing out like waves or lightning. The patterns looked so intricate, and Phantom wanted to get a closer look, to see if he could make out any shapes in them and what they could be. It was only when Danny took a step back that he realised he actually was moving closer.

Snapping out of it, Phantom recognised a look of fearful confusion on the human’s face and realised he was probably frightening him. He swore and stepped back. “Sorry, uh… I’ll go get those clothes.”

He left before Danny could question him and started towards his own room, berating himself all the way for staring and making the human uncomfortable.

But as he started picking through his clothes for something that Danny could wear, he couldn’t help wondering if all humans had such beautiful eyes.

#I'm a bit late #first time doing this #dannymay2020 #dannymay day 1 #dannymayevent #eyes #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #they're separate people #pitch pearl #ghost zone #trapped in the ghost zone #fanfiction #silverblood5

[thescienceofapologetics]

Evidence for the Resurrection

It’s Easter time once again! A Sunday that marks the single most pivotal point of Christianity. If you want to prove Christianity is a hoax, all you must do is illustrate how the resurrection was a facade. It is absolutely essential to our salvation that Christ conquered death, for if Jesus Christ did not rise from the dead our hope is lost. 1 Corinthians 15:14 likewise states, “And if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain.” Without the resurrection our belief is baseless, futile, unfounded, and foolish. So why is it we believe such an outlandish claim could actually happen, superseding the natural laws of earth? Here’s a few reasons...

The Bible is the most historically accurate ancient text in the world — When discussing the validity of history, it’s only reasonable to reference your source that has proven most reliable. The Bible is that source. No other record of ancient history has come CLOSE to matching the reliability of the Bible. If we say the Bible is untrustworthy, we must discard every other historical record as well because the Bible vastly surpasses every test of authenticity as no other book does. More on that here and here.

Yes, Jesus really died - Many people start off with the dispute that maybe Jesus wasn’t really dead. However, that neglects both the historical and circumstancial context. The Romans were masters at execution. They knew how to draw out suffering to the finest line between death and life, make it last for days on end. This was their art form. These men were proficient and practiced. Jesus was tortured, whipped with a scourge that often exposed bone and vital organs, tearing flesh from a body. Many people didn’t survive that alone. He was forced to carry a cross that could have weight up to 300lbs, and he crumpled under the weight, unable to bear it. Nails were driven through his wrist and through both his feet. Make note he would be unable to walk from the pain in his feet, his hands would be rendered useless. The way you hang on a cross causes death by asphyxiation, to breathe you had to push your self up with means grating your torn back against the wood and putting more pressure on the holes ripping your limbs. After Jesus died they speared his side to make certain he was dead and fluid came pouring out. The Romans checked thoroughly to make sure he was dead because they were shocked he died so quickly. He was bloated, swollen, and gored by death on a cross. Even if for arguments sake, Jesus was not yet dead, being in a tomb for three days would indisputably see to that. If blood loss didn’t kill him, infection certainly would. Additionally, Luke, one of eyewitnesses who recorded the events, was a doctor so his perspective is a notably authoritative one. (Luke 23-24).

The tomb was empty - There is no possible way Jesus, weakened to the point where the Roman masters of execution called his death, unable to use his hands or feet due to the spikes pounded into them, was able to roll away a MASSIVE boulder and over power two trained and able-bodied Roman soldiers. The idea that Jesus didn’t fully die on the cross and escaped the tomb is absurd. Furthermore, the guards stationed to prevent anyone from robbing the tomb and the Roman seal on the two-ton rock ensured that anyone who dared to even attempt to move it faced the death penalty themselves. If the guards themselves fell asleep they faced the same fate. There was a LOT at stake if Jesus’ body was taken, the Romans were taking no chances. Every other argument for the absence of Jesus’ body can quickly be dismantled by historical context and the circumstances by which these things took place.

It was prophesied - Isaiah talks about the particular circumstances of Jesus death, such as no bones would be broken, an unusual anomaly when it came to crucifixion. Jesus himself also foretells that he will rise within three days. Even smaller details like casting lots for His garments were spoken of hundreds of years before Jesus was born. Other prophesies like this show that Jesus’ death was no accident, God knew what He was doing. (Isaiah 52:13-53:12; John 18-20)

Eyewitness accounts - Jesus appeared to over 500 people after His resurrection, many of whom were alive at the time of the gospels being written and therefore could confirm or dispute their accuracy (1 Corinthians 15:6) Among those include the disciples, Mary Magdalene, and Paul the former murderer of Christians. The Bible records accounts of skeptism and unbelief, but they saw the scars on his hands, touched his solid flesh before them, heard his familiar voice, and they believed because of it. Paul became that which he initially DESPISED because of his encounter with Jesus Christ, that alone is a mind-blowing testimony. The man who hunted and killed Christians became a Christian who was willing to be tortured and killed because he so strongly believed in the saving death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

The apostles went from hiding in extreme fear to preaching the gospel in the face of deadly persecution - When Jesus died the apostles went into hiding. They were TERRIFIED that the Romans, the other Jews, would come after them next. Yet, after Jesus appears, they’re fearlessly preaching the gospel out in open crowds of THOUSANDS. It’s a dramatic switch of perspective. To go from quivering fear to such emboldened confidence, surely seeing Jesus standing risen before you would give you that kind of intrepidation. There is little else to explain how these men were suddenly ready to risk everything after being afraid to admit they ever knew Jesus just days before.

Apostles willing to die for Jesus - Now some people say the apostles stole the body of Jesus to convince people to turn to Christianity. The Bible says that lie was started by the Romans in order to discredit the apostles. However, almost all of the apolstles died for preaching the gospel, and all of them were severely persecuted. Why would they exchange their lives, their health, their reputation, their livelihoods, their comfort for something they knew was a lie? It simply makes no sense. The only logical conclusion is that they believed Jesus was the resurrected Christ.

Appearing to a woman first was a dumb move - The testimony of a woman would not be as respected as than of a man in those times. If Jesus’ resurrection was a ruse, the logical thing to do would be to claim he was seen by a male dignitary of noble standing, not a woman who had been previously possessed by demons - a social blemish (Luke 8:2). “Unflattering” facts like this, the cowardis of the apolstles, their initial skeptism, not recognizing Jesus right away, etc. lend to the credit of the account because it demonstrates an accurate retelling, not a fabrication that was crafted to deceptively sway the masses into false belief.

Vision, hallucination unlikely due to number of witnesses and circumstances - Jesus didn’t appear to two people and then go back to Heaven. He appeared to over 500 in all sorts of different locations. People who weren’t looking for him, people who didn’t believe it was Him until they had proof. Proof so certain that they were no longer afraid, they were filled with unextinguishable hope. We must also realize the historical context of the time in which it took place. It’s much easier to fabricate this kind of illusion today with the technology and way by which we pass on information. The time period in which the resurrection took place adds merit that should not be ignored. News was circulated in a manner that was unique to our present day process.

Non-Christian historians record the resurrection - Josephus, a renowned secular historian at the time of Jesus’ death, writes, “On the third day He appeared... restored to life.” It should be noted there are many who debate the reliability of Josephus’ words regarding the resurrection, however, many historians find this evidence to support the Bible’s claims.

The persecution of the early church - Under Nero’s reign the early church suffered some of the most violent persecution, not to mention the Jewish leaders who also sought to kill the Christians. The steadfast resolve of a Church who was in its infant stage is astounding. The only explanation is that they all genuinely believed in the resurrection. They had nothing to gain and everything to lose by preaching the gospel, yet they did so freely despite the cost. If Christianity was based on a lie, it should have been easy to crush it as it was beginning. The fact that the force of the entire Roman Empire wasn’t enough to sway their devotion is incredible. The whole of the known world tried to annihilate Christianity in the cradle but couldn’t.

It is the accumulation of evidence that begs cause for belief - It is not for one singular reason that we believe Jesus rose from the dead, but rather the combined evidence that demands an explanation that only the Bible provides. The proven accuracy of the Bible, the eyewitnesses details; the historical records of Jesus walking, eating, alive; the unexplainable absence in the tomb despite all efforts to seal it; the prophesies fulfilled; the change in people’s lives, the martyrs, the flourishing of the church in the face of persecution. It all points back to Jesus rising from the dead as the only reasonable explanation. The Bible consistently presents answers to questions the world has no answer for.

More comprehensive analysis and sources

Within these sources you’ll find more Biblical references, breaking down arguments and evidence, and quotes from some of the world’s finest minds and historians.

The Resurrection of Christ: The Best Proved Fact in History

Resurrection: No Doubt About It

Biblical and Extra-Biblical Evidences

Is the Resurrection True?

Atheist’s Look at the Resurrection

Still got questions/comments? Shoot me an ask! I don’t usually reply to comments on long posts, but I’d certainly love to talk!

#history #religion #christianity #resurrection #easter #apologetics

[seyaryminamoto]

What do you think about the allegations against Aaron Ehasz?

Well, I’m pretty disappointed in him. For a very long time he appeared to even be a driving force in featuring more strong and prominent female characters in his shows (both Azula and Toph were supposed to be male characters by Bryke’s vision, Ehasz’s input is often credited for making them who they are), so I guess it goes to show that what you present in your storytelling isn’t necessarily a display of values you hold in real life.

I’m not going to condemn TDP or Wonderstorm as a whole for his actions, but there’s one Twitter thread of allegations that are far too detailed to be dismissed as just “distorted and exaggerated” without genuine proof that that’s all they are. Taking the “innocent until proven guilty” route in these situations only ends up fostering the feeling that this kind of behavior is irrelevant in the face of the grand artistic achievements people like Ehasz can offer the world… and I’m sorry, but it’s simply not the case. I’d like to believe it’s possible to be a decent human being and a good storyteller on equal measure. Presenting yourself as a champion for equality and respect only to completely disregard those values in your personal life means you’re merely selling and promoting ideals you don’t honestly believe in, and it pretty much damages every possible message you could be trying to convey through your story.

I’ll continue to watch TDP, but I admit, this has soured things quite a lot for me and, I imagine, for a lot of people. Ehasz has the opportunity to genuinely reflect on his actions and take a different approach to his future as showrunner, writer and altogether human being. I truly hope he takes it… but I’m not holding my breath. However I may be thankful for some of the brilliant things he gave ATLA, I won’t hold that above the wellbeing of real people.

On another note… something that really bothers me about this situation is how it really brings to light that representation in media has turned into pretty much a tool for showrunners, storytellers, media conglomerates and whatnot. You may have all the rep for all sorts of minorities…  but that doesn’t reflect, necessarily, what you truly believe in or how you behave in real life. And if there’s something everyone ought to learn with this, and with other similar fiascos, I suppose: you can’t just trust the real people behind the shows you love to be 100% true to what they’re preaching. More representation of minorities in media is great, but the more it’s pressed on that it’s a matter of QUANTITY rather than QUALITY, the more we’ll see situations like Ehasz’s own, where he can present himself a champion of LGBT rights by featuring female LGBT characters in his show while simultaneously firing or laying off all his female LGBT employees when no one’s paying attention. 

Representation and diversity are being turned into a tool to get in with the “cool crowd”, to get the fans to throw all their money and support for a show with zero regard of the quality of said representation. Ultimately, I guess fandom needs to be more critical in the ways that matter. And I don’t mean “instantly hate on everything that doesn’t portray minorities as perfectly pure and morally flawless individuals or groups” or “boycott everything where minority characters die”: what I mean is that people need to start taking storytelling more seriously as what it is, storytelling.

Stories aren’t just a vehicle for political agendas of any kind. Stories are meant to show you different worlds, to let you live different lives through them, to experience existence through someone else’s eyes. In many cases, storytelling can be an exercise in empathy, and that’s what makes it ripe ground for representation of all sorts… but if you don’t care for what kind of story you’re being told, if you only privilege “how much rep I’m getting” over “what kind of rep I’m getting”, this trend will never stop. Big studios, big writers, they’ll keep on giving you what you want, breadcrumbs, just to keep you buying, watching, spending time on their stuff when they have to make the minimum effort for it. 

I was recently thinking about it… I’ve been working on a story for close to 7 years now. I’ve made countless efforts to keep my storytelling consistent and solid even if it seems I’ve failed more often than not. I’ve slid through the cracks and weaved whatever extra worldbuilding was needed for the story I was writing… and yet I take one look at how the showrunners behave, and just today I ran into an interview where they basically just implied “We set things up mediocrely so fans could do the rest of the job for us”. The whole notion of readers and viewers interacting with art to “fill the gaps” has been misconstrued and completely defaced in recent times: they don’t have to work for it. They barely need to make any efforts to sell their ideas to fans. All they have to do is create something, promote the shit out of it, make sure people are watching it, and then reap the rewards as fans go crazy interpreting so much more than what’s really there. And they keep getting away with it… because we’re here putting in the efforts they don’t care to.

I think the entertainment industry, as a whole, needs to change. I’ve already started pondering a few ideas on how that change could come about… but I’m not exactly in a situation where I can make it happen anytime soon, let alone can I guarantee that anything I come up with will work for good. But I’d like to think we’ve had too many wake-up calls in the recent years, and as much as media is doing better with representation as of late, there’s a lot of ground to cover still. Two seconds of representation don’t make up for an entire show written without any of it in mind. Filling in the gaps for showrunners and creators is fun except for the fact that you’re putting a fuckload of work into something that will result in no real change beyond what you may affect within your fandom, because those showrunners and creators will disregard what you do (especially if it’s fanfiction) and every interpretation and perception you may have of their characters and world, because you’re just a tool for them. 

Sounds so very fatalistic of me to say all this, I know… but Ehasz being in a startup company kind of had me thinking he’d be innovative, different from the big names in entertainment, and so far the way TDP’s fandom had been treated had definitely looked like something new to me. Now I can’t help but think fans are just another cog in the machine. And if we don’t want this to continue, we need to start looking for media worth promoting, worth defending, complex, smart, written not for profit but for genuine love of storytelling. Maybe the efforts we ought to make shouldn’t be about hounding popular creators to cater to our needs, or about doing their jobs for them by filling the gaps they left in their stories out of laziness or carelessness… but to promote the unpopular ones who are glossed over or forgotten when they’re actually making the kind of content we’ve been looking for. Until this changes, I don’t think Ehasz will be the only story we’ll see along these lines in the coming years.

#anon #aaron ehasz #if someone wants a read more I'll add one just let me know #I'd been thinking about this stuff for a long time to be honest #long before this mess happened #it just drove the nail further in I guess #something's rotten in fandom culture #and big showrunners have taken advantage of it #and will continue to do so #unless we do something about it

[kayincolwyn]

Trying To Find My Way In This Weird And Wild World

So it's been over a year and a month now since I've written a post for my blog... or my blarg, or my bleh, or whatever this is that maybe only a handful of people will ever read, and that I mostly just write for myself to get things out and try to process them. I guess you could say I’ve been putting it off for different reasons until now, and sure, I've had some ideas on what to write, and have had a lot that I've wanted to say, but, well...

Maybe I could explain it like this: I was listening to this guy on Youtube recently who was wondering if anything he had to say had any real weight, if he really had any right to say whatever he had to say, and he said something about how your words and ideas and beliefs may not have much value if they can't create real change, whether in your own life or in the lives of others. Or the proof is in the pudding as they say. I can relate to those reservations about what I have to say, here or anywhere else really, and I wonder how much real change my words or ideas or beliefs create, if any, and I guess that's part of why I've been putting this off, and is it even worth it to try to say something, when my words may have only very little, if any, power behind them? I've written a few things here and there over the last year, the occasional poem or reflection, mostly shared on my Facebook page, and I’ve wondered about those things too, if there was any real weight or value to them, beyond a few likes or a couple comments of affirmation from a friend or two about my writing.

And looking back on some of my older writings, like when I was in my teens or twenties, or even looking back on more recent writings, I sometimes barely recognize myself, the way that I thought and felt at the time, and there are times where I feel as though I come off in those writings as, well, kind of pretentious, or even arrogant (and especially further back), as though I am saying in them that I know and understand more about life than I actually do, which has been, and I have little doubt continues to be, not very much, or at least not with any real degree of certainty. The truth is I mostly use my words in writings like this not so much to speak truth (and how much truth do I really know for sure anyway, except the truth that I don’t know everything?) so much as to try to reach for the truth, to make sense of things, to try to hammer down the fluttering pieces of the puzzle of life, or at least of my life, to at least give me enough of a foundation to keep me from imploding or going crazy. I write partly for my own sanity. And I believe many of my words in writings like this are built on fragile hope more than solid confidence, meaning I am trying to point them in the direction that I want to move in, but that doesn't mean my actions always follow (if they follow much at all), or that I really live up to the vision of a path in life that I sometimes think about and talk about or try to lay out in writings like this. I may try to live up to it in fits and starts, but know that I fall short, and probably always will as long as I live.

I write about love for example, but love, at least for me, more often feels like some grand concept bouncing around in my head than something that I actually practice, or practice well anyway, that I genuinely manifest in my day to day life in the way that I wish to. It's like I can talk the talk with more confidence than I can walk the walk. The love that I show and give to others seems to be at best awkward, limited,  half-hearted, and more often than not selective (directed mostly towards those that I like but not much at all towards those that I don't like). Again, I fall short, struggling to practice what I preach. Because of this, this disconnect between what I try to express in my writing on the one hand, and then my everyday life on the other, sometimes I feel pretty disingenuous and fake. That said, even if I am at least in some part disingenuous and fake (and maybe all of us are more or less, as that may just be part of being human), I still feel like there is at least some part of me that is genuine and real, some spark within me that is reaching for something more.

I remember reading that the Catholic saint and theologian Thomas Aquinas once said, presumably after having some profound mystical experience, something like "I can write no more. All that I have written seems like straw.” After this, from what I understand, he held to that statement for the rest of his life and didn’t write anything else, or at least nothing with any seriousness. I'm not a Catholic so may not be able to relate to the context of his experience, whatever it was, but I can relate to the sense maybe that there is something more that would make all your words, and no matter how eloquent or heartfelt, like straw.  And I wonder if in embracing that something more, or being embraced by it, there would then be no more motivation to write, no more need to use my words to try to reach for the truth, or to try to make sense of things, or hammer them into some shape I can recognize as meaningful.  Maybe it would be something like what Saint Paul says in 1st Corinthians 13 in the New Testament:  ‘For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.’ If I could come face to face with such a truth, or a Truth with a capital T, and know it or be known by it, then maybe there would be no more words for me, or no need of them anyway... and maybe then I could truly be at peace, down to the core, balls to bones (as the Oracle would put it in The Matrix). That said, while maybe there have been moments in my life where I’ve glimpsed images or have heard whispers of that something more, that truth, I'm still left searching and reaching for it... And so I continue to write, or try to, words being what I have to work with here, and even if my words may only be like straw in the final analysis.

So for now, well, here's some more straw for you...

So I've had a lot on my mind over the last year, have had a lot of ups and downs. There have been times over the last year that were painful, and other times that were joyful, times where life felt meaningful and other times meaningless, and everywhere in between, as has been true of every other year of my life, but of course I can't, nor would I really want to, try to chronicle or reflect all that has happened or has been on my mind, but I can at least touch on some highlights, or try to grasp a few of the fluttering pieces of the puzzle and lay a foundation as best I can.

At 37 now and coming up on 40 in a few years I find myself wondering more and more about the direction of my life, about who I am and what my place in this weird and wild world is, what my path, my way, is or should be. I guess I’ll try to write about some of what’s happened, some of whats been on my mind, and try to give some idea of what my wondering looks like, so from here on I'm gonna jump around, between the highlights and fluttering pieces, though I will try to tie it all together in the end as best I can.

So, I guess I’ll kick things off by diving into some stormy waters right off the bat, by going into one of the things that has got me thinking more about my life over the last year, that being my discovery of Jordan Peterson. For those who haven't heard of him or don't know much about him he's a pretty controversial and divisive figure at least in some circles, mostly among those on the far left or the far right of the political spectrum from what I can tell. I admit I haven't really opened up much on social media about my interest in Peterson and his work for this reason, as I've been kind of afraid I might be jumped on for it by those who disapprove of him for whatever reasons, but then here I am I guess. I had run across some warnings about Peterson online before looking into him myself, and had some negative assumptions about him for a little while, but then I have learned from some experience, like I did with Harry Potter or Rob Bell back when I was in church for example, that if a lot of people talk about how dangerous something or someone is, about how you shouldn't read this book or listen to that person or whatever, then it's more likely than not worth checking out for yourself so you can make up your own mind about it rather than letting others decide for you what to think. I was still a bit hesitant, but fortunately a friend of mine coaxed me into finally checking out Peterson for myself by sharing one of his interviews on the popular Joe Rogan Experience podcast with me, and I was intrigued and impressed by much of what Peterson had to say in the interview, so my interest in Peterson and his perspective went from there.

The reason most of those who don’t like Peterson don’t like him is because of some of his political or social views I think, which is the reason why he really came into the public eye in the first place. Just to try to get some of the controversy out of the way and swim through some of these stormy waters, Peterson was a professor and psychologist in Canada who first really came to prominence when he spoke out publicly against this human rights bill in Canada called Bill C16 that, part of which, from what I understand, would legally require the use of certain gender pronouns for people who are transgender or non-binary or others who fall outside the typical dual identifiers of male or female. From what I can tell, getting a clearer picture of the kind of man Peterson is over the last year, I don't think Peterson protested this bill because he is just some bigot who doesn't care at all for transgender or non-binary people, but rather because it really bothered him that his government would try to pass any law that required the use of any kind of speech, not only telling people what they shouldn't say but what they should say. In short, from what I can gather this was more about free speech for him than anything else, or at least that’s his claim anyway, which some may disagree with. Of course the whole thing is no doubt more complicated than the little that I have written about here, and I am sure there is still much debate about all of this, whether on the bill itself or Peterson's take on it and his protest of it, but this is my understanding of the basics of it at least.

Peterson does seem, having listened to him a fair bit, to have mixed feelings about the whole transgender and non-binary thing. I don’t believe he would want to give the time of day to anyone who was transgender or non-binary if they accosted him on the street and started screaming and yelling at him, calling him names or throwing accusations at him (which I’ve seen in a few videos), as that doesn’t generally inspire empathy or understanding from anyone, but I do believe if anyone transgender or non-binary tried to connect with him one on one just as a human being to share their story he would more likely than not be willing to listen and I think would try to empathize and understand, as he honestly strikes me as a fairly empathetic and understanding kind of guy (even if he does have a bit of a temper, which he himself admits) someone who cares about the struggle and pain of others, and I believe that would include people who identify as transgender or non-binary. I mean, heck, the guy is a trained therapist after all, so you would think he would be willing to listen as long as you weren’t putting him on the defensive. That said, I think he has questions or concerns about it, and like many people is trying to understand in what ways society should (or shouldn't) shift in order to accommodate those who don't identify in ways that are different from what most are used to or consider the norm. I admit to having mixed feelings myself about this, though partly, I admit, because I don't know or understand much about it, though I would be open to learning more. I admit I have some reservations about things like children transitioning (because I worry that children may not yet be mature enough to make these kinds of decisions, and that they may regret making such decisions later on because they weren’t as fully informed as they would have been as adults) as well as transgender women playing in women's sports, or transgender men playing in men's sports for that matter (because I believe in those cases there is an unfair physical advantage or disadvantage because not everything can be completely changed biologically in a transition, including things like muscle mass and bone structure, at least from what I understand), just as a couple examples. My heart tells me to live and let live and that it’s really none of my business, which is mostly how I feel about it, but my head sometimes wonders if going about these kinds of changes in society without thinking them through may end up having some unforeseen consequences. Of course I'm not above setting aside such reservations if others could convince me to do so, and by that I mean by making convincing arguments to support such things that make sense to me, rather than trying to shame or bully me into changing my mind, which some may be want to do, but trust me I’ve had enough experience with that kind of thing in my life, red flags go up all over the place when people try that with me, whether it’s in the realm of politics or religion or any other realm... let’s just say when I encounter people who are dogmatic and ‘my way or the highway’ in their thinking and want to evangelize and convert me to their position, well, I’ve learned to just walk away... not sure if that will keep people who disagree with me from just stopping here and passing judgment (even though from here I talk about empathy and understanding for transgender and non-binary people among many other things) and then going after me with torches and pitchforks, but hey, at least I’ve tried... and this, by the way, applies to everything else that I may write here that you may disagree with. Friendly or at least civil discussion about difficult topics is good and constructive in my opinion, but rage or personal attacks or a dogmatic insistence that I conform or else be put into your out-group (as I have experienced to some extent with), well, not so much. Anyways, despite those reservations I want to be empathetic and understanding  towards transgender or non-binary people, as I don't really know what it is like to be in their shoes or what they go through. Sure I can use my imagination some, i.e. watching shows like Sense 8 (great show, still bummed it was canceled) or even Supergirl (as cheesy as it is) that include transgender characters and some of their struggles, gives me some inkling of what it might feel like, but I honestly don't really know. I admit I've only interacted (or at least knowingly interacted) with one transgender or non-binary person, a co-worker of mine who was born male and now identifies as female. I call her her, and am okay with doing that, but it takes some getting used to I admit. I was a little uncomfortable around her at first, as it felt weird for me, and I still do to some extent I admit, but then having worked with her a little bit more recently, I can see that she's not a threat to me in any way and there's no reason to be afraid of her, and she's just another human being like me, who deserves a little respect and wants a little love and acceptance just like anyone else. Sure, like Peterson I would feel uncomfortable with being legally forced to use certain pronouns (in the same way I would feel uncomfortable if I was legally forced to salute the US flag, just for example), but that doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to it if it was something I could choose to do freely. Like Peterson (and many others) I’m not really a fan of thought police (which I have seen in religious circles and political circles and all kinds of circles), but I am open to changing how I think and feel for the sake of others and if it makes sense to both my head and my heart. I imagine that just as I used to be a little uncomfortable with gay people but have since learned to be more comfortable with them in spite of our differences, and now even have a couple of gay friends, in time I believe the same will be true of transgender and non-binary people or anyone else in those categories, who at the end of the day are just fellow humans. I just need some time to adapt and get used to it I think, and hopefully all of us will be able to adapt and figure this out (adding this to the excruciatingly long list of things that humanity needs to figure out), as it would be good to live in a world that is a little more inclusive and accepting of those who are different, and even if we may need time to figure out all the particulars and where to draw the lines and what the boundaries should be and all of that, which of course is complicated just as people are complicated. Bottom line is I think there should be some room for questions and concerns about this whole issue but it should always be in the context of trying to be more empathetic and understanding, because we're all human beings at the end of the day.

I won't go any further into this though as I'm not here to talk about the whole transgender and non-binary debate (though apparently I’m talking about it a bit, but hopefully not in a way that will get me crucified by those who disagree with my mixed feelings about it), which is very complicated and multi-faceted and has a lot of strong feelings about it on all sides, but I just wanted to at least touch on Peterson's stance (at least as I far as I understand it) about it as it was what brought him into the limelight originally, and my stance as well, at least to try to get it out of the way before I go any further.

Peterson strikes me as a bit right of center in some ways (although he identifies as a classical liberal), open-minded in some areas but a little old-fashioned and traditional in other areas, whereas I think of myself as a bit left of center I guess. Peterson talks about the value and place of both the left and the right politically and socially fairly often, like when he points out that those on the right are there to maintain structures and boundaries and keep things running (he also adds that conservatives tend to be better managers) but that those on the left are there to update structures or boundaries or push for change as it is necessary (he also adds that liberals tend to be better entrepreneurs), and there needs to be a dialogue between the two sides on when things should be kept the same or when they should change, and how.  That said, maybe Peterson at times seems to contradict this way of thinking when he focuses a little more on the problems of the left and doesn't focus quite as much on the problems of the right, which may be a sign of some biases towards the right on his part, even if at other times he seems to be trying to find that balance between the two. To be fair if he’s not completely consistent then neither am I, and it’s probably fair to say that not many of us are. Anyways, Peterson's tends to equate the far left, and things like identity politics and postmodernism, with communist or Marxist ideology, and I admit he does come off as a little paranoid at times when it comes to that, sometimes going on rants about communists and Marxists in a new disguise on college campuses and branching out from there into society. I can somewhat understand why he might feel as he does though when he immersed himself heavily for years in studying totalitarian regimes in the 20th century, including communist regimes like those in the Soviet Union and China, wanting to understand them on a psychological level. He sees equal horror in the history of both Nazism (more equated with the right) and communism (more equated with the left) in the 20th century, but perhaps he focuses on the threat of communism more because he feels that people don't talk about it as much as the threat of Nazism nowadays? Maybe, but I don’t know for sure. I recently saw a little note plastered on the inside door of an elevator in one of the buildings that I clean in downtown Portland that said ‘Fuck Nazis’ among other things, which is a message I would concur with, as I’m no fan of Nazis either, even if I’m not really sure how helpful such notes would be in dealing with the problem of Nazism. I wonder though if I will ever find any ‘Fuck Commies’ notes plastered in elevators in downtown Portland, if there are those who feel communism is just as much of a threat. I think I might have even seen a protester flying the hammer and sickle flag when I was going past on the max train the other day, which I found a bit weird to say the least. I wonder sometimes when listening to Peterson’s concerns if there really is as much concern about communism as there is about Nazism, even though both have had horrific and bloody histories that involved the suffering and death of millions.  I mean, isn’t there just as much of a dark history of violence and death behind the hammer and sickle as there is behind the swastika? To be fair though, maybe some on the right aren’t as concerned about Nazism as they should be, just as maybe some on the left aren’t as concerned about communism as they should be, as it’s much easier to focus on the potential craziness on the other side rather than the potential craziness on your own. Anyways, maybe when you immerse yourself in that kind of dark history it's no wonder you might come out feeling a little paranoid and would worry that history might repeat itself. Maybe a little too paranoid? Sure, you can always be too paranoid, like Joseph McCarthy Red Scare witch hunt kind of paranoid, in which case you might need an Edward R Murrow to come along and knock some sense into you, but then maybe a little paranoia is understandable or even healthy. That said, while I'm not really a big fan of identity politics (or political correctness as some would call it) myself and have mixed feelings about the deconstructive nature of postmodernism (I’m all for questioning things and for holding them to the fire but not so much a fan of completely pulling the rug out from under yourself so you have nowhere left to stand or of leaving yourself with nothing to hold onto), still I’m not sure about Peterson’s equating all of that with communism/Marxism, maybe a little paranoia is okay but not too much... though all in all this is really lower on the list of topics that Peterson goes into as far as my level of interest or even agreement goes, so I’ll just leave it at that. Peterson sometimes points out that people are complex, but also says that people can be beholden to their ideologies (their ideas and beliefs), and says that ideologies can have people rather than people having them (he references psychoanalyst Carl Jung on this point), and I would agree on both points, but would add that those who are beholden to their ideologies always have more to them than whatever ideology they may ascribe to, and there’s a spectrum to how beholden people can be to their ideas or what they believe in, and whether that be in the realm of politics or of religion or in any other realm, and of course people can change and can learn and grow, and they need to be given room to do that. I know I’ve certainly changed and learned and grown in different ways over the years.

I have known people from all walks of life, the religious and the non religious, liberals and conservatives, and everyone in between, and while there have been a few who were too radical and extreme in their ideas or beliefs for my taste, most people that I’ve known seemed to be more or less sane and reasonable, more or less decent people trying to live their lives as best they can while not having a 'my way or the highway' attitude towards others, not wanting to evangelize and convert others to their position but just wanting to get along as best they can and agree to disagree agreeably. Anyways, my guess is that Peterson would agree to this assessment, as I have often heard him encouraging nuance and dialogue between people of all kinds, though perhaps there are times when he falls into the trap of focusing too much on those who are a little radical and extreme, who are the minority, if the loudest voices in the room, and not as much on those who are more sane and reasonable, who are the majority, if a comparatively quiet majority ... But then again perhaps all of us sometimes fall into the trap of focusing too much on the loudest voices in the room, and not as much on the quiet majority of everyday people who can have meaningful conversations even in spite of their differences.

Anyways, for a little more context to all of this, and to focus in on another part of my journey over the last year, one of the things that led me to become interested in Peterson and his philosophy was watching a documentary called The Red Pill, which was made by Cassie Jaye, who once identified (but no longer identifies) as a feminist. I first heard about the film when a friend on Facebook shared this video of Cassie’s TED Talk called Meeting The Enemy, and I found the video to be pretty powerful and appreciated Cassie and her empathetic attitude, so I wanted to check out her film. In the film she explores the men's rights movement, a movement claiming to fight for the rights of men (much as feminism is a movement that claims to fight for the rights of women), initially planning on showing how misogynistic and absolutely nutters these men (and those women who ally themselves with them) are when she began making the film, but overtime found that some of what they had to say was thought-provoking and compelling and so she began to gradually change her mind about the movement and her own feminist ideas and beliefs, even to the point of no longer labeling herself as a feminist by the end of the film, though not taking up the label of men's right activist either, but instead letting go of such labels and simply wanting to care for the struggles of both men and women equally and encourage more empathy between men and women.

Much like Peterson, Cassie Jaye's film has been controversial and divisive, and while I felt the film was itself thought-provoking and compelling in some ways, thinking on it now I would say it wasn't a perfect film. For example maybe Cassie didn't look at the darker and more negative side of the men's rights movement as much as she could have, though in her defense, perhaps her goal in the end was to try to look at the other side of the movement in order to give a more balanced view, as the media generally only focuses on the darker and more negative side of things when it comes to this. I think the film’s limitations though may be mostly due to the fact that such broad and complicated issues as gender relations and gender rights, and more generally human relations and human rights, can't really be covered to the fullest extent in a two hour documentary. That said, I think Cassie's main underlying message in the film was that men deserve empathy as much as women do, because men are human beings as much as women are, and seeing men as less important or worthy of empathy is no better than seeing women as less important or worthy of empathy, and if we all really want to move forward and end the ongoing battle of the sexes then we need to learn to have empathy for one another, and I appreciated that message, both as a man and as a human being.

I admit though after watching this film I fell into the men's right activist mindset for a little awhile, losing some focus on that central message, and while I didn't dive in completely I definitely put my feet in the water, whether through listening to men's rights podcasts or watching men's rights videos on Youtube or reading men's rights articles online here and there, and for awhile I was very antagonistic to feminism, even arguing with some of my more feminist friends, seeing feminism not so much as a pursuit of equality between the sexes as it claimed to be but rather as a destructive ideology that sought to, whether consciously or subconsciously, divide men and women rather than bring them together. But after a little awhile I pulled myself back from that mindset, recognizing that men's rights activists, while having some valid points about men's issues, can sometimes be self-righteous and overly critical of women but not critical enough of men, just as I felt (and still feel) that feminists, while having some valid points about women's issues, can sometimes be self-righteous and overly critical of men but not critical enough of women. I think there are some radical and extreme people in both movements but also think there are a fair number of sane and reasonable people in both movements as well, and I hope the latter, those who care about the other side as much as their own side, get the microphone more in the long run. I believe now that neither movement really has a complete picture of the shape of things, and wonder why sometimes they don't just team up to try to hash things out and balance eachother out, try to find ways to move society forward for both men and women without demonizing one another or trying to one up one another's suffering, as though suffering were a contest, and who wants to win a contest like that anyway? It’s like when my sister and I would argue as kids about who had it harder or got bullied more in school when the truth was school kind of sucked for both of us, even if it sucked differently for both of us. Again, not a contest you want to win anyway. Do men have it harder than women? Do women have it harder than men? Yes and yes? Maybe it just depends on the situation and circumstance, or maybe it comes down to the level of the individual, but then all I really know for sure is that being human is hard for pretty much all of us in one way or another, so why not just try to empathize with one another as best we can instead of arguing about who has it worse? Easier said than done I know, but I suppose we could at least try.

I guess much like Cassie I have settled with neither identifying with feminism nor with men's rights activism, feeling that both feminists and men's rights activists have their valid points but also their blind spots, and feeling that both women and men have their problems and struggles, and also feeling that both deserve some measure of respect and empathy.

I've followed Cassie Jaye a little bit since watching her film, and I still admire her empathetic attitude, and her bravery in making a film that I'm sure she knew would ruffle some feathers (and it did), and she continues to be brave through sharing some of her own personal journey including some of her struggles on her online blog and elsewhere, even opening up about the turmoil and grief of having had two miscarriages in the last couple of years, which led her to abandon plans of doing a documentary on postmodernism (which would have included Peterson himself) and instead is considering doing a documentary about miscarriage, a difficult topic that is rarely discussed openly in society, and I hope she does as I imagine it would speak to a lot of women out there (as well as their partners) who have suffered through miscarriages. Reading about her own personal, and painful, experience with her miscarriages was a reminder to me that women struggle with things that men don't (or at least don't as much or in the same way), and are deserving of empathy, just as her film was trying to point out that men struggle with things that women don't (or at least don't as much or in the same way), and are deserving of empathy.

I admit for sometime after watching The Red Pill and diving into the insane world of gender politics, I was planning on doing a blog post where I would try my best to tackle gender relations and being a man (with the tentative title of Measure Of A Man) as I had tried to tackle race relations and being a white man in my post White Man about a year ago. I even began writing a couple of rough drafts, but then the more I dug into things the more complicated and hard to unravel it became, and I just didn't feel confident enough to really dive into the whole thing (and I didn't really feel confident enough to dive into the issue of race either in White Man, to be honest, but then I I tried my best I suppose, though I'm sure I only scratched the surface on that issue, and I may even go back at some point and try to revise it some as since then my views on race have shifted a bit, though they are mostly the same as when I wrote that).

I suppose going down the rabbit hole somewhat on this post (which is appropriate as Cassie used that metaphor, of being like Alice in Wonderland going down the rabbit hole, in her film) by touching on the whole transgender and non-binary debate (though I definitely only scratched the surface on that) and bringing up Cassie Jaye's documentary and touching on gender issues, will have to suffice for that, and as with Cassie the main message I want to put forward here is one of empathy and understanding, and on all sides, and as hard as that may be, as hard as it may be to back up these words with actions, because I believe that's how we will all move forward...

If this was just a post about gender relations and being a man as I had originally intended it to be, I could have talked about Peterson and his effect on many men throughout the world, and that would certainly fit. A lot of young men around the world, and men of all ages really, look up to Peterson, some seeing him as a kind of father figure, and I can kind of understand that appeal even if I may see him in a more complicated and nuanced way myself. I will say that Peterson’s core message of the importance of the individual and finding meaning through responsibility resonates with me a fair bit. I agree with him that the individual rather than the group is the level to really look at as it is really our individual choices that make or break our society (though to be fair some individual choices may impact society more than others, depending on the power and influence of the individual), and we shouldn't only focus on rights but also on responsibilities, because your rights are my responsibilities and vice versa.  And I agree that there is something about individual responsibility, whether that is in the realm of relationships or work or creativity or spirituality or pursuing some other passion or cause (or picking up a cross and carrying it as Peterson would put it, referencing Jesus) that can give you a sense of meaning and purpose that you otherwise may not have. In other words, while carrying too heavy of a load can crush you, and carrying too little of a load can make you feel aimless, carrying a load that is the right size for you can help make you into who you are meant to be. Not that I have found a way to apply that to my life as much as I would like, but at least it rings true to me. Of course that doesn't mean that groups don't matter, as we are all interconnected more than we can imagine, or that rights aren't important at all, as Peterson points out that rights give us room to exercise our responsibilities, but I wonder if Peterson sometimes doesn't focus enough on how that interconnectedness can positively or negatively effect our individual choices, or on how the system can hold people back from moving forward, from being who they could be, because sometimes no matter how hard you may try you can still be held back not so much by yourself but by your environment or your culture. That said I would agree that the level of the individual is the most important one because that is what you need to build up from, the seed blossoming into a tree, so responsibility shouldn't be forgotten or set aside, that and sometimes it isn't so much environment or culture that is holding you back as it is yourself. But of course the makeup of our lives is no doubt always some combination of both of these things, it is some combination of our own choices as individuals, and the choices of others around us and how they may complement or conflict with our choices, and the limits of nature both internally and externally which effect us all.

But beyond his message of the importance of the individual and of responsibility and how we can find meaning in it, I resonate with Peterson most of all when he he seems to be reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, which I was talking about (or trying to talk about) earlier in this post. I may only go along halfway with Peterson on his political and social views, which he admittedly does get a bit ranty on at times (though many of us do, including myself, so maybe we don’t have much room to judge), and I don't agree with him on everything in that area or any other area, but when he delves into the territory of psychology and philosophy (which he says he is more interested in anyway, and so am I) and religion and spirituality I find more common ground with him, and also find what I appreciate most about him. Peterson is something of an existentialist thinker (he is especially fond of existentialist Christian thinkers Fyodor Dostoevsky and Alexandr Solzhenitsyn) and is fond of Carl Jung and Jungian theory as well as well as other psychologists, like Freud and Carl Rogers among others, and believes in evolution and evolutionary biology, so he often speaks of religion and spirituality in those frameworks and contexts, but I can resonate with much of that, as both a former atheist and a former evangelical Christian who is trying to find his way.

I watched a recent interview with Patricia Marcoccia (on the Youtube channel Rebel Wisdom), director of the documentary The Rise Of Jordan Peterson, and she said she initially became interested in him for much the same reasons even before he was really in the public eye, and she like myself describes herself as left of center and has mixed feelings about his political and social views, so I guess I'm not the only one. As the saying goes, don't throw out the baby with the bathwater, and in the case of Peterson I honestly feel that there's a baby in all the bathwater of controversy and drama that surrounds him.

Over the last year or so I have listened to (mainly via podcast while working) probably hundreds of interviews with and lectures from Peterson, as well as reading his book 12 Rules For Life, and while there's a lot of his stuff that I haven't gone through yet (like there's a lot more interviews and lectures of his on Youtube that I haven't listened to yet and I haven't gotten hold of his harder to find first book, Maps Of Meaning) I feel like I have gotten a pretty good idea of the kind of man Peterson is and how he thinks and feels, at least from hearing what he has to say.

I believe Peterson is, like anyone else, just a human being with faults and flaws, who has his weaknesses and blind spots and can make mistakes and get things wrong like anyone else, but there are times in his interviews or lectures when you can see (or hear if you are listening in a podcast as I often do) him reaching, trying to gather the fluttering pieces of the puzzle and build a foundation, and you can see or hear the emotion well up in him when he is trying to find words for something that words maybe can’t quite describe, something that would make your words seem like straw.

Peterson describes himself as a pessimist for the most part, and he says that life is in large part suffering tainted by malevolence, but he also says that underneath that pessimism is a faith in humanity, a faith in that divine spark within us that enables us to overcome and persevere in some amazing ways, and he has a faith in the power of love, which he describes as the sense that life truly matters and is worth living in spite of all the suffering and evil in the world, and as a desire that things would be the best that they can be, that things would be truly good, for you and for others and for the world, and individual responsibility is in part acting on that sense and that desire in whatever way you can to bring that vision into reality (or at least in my case to connect what I write more with my day to day life). At bottom I think Peterson believes, as he tries to say this himself when he is reaching for words to describe it, that the darkness in the world and in ourselves is powerful, very powerful, so powerful that he feels it unwise to deny its power and not talk about it openly, but even so the light in the world and in ourselves is even more powerful, and in the end is greater than whatever darkness there may be... and I can resonate with that belief.

And I believe Peterson is, even with whatever faults and flaws he has, a decent human being, or he is trying to be one anyway. As an example of this, when Peterson was at Liberty University, a well known evangelical Christian college run by Jerry Falwell's son, a young man who was struggling with mental and emotional issues and was off his medication, ran up on stage trying to approach and talk to Peterson, and when he was restrained by security he fell to his knees crying, having a breakdown. Peterson was confused by what was happening at first, but once he realized what was going on he came over to the young man, knelt down, and tried to comfort him as the other men on stage prayed over him. I honestly don't know for sure how much the other men on stage truly cared for this young man or how much they were at least subconsciously using him to promote their religious beliefs (I only say that, as insensitive as it may sound, because I was in the evangelical Christian world for a number of years so I know that kind of thinking is often somewhere under the surface, though not always to be fair, because again people are complex), but with Peterson I think it was just plain and simple compassion on his part, which I found moving. You can also see how passionate he is about others improving their lives and finding greater meaning and purpose in them, like when you see him with tears in his eyes when he talks about how people just need a little encouragement and he just wants to offer them that to them if he can, and you can see that that is what he really wants to do, and even if you may disagree with him on some or many of his views you can’t really fault him for wanting to help people. And of course it's pretty clear, at least to me, that he loves his wife and children, his family and friends, etc.

But even decent men still have their faults and flaws or struggles and problems, and recently Peterson checked himself into a rehab to try to get off of an anti-anxiety medication that he had started taking after his wife Tammy had been diagnosed with cancer (and from what I understand the whole situation with that was and is very complicated), which needless to say caused him a great deal of anxiety, which only added to all the anxiety he no doubt has had to deal with over the last couple years since coming into the limelight. I can't say that I blame him for turning to medication to try to take at least some of the edge off, and maybe that was a mistake, but it was an understandable one as far as I can tell. Sadly a number of his detractors or former supporters have been using this against him, berating him or expressing disappointment in him for seeking treatment, accusing him of being a drug addict and the like. Even if you're not really a fan of Peterson at all or disagree with him on most everything, I think it's kind of shitty to kick a guy when he's down like that, to berate a guy who was already struggling with anxiety for taking anti-anxiety meds when finding out the woman he loves has cancer (and I can kind of empathize with that having lost a good friend to cancer recently, though I will talk about that later in this post), or for trying to do the responsible thing by getting off of it when he realized it wasn't good for him (even if it could perhaps be reasonably argued that trying to quit cold turkey like he did may have been unwise, as some have been saying, but hey, no one is perfect, and that’s no reason to kick him when he’s down).

Sure I could understand if those who put Peterson on a pedestal might be disappointed that their idol had shown such human weakness, but after following Peterson for about a year now I realize that he's just a man and shouldn't be put on a pedestal (not that he would want to be anyway), and should be cut some slack for only being human.

If anything I find it somewhat encouraging that even the messenger struggles sometimes to apply their own message. As Christian minister and author Frederick Buechner once said (paraphrasing this here), 'I preach to myself my own sermons', meaning the message applies just as much to the one giving it as the one receiving it, and I am sure that Peterson is well aware of that, and would not deny that making good choices as an individual, that taking on responsibility, that tapping into that inner light, that walking the way of love, is just as difficult for him as it is for anyone else. The same is true of my writings here. I write to myself as much as to anyone else who may be reading this.

I empathize with Peterson and his struggles, and hope that others will as well rather than judging him too harshly, as we all have our faults and flaws and struggles and problems in life.

Recently I joined a Meetup group here in Portland where they discuss Peterson and his ideas, or better yet use him and his ideas as a springboard for wider and deeper discussions about various topics. It's a pretty cool group, with an interesting assortment of different kinds of people with different perspectives, and I've gone to the group a few times now, though only when the timing is right and the topic is interesting to me. In the most recent meeting I went to we actually talked about Peterson's checking himself into rehab and the flack he has gotten for that, and how being in the limelight and being something of a lightning rod for the current culture wars has taken a toll on him and his family, and we used that as a springboard for a deeper discussion on empathy and understanding. It was a really good discussion that ran all over the map but focused mostly on the importance of empathy and understanding in moving forward both as individuals and as a society. I think Peterson’s personal struggles are just a reminder that we should all try to be kind to one another for each of us may be fighting a hard battle, and even if others may not see it or know about it.

My dive into Jordan Peterson and his philosophy on life has led me into thinking more about things like this, and has got me thinking more about my life in general, and I see a bit of a kindred spirit in Peterson sometimes when I can see (or hear) him struggling to find words (words that seem like straw) to describe, at least in his own existentialist and Jungian and evolutionary way, something that may be, well, for lack of a better word, mystical.

Jumping out of the frying pan of politics and into the fire of religion here, I think one of the things that bothers some of Peterson's detractors, or even some of his supporters, is how he dances around the question of God's existence.  Peterson says he gets kind of annoyed with the question because he thinks it’s not a simple question to answer (and I think he may have a point there if you really think about it), but he tries to address it as best he can, and more or less says that he acts as though God exists, because it's how we act rather than what we think or feel that ultimately shows what we believe, and that's certainly a valid point I think. But I can definitely relate to the desire to dance around that particular question, as it's a question I have wrestled with a great deal throughout my life, and continue to wrestle with.

Of course I have written about the question of God in other posts here, and will no doubt continue to write about that question, but as far as it concerns finding my way in life, it's an important question. Is it up to me to decide what is the best path for me to take, or is there some other force that can or should decide that for me, or that could at least help me figure it out? Is there some deity, some guardian angel, some spirit guide, or some other higher power beyond this world or myself that can help me on my way, or am I on my own, do I need to figure this out on my own, maybe with a little help from other people who are trying to find their way too, but essentially alone in this?

Outside of a wedding or a memorial service I haven't been to a church in years, but I still pray (or I try to pray anyway) nearly everyday (and usually when I take a shower after I get out of bed, I guess you could say it's kind of a prayer closet) usually focusing on four areas, namely my relationships, work, creative life, and whatever my spiritual path is, or in my head going through this prayer written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (while he was in a Nazi prison of all places) which I have memorized:

In me there is darkness But with you there is light I am lonely But you do not leave me I am feeble of heart But with you there is help I am restless But with you there is peace In me there is bitterness But with you there is patience I do not understand your ways But you know the way for me

When I get to the end of that prayer in my mind I sometimes kind of internally hold my hands up, hold my heart out, reach out, without really knowing or understanding, but with hope that something or someone is listening and does know the way, or at least knows it better than me, and can help me to find it.

As I said earlier in the post I feel like I have at times in my life glimpsed or heard whispers of something more, of some deeper truth, or Truth, and perhaps that Truth is some higher power, or God, that can help me find the way, though I don’t know for sure.

One of those times within the last year where I felt I connected with that something more, that truth, whatever it may be, was when I was at a concert for the wonderful Norwegian musician Aurora Asknes when she came here to Portland back in February. I wrote about Aurora Asknes in the last post that I wrote (titled Mad World) before my year long hiatus here, and if you haven't checked her or her music out yet I highly recommend that you do so, as she’s a real gem. Anyways, I went to the concert by myself, and I felt a little lonely there I admit, and I was feeling a little down too as I was trying to emotionally prepare myself for the following day when I was going to help put down my sister's beloved cat Smokey, who had been in our family for a number of years, but then when Aurora came on stage I found myself enraptured by her warmth and playfulness and humor and charm and surprising wisdom as so many of her fans are. What really hit me hard though was at the end of her concert she stopped and got kind of quiet, a hush falling across the crowded room, and then she dedicated her last song of the night to everyone out there who feels different or sad or broken or alone, and while I can't remember everything she said (sometimes I wished I had recorded it on my phone, but before the concert I had promised myself I would try to set aside my phone for most of the concert so I could really focus on it and take it in, which I did), I do remember that she spoke with such tenderness and sincerity and caring that I was moved to tears standing there in a crowded room, and after that she began to sing what may be my favorite song of hers, Through The Eyes Of A Child, which I reflected on in my Mad World post. Hearing that song in the earbuds of my music player as I’m walking home from work at night is one thing, but hearing her sing it on a stage maybe only 30 or so feet away was something else entirely, and the emotion in the room was palpable, and even as messy and awkward and weird as I felt standing there leaning against a wall (like a true wallflower, I know) crying alone in some crowded room in Portland, the moment still felt somehow holy and pure and real, and when she finished the song with the quiet but heartfelt line  'please don't leave me here', it felt like a cry from her heart, and it was a cry from my heart too, a cry that has been there so many times in my life, a cry to not be left here in the dark, to be loved, to not be alone, to be free...

I remember when I was there there was this young woman nearby me who really wanted to give Aurora a package with Aurora’s name on it, presumably with some long letter or series of letters addressed to her, or perhaps some other gift or offering, but she wasn't able to as Aurora wasn't doing meet and greet, and I saw her crying on the floor when she found out she couldn't connect with Aurora in a more personal way. I could at least partly sympathize with her as I too would love to meet and connect one on one with Aurora (much as I would love to meet and connect one on one with Peterson, or really any other public figure out there that I respect or appreciate in some way), as she seems like a wonderful human being, but then on the other hand I was kind disturbed as this lady seemed to have an unhealthy fixation on Aurora, like Aurora was some idol she was placing on a pedestal, or some goddess that she worshiped. There was also a message on Aurora’s Facebook page that I saw sometime after the concert about that particular concert where someone was trying to defend Aurora’s honor in some very weird and uncomfortable way, having felt that the venue somehow disrespected Aurora, to which I was like, um, okay... I can't say that I would really blame anyone for having a worshipful attitude towards someone like Aurora, or for even wanting to try and defend her honor (well okay that’s, um, okay), as Aurora is a very unique and magnetic person, and you can probably see some of that in how I or many of her other fans out there talk about her, and being in that room that night I could feel the power that that lovely young woman who seems like someone straight out of a fairy tale or some kind of fae queen had over her audience, could feel the love and admiration that people there felt for her, but just as with Peterson or any other thinker or musician or other public figure that I respect or appreciate I can still recognize her humanity, and am sure that she too has her own share of weaknesses and shortcomings, her own faults and flaws, and am sure that she sometimes makes mistakes or gets things wrong, that she too struggles in life. For example she is ironically something of an introvert who gets drained meeting a lot of people, even though she is also deeply empathetic, which is a difficult combination to be sure. I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet, as it hasn’t yet been released in the US, but apparently this aspect of her life is delved into in a documentary about her called Once Aurora. I’ve heard fans who have watched it were sobered by getting a better idea of how much of a drain Aurora’s fame has been on her at times, as much as she loves and appreciates her fans. And I’m sure she has other struggles as well, because even if she is a truly wonderful human being, she may still have some darkness within her that she has to contend with, as is the case with all of us, and I imagine it's no more easy for her to live out the message of love and kindness that she shares with her many fans (whom she affectionately refers to as Warriors and Weirdos) than it is for them. I'm sure she sings her songs to herself as much as she does to anyone else.  

Anyways, listening to Peterson sometimes, in those times when he is reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, there is something in that that seems holy, pure, real, or whatever you may call it, like a poet trying to find the words to describe the indescribable even if those words seem like straw, but then at Aurora's concert it felt overwhelming. It's not because Aurora is a goddess (well, maybe she is metaphorically speaking, though not literally speaking, well, you know what I mean, hopefully... hey I know she’s only human but that doesn’t mean she isn’t great), anymore than Peterson is a god, but because as a human being she opened up and welcomed her audience of fellow human beings into that reaching, her own reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, and I think we all, or at least many of us there, could feel that in some way. It honestly felt in some ways like taking communion at times felt for me in church (or at least in those times when the pastors or the elders leading in prayer weren't laying on the religious guilt too thick... yeah not helpful guys), individuals coming together, messy and awkward and weird though we may all be, to try and reach out, hold up our hands, hold out our hearts, in the dark, hoping that something or someone can see us, hear us, and can help us find our way, can somehow help us, heal us, lead us, guide us, through the dark and into the light. (By the way, the next day when I had to help put down my sister’s cat Smokey, including being there in the room with him when he was put to sleep, was definitely still a difficult day for all of us in the family, but then Aurora’s concert the night before encouraged and strengthened me somehow, which helped me get through it, and I am thankful to Aurora for that.)

In Through The Eyes Of A Child, Aurora sings about seeing the world through the eyes of a child, which leads me to another place where I felt a touch of that something more, of that deeper truth.

In the summer I read a book called Boy's Life by Robert McCammon, which is easily one of the best books I've read in a long while, and it is one that has stuck with me since reading it. The book follows a year in the life of 12 year old Cory Mackenson in 1960, where Cory is trying to solve a murder after he and his father witness a stranger in town, already dead with his throat slit, having his car, with him strapped naked in it, sunk into a local lake. While this murder mystery helps drive the story, there is much more to it, as you read about Cory and his three friends and their adventures over the course of the year, adventures that seemingly blend fantasy and reality, and at the core of the story is this sense of magic, of a world behind or beyond the one that we live and breathe in, that many of us experience more when we are children, and how that sense can easily fade away as we get older if we don't hold onto it, but also at the core of the story is the message that at least in some sense none of us ever really grow up, or at least not completely, as deep down there is a child in each of us still, beneath all of that jadedness and cynicism that can build up over the years.

In one of my favorite scenes in the book Cory has a dream where he encounters in her classroom one of his school teachers, Mrs. Neville, who had passed away only a few days before the dream, and in the dream she tells him a secret, which is this:

"No one ever grows up. They may look grown-up, but it's just a disguise, it's just the clay of time. Men and women are still children deep in their hearts."

Mrs. Neville goes on to say that the clay of time can hold us back from playing as we once did as children, and that we would like to come home to a mommy and a daddy who can love us and take care of us and keep us safe but can’t anymore when we are adults, and there is a sadness in wanting something that we can no longer have because of the passage of time, but I think what she tells Cory is on some level also hopeful, as it means that the magic is somehow still there in us, that we are still connected to it. On the one hand that we are still children deep in our hearts is a sobering truth, as I think it means that we are all more or less clueless and scared and uncertain at the end of the day, at least on some level, just as we often were as children, but then again it's also hopeful because we all still have the ability to see the world, as Aurora would put it, through the eyes of a child.

We still, even with the clay of time, have the ability to sense the magic, to see or feel the world behind and beyond the one we live and breathe in, because it's still there, and we're still connected to it somehow.

There was a dream that I had not too long ago that I can't remember much of aside from the final image, which was of a little girl with vibrant and shining red hair running ahead of me and then turning as I was on the edge of waking and saying 'don't give up'. For some reason that image has stuck with me. An acquaintance of mine who is a professional medium, the British Claire Broad (who actually did a reading for my wife Kaylyn and I back in December, though more on that later), told me that perhaps this was my spirit guide trying to communicate with me, and maybe appearing in the form of a child to remind me of that child within me, which may represent that divine spark that Peterson talks about sometimes, or that lens of a child’s eyes that Aurora sings about, or that sense of magic that Robert McCammon talks about, and maybe appearing to me as a little girl because I need a little more tenderness and gentleness and kindness in my life, maybe I need that same kind of feminine energy that I felt coming from or through Aurora while at her concert just a few months back.

(Just as an aside, I remember Peterson once sharing a story about a woman who had a psychedelic induced vision where she asked about him during that vision where she apparently encountered a being or beings, and was told that he was a representative or channel of the divine masculine, a story which Peterson found quite amusing but also kind of wondered about. I remember this coming to mind for a moment while I was at Aurora's concert, and found myself wondering if Aurora could perhaps be a representative or channel of the divine feminine as Peterson could perhaps be a representative or channel of the divine masculine, keeping in mind that the representatives, or channels, or messengers, need the message just as much as those they are sharing the message with. Maybe there is something to this, my making weird connections in my head in some strange Jungian archetypal way in order to say that we all need to try to find a balance between our masculine and feminine sides, that the divine spark within us or the magic in us is both masculine and feminine [which reminds me that towards the end of Boy’s Life there’s a passage where McCammon says that this is also a girl’s life, and that’s something us boys need to keep in mind] and to be whole we need to embrace both within ourselves... or maybe this is all just crazy talk... but whatever the case, I would love to see these two, Peterson and Aurora, as different as they are, get together and have a conversation, just to see what happens... heck, I would even pay money to see that.)

Sound a bit woo? Yeah, maybe dreams of little red-haired girls running around is a bit woo, but I don't know, and possibly I don't care as long as whatever it is is something good that can be trusted and can bring more of that divine spark or sense of magic into my life, can bring me closer to that something more, that deeper truth, whatever it may be. Maybe it was a message from beyond, and that message was ‘don’t give up’.

Speaking of woo, I remember this lady named Amy telling me something along the same lines, about my inner child and being embraced by feminine energy, when giving me my first ever tarot reading at this annual campout of mostly down to earth and laid back aging hippies (said with fondness) that my friend Keith and I went to over the summer called Feast Of Madness (which was a lot of fun by the way), and I remember her saying that I need to tap into that inner child more and not be afraid to get out there and play in the sun. Maybe that little girl in that dream was in part encouraging me and reminding to do just that, to wake up and seize the day and not give up on life, I don’t know. For someone who spends so much time in his head maybe I need to remember to not just think about living but to also, well, live. Maybe the little girl was in part telling me to not give up on life, life which is in large part suffering tainted by malevolence, but also a divine spark and magic, and full of sorrow no doubt but can also be full of joy, which can be, in the words of J.R.R. Tolkien, as poignant as grief.

And speaking of dreams, there was another dream I had in the last year that stuck with me, where our family friend Bryan, who had passed away from cancer a couple years ago, seemed to appear to me. It was the first dream I can remember Bryan appearing in since his death, and I haven't had a dream about him since. It wasn't particularly vivid (as I’ve heard ‘dream visitations’ tend to be) and it felt  vague and weird as most dreams do, and I don't think I even saw his face. I just remember giving him a hug and saying I was glad to see him, and all I can remember him saying to me was something about Troutdale, which is a city here in Oregon. I asked my mom, who knew him better than me, about it, but she didn't see any connection between him and Troutdale, and for a couple months I had this knocking around in the back of my mind, wondering about it, until one day while at work it hit me to look up if there was any connection between Bigfoot (which was, for anyone who really knew Bryan, his favorite thing in the world) and Troutdale, and was amazed to find that in just a few weeks time the Oregon Bigfoot Festival was going to be taking place in Troutdale.

I took this as a sign from Bryan, and a few weeks later Bryan's youngest son Kyle, Keith (who like me thought of Bryan as something of an uncle while growing up) and Keith’s 4 year daughter Sophie went to the festival. We all had a good time and I think it was a great way of remembering and honoring Bryan, even as simple and silly as it may have seemed, and we even talked about maybe trying to go every year, and we may do that if we can.

I suppose some might call the dream I had and the connection that I made because of it a coincidence, just some random fluke, others might think of it as some kind of precognition, and still others might indeed see it as a sign from someone who has passed on. I honestly don't know what it was for sure, but I know I felt compelled to act on it when I found a meaning in it, and I know that some good came out of it, and that all of that happened at all makes me wonder what might be going on behind and beyond this world that we live and breath in.

(Claire Broad ^^^) I also wonder about my reading (my first ever reading with a medium, have had a few weird firsts over this last year, that’s for sure) with Claire Broad back in December (which we did via video online since she lives in the UK), where Kaylyn's maternal grandma, who had passed about a year before Kaylyn and I met, and her aunt, who had passed a couple years ago, seemed to come through for Kaylyn, and where, strangely enough, my paternal grandpa (and part of me had wondered and hoped that my maternal grandpa, who had passed only a couple years ago, would come through for me, but no such luck), who had passed at least two to three decades before I was even born and when my dad was just a boy, seemed to come through for me. I admit I was pretty skeptical of mediums up until recently, or up until connecting with Claire anyway, but I am more open now, because while some of what Claire shared didn't seem to fit or make sense, a lot of other things did, including some things she couldn't have known or guessed, or at least not as far as I can tell anyway.  That and I’ve known Claire for awhile now and have gotten a feel for what kind of person she is, and even if some so-called mediums out there may not be legit, she doesn’t strike me as being among them and I think she’s genuine and not just some bullshit artist or huckster or whatever, that and she strikes me as intelligent and kind and I believe she just wants to use her abilities, whatever they may be, to help people. I still don't know what to make of all of it honestly, especially what she shared about my paternal grandpa who I never knew, but I do know that it gave Kaylyn some comfort on her end and some food for thought on mine, and I suppose that is something, and again it makes me wonder. These and other strange experiences make me wonder.

(The late great Art Bell ^^^) As I've said in other posts I have always been fascinated with the paranormal, ever since I was a kid, and have always had an interest in metaphysical and spiritual things as well, and most specifically the strange personal experiences that people have. Over the last year I've been listening to a lot of paranormal podcasts. One of my favorites is one called Strange Familiars with host Timothy Renner, who aside from being fascinated with the paranormal like myself also has a love for history and folklore and delves into that sometimes. I've also enjoyed listening to old episodes of Coast To Coast AM with Art Bell (who I found sadly passed away sometime last year), a radio show that my dad's cousin Cliff, who was into all things weird, often talked about and referenced in our conversations when I was a kid, although I'd never listened to the show myself up until recently. Anyways, one of the things that gets talked about in these shows and others that I listen to is that perhaps all of these things, whether they be cryptids (Bigfoot being one example) or ghosts or UFOs or shadow people or strange lights or time slips or synchronicities or out of body and/or near death experiences or miracles or whatever they may be, are somehow all interconnected, and maybe the true nature of reality is both more terrifying and more wonderful, and more just plain weird and wild, terrifyingly and wonderfully weird and wild, than any of us can imagine, and maybe there is a kind of magic in the world that you can only see through the eyes of a child, magic both dark and light.

I think part of what draws me to these topics is wondering what if, what if these things are real, what if these things are true... sure, I have little doubt that many strange experiences that people claim to have, or even that I have had, could be explained away through some natural or scientific or mundane means, but then I really have a hard time believing that all of them can, including some of my own, and even if just some of these things are real and true, then what does that mean for my life, and what are these strange or meaningful experiences that I and so many others have saying to us, if anything? Maybe one thing they are saying to us is it’s good to keep an open mind because even with all of our knowledge and understanding of the world gained through observation and exploration and experimentation there is still room for mystery, and as difficult as it may be for us to admit there is probably still more that we don’t know than what we do know. Whether it’s through the words of thinkers like Peterson, who in between debates about politics and philosophy have moments when they are are trying to find the words to describe something that may be indescribable, or whether it’s through the music of artists like Aurora who invite others into their reaching and their longing and their aching for a better life and a better world and to try to see the world through the eyes of a child, or through magical stories like Boy's Life, or through magical dreams like that of the little redheaded girl who turned to me and said 'don't give up', or through Bryan seeming to give me a sign, or through thought-provoking tarot or medium readings, or through other strange or even seemingly otherworldly experiences that I and so many others have had, I sense that there is something more, some deeper truth, or Truth, just behind and beyond the veil, and perhaps touching this reality, this deeper underlying reality, is somehow key to finding my way in life, as many others believe.

Of course there are different ideas about what this something more, what this deeper truth, is, if there is any such thing at all Some would say that it is God or some other higher power or powers, some would say that it is the higher self or some collective unconsciousness, while others would say it's none of the above or there really is nothing more, no such truth, and on top of that just about everything that I have said here is pretty much bullshit anyway and really who the hell cares and instead of trying to search for any universal meaning or purpose just try to make the most of your short and miserable life before you find yourself in the grave.

Well hey, I honestly don't know for sure who's right about this, if anyone is, and don't know for sure what is behind and beyond this world that we live and breathe in, if anything, I don't know what or who might be listening when I pray, or try to pray, when I hold up my hands and hold out my heart, or when I look for help to find my way in life, or to keep walking if I am already on the path, if there is any path at all... Maybe I am on my own, in trying to figure things out, or maybe I’m not... I suppose only time will tell what the case may be.

(My friend Erin ^^^) I wonder if my friend Erin McCarty, who passed away from cancer just a few weeks ago, knows better than I do now, and I hope she does, I hope to whatever or whoever may be listening that she does. Erin and I were friends for about eight years or so, and we never met in person, never even talked on the phone or Skyped or anything like that, our friendship was exclusively via Facebook Messenger and email and the occasional package back and forth, but we were good friends nevertheless, and I remember Erin and I would sometimes talk about things like this, the deeper mysteries of life. Erin herself was a devout and committed Christian, albeit a pretty open-minded and non-dogmatic one (the best kind), and her faith was important to her, but even she sometimes struggled with questions and doubts about the nature of reality, as most of us do at some time or another, though I believe she generally had more faith than myself. I would guess that she had very little fear of death in the end, and maybe there was part of her that even looked forward to it, wondering what was waiting for her beyond and behind the veil, including loved ones who had passed on before her. Knowing how adventurous in spirit she was that wouldn’t surprise me. But for me the very fact of Erin's death is a struggle to understand and accept as a part of reality, as it lead to questions and doubts on its own, with someone so kind and generous in spirit as she was dying so young, at only 38 years old, only a year older than myself, when she had so much more that she could have offered to the world (although in her 38 years she gave so much). I mean I don't really get it, and neither does anyone else out there who knew and cared for her I can imagine, but I will cope with the reality of it as best I can, and hope that someday I will get it, that someday things like this will make some kind of sense, that suffering and death will make some kind of sense, or at least hope that I can be at peace with the reality of them more or less in the end.

My last exchange with Erin was just a couple days before she died, after reading her dad's post about how she was going into hospice care and she probably didn't have much longer, and I shared with her in Messenger this Youtube clip from The Return Of The King where there is this exchange between Gandalf and Pippin in the midst of a siege by the forces of Mordor on Minas Tirith:

PIPPIN: I didn't think it would end this way.

GANDALF: End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.

PIPPIN: What? Gandalf? See what?

GANDALF: White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.

PIPPIN: Well, that isn't so bad.

GANDALF: No. No, it isn't.”

All she said was 'Thank you Matt <3, that is one of my all time favorite movie moments.' and I didn't hear any more from her after that. I suppose with her and I both being nerds, who enjoyed nerdy things such as Lord Of The Rings, and who often liked to discuss philosophical and spiritual things as well, this last exchange seems somehow appropriate and feels right when I think about it, and is even, at least to me, another one of those glimpses or whispers of something more, of some deeper truth.

I shared this and some other thoughts on Erin in a post on Facebook, and towards the end of my post I said this:

'Erin, in spite of her own struggles with doubt from time to time, had more faith than me I think, but even so I do believe, with whatever faith I may have, though a flickering candle it may be, that there is something more behind and beyond this life, that death isn't the end, and I don't say that in denial of some cold and cruel reality that we all must face to simply try to comfort myself or others at that heavy thought of a wonderful person such as Erin no longer being in this world, but because my heart tells me it is so.

I don't know what it is like, what it consists of, what the metaphysics are, or how it all relates to God and everything else that human beings have argued and debated about for millennia, but I do believe that there is something more beyond death, that death is just a gateway to something else, that it is a night that is followed by a new day, and my hope is that it is something like what Gandalf was talking about, and if anyone should be able to step foot on white shores and walk into a far green country with a swift sunrise, it should be Erin.'

I think Erin found her way in life, a way of kindness and generosity, and she went down her path (or up her path) like a lightning bolt, and maybe now, I hope, on the other side of the veil she has answers to whatever questions she had in life, or at least whatever answers she needed anyway, answers that may even be beyond words or the need of them, that may make all of our questions and doubts, like our words, seem like straw... And I hope that she has found a joy as poignant as grief, including the grief of her family and friends that remain here on Earth missing her, and I hope that someday all of us who knew her and cared for her will know the joy of seeing her again (or in my case, for the first time)...

On Halloween night I was rewatching one of my all time favorite films, 1982's Poltergeist, with my friend in Kenya, Annie (whom I've mentioned in other posts), who was watching it with me on her laptop as I watched it on mine and while we commented on it back and forth on our cellphones. Annie hadn't seen it since she was a kid, being terrified of it then, and had been too scared to watch it again since then, but she was willing to give it a go with me being there at least virtually for support. She was of course still pretty terrified, but she also enjoyed it, and enjoyed sharing the experience with me. One of my highlights for the year for sure.

Anyways, perhaps my favorite scene in the film, even above all the spooky goings on, is the one where Dr. Lesh, a parapsychologist who is trying to help this family, the Freelings, to bring their daughter Carol Ann back from the astral realm after she was dragged there by an evil spirit that they call the Beast (if you haven't seen the film you're missing out, it's great), and in the scene she is talking with Diane, Carol Ann's mother, and Robbie, her brother, about her understanding of the nature of life after death, with Jerry Goldsmith's brilliant and beautiful score playing quietly in the background, and one of the things she says to them is this:

'Some people believe that when people die, there's a wonderful light -- as bright as the sun. But it doesn't hurt to look into it. All the answers to all the questions that you ever want to know are inside that light. And when you walk into it, you become a part of it forever.'

My heart stirs sometimes when she says this in this scene, perhaps another example of one of those glimpses or whispers of something more, of some deeper truth, and in this case nestled somewhere in a classic 80s horror film. I hope that something like this is true when we die, I hope something like this is true for Erin and will be true for all of us, that there is a wonderful light waiting to embrace us all...

I imagine that some who read this will wonder what kind of weird brain I have, jumping from talking about Thomas Aquinas and words like straw, to talking at some length (maybe a good third of this post at least) about a popular but also controversial Canadian professor and psychologist that liberal media outlets sometimes equate with the 'alt-right' (if unfairly so I believe) who nevertheless in between his political rants says things that really resonate with me spiritually, going from touching on gender (including transgender) issues and rights and relations and more generally on empathy and understanding, to a 23 year old Norwegian musician who made me cry in a crowded room in Portland, going from a murder mystery/coming of age story about the magic of seeing the world through the eyes of a child, to strange dreams that might be from spirit guides or from the dead, as well as touching on all things weird or paranormal or that are behind and beyond what we know and understand, from the death of a friend who I will miss and who so many will miss and whose death I really can't understand but hope to understand someday, to a classic horror film that came out the year that I was born and in between the scares has moments that speak to me. What is it all of these things have in common, what ties all of these things together?

I don't know, or at least I'm not sure, but I can throw some more straw at it anyway.

I had initially intended on trying to write a post about gender and being a man about a year ago, and maybe I gave you some idea of what that might have looked like in the first half of this post, but then strangely enough trying to delve into that complicated topic helped in some ways to lead me into deeper issues of humanity and what it is to be human, much as Cassie Jaye's own experience with suffering and loss through her miscarriages has led her away from wanting to talk about something that is more political and abstract and towards wanting to talk about something that is more personal and raw, and looking into someone like Peterson who is known in the mainstream mostly for some of his more controversial and divisive political and social views, and who is mocked and disparaged by all sides, led me to finding something of a kindred spirit in someone who, even if I may disagree with him on some things, is trying to walk a path, and lay out that path for others to try to help give their lives more meaning and purpose, and who, in between his political rants, is trying to reach for something more or for some deeper truth in his own imperfect human way, just as I am... Going from something that is more on the surface, to something deeper, from something in the realm of ideology and the games that people play, down into the soul...

I had initially planned on ending that blog post, whatever it might have been, on the note that whatever gender we are, whether male or female or transgender or non-binary or whatever, we are all of us human beings under the skin, and we all share this world and are in this together, and whether we may like it or not, so perhaps it is best to try to learn to empathize, and to understand one another as well as we can so we can move forward, even if that may be much more easily said than it is done, but again we can at least try.

And maybe that is one of the things that connects all of these seemingly disparate things... moving forward, even with all our faults and flaws and struggles and problems, or in the words of C.S. Lewis, further up and further in.

Jordan Peterson often talks about our aim, what we are aiming for, that we should aim for a better life and a better world, even if it is only incrementally, just one step at a time. He uses as an example the story of Pinocchio, where Gepetto wishes on a star for a son, and Pinocchio wishes to be a real boy, looking to the blue fairy, where he dives into the belly of the whale to rescue his father, and all the archetypes and symbols and metaphors and dreams that may be lying underneath stories like these.

This reminds me of one of my favorite passages in one of my favorite books, The Neverending Story (a scene that sadly wasn't in the film) where Bastian had to go down into the depths of the land of Fantasia (or Fantastica in the book), which is literally built on the dreams of humanity, into a mine full of glass images of dreams, to find a dream of his father's, and he finds this image of his father trapped in a cage, where he is in sorrow and pain, and he needs rescuing and above all love, which in the end Bastian is able to offer his father when he returns to his own world, which sets his father free to live again after being crushed by grief after losing his wife, the mother of his son, sometime before.

And why am I reminded of that, what is the connection? Why does it mean for the father to reach for the son, or the son to reach for the father? The mother for the daughter, the daughter for the mother? The masculine and the feminine, culture and nature, the old and the new, intertwined in symbols one after another in dreams that speak in a language we only rarely if ever understand? Why do we reach for the stars, and why must we dive into the dark to find what we're looking for? Why does grief crush us and can love free us? What is my aim in writing all of this? Again I'm not sure, but here again is more straw. Maybe in our art and our poetry, maybe in our words like straw that we aim in the direction we want to move in, maybe in the archetypes and symbols and metaphors and dreams, maybe in the conversations and the music and stories and experiences and in our lives and in our deaths and maybe in our lives again, maybe we are reaching, reaching up, or reaching in, or down, or out, reaching in every direction, or in the words of the poet Walt Whitman:

'A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.'

Maybe on some level many of us, perhaps all of us, are digging, digging, digging (like a boy digging through a mine of dreams), through all of these things, through all of the philosophy and politics that we argue about, and all of the art that we enjoy and appreciate, and all of the experiences that we remember and struggle with and hold onto, and all of our beliefs and the questions and doubts surrounding them that we wrestle with, and everything that we think about and talk about and wonder about and feel, so we can find a bridge to walk across, so we can find something to hold onto, so our souls, like noiseless patient spiders, can catch something firm, something solid, something holy and pure and real, so we can find a way forward, a way further up and in and down and out, and with no need for words... maybe.

Well now... Ground Control to Major Matt, take your protein pills and put your helmet on... I get carried away sometimes, so back down to Earth I go...

(Krissy Lynn in her mirror video ^^^) Another one of the things I discovered over the last year was the Youtube channel of Krissy Lynn, who is a porn actress of all things. And yes I have also seen some of her, um, other videos online. Full disclosure here, bringing things well and truly back down to Earth: I have watched a lot of porn throughout my life, and I still watch porn (though fortunately I have steered clear of the really twisted stuff, like child or rape porn). It’s a long story of the hows and whys and it’s not a topic that I want to really get into here, partly because it is such a sensitive topic, both for me and for society, but suffice to say that I have mixed feelings about it, about the whole industry of porn itself as well as all of my experience with it since I was a kid. And any shade that anyone out there may want to throw my way because of it isn't anything I haven't already thrown at myself at different times in my life, and trust me shame is an emotion I know all too well, especially when it is combined with religious guilt which I had in the past when I was an evangelical Christian. That said, one thing I've learned over the years is it does me no good at all to hate myself or berate myself for it as I have done in the past, so if you feel at all disposed to you could judge me all you want about it but you aren't going to be able to push me to hate or berate myself as I've done that plenty myself, and I know it never did me any good (and a real big surprise there, as that seems to be the case in any situation, that hating and berating yourself never really does any good, and it usually just makes things worse). There are those who wrestle with a weakness for drugs or alcohol, others for gambling or gaming, still others for food or shopping or you name it, just about anything you can think of can become a weakness or something you can feel shame about, but for me one of my weaknesses has been and continues to be pornography, and it is what it is and it's something that I wrestle with and that's just part of me and my life, and I'm not afraid to admit that here. Is it a sin (if sin is even the right word here, sin meaning missing the mark)? There’s debate about that (though certainly no debate about certain forms of porn like child or rape porn, which I think most would agree are vile and evil) and I’m of two minds about it myself, but I will say this: May he (or she) who is without sin cast the first stone. Anyways, with that out of the way and out in the open... Krissy Lynn has been one of my favorite porn actresses as she is, um, very attractive to me, but when I discovered her Youtube channel I admit it really surprised me. Even though some would find her career choice to be contradictory to this, in her Youtube videos I found that she is actually a pretty thoughtful and kind and even spiritual person at her core, or at least she seems to be someone who really wants to learn and grow spiritually and in general as a person. Some might assume that everyone who works in the porn industry is pretty shallow and surface level, but then in some of Krissy's videos she shares about her journey in life and how she is trying to learn and grow and better herself. Sure she has the occasional video where she dances around sexily and shows off her admittedly gorgeous body (which I enjoy, not gonna lie), but then in many of her videos she shares about her journey in life and shares from her heart in meaningful ways. I don’t think she’s ashamed of what she does for a living, or at least she doesn’t give that impression, and she doesn't let the nature of her career keep her from exploring deeper things or trying to find ways to feed her soul, and I can respect and appreciate that. One of her videos that has really stuck with me was a video where she talked about and demonstrated this exercise she called 'mirror work' where you stand in front of a mirror and talk to yourself, telling yourself what you are proud of, what you forgive yourself for, what you commit to for yourself, or anything you want to say to yourself. In her demonstration of the exercise when she got to the part where she forgives herself for something, she was in tears when she forgave herself for how she hid away as a kid because she was afraid of connecting with others. That really spoke to me having had a similar experience when I was a kid.

I've since been trying to do this mirror work exercise myself, usually when I get out of the shower. I tell myself (in my head though as doing so out loud feels weird for me) as I look at myself in the mirror, for example, that I am proud of you for getting out of bed to face the day today or for being kind to a friend or for working hard, or that I forgive you for watching porn or for getting pissed off about stupid things or for making an ass of yourself or for being a scared kid yesterday or today, or that I commit to trying to move forward one step at a time... that sort of thing. And I got the inspiration to do this from a porn actress of all people, a porn actress who is, even if she may to some extent objectify herself and let others objectify her, also a human being with a soul like you and me. I admit in a strange way it feels more real to me to be getting life advice from someone like Krissy Lynn, someone who is probably seen as an object of scorn by some (as much as she is seen as an object of desire by others) because of what she does for a living, than it does receiving it from some spiritual teacher or guru living in some cloistered space. Also there is something meaningful to me about receiving a message of healing from someone who works in porn, which has been a source of shame for me throughout much of my life, there’s something about that that speaks to me for some reason, I don’t know, like it’s a light coming out of the dark, or perhaps whatever sexual wounds I may have are like cracks where, as Rumi would put it, the light gets in.

Jordan Peterson, who I agree with on a number of things but not completely here, has a pretty low view of pornography, as many people do, which is understandable I guess, even if my own feelings about it are more complicated and nuanced (partly because I have listened to a lot of podcast interviews with those who work in porn, on podcasts like Holly Randall Unfiltered for example, and they have diverse perspectives and experiences within the industry, some negative for sure but others positive, or some combination thereof), but I wonder what he would make of someone like Krissy, who is trying in her own way to better herself and improve her life and dig deeper to find meaning and purpose, and even while she basically gets paid for having sex on camera.

John Green once said that we should understand people complexly (going back to the point that people are complex), and Krissy, with her career in porn, and also me, with my weakness for porn, are really no exceptions to that rule I think, as we can both stand in front of mirrors and sometime have a hard time saying something like 'I love you' to ourselves, but then we should be able to because we are still worthy of love I believe (even though I admit to having my doubts sometimes, and don’t we all), even as messy and awkward and weird as we may be, as are we all.  

In Krissy Lynn's most recent Youtube video she talked about loneliness and how the answer to it is loving yourself, accepting yourself, even admiring yourself, more than it is looking to others for validation. I wrote a post on Facebook recently where I reflected on loneliness and isolation and towards the end I included that thought, that learning to love ourselves may be part of answering loneliness, though I also acknowledged that people being able to connect more may be part of it too, as there seems to be a real disconnect in some ways between people these days. Maybe there is more of a kind of connection via the internet and social media over the last twenty something years since the dawn of the internet, which can be valid and meaningful in its way (my friendship with Erin or Annie being examples of this), but face to face and one on one connection seems to be harder to come for many people nowadays, which is ultimately more important and more needed than any other kind of connection, as hard as that may be to accept in this world of social media, tweeting, texting, and virtual reality. So I think it's both, we need to love ourselves but also need love from others, as it's all intertwined I think. There was another video I watched recently by a lady named Savannah Brown who also talked about loneliness, as well as the difficulty in connecting with others in meaningful ways, and in the video she shared some of her struggles, but ended on a poignant note of hoping that, even if she can’t read the minds of others or step into their shoes completely, she can still understand and can be understood in some way, even with all our limitations and the walls between us. I share in that hope.

(tired and disheveled and kind of sad me while writing this ^^^) I wrote a poem about loneliness (which is somewhat revised here) back in August that I think captures some of what loneliness feels like, at least for me: Loneliness is a weight That settles in my bones Is it right to walk alone Or to be only one With the deep sky above And the abyss beneath That I gaze into And gazes back at me Oh I wonder, I wonder Surrounded by the crowd People who love and hate But the weight remains And the bones still ache The deep sky calls to me And the abyss cries out My fingers in the air My toes in the water Oh I wonder, I wonder But to combat loneliness maybe like Krissy Lynn says I need to learn to love myself more, and even with all my faults and flaws and weaknesses and shortcomings and limitations and everything else.  When I look in the mirror I see a scared kid behind those eyes, behind the clay of time, a soul within a body that is slowly but surely aging, a bit more weathered and tired than I was as a boy or in my teens or twenties, a little more jaded and cynical and pessimistic, or as the late great George Carlin put it in an interview with Art Bell that I listened to recently, like a disappointed idealist, and sometimes feeling, as Frederick Buechner would put it, like a man who, when he looks in the mirror, sees at least eight parts chicken, phony, and slob... But underneath it all is still that scared kid, who feels he doesn’t really know or understand much for sure, who feels like love is something he’s not very good at actually practicing, who sometimes feels he is too pretentious and arrogant or disingenuous and fake, but who may yet have a spark of something genuine and real in him, a spark that reaches for something more, for some deeper truth with a capital T, that will set him free and bring him peace, and who is still learning what it means to be a man or a human being in this world.

This scared kid is still trying to find a way, a path, through the darkness and towards the light, maybe towards the wonderful light that will embrace him, or perhaps already does...

I've listened to debates (which were really more discussions) between Peterson and popular atheist thinker Sam Harris where they talked about truth and fact and their value and the differences between them, which were in some ways debates between science and religion, though not exactly as neither of them are overly dogmatic about their positions, or not as far as I can tell anyway. Anyways, something that gets brought up by Peterson is the danger of nihilism, which a non-religious worldview can lead to (or at least more readily), and something that gets brought up by Harris is the danger of fundamentalism, which a religious worldview can lead to (or again at least more readily). Having been both non-religious and religious at different times in my life, and now being in some weird place in between those two poles, I can attest that both concerns are valid as I have put my feet in the water of both.

To me nihilism (which is usually found in non-religious contexts but perhaps can be found in religious ones sometimes) is basically a worldview in which life has no meaning or purpose or value save what we may impose upon it, which is arbitrary at best. This worldview can leave you feeling lost and aimless and empty, with no real sense of identity or value that is intrinsic and objective, and you are just some speck in a cold and impersonal and uncaring cosmos, believing that life is either some sick joke, or just a spectrum of pleasure and pain to choose from without much consideration for any morality or ethics outside of those we may choose to invent for ourselves, because they don't really matter anyway, and nothing really matters, and life is basically just suffering and loss and madness all the way down mostly, with only brief and transitory pleasures that may give some semblance of meaning and purpose and value but all of it being only an illusion, and (at least in those non-religious contexts that have no belief in an afterlife) followed by our inevitable death, the grave, and finally oblivion, and in time probably the death of the sun, the implosion of the universe, and then nothing.

On the other hand, to me fundamentalism (which is usually found in religious contexts but perhaps can be found in non-religious ones sometimes) is basically a worldview where there is a strict and inflexible and narrow meaning and purpose and value to life that is imposed upon us by someone else or by some tradition or expectation that cannot be questioned at all or if at all very little. This worldview can leave you feeling trapped and like you're in a straitjacket (maybe in a padded room, or maybe in a room with brick walls) and at best only conditionally loved or accepted, your identity and value tied tightly to whether or not you remain devoted to your belief system and everything that goes with it, only a servant to some higher order or principle that cannot be reasoned with, and life becomes a set of do's and don'ts, rules to be followed, or else you will be punished, perhaps even (at least in those religious contexts that have some kind of belief in an afterlife) punished eternally after death, burning in fire or banished into darkness forever and ever, pick whatever literal metaphor strikes your fancy, in which case you would probably be wishing for oblivion.

I've experienced both of these extremes at different times in my life, and there is a danger of falling into either of them whether you are non-religious or religious, and I suppose one of my aims in life now is to find a way or a path between these two extremes.

Peterson often talks about a balance between order and chaos, the masculine and the feminine, the yin and the yang, which is a balance that is often talked about in Taoism. I admit I don't know much about Taoism (I have a copy of the Tao-Te-Ching but haven't read it yet, though I plan to), but I am familiar with the yin-yang symbol and what it means at least roughly. The symbol is a circle of black and white, the black half of the circle, or paisley, being yin, representing darkness and chaos and feminine energy and moving inward, and the white half of the circle, or paisley, being yang, representing light and order and masculine energy and moving outward. (Just as another aside, from what I can understand the black paisley, yin, doesn't necessarily represent evil, nor does the white paisley, yang, necessarily represent good, or at least not in any traditional sense, or I think it's much more complicated than that anyways. Just wanted to touch on that as I know that some women are understandably bothered about the feminine being equated with darkness and chaos [and this is sometimes brought up when Peterson talks about things like this as well], which are often seen in a negative light, but I think in the case of yin it is more representative of what’s hidden and unknown and of mystery and creative forces [whereas I think yang would be more representative of what’s seen and known and of answers and structural forces], and with women bearing children, who are for a time hidden and unknown and a mystery and a product of creative forces, this would make some sense symbolically and I think there is a beauty in this symbolism and I believe women can take pride in it, being the bearers of mystery and having a creative force within them. Of course this doesn't mean at all that women only have value as bearers of children, far from it, but I think this is an aspect of the feminine that is unique to women and should be a source of pride rather than shame. And hey, this is all coming from a guy who apparently needs a little more yin in his life, going by what I said above about feminine energy and all, so there's that.) In the black paisley, there is a dot of white, and in the white paisley, there is a dot of black, as there is a bit of yin in the yang, and a bit of the yang in the yin, and they are interconnected. In other words, darkness can come out of light, and light out of darkness, chaos can come out of order, and order out of chaos, the feminine is in the masculine and the masculine is in the feminine, sometimes in order to move inward you need to look outward, sometimes to move outward you need to look inward, etc.

To give a couple real life examples of this principle of the yin being in the yang and the yang being in the yin. For the first example, during the summer because of some complicated financial struggles my family had our electricity shut off, and we weren't able to get it back on for two weeks. It was only through the generosity of family and friends that we were able to pay our huge electric bill and finally get our power back on. The experience was painful for us, and one of both literal and figurative darkness, but the light in it was the generosity of others who helped us, and we wouldn't have been able to experience that generosity if we hadn’t lost our electricity. Also this experience has helped us to maybe not take things like electricity so much for granted. The yang in the yin, light in darkness, and the light was even more meaningful in that darkness. For the second example, towards the end of the summer my wife Kaylyn and I went to the beach up in Washington for our five year anniversary. All in all I think we had a good time, whether it was shopping around or eating Chinese food or watching the Lord Of The Rings trilogy in its entirety, but then on the day before we returned home Kaylyn lost her cellphone to the ocean when we were walking out on the beach together, and needless to say Kaylyn was upset and it kind of put a damper on the rest of our trip. But even this was a reminder to us to try to make the most of things even when they don't go the way we want them to, that sometimes, well, shit happens and we have to roll with it as best we can. The yin in the yang, darkness in light, and the darkness reminded us to appreciate what we still have.

And earlier this year I wrote a poem inspired by the concept of yin and yang, as well as using imagery from some real life experiences of mine, which I tentatively titled Yin and Yang: In the light of darkness In the darkness of light I remember crying to The silent stars And climbing stairs to Caress the shadow of heaven Tearing at the fresh grass When I wouldn't grow And sitting in silence with peace Drawn in the rock and the dust Numbers and letters Blending into fading miracles The hope of an embrace Holding me in my pain Pictures and poetry and names Lighting my way in the dark Bargain with demons in the day Wrestle with angels in the night

The Tao (or the Way), is about finding a balance between the yin and the yang and moving forward as you try to keep that balance, at least as I understand it. And perhaps this applies to finding a path or way between the extremes of nihilism (which one might describe as extreme chaos, where there is really no or very little solid ground to stand on, like an open ocean that drowns you) and fundamentalism (which one might describe as extreme order, where the ground is just too hard and packed and there is no or very little fertile soil to allow for things to blossom and grow, like a barren desert that leaves you dry and thirsty).

I've been in the open ocean of nihilism and the barren desert of fundamentalism at different times in my life (mainly dealing with the former in my teens and then the latter in my 20s), and while it was painful and difficult on both accounts, I feel like I learned from my experiences, for one learning the lesson, in the words of Walt Whitman (who put out better quality straw than mine for sure by the way) that I should 're-examine all I have been told, and dismiss what insults my soul', and that is what I have been trying to do through my 30s thus far. Both extremes told me that I as an individual human being had no intrinsic or objective value, that my life was either meaningless full stop or that my worth as a human being was dependent upon meeting certain standards, and I'm finding that neither extreme is right, whether about that or any number of things, and that I don't have to believe or accept either anymore, I don't have to believe or accept those insults to my soul anymore. Sometimes it feels like a tightrope act, avoiding these extremes on either side, trying to find a middle ground that offers some kind of foundation to stand on but also room for change and growth, but I think this is the way that I need to go, or the path that I need to find.

Maybe it's like trying to hammer down just enough fluttering pieces to have something to stand on, but not so many pieces that there are none left to fly, if that makes any sense... I remember one of the quotes I was thinking of using in the post I had planned to write called Measure Of A Man was this quote from a film called, of all things, Measure Of A Man, about a teenager coming of age during one summer, and this is something that an older man (played by Donald Sutherland) who ends up becoming a kind of mentor to him, tells him at one point:

I think this applies not just to men but to women as well, and people in general, and the storms of our lives that need to be navigated are of course both external and internal, both the difficult circumstances of our lives that we have to struggle with and the choices of others that are at odds with our own, and the inner turmoil and unrest that we must deal with within ourselves on a day to day basis as well as the weight of our own choices and how those choices may impact those around us.

And the measure of who we are may be in our ability to find the proper shore through all of this, through all of these storms ... though, then again, maybe there is some power or presence around us, with us, in us, that can be help us through the storms, or at least I hope there is.

One of my favorite prayers (which I also have memorized and sometimes recite in my head while taking a shower) is the Breton fisherman prayer:

'Dear God, please be good to me, for the sea is so wide, and my boat is so small.'

I often feel like my boat, this youngish but still aging body with this little scared kid of a soul in it, is so small, and the sea, this life and this weird and wild world and this universe, is so wide, so I pray, I hope, that I'm not alone in all of this, that I'm not alone in the sea or in my boat.

Sometimes when I imagine myself there, there in some small and frail boat out in a vast open sea, I imagine Jesus there in the boat with me, yes that Jesus, who I admit I rarely think of these days, though there was once a time when I thought of Jesus just about every day back when I was a Christian, or when I was trying to be one anyway. But when I think of Jesus now I don’t think of Jesus so much as some vague and mysterious historical figure that legends have been built around along the lines of whoever may or may not have inspired the legend of King Arthur, nor some mere composite of doctrines and dogmas of the church that exists simply to get as many theological ducks in a row as possible, or even as the enigmatic and paradoxical figure in the Gospels that seemingly claimed divinity and was crucified for it and came back to life a couple of days later at least in part so some skeptical guy like me could put their fingers in his scars and believe. ... Not any of those but more, well, the Jesus of my own imagination, and not imagination as in something that is completely made up off the top of my head, but more from some place deep down where dreams come from, that substrata or mine of dreams that we sometimes tap into.  And this Jesus takes on something of that classic image of him, wearing a robe and sandals, strong and sturdily built like a man who works with their hands, with the deep tan of a man who spends plenty of time in the sun, with long and somewhat brown hair (though not the cascading perfectly combed luscious locks that are sometimes given to him in films about him), and a ruggedly handsome though somewhat weathered face (that of someone who has known struggle and pain) with deep brown eyes that are somehow both penetrating and kind. And this Jesus is simply there with me, sometimes holding my hands, just reassuring me with no words that I’m not alone. And this Jesus in the boat with me, much like the red headed little girl in that dream of mine, tells me to not give up, and not so much with words but just with his reassuring presence. I’m reminded of the beautiful classic song Suzanne by Leonard Cohen, which I sometimes find myself listening to in the middle of the night, and that strangely beautiful second verse about Jesus: And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said "All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them" But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone   And you want to travel with him And you want to travel blind And you think maybe you'll trust him For he's touched your perfect body with his mind I don’t know what Cohen meant by all of that, what was going through his head when he wrote that, but I wonder... Maybe there is a reason we are in these boats, why we are sailors out on this sea that we call life, but maybe true freedom will only come when we are no longer afraid of the sea, the sea of life... perhaps God is the sea, and Jesus, being a human symbol of God in the minds of many, is like the sea in that boat encouraging me not to be afraid, because the day will come when the time for being a sailor will be over, when it will be time to jump out of this small and frail boat of mine and dive into the depths, and perhaps rather than drowning in those waters I will be able to breathe in those waters and be embraced by them and call them home, and perhaps in this case the proper shore isn’t on land, but in the sea itself... 

I'm also reminded of one of my friend Erin's favorite songs by one of her all time favorite bands, Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water:

When you're weary, feeling small When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough And friends just can't be found Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down When you're down and out When you're on the street When evening falls so hard I will comfort you I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes And pain is all around Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Sail on silver girl Sail on by Your time has come to shine All your dreams are on their way See how they shine Oh, if you need a friend I'm sailing right behind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind

Is there some power or presence, like the Jesus in my imagination, like the sea that I need not fear and will not drown but rather embrace me, that is beyond us but also with us, that will dry our tears, be at our side, comfort us, take our part, and sail right behind and ease our minds, that can somehow help us navigate to the proper shore, even if that is in the sea itself, at least until that day that we are no longer sailors but will be freed and embraced by that which we need no longer fear? Maybe... I hope so... because I would rather not be on my own having to figure this out on my own, and I would rather dream of freedom and being embraced... but one way or another, I will have to keep moving forward as best I can, trying to find my way.

Earlier last week I had a breakdown, crying alone in my bed for different reasons, partly because of my feelings of disappointment in myself, disappointment because of how I relate, or fail to relate, to others, disappointment in not really doing much with my life, being a janitor who cleans toilets for a living and who can’t drive and who still lives with his mother (and with his wife and cat, but you get the idea), disappointment in being an aspiring writer who has all of these ideas for books but has yet to publish one because of a general lack of motivation and confidence, disappointment in myself for being kind of aimless and lost and not being able to imagine my life beyond 40, wondering if I will die young like my friend Erin but unlike her that my life will not amount to much at all in the end. I felt like a failure, felt that I’m just not loving enough or mature enough or successful enough or grounded enough... I felt worthless in those moments, like I’m just not good enough... which unfortunately is far from being my first time to feel that way in my life, and I am sure it won’t be the last. The following night when walking home after a difficult day at work, feeling tired and drained and alone, I was thinking about these things again, and was even thinking about death, dancing around the idea of suicide, part of me wishing that no one cared for me (I could lie to myself and say that no one does but I’m not at that point yet thankfully) so I could opt out without hurting anyone, wrestling with those thoughts and others in my mind. I was listening to music in my earbuds on my music player as I was walking, and the beautiful Corrs cover of R.E.M.’s Everybody Hurts came up on my playlist and started playing, and when Andrea, their lead singer, got to the part where she sings  no, no, no, you’re not alone’ it broke me, and I began weeping while I was walking, partly because I was afraid it wasn’t true, and partly because I hoped that it was. I hoped that those beautiful words backed by soaring violins were true, and that maybe God, if he (or she, or both combined) was listening, or whoever was listening that cared, was saying that to me through that song in that moment... And this week has been really rough for me too, in large part because of a deep and complex problem in my life regarding a relationship of mine (a problem that I don’t feel comfortable sharing about here), and all in all I’ve been pretty shaken up and depressed. I had another breakdown (this many breakdowns in such a short period of time is kind of unusual for me, at least these days) while lying in bed, crying out to God or whoever was listening for help, after which the number 145 started flashing in my mind, which led me to this big book of religious and spiritual poetry that I have that has thousands of poems that are numbered and categorized, and turning to page 145 I found a poem about Jesus as a child that ended with a reference to Gethsemane (where Jesus apparently sweated blood because of how much anguish he was in, which I can really relate to), which kind of said to me that God truly understands (in the same way that Savannah Brown in her video hopes that we can understand one another)  what I am going through in my life, and then when I turned to poem number 145, it was one that talked about the haunting presence of God, and beneath that, poem 146, there was an excerpt from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem In Memoriam that really jumped out at me: That which we dare invoke to bless;      Our dearest faith; our ghastliest doubt;      He, They, One, All; within, without; The Power in darkness whom we guess; I found Him not in world or sun,      Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye;      Nor thro' the questions men may try, The petty cobwebs we have spun: If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,      I heard a voice `believe no more'      And heard an ever-breaking shore That tumbled in the Godless deep; A warmth within the breast would melt      The freezing reason's colder part,      And like a man in wrath the heart Stood up and answer'd "I have felt. "No, like a child in doubt and fear:      But that blind clamour made me wise;      Then was I as a child that cries, But, crying, knows his father near; And what I am beheld again      What is, and no man understands;      And out of darkness came the hands That reach thro' nature, moulding men. This excerpt of Tennyson’s poem said to me that in my crying that my Father (or my Mother, or my Creator, or whatever you may call it) was and is near, and that there is maybe some higher meaning or purpose (that moulding) to my whole situation in life, that I am not alone and one day I may understand, and all of this helped me to calm down and rest a bit. Since then I have still be struggling off and on, but I feel like I am beginning to level out somewhat, partly because of little encouraging glimpses and whispers like these, and partly through the encouragement and kindness of friends, and while I’m not out of the woods yet, I’m seeing a little more light and have a little more hope than I had before, though of course I will continue to have my ups and downs as all of us do... whatever the case, I will keep trying to move forward, will keep trying to find my way, will keep trying to hold on, hold on, believing with whatever faith and hope I have that no, no, no, I’m not alone, even, or especially when, I am crying in the dark.

I believe each of us is like a portal into another world, and through my words (which no matter how hard I try seem like straw at the end of the day) I try to open my portal so you can maybe get a glimpse into it, or hear whispers from it, and of course this world that you may call Matthew or some guy you know more or less, but that I call my life and my soul, is just one world among billions of worlds on this World, with a capital W, that we call Earth and that all of us share, and the Earth of course doesn't revolve around me anymore than it does anyone of course, or at least it shouldn't anyway. And of course your perceptions of me and your interpretations of what I have to say here will inevitably be different from my own perceptions or interpretations of myself and everything I've written here, that's a given and there's no way around that sadly. I've talked about empathy and understanding here but just because it's important doesn't make it easy, as maybe some of you reading this disagree with me or take issue with me on this or on that in all my weird and wild jumping around, whether it is on politics or social issues or philosophy or religion or my ideas or beliefs or perceptions or interpretations or experiences or whatever it may be, heck, maybe you even disagree with my taste in music or books or movies for all I know, and maybe some of you may find it hard to empathize with me or understand me for whatever reasons, and as sad as that might be for me I know that it's always a possibility. I can’t make everyone like me, let alone love me, anymore than anyone can make me like or love them. It’s always a choice for each of us. Not through my words or even through my actions could I ever hope to gain respect or love or acceptance from everyone that I come into contact with or comes into contact with me in whatever way, that hasn't happened and that's not going to happen, which goes back to the importance of learning to respect and love and accept myself, and of course having empathy and understanding towards myself isn't any easier than having empathy and understanding towards others, but hey you gotta try to start somewhere, right?

I remember in an audio drama that I was listening to recently called Olive Hill, in the last episode the main character said something about how it may be that life will never be completely satisfying, that we will always be searching or reaching for whatever it is we are longing and aching for, and as sad as that is maybe that’s okay, because maybe it is what keeps us moving forward, maybe hope keeps us moving forward, further up and further in (and down, and out).

I hope that my writing here, my blog or my blarg or my bleh, is better than some of my writings in the past, that it is less pretentious and arrogant, that it is not so disingenuous and fake, and that there is a spark of something genuine and real in these words like straw, and that they are aimed in the right direction, maybe towards a star. I hope that I can learn to be at peace, balls to bones, not knowing or understanding everything, and that I can learn to walk the ways of love with more confidence, and can learn to be more empathetic towards those who are different from me. I hope that I've gathered enough of the fluttering pieces to say something with some weight or value, to lay some kind of foundation, though perhaps leaving some fluttering pieces to fly, leaving a little room for mystery, perhaps the kind of mystery that will embrace me in the end, like a mother embraces her child. I hope I've been able to swim through all of the stormy waters here, and that there is a baby in all of this bathwater, and some proof in all this pudding. I hope that I will have it in me to carry my cross, but also hope that I will not be alone in carrying it. I hope that I have been able in some small way to invite you and include you in my reaching, my longing, my aching, as messy and awkward and weird as it may be, and that there is a kind of communion between us here somehow, holding up our hands and our hearts, as you read between the lines and as I write between them. I hope I and all of us can hold onto the magic, that in growing up we don't lose it entirely, I hope that even beneath the clay of time it is still part of us somehow, and perhaps we are a part of it. I hope that I will always have the strength and courage in me to not give up, and to remember that life is not only sorrow but also joy, joy as poignant as grief. I hope that I will continue to be able to see the signs and be able to follow them wherever they may lead, even if it gets a little weird and wild. I hope that one day I too, like my friend Erin, will set foot on white shores leading into a far green country with a swift sunrise, walking into a wonderful light, and will see face to face and will know even as I am fully known. I hope that I can find the dreams I need to find in the mines of my soul so I can carry them into the world, whether the world in me or the world around me. I hope that my soul can find somewhere to stand, that my threads can catch somewhere firm, even if they may feel like petty cobwebs sometimes. I hope that I can learn to respect and love and accept myself, even if I may still be a scared kid deep inside. I hope that I can find the middle path, or the way, between those extremes of open oceans and barren deserts, between darkness and light, chaos and order, yin and yang, that I can find the balance. I hope that I will somehow be able to navigate to the proper shore in the worst of the storms, even if it is in the sea itself, though also hope that there is something, or someone, with me here in this little boat of mine, holding my hands and letting me know to not be afraid and to not give up, and promising to help me along the way, sailing right behind. I hope that I can hold on, hold on, and remember that no, no, no, I’m not alone, and even when I am crying in the dark, believing that one day I will understand.

And lastly, I hope that, after having picked away at this post for about a month, that something here in all of this straw of mine speaks to you, encourages you, challenges you, or in some way or another helps you along your way. I hope that we can all stumble along the way together, here and now in this weird and wild world.

#finding the way #weird and wild world #thomas aquinas #jordan peterson #cassie jaye #men and women #empathy #understanding #god #prayer #aurora asknes #boy's life #tarot #bigfoot #claire broad #paranormal #erin mccarty #white shores #poltergeist #wonderful light #neverending story #walt whitman #krissy lynn #loneliness #yin yang #nihilism #fundamentalism #measure of a man #jesus #everybody hurts

[bigskydreaming]

Hoo boy. Actually using a cut on this one because it got long even by my standards, so....yikes. LOL. Umm, it started out salty but then it got angsty and then it got salty again and then maybe salt-angsty? Idk, whatever, its about Tim and also Damian and also BFTC and also Ric and its a freaking mess but also probably more coherent than I’m advertising it as here? I don’t fucking know, man, my baseline for this stuff is so fucked, never take my word for it. Okay, anyway!

So I’m probably always gonna be more salty about Tim and the reactions to the Robin/Red Robin thing and to Dick not believing him about Bruce, than I am even about people giving Dick shit for being a bad brother to Jason.

Because with the latter, even though I shout a lot about how there’s no real canon basis for the “Dick was an asshole to Jason before his death” stuff, it is true that most of their interactions had to happen offpanel, where we didn’t see them....so even though I’ll always be like umm, guys, why do you insist on headcanoning Dick as Douche of the Year when you could just as easily headcanon him and Jason getting along....I mean, I do still understand that we didn’t see either of those things really, so its dealer’s choice.

But its different with Tim, because we DID see Dick build a relationship with him, practically every step of the way. For years and YEARS, both in real time and comic book time, Dick made Tim a huge fucking priority in his life. Called him his brother long before Bruce adopted him. Took him places to train, and tried to make training fun too at times. Checked in on him, came running when he needed help. Dick DID THE WORK of building their bond. We saw it happen, in canon. It didn’t just magically appear fully formed, no more than Dick’s bond with Damian did....yeah Tim wasn’t as resistant as Damian was, but that doesn’t change the fact that Dick made an effort to show up in this kid’s life as often as he realistically could. Dick was a rock solid presence for Tim that he could count on, knew he could count on, he’d witnessed with his own eyes how damn much Dick cared about him and worried about him. Dick DOTED on this guy.

And then pretty much the first time Dick does something that Tim and his stans didn’t like - not even because he WANTED to, but because he literally felt like it was the choice he HAD to make, to extend some kind of meaningful gesture that this ten year old assassin who pretty much ONLY saw value in things like symbols and legacies and mantles at that particular point in his life would actually see as a reason to stay - the second Dick prioritized someone else over Tim, not because he didn’t want to be there for Tim, but because he had to make an actual CHOICE, he was just one person, he literally could not be all things to all people all at the same time....

Like, Tim and a lot of his fandom act like this was Dick abandoning Tim as a brother. Rejecting him. What????

And for the record, if we’re gonna talk about how dare Dick choose this kid he barely knows over Tim, his brother of years, not even mentioning what Damian did to Tim already.....like, let’s not forget that its not like Damian was some random stranger who held no possible emotional significance to Dick whatsoever. Like, Tim was fixated on his conviction that Bruce was alive, but Dick didn’t disbelieve him just to be an asshole, he just genuinely believed that he’d buried his father....and here was this prickly little ten year old who was the LAST possible piece of Bruce left in the world. Like, screw the idea that Dick was more drawn to Damian from the start because Damian was ‘the blood son’ and Bruce’s heir more than Tim was, that makes zero sense without Dick devaluing his own equally adoptive connection to Bruce himself. 

Nah, instead try the take that for Dick, Bruce wasn’t just the source of his family in the sense that Bruce was a second father to him....it was also because time and time again, Bruce added to Dick’s family, grew it by yet one more sibling, gave him more family than he’d ever have had without Bruce....and here comes Damian. One last addition to Dick’s family, via Bruce....and he’s not especially significant for the reason that he’s Bruce’s biological son unlike the rest of them, and this somehow elevates him over Dick’s other brothers from the start.....nope, its just as likely a read that Damian’s significant for Dick, he’s someone Dick HAS to take a chance on, HAS to bring into their family one way or another, has to get to ACCEPT them as family, to BE family, no matter what it takes.....because Damian is the last new sibling they’ll ever have, as far as Dick knows at that point. 

Bruce is dead, he thinks. There will be no more new brothers and sisters from that point on, whether biological or adopted....because Bruce isn’t there to be the one to widen their family again, one more time. No, Dick thinks, that falls to him now, he’s the only one who can do that.....he’s the only one who can make this one last gift from their dad, this prickly assassin child who so clearly is desperate for love and affection and approval and the very same things so many of them struggled with, its up to Dick to make sure he doesn’t LEAVE, that he doesn’t reject THEM, that he stays, stays family even without Bruce to be the connection...because anything less than that, anything other than making this one last potential brother, because he’s already connected to Bruce, the actual basis of that connection being shared biology not really that relevant, just that this connection EXISTS even without Bruce’s presence....failing to make him their brother in REALITY, in FULLNESS, rather than just a tangential association that benefits none of them, adds nothing to their family...to Dick, the very idea of that must be like it’d be failing Bruce one last time, squandering his last gift to their family, when his greatest gifts have always been the siblings he added to their number. 

So Dick had to get Damian to stay, to see that he had family here, by any means necessary, and so of course Dick did the only thing he knew would work, the only thing that has EVER worked except for in the case of Cass who is an outlier and should not be cited in reference to any of her brothers’ emotional obstinancy ever...he gave Robin to Damian....the only thing that has ever bonded him and his brothers, the only thing Dick has that didn’t come straight from Bruce and that he could offer on his own, the only thing that all his brothers value so highly, and thus in that they’re all connected.

And its like, so the first time Dick does something that Tim actually doesn’t like, that’s proof that Dick doesn’t really care about him, like all those years of bending himself into a pretzel to try and show up for his little brother every chance he could, no matter what else was going on in his life....like suddenly they mean nothing. Like Dick was only ever actually a good brother...so long as he was doing what Tim wanted. So long as he was prioritizing Tim properly.

And people compare it to Bruce and what happened between he and Dick years earlier, when Bruce fired Dick as Robin, when first off, there’s the fact that Robin is and was Dick’s and never Bruce’s, but I’ve gone over that to death, but secondly, there was no FIRING Tim as Robin, like there was no scene ever where Dick took Robin AWAY from Tim. I realize that might be parsing semantics to a degree, as by making Damian Robin, there was the implicit assumption that Tim now would no longer be Robin, but my point is that....there was NO scene where Dick did or said anything that can reasonably be construed as him thinking Tim wasn’t good enough to be Robin, wasn’t cutting it, was a liability, or that he wasn’t his brother. Could it have been written better, the exact how and when of making Damian Robin, that took Tim’s feelings more into account? Sure. 

But I maintain there is no version of that scenario that was ever going to satisfy fans who simply wanted Tim and only Tim to be Robin and weren’t interested in this newest one....which is ENTIRELY different from what happened between Bruce and Dick, no matter WHICH version of that story you go with....because there WAS no one else to be Robin at that particular time. It wasn’t happening because Bruce felt someone else needed it more than Dick. The ONLY conclusions there, were always going to be that....Bruce’s motivations or thoughts there were about Dick, in some way or another.

With Tim and Damian.....it wasn’t that at all, because it wasn’t like Dick just out of the blue said hey, Bruce dying has made me decide its too dangerous out there, I’m going to be Batman but I’m going to do it alone, I don’t want you being Robin anymore. No, he only did it to GIVE Damian something, to bring in MORE family, make that circle WIDER and try and build a connection that at the time was non existent. That’s an entirely different motivation than just wanting to TAKE AWAY Robin from Tim, purely because of something to do or not to do with Tim and nobody else.

And Dick literally told Tim it was because he felt Tim was too GOOD to be Robin anymore? Because he viewed Tim as an equal and wouldn’t be comfortable ordering him around in the field, the way Batman and Robin’s dynamic has always worked? And that just....didn’t mean anything to either Tim or most of his fans, because it wasn’t what they WANTED to hear, it wasn’t ‘oh I realized I made a mistake, Tim please be Robin again’ so it might as well have never been said, I guess.

But another huge component of Dick’s angst when he was fired as Robin was because no matter how close he and Bruce had been before that, Bruce had never actually taken the initiative and clarified what their relationship was without Batman and Robin in the picture, what Dick was to him, if and when Dick was no longer Robin. And even after he fired Dick, its not like he stepped up then either to offer an alternative view of how he saw Dick....he was perfectly willing to let Dick just go off and become Nightwing and at no point take the initiative to reach out to Dick and clarify hey, just because I thought it was too dangerous for you to be Robin, that doesn’t mean I stopped viewing you as my family, as my son. No, he waited for Dick to come back to HIM before he could even manage to utter that he’d missed Dick at all.

And that is not Dick and Tim’s dynamic and never was??? Because Dick CONSTANTLY told Tim he was family, he was his brother, long before all of that went down in RR #1. Dick expresses affection openly and often, so much so that the joke has long been that he can be smothering with that. And at the time, Tim was very much legally a Wayne, as was Dick, so....where on earth in any of that was the implication that Dick was in any way trying to reject Tim as a brother? That whatever Dick did with the mantle of Robin could at that point have anything to do with their status as brothers....which had for a long time by that point existed entirely independent of what they both did or didn’t do as vigilantes?

Not to mention the fact that unlike with Bruce and him, where Bruce had shown no effort to reach out to Dick in the literally-according-to-canon EIGHTEEN MONTHS between firing Dick after the Joker shot him and Dick coming back to the cave to confront Bruce about adopting Jason and making him Robin....

Again, not remotely accurate in comparison to Dick and Tim, because even when Tim left, pissed off and hurt....Dick still tried to check up on him constantly, worried about him? Asked others to look after him when Tim kept rejecting his attempts to reach out? Where the fuck does all this stuff about Dick making no effort to hang on to Tim and keep him in his life come from, I would def love to know.

Because if its just about the fact that Dick didn’t believe him about Bruce being alive at first.....I’m just gonna say it. That’s a really fucking shitty thing to hold against someone. LOLOL, yeah, he sucks because he ‘refused’ to believe Tim that the father he’d just buried and whose life he essentially now was living - raising his son, running his company, wearing his mantle, protecting his city, all of which is despite the fact that Dick’s ONLY wish for himself for years, as Tim well knew, had simply been to be his own man, live his own life, not just a pale imitation of Bruce’s....

Like basically, that whole thing there is Tim and/or his fandom resenting Dick for.....being too emotionally fragile at that point in time to deal with the possibility Bruce might actually be alive, might be able to be brought back, brought home....since what goes hand in fucking hand with that is the CRUSHING EMOTIONAL DEATHBLOW that’s the inevitable fallout of THAT if Tim turned out not to be right.

We of course know that Tim was right in the end, and we knew it even then too, those of us reading back at the time....because its comics, and its Bruce, and of course he wasn’t going to stay dead forever, which meant yeah duh, Tim is probably right, even without any evidence yet we can say that.

But without that awareness, without any kind of GUARANTEE....can you imagine being told hey, I know it literally sounds too good to be true, too good to be believed, but that thing you’re probably wishing like hell could happen, your dad could come back, maybe he’s not even really dead at all....guess what, it can! And like....you wouldn’t at all be hesitant about that, afraid to trust it, afraid to believe....because that means finding out later that he really was dead and not coming back would be like losing him all over again? Even though you never actually even got him back, just the idea, the hope of it, but that’s still enough to make you start to dream of how much better things could be, if and when you find him and bring it home....except nope, now you have to wake up again, dream’s over, time to face reality....your dad is still dead and he’s always going to be.

And then can you imagine being RESENTED for that, for not believing that because you’re literally just trying to protect yourself from losing anything else when you feel like you’ve already lost everything you can possibly bear to lose and anything else could break you.....to have this thrown in your face and cited as further proof you don’t really love your little brother, you’re rejecting him....when it has absolutely nothing to do with his credibility and everything to do with the freaking emotional toll that’s demanded of asking a twice orphaned guy to just take it on faith because its you that hey, our dad isn’t really dead, we can get him back?!

Not to mention the fact that Tim had almost gone some VERY fucking dark roads in the not too distant past because he had trouble dealing with Kon’s death, and those of his other friends, not to mention his other dad, Jack....all things that fandom cite for why Dick was so brutal to basically pile on to all of Tim’s other losses by taking Robin away too....but Dick KNEW all this and that’s literally a huge part of WHY he was so worried about Tim, because being aware that your little brother canonically has trouble dealing with major losses and was still reeling from a shit ton of major losses when he lost Bruce too and oh god, I know I made it worse by making Damian Robin instead but I didn’t know what else to do there and its not like I can take it back or change things when I didn’t see an alternative in the first place.....like...are these not legitimate freaking reasons for thinking that said little brother insisting that Bruce wasn’t dead and they could get him back the same way he refused to accept there was no way to bring Kon back....miiiight be more to do with explantions other than...oh yeah our Dad is actually totes alive and just time traveling because that’s what happens when magic god energy kills you, duh, everyone knows that?

Like, its not really that much of a stretch even to take practically everything Dick says to Tim about Tim’s possible mental state as just Dick projecting like hell about his OWN mental state and how much he’d fucking love to take a break and take some time to get his head sorted out before diving right back into the chaotic mess that is their day to day lives.

But like, both Tim and many of his fandom STILL really just don’t even hold back about not caring about any of the time Dick put into building and nurturing the fuck out of a happy, healthy, wholesome relationship with his little brother, not when he then turned around and ruined it by hurting Tim by.....reluctantly prioritizing someone else at a time that Tim really could have used him in the specific way and dynamic they were used to....and not being willing to believe him about Bruce, and in doing so open himself up to the possibility of losing Bruce all over again.

Like???? So many of the mistakes Dick is most vilified for in Batfandom as a whole are in reality actually just....times when he did something people don’t like, because it didn’t center or prioritize their personal favorite SPECIFICALLY, as in above all others. Even though in almost all of these specifics, Dick is actually asked to CHOOSE between two different loved ones or siblings, both equally demanding his attention and focus and efforts....and he’s only allowed to prioritize one, because that innately creates conflict with the other.

Like I know when we stan, its pretty natural for us to get blinded by our biases and not look at the whole picture, like of course we all inevitably tend to think our personal faves were most right or most valid or most hurt, but like just look at that for a second....

Look at how many of the occasions when Dick is considered to have made a mistake and really done wrong by one of his family as a result....how many of those situations are literally a catch-22, where the ONLY way for Dick to have made the ‘right choice’ in the eyes of one particular character’s fans....is for him to have chosen to prioritize that character over the one he actually prioritized in canon....which simply means that even if Dick had taken the road not taken there in canon, he STILL would be just as resented....just by the other’s fans now instead. 

Or when its not about fans at all, but characters, like in the Forever Evil aftermath....the ONLY way for Dick to have made the ‘right choice’ in the eyes of all the characters who give him crap for it later....would have been for him to look his father in the eye, while he himself is at absolute rock bottom, an emotional wreck, and in response to Bruce’s blatant manipulation of Dick’s guilt complex there, say “no, I’m not going to do what you’re asking me to do, even if it costs me your trust and affection?” Like can you imagine being pissed at a guy for NOT being able to say that to their dad when their dad is currently trying to pull the mother of all guilt trips...as if that’s an easy thing to do even when someone’s calm and at their peak emotional health....and not like, recovering from having been tortured and killed and revived just the day before?

Like ahflshglashfa. Srsly? C’MON!

And my question is okay, so when have ANY of the others ever been DEMANDED to make a choice, to pick either Dick or someone else to make their priority...and they chose Dick over that someone else? The CLOSEST I can actually come up with is the end of Under the Red Hood, when Jason taunts Bruce by telling him he better go check on Dick.....BECAUSE THEY BOTH SAW THE SKY TURN GREEN FROM GOTHAM CUZ SOMEONE JUST DROPPED A NUKE ON DICK’S CITY.

(And for the record, I ABSOLUTELY have read stories that bring that up as a point of resentment for Jason, that Bruce was willing to leave their confrontation....because he was worried about Dick....who was in the city that was just leveled by a nuke. Like...that’s not him running to kiss Dick’s boo boo all better because he skinned his knee maybe, lmfao.)

But srsly, its easy not to get blamed for making the ‘wrong’ choice in an impossible ask that doesn’t ALLOW for you to ever make an actually ‘right’ choice...when YOU’RE not the character who is constantly put in that lose/lose situation, specifically in regards to your family. Which is not really a situation that Jason, Tim, Cass, Damian, Duke, are really ever often in, you gotta admit?

AND DICK CONSTANTLY IS.

But yeah, I’m especially cranky about this today, hence the epic rant even by my standards lol, because I’ve been stewing about the Ric storyline still, and what I was saying there about how nobody’s ever really asked to put forth effort that actually COSTS them something, for Dick’s sake specifically...

Because that’s what made me think of the Red Robin stuff, after BOTC. Because just like the Batfamily apparently has no big issues with leaving Ric alone, per his wishes....it would have been SO much easier for Dick to just take the hint when Tim basically was like I’m mad at you, looking to stay that way, so leave me alone unless you’re ready to help me do what I think needs to be done. But Dick DIDN’T stop trying, even though Tim was PISSED at him, and making no effort to hide it, Dick was still like....fuck it, I’ll send Steph to try and look out for you if you won’t let me do it, and yeah maybe that’s less than fucking ideal too but I’m not making good decisions here for a reason like OH YEAH MY LIFE WENT DOWN THE CRAPPER WHEN DAD DIED TOO, and just because you’re mad at me doesn’t mean I can stop worrying about you.

So Ric was mean to the Batfamily, and because of that, I should give a shit what this has to do with them and whether or not they owe it to DICK, their brother, friend, son, to still show up and keep TRYING anyway, no matter what Ric says, because they’re not here for him anyway, they’re here for Dick Grayson, who they all know and believe is still in there somewhere, and they’re not going to let him get hurt anymore than he has been just because the guy in the driver’s seat right now insists he’s not him and doesn’t want to be?

Nope, I’m more like, WELCOME TO THE CLUB, BATFAMILY, FOUNDING PRESIDENT: DICK GRAYSON. Now you too get to for once share in the joys and delights of having to ask more than once for your brother to let you so much as freaking HUG him, without him insulting you or throwing that in your face or bringing up all the times you did stuff he didn’t like and that’s why he doesn’t want you around.

Except.....*searches high and low* no Batfam currently demonstrating levels of give a shit and/or remorse in regards to Dick, shock, woe, how can this be, what a mystery, much befuddlement.

[atinychai]

Yep! The guys finding out their fem!crush! is a werewolf.  It’s under the cut because it’s pretty long.

This was really fun to write, I’m enjoying the supernatural being asks.  

Hope you guys enjoy :)!

Law:

Privacy.  

On the polar tang privacy was always a struggle between the crew especially when the sub was submerged. Their space was limited and unlike when they were surfaced they couldn’t escape to the deck to get away from others. Not that any of that mattered right now.

Staring Bepo down with crossed arms Law kept his expression placid despite his irritation.  As the captain Law had a right to question his crew and if necessary invade their privacy.  It wasn’t rare for him to question Shachi or Penguin but never Bepo, which is why their current situation was so unusual.  He’d known Bepo for years and not once had the mink ever acted so suspicious around him but now here he was vigilantly standing outside his door, refusing to go in but also refusing to leave the doorway.  

“Bepo.” Despite only saying his name, Law’s tone made it clear that he was telling him to move.  Truthfully Law wasn’t concerned about him hiding anything dangerous, no, he was far more concerned the mink had brought a stray animal on board.

“Bepo, don’t you dare move.” Came a familiar voice from the other side of the door, “I’ll eat you if you do.”

Bepo immediately went rigid now completely frozen in the doorway.

“Now I’m even more suspicious.” Law said as he placed hand on Bepo’s shoulder, “Move.”

Taking an awkward sidestep to move out of the doorway, Bepo remained mostly frozen just staring at the opposing wall.  For now Law would ignore that.  

Opening the door Law expected to see her cradling a small animal of some sort, he was prepared to lecture them and threaten to throw it overboard(of course he wouldn’t) however upon seeing what was actually in Bepo’s room Law found himself at a complete loss for words.  A dog was one thing but this was too far.  How had the two even gotten it onto the ship-let alone into Bepo’s quarters? There was absolutely no way it could fit through the doorway since it took up almost tne entirety of the quarters.

Refusing to take his eyes off the beast Law called both their names; however he only received silence as a response.  Again he called them though this time he was given an unexpected response, though it did explain how they got it into Bepo’s room.  She’d walked in and then turned into..whatever this was.

Genuinely stunned by their current situation Law simply asked, “Why Bepo’s room?”

“There’s already fur everywhere.” Was their simple response, “So..it didn’t matter if I shifted in here.”

Law couldn’t deny it was good reasoning however he still found himself somewhat irked.  He knew for a fact they weren’t a devil fruit user as he’d watched her swim on countless occasions.  Which meant there was another, probably stranger explanation for this. 

“Werewolf.” They said, “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Out of all the questions he had there was one that was more important than the rest-at least in his opinion, “Why didn’t you?” He questioned.

“I wanted to sail with you and I was worried you’d take back your offer to join the crew.” She responded, “Full moons are pretty inconvenient, even more so when we’re on a submarine submerged so far under the water.”

He supposed it was a fair concern, especially considering at the time he probably would’ve retracted his offer.  When he first asked them to join he hadn’t been romantically interested in them but now..well he supposed they made the right decision but acknowledging that only seemed to bother him more.

“I have a few questions.” He finally said. 

“I figured.” They said as they shifted and their tail curled around their body, “Ask away, captain.”

Marco:

After a long day of replenishing their supplies and an even longer night of drinking Marco was more than ready to fall into his bed and sleep until noon however having seen something strange dart around the corner of the ship Marco instead found himself having to search for what was either a giant wolf or a hallucination in his drunk stupor.  Honestly he wasn’t sure which option he preferred to the other.  

Either way, until he found the giant wolf or confirmed he’d just imagined it sleep wasn’t an option. Maybe if the rest of the crew was sober he’d let it go but with so many sleeping out on deck in a dead sleep he couldn’t ignore it, especially because it seemed so realistic.

He continued wondering through the ship for some time however as he passed by pop’s room he paused hearing pops and his crush’s laughter.  It’d be embarrassing if it was just something he’d imagined but just in case telling pops wouldn’t be a bad idea.  Plus if anybody could find the wolf(if it was real) it’d probably be him. Plus, he hadn’t seen her since this morning either and he definitely wanted to see her face before going to sleep.  Now if he’d been sober he would’ve knocked however he was far from that and so in the moment he completely forgot about respecting his captains privacy, instead he just waltzed into the room as if it was his own and then he froze.

“Oh Marco, still up?” Whitebeard asked, not the lest bit bothered by his sudden entrance, “I thought for sure you would’ve passed out hours ago.”

Ignoring the comment, Marco asked, “Pops do you see the wolf?”  

How could he not though? The thing was same size as him.  

“Of course he sees me.”

“Ah..” Again Marco found himself at a compete loss.  As drunk as he was, he was sure he hadn’t imagined that.  The wolf-who he was now assuming was his crush, had just spoken but more importantly, she’d just spoken as if there was nothing unusual about the current situation.

Unsure what to say or how to handle the new and strange information Marco asked the first thing that came to mind, “Is this why you don’t eat chocolate?”

Both Whitebeard and his crush started howling in laughter, neither expecting a response like that from the quick-witted first commander.  He’d been drunk before but never this drunk.

“Marco, just how much have you had to drink tonight?” Pops asked

“A lot.” She said pawing at her nose, “He reeks.”

Somewhat embarrassed about how strong his scent was Marco looked away and scratched the back of his neck. He was pretty sure she wasn’t a fruit user though it’d been awhile since he’d seen her swimming so unless she’d eaten the fruit within the last week(which didn’t make sense considering how long they’d been at sea) it mean she just had the ability to turn into a wolf.

“A werewolf.” He concluded, earning a nod from them.

How had she hid it? It’s not like she was new to the crew, actually she’d been a member for years so how had he not noticed? How hadn’t anybody noticed?

“How-“

“Pops helped me hide it.” She answered, already knowing what he was going to ask, “At first I didn’t want the crew knowing-you know the whole werewolf stereotype but then we just wanted to see how long it’d take for everybody to find out.” She paused, “Ace actually saw me once but I convinced him he was dreaming.”

Marco nodded vaguely remembering the hotheaded teen telling him about a really realistic dream about a giant wolf.  

“Are you gonna tell?” She asked.

He doubted anybody would believe him without proof and considering how hard she and pops had worked to keep it a secret the two would probably just deny it to mess with him.

“No.” He responded earning what he could only assume was a smile.  

He definitely wouldn’t be the one to ruin her fun but eventually he would try to get in on it.

Mihawk:

Mihawk had always been one to respect others boundaries however after sharing an island with one another for years he found his curiosity(or rather need for confirmation) taking priority over any boundaries that’d been previously set.  She’d never outright told him to leave her be on the full moon however unlike usual she never announced her departure in fact it was quite obvious that she was doing her best to sneak away during the full moon.

When she first stated sharing the island with him he didn’t notice or rather he didn’t care because at he time he didn’t particularly feel any strong emotions towards her however as years went by he found himself his thoughts preoccupied by her.  

He wasn’t foolish, he’d sailed the seas for years and come across many supernatural beings so he knew what she was-or rather he had a very solid guess as to why she’d disappear every month.  If he was right he wasn’t sure why she’d hide it from him after all in the years they’d known each other he’d never once given her any reason to but then again he’d also given her no reason to tell him either.

So now here he was wondering through the dark forest in search of her.  Truthfully he hadn’t expected her to go so deep but it’s not as if he had anything to be concerned about.  He’d taken many strolls here in the past and even when he did find himself in an unfamiliar area he always managed to find his way home.  

Glancing in the direction he heard a snap, he quickly found the confirmation he was looking for though rather than call her out he simply continued walking.  While he’d come across werewolves in the past he’d never been around one during a full moon so he had no idea what to expect.  There were some stories that claimed they lost their humanity and attacked anything that moved and others that said form aside they were perfectly sane.  Either way, he’d intruded on her so he’d allow her to approach him first-if she did at all.

They continued on like this for a while and every so often Mihawk found himself concerned the former story was true, that right now she was simply stalking him and waiting to attack a concern that only grew when she darted around him to stand directly in his path.  While he had his swords on him he had no intention of harming her-something that’d be impossible if that was the case. Oddly this was the first time in a long while he found himself nervous about a potential fight.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Mihawk.” The comment didn’t do much to calm his nerves.

“Luckily I’m named after a bird.”

For a moment everything seemed silent but the second she chortled he knew things were fine-at least he knew she wouldn’t attack him.  Judging from her earlier comment she wasn’t ecstatic he’d followed her out here.  

“You followed me.”

He simply nodded in response.

“I didn’t think you would.”

Again he nodded.

“I wasn’t sure how’d you feel, most people don’t react well.” She paused, “Can’t say I blame them.”

“It makes no difference to me.” And it didn’t.  Regardless of what she was, he’d fallen in love with her long ago.  Even if this had been a complete surprise he couldn’t imagine himself just replacing his current feelings with fear or anger.  It wasn’t as if people chose what they were born as.

“You’re not upset I lied?”

Knitting his brows together he gave her a dubious look, “Lied?” He questioned, “Omitting information you’re not comfortable sharing with me is no lie.  I have no right to expect or demand you to tell me everything about yourself, especially when you don’t know everything about me.  That being said, I’d like you to know..and feel comfortable enough to be able to tell me anything you wish to.”

#one piece imagine #dracule mihawk #mihawk imagine #Marco the Phoenix #marco imagine #mihawk #marco #one piece #law #traflagar law imagine #traflagar law #heart pirates #whitebeard pirates #op #op imagine

[tinkdw]

hi tink ^_^ was wondering if you think both endgame human!cas and endgame angel!cas are both valid interpretations? im genuinely interested as I can't see the whole human!cas being a thing, and I'm open to learn more if you think that's what is actually going to happen. idk his experience as a human was miserable, i feel like maybe im missing something?? :0 u dont have to answer this if u dont want, as it may cause wank. ty

Hi!

Here’s my “overall” Cas meta from a while ago, nothing’s changed and a few other meta writers added to it so it’s a good view I think as to the whole concept:

https://tinkdw.tumblr.com/post/165781313412/why-do-you-think-cas-should-becomechoose-to-be

It’s a really crappy topic for divisiveness, in my experience the people who have, relatively, as much as possible, objectively analysed the author intent in the show have come to a pretty solid conclusion within the meta community that Human!Cas appears to be endgame based not on his experience as a human but the outcome, his overall arc since season 4 and the Chekhovs gun style flamingly blatant reminders throughout the show such as the repeated asking him if he wouldn’t rather be human, his choosing to be an Angel to go into battle powerful enough to save the people he loves and putting what he wants to one side and his clearly not wanting to be a soldier anymore.

It’s kind of like saying endgame Dean is for him to be emancipated and being able to openly watch Oprah and Disney etc even though on the surface he says he doesn’t like that stuff. Because the pretty obvious sublimation is there.

With Cas the sublimation isn’t quite as clear but it’s really all there. Yes he suffered as a human but he literally came out of it and said he missed it, while previous to being human he was curious and wanted to try human things (eg kissing meg) and afterwards we’ve seen him actively choosing to act more human, smiting less and fist fighting instead, acting more human, I mean the big one for me was when Dean asked him “and you’re okay with that?!” When he told him he got grace back to be able to fight and he just totally brushed it off saying he needed it to fight:

https://tinkdw.tumblr.com/post/171244776157/kanayaks-tinkdw-cas-i-got-my-grace-back-i

He later takes more grace which he had been previously rejecting but only to save Dean and then took his own grace back when again it’s needed for a fight whilst telling us the quote that the craziest thing a man can do is die.

He’s literally saying he’s killing himself / his wants for the greater good.

He needs grace for the fight and to be a good useful soldier and to save his family but does he want it?

Want v Need.

One of the biggest themes of the show.

Cas needs his grace to be useful when times are hard but is that what he wants?

In my opinion the show has repeatedly emphasised that it isn’t. I also think it’s clear he doesn’t want to be a soldier anymore and these things go hand in hand.

Others may use canon to say they think it is. Both interpretations are totally valid as long as they are based on canon and actually analysing the canon in a consistent manner.

The issue I have is certain people cherry picking and projecting their stories into it and claiming it’s an overall Cas’ arc since inception meta. That’s just not how meta writing works.

You can absolutely write that stuff but you can’t claim it’s objective and fully inclusive of canon and logical when it is just picking parts that fit your own desire for the character. Like, I didn’t want Lucifer to be centre stage in s13 but I didn’t just ignore it when it was.

Cherry picking things ie the one time Cas said “I just wanna be an Angel” when he was depressed, distraught at Dean’s death and wanted to stop feeling things as proof it’s what he really wants isn’t what I’d call meta writing of the whole story. That’s like saying Sam really wants to be a hunter and tag along beside his brother in the impala on the road for the rest of his life because he was a depressed, vengeful mess after Jess’ death and said ok let’s go. Is it really what Sam wants for himself and the rest of his life though? No way! That’s been clear too.

Even worse when some people claim to be bullied or triggered by other view points. Someone even screenshotted a few sentences I wrote that if you took away the top and bottom sentence looked like I was making no sense and anti Cas (me anti Cas. Lmao) but in the context obviously made sense and decided to create a wank storm about it because they didn’t like human cas meta and wanted to make me look bad. People need to grow up. This isn’t a meta discussion about interpretation it’s being a dick and being unable to contemplate another interpretation.

It makes a discussion totally impossible which moots the entire point of blogging on tumblr in the first place.

Absolutely all interpretations are valid, it’s just a case of how you pitch your interpretation. If you want to state your interpretation of a character absolutely go for it! I used to be all up for Angel!Cas meta until a few utter assholes decided to be personal and ridiculous about it. Now I don’t touch it with a barge pole. Same as M*gstiel.

But that doesn’t invalidate anyone’s good, thought out, canon analysing endgame Angel!Cas meta.

For example my own interpretation of the siren episode is different to many other meta writers, we can discuss it and have polite and great conversations without getting triggered / defensive because we aim to discuss author intent, our own interpretations and do so in a civil manner. There’s one meta writer in particular I’ve had altercations with in the past over some differences of opinion on speculative things and ways of writing meta but who I get on well with, admire and like talking to because we are adults and literally get over it.

There’s also a few people who unfortunately though I agree meta wise about things on the show have been so nasty irl to myself and others that I’ve cut them off completely.

Interpretations are interpretations until they are canon, I’m lucky that most of mine have become so or are clearly on their way but I can also be wrong ie I thought Asmodeus would be more important to character exposition than he was, life moves on. I also didn’t realise quite what it would mean that he would be a Bucklemming own concept and not really used by anyone else, I thought perhaps he’d be used by others by the wasn’t, now I have that knowledge in my pocket meta on anything that sets up for Bucklemming use is kinda meh don’t bother analysing it much it’s probably not hugely important to the overall story being told by the showrunner, ie Nick.

All interpretations are valid is very true. Eg. I can interpret Cas’ story as a metaphor for a queer kid (and in particular trans) coming from a conservative family and emancipating themselves and someone else can interpret it as an immigrants story.

If the show starts changing this then I will change my meta, because my meta is an analysis of what the show is doing, not what I want. For example I never wanted Dean to be queer representation, I was totally heteronormative and would have been totally cool with him ending up alone or with a woman, it’s the show that made me want something different for him through consistent and repeated canon blatant hints at something else. Same as Cas, I was totally ready in season 4 to just like him as a cool character and for him to bog off back to Heaven after being useful but he was captivating as an ally and it grew from there. For ages I would totally have put to one side the hints at a romantic part of his story and loved for him to become the third brother, it’s the show that made me see more between him and Dean, I never would have imagined that myself, I was a boring heterormative adult more interested in the individual characters’ stories than shipping, I thought shipping was just maritime transferral of goods before I was like wtf and googled Destiel after 10x05 cos I’d finally found a name for what I’d been seeing evolve for 6 years.

Sam goes for Cas’ own individual arc and what he wants. I never had a clue what I wanted from him until the show told me what I should want by repeating something clearly over 10 years. If they suddenly change any part of the story then they change it (and I’ll be annoyed they changed something so entrenched but I’m not going to bitch @ tptb for it or whatever, it’s their choice, they’re the creator and once it’s changed I’ll meta that) but so far it’s been the same, clear story to me for 10 years.

An interpretation is an interpretation but it’s when you start, as I do and some others do, saying you believe this one is the authors intention that you have to be more careful about backing it up with canon and logic and not getting #triggered when someone disagrees.

If you’re going to pitch it as what you believe the author intent is then you have to leave your personal projections at the door and work solely based on the canon, the production, what the author may have said outside of canon etc. It has nothing to do with your own wants for the character or show.

It also means when someone has valid canon supported arguments to the contrary you can have a really interesting discussion and I love that.

#meta writing #meta discussions #meta #what gets problematic is when ppl cant see past their interpretation or attribute it to the author based on nothing concrete and wildly #speculate or bash other interpretations based on actual analysis of canon #i know i look like im aggressive but 99.99% of the time im hitting back at #ppl being dicks #because no #ill scroll by to a point but start tagging tptb on twitter or using main tags here for unfounded wank #or screenshotting my meta to take it out of context to start your own wank #is just bullshit behaviour and i have zero tolerance for it #human!cas

[losersincollege]

College AU Roleplay - Character Introduction 4/8

Mike Hanlon will be played by @mikehanlonstan

Under the Cut: descriptions of physical and mental characterization; background on what Mike’s been up to between the summer of IT and the start of the RP.

-Character Description-

Physical:

He doesn’t shave often; usually has facial hair, but at least he keeps it neat.

He always forgets to, or procrastinates, getting his hair cut so it tends to get messy, but it’s cute.

Wears glasses; big round ones. I’d say he wears them like 60% of the time.

Big eyes and the most gorgeous smile you'll ever see.

Freckles. Just a lil’ bit of freckle on his nose/cheeks.

Fashion sense has greatly improved since his teenage years. He’s actually pretty damn FASHIONABLE (for now).

He’s not ripped, but he’s pretty fit and toned from years of farm work and playing football. Also, he runs very fast.

Rough hands. True farm boy.

Personality:

Mike is just a genuinely good person. He’s nice to everyone, but especially caring when it comes to his friends and family. He has a strong sense of justice and will stand up for himself and anyone who needs it. 

He always thinks about everyone’s needs before his own and will go out of his way to help a friend, and will usually be the one to try and resolve any tension in a group.

Even with people he dislikes/hates, he’d rather ignore them than start shit. Don’t be fooled, though; he might be a lover, but he won’t hesitate to fight someone if they get on his really bad side. Everyone has limits.

He’s a romantic and always wants to see the good in people, but not to the point where it’s considered naive. He’ll give second chances and the benefit of the doubt, and has the empathy to understand where someone might be coming from, but that’s about it.

He’s very loyal, but not to a fault. He won’t hesitate to call someone out if they’re wrong, even if it’s someone very close to him.

He’s nice to new people, but always somewhat hesitant and suspicious, since he was bullied pretty much his entire life.

He tends to be a bit of a pessimist, but tries not to.

He’s very curious, loves to read and learn, and questions EVERYTHING; he never takes anybody’s word as gospel until he’s done his own research. He’s very smart and quick-witted and finds his way out of sticky situations easily.

He’s not one for blind faith; like I said, he questions everything, and won’t believe in anything without solid proof. As a child he didn’t mind going to church with his mom, believing in the supernatural/paranormal etc., but he quickly grew out of that around the age of 12-13. All that being said, he won’t deny the existence of anything either; he just needs proof to be 100% on board. Somewhere between skeptic - believer, I guess?

Mike admires and looks up to his father very, very much, lives by his lessons and the values he’s passed on to him, and tries his best to make him proud.

Misc: Sings like an angel, horror/sci-fi fan (Alien is his favorite movie), listens to a wide variety of music genres (but MJ is king and always will be), hobbies include reading, photography, bike rides/driving early in the morning, cooking and playing the same 5 chords on the guitar over and over (he’s trying to learn, shh) etc etc.

Family:

William & Jessica Hanlon (parents): AKA the two people he loves most in the world. He’s got a very tight and loving relationship with both of them, especially his dad. He probably calls them like every night.

Bambi (doggo): The family’s border collie, a very good boy. They adopted him when Mike was 16, because that’s how long it took him to get over Mr. Chips.

Leroy & Shirley Hanlon (grandparents): Also very close with them, despite not seeing them as often as he did as a child anymore. Talks to them on the phone often and loves them both dearly.

4 uncles from his dad’s side: Not as close, since they all live scattered around the country with their families, but still family.

2 aunties & a grandma from his mom’s side: His mother and her family don’t really get along. He barely knows them and rarely speaks to them.

Amnesia Status:

Doesn’t remember the summer of Pennywise.

Sometimes he has nightmares about it, and wakes up to his back hurting where the bird scratched him, or his palm stinging. But he immediately forgets and the pain fades.

He has a general feeling of unease literally just from being in Derry, but can’t explain why. It’s just a constant bad feeling in the back of his mind.

Often gets the urge to revisit locations where he encountered IT, but it passes.

Subconscious fear of large or weird looking birds. He’ll fight a chicken no sweat.

He vaguely remembers going to school with the Losers, but only knows them as acquaintances/classmates, not as good friends or anything more.

-Pre-RP Background-

High school:

Mike graduated from Derry High School and didn’t leave Derry until his third year of college.

Without the losers, he went back to being a loner for the rest of middle/high school, despite being in the football team and actually pretty popular. He remained close friends with Stan until Stan moved away for college and they began to forget eachother, and then he just never established any meaningful connections. He still had to deal with racist bullies, but over the years he learned to deal with it better; although he’s still terrified of Henry Bowers to this day.

Transitional Years:

Will was diagnosed with lung cancer during Mike’s senior year. It was very scary and, coupled with his low funds, made Mike reluctant to leave home. So he stayed in Derry and went to community college.

He continued playing football, worked part time/ summers at the library to save money and bought an old used car… but otherwise slowly watched as his dreams and ambitions rotted away day by day in that miserable, prejudiced town. :)

But he really wanted to spend as much time with his family as he could, since he was scared his dad might die any day. So despite everything, it was his choice to stay and he stood by it.

Moving away/Current status:

As Will became more stable and started to get better, his parents started urging him to transfer out of state and finally get out of Derry, because it was obviously fucking depressing him, despite what he said.

He was reluctant to transfer at first, but since he didn’t have the funds to move out of state anyways and he wouldn’t be too far from home if anything were to happen, he decided to do it.

And so, he transferred his credits to the University of Maine, and Mike finally left that little shit hole of a town. He’s thrilled to finally have that awful weight off his shoulders, but he will still phone home every night and visit as often as he can.

#losersincollege #mike hanlon #stephen kings it #the losers club #losers club rp #it rp #character bios