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#HEAVILY influenced by my own experiences*
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There are many jokes floating around the shadowgast nation about the nature of Caleb and Essek's relationship (eggplants and winky faces abound), and most of them are good natured and perhaps true (eventually or at some point). I find most of them entertaining and sweet, but some of what I have stumbled across post-reunion have highlighted that it's only a joke up to a certain point to me.
Please keep in mind that everything in this post is my opinion and my opinion only. I'm not asking that anyone agree with me. This post is mainly for me because I felt like I needed to make it.
I have seen several comments/posts/tags in many different places talking about Essek and Caleb and that scene in the reunion, and describing it as horny or saying they can't keep their hands off each other or following up that conversation with sexual intimacy. I know a lot of these comments or conversations are not malicious or ill-intentioned, and I understand that people are excited for the first new content in nearly 2 years.
But, one thing I have appreciated about Critical Role is the variety of sexuality and genders represented, including various asexual and aromantic identities. Essek is confirmed by Matt on Twitter to be demi (romantic or sexual is unclear to me so it could be taken as either. If anyone has any other sources I would greatly appreciate them). As someone who identifies as aspec, I deeply appreciate the representation that Critical Role has given me.
The shadowgast scene in the reunion was not sexual to me. It's only been six months since the end of c2, which granted, I have not completed yet. As of this writing, I am in the middle of episode 133. Whatever is going on between Caleb and Essek is still very new, especially for two people who thought they would never have love. An aspect of being demi is that it takes time and closenes and a strong emotional bond for romantic and/or sexual feelings to develop. Six months, to me, feels like an incredibly short time for those feelings to take root for Essek even if he is on the path of developing them.
Seeing people make light of Essek's sexual attraction or feelings for Caleb or treat them as common place or casual, even innocuously, has made me feel as though this aspect of Essek really is ignored or forgotten about sometimes. Not by everyone nor, I would even doubt, the majority. Maybe not intentionally or maliciously or maybe it's a lack of understanding about demisexuality or aspec identities.
This is a feeling I have had for a while, and I mean this about nothing in particular but rather a sum of the parts I have encountered over the months.
In addition, I think Essek's sexuality can be overshadowed by how sexual Caleb can be/is. He makes comments throughout the entirety of the campaign that directly or indirectly reveal his sexuality, and that part is clearly important to him, even if he has not acted on it in a very long time.
I am not saying that Essek is NOT sexually attracted to Caleb or that their relationship does not involve sex at some point or at the time of that scene. I do think, at the very least, that Caleb and Essek would have a conversation about it as some point, and I find it likely it would turn sexual. At the very least, Caleb is attracted to Essek. Liam has confirmed that. I would guess those feelings are a combination of romantic, sexual, platonic, etc.
But I cannot imagine, and again this is my opinion, that feeling sexual attraction or acting on it for the perhaps first or second, maybe third time, is not a life-altering moment for him, let alone acting on it. From what see of his character, he's extrmely gaurded, extremely lonely, extremely shameful. Showing his emotions and attraction to Caleb, or to anyone really, is an extreme show of trust and vulnerability, and I don't think it should be taken lightly.
Treating it, at least in those early months, as though it is common or casual, something taken for granted, feels, to me, as though it undermines the importance and gravity of Essek's feelings, whatever they may be. Further, it undermines aspec identities, relegating them to sidelines if it is even acknowledged at all. I feel as though a lot of the jokes ignore Essek's demisexuality and how integral it is to how he builds relationships and interacts with people.
As someone who is aspec, I find it disheartening to see these sort of jokes and offhand comments being circulated about a character who is confirmed, canon aspec whose identity centers on deep bonds that take time to develop. Applying sexual under/overtones to scene where a small chaste kiss and an innocent pet name are shared feels like, in a way, a forced sexualization of a new, developing relationship that may never turn sexual.
There is such little aspec representation in media, and Critical Role does a fantastic job of showcasing a variety of aspec identities which is so, so rare. To turn around and have the fandom ignore or disregard these identities (intentional or not) that the cast and crew work hard to incorporate feels bad. It makes me feel as though I still have to fight for my identity to be seen and understood by people who, theoretically, support and want to understand and respect various identities, who claim to love Essek and Caleb and their relationship. It hurts.
I have spent a lot of time convincing myself that I and my sexuality belong in the queer community, that I deserve to have a voice, that I deserve to be respected and heard. With my feelings about Essek and his demisexuality, I didn't feel right standing by any longer and remaining silent when these portrayals were bothering me.
I am not asking anyone to change their opinions, to agree with me, to change the fic they write, the art they draw. The Critical Role fandom is beautiful and amazing and absolutely incredible. I have met so many kind, caring, wonderful people since joining. It's an experience unlike any other. But, I needed to make this post for me and anyone else who was feeling like me.
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theatricalnebula · 2 days
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btw whenever i mention utena and anthy "being in love" i need you to know that i mean that in a distinctly aromantic way. but don't ask me to elaborate on that, the way i understand their relationship makes sense only to me and i would not be able to articulate what i mean
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carbonateddelusion · 3 months
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thinks about 80s jack...
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jotterjots · 8 months
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i think part of the reason i love stranger things so much is that it feels so much like my hometown. like ik it's in Indiana but the setting feels really indistinguishable from the woodsier parts of CT/ Mass. But it also makes me self-conscious because the story I've always wanted to write feels incredibly similar but also maybe that's just what happens when you write small town supernatural horror.
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foxcassius · 2 years
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as i look at job listings here in korea, i cant help but still dream of that private lesson life. like, every job here will still expect you to teach 6 classes a day 5 days a week, for like a maximum wage of 2.4 million won per month. i could make twice that teaching that many classes in a private lesson setting, and i could easily make the SAME wage and just work less (ideal scenario)
#last night jiwon asked me like a million (imo unfair) questions about america and its society and why it succeeded#(unfair bc i just genuinely cant give definitive answers aside from 'it succeeded economically thanks to slavery')#and i was like 'you ask me sometimes why i dont want to move back to america and there are so many reasons and its hard to put into words'#'but one of them is that the work culture is so gross to be in and people still feel trapped in their jobs and there's no freedom to it'#and he was like 'korea is the same way it's just that i'm a specialist and you are foreigner who speaks english as a mother tongue'#'so i am inherently privileged out of genuine poverty by way of my degree and you are as well by way of being the class of foreign worker#you are. so korea has the same kind of trap for ''lower class'' people when it comes to work its just that you arent seeing it due to#your own status and my status as the main korean national whose life you are privvy to'#and i was like yes. i am aware of this. i am perfectly aware of how much poverty there is in korea and that not everyone lives as we do.#and i'm also perfectly aware of the fact that i would lose visa status and be sent back to my home country before i had any chance to#experience korean poverty. it sometimes feels like when he asks me why i dont want to go back to america he forces me to state One (1)#reason why and then takes that one reason and is like 'korea is like that too' which for starters I Know. because he refuses to acknowledge#this but korea is heavily controlled and influenced by the usa im not gonna get into that right now but I Know the similarities in many way#s between the usa and korea. secondly there are Many reasons why i wont be going back to the usa not the least of which is that#jiwon and i intend to get married and he doesnt intend to leave korea so its all a moot point anyway and idk why he keeps bringing it up#he wants to stay in korea and i wouldnt choose to move back to america so idk why he keeps like forcing me to explain myself on reason at a#time and like turn it around is trying to make me want to leave like. let it rest king i am so tired of talking about american politics#at 12 am especially bc sometimes he wants to have an argument abt it and im like Neither Of Us Is Educated Enough To Have This Conversation#i have my own lived experiences and a small amount of specific research. he has whatever they teach in school here abt america + some#internet readings. neither of us is qualified to sit and talk about this#it just feels like sometimes i'll be like 'america is a suffocating capitalist hellscape where kids get shot at school' and he's like#'well korea is also bad' and im like yeah no shit everywhere is bad everywhere is a capitalist hellscape the us has its hands in korea's#government and economy. but at least here i have a job with a decent salary and You so.#anyway. long rambling tags over. <3#t
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peachybutch · 6 months
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personal writing under cut
When I was a kid, I was playing with one of my friends, a girl named Hailey, when I was hit in the head very hard and knocked unconscious. When I woke up over an hour later, I was asked my name.
I told them my name was Hailey.
When they asked me what I'd been doing before the accident, I told them I was coming home from school--they asked me what school, and I clarified Hailey's school. When they asked me who the people sitting next to me were, I said they were Az's parents.
It seems like I have always struggled with memory. It was difficult for me as a child to distinguish between accounts of other peoples lived experiences and my own--which felt, and often feel, even as I create new ones, like they are stories told to me by a treasured friend. To this day, I will occasionally bring up someone else's childhood event as if it were my own and receive confusion in response.
Or I'll forget major events, major characters in my own life. Sometimes I can feel it as it slips away, leaving a hole, and I have no way of knowing what was there before.
Hailey and I fell off as friends when her family moved away, but we reconnected over a decade later when we both enrolled at the same college for undergrad.
When we met again, for the first time in over 10 years, the first thing that struck me was just how different we were. She was a vivacious, bubbly, Christian girl that made friends easily and wanted to be a music teacher. She seemed, every inch, like the adult version of that little girl that hit her head.
I, on the other hand, was a shell-shocked queer teen with PTSD that just wanted to survive, and maybe write a couple decent stories along the way. There was no trace left of the me that she used to know.
We had nothing in common--no hobbies, no ideologies, no interests. I wished her well, but I haven't spoken to her since. I have my own life now, with a house, and a car, and a backyard by the river, and I'm happy with the progress I've made.
But sometimes, when I look on her social media page, and I see the pictures--what she's reading, the people she loves--I can't help but wonder if my brain stole her life, or if maybe, in some small way, she took mine.
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sailoryooons · 2 months
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I am going to say something that has really been bothering me that not everyone may agree with, which is totally okay, everyone is entirely valid to disagree with me: There is a fast fashion problem in fandom, specifically fanfiction.
Disclaimer: This conversation is not about broadly writing the same tropes, genres, and ideas. I am not talking about people writing fics with similar themes or the same name. I am specifically talking about people writing fics that are very obviously heavily influenced by other fics. This is not me talking about: I wrote __ character as enemies to lovers vampires and so did this person so they stole. Please do not trivialize this conversation with instances that are very obviously not what I'm talking about.
As someone who exists in the fanfiction space, I want to express what I have seen specifically in this space in my own experience, my mutuals experiences, and random experiences I have seen on my dash.
Recently, it seems like there is a reoccurring theme of writers (often new writers) taking "inspiration" from fanfics that they love and value and essentially creating their own version of that story to the point it is bordering on plagiarism. I say bordering on plagiarism because while people may not be copying line for line or entire scenes in order, you can tell that it is a re-arranged duplicate of another story.
I am not talking about writing similar tropes and dynamics. No one owns a trope or a dynamic. I am specifically talking about people taking the plots, scenes, concept and core of fanfics and recreating it and changing some plot elements or placing it in a different alternate universe and calling it their own, when at the heart of that fanfic, it is taken from someone else's creation.
This to me, reads like people who read a work, fall in love with it, but think 'this is easy to do, I can do this myself' and they end up making a replica of a fic that you can tell is a replica of another fic, despite adding some changes. Nine times out of ten, these inspired fics lack the obvious thought and heart the original writer put into it.
Which, begs the question: How is this different than fanfic writers taking inspiration from media (i.e. published books, movies, music, shows)? Because fanfiction is meant to replicate a specific something from published media. It is not meant to duplicate an already established fanfiction contribution.
I know that the nuance between that line is very ambiguous and it brings up the discourse on 'should there be fanfiction of fanfiction' - to which my response is it is, generally, pretty obvious what the difference between being inspired by a fic and copying a fic are.
In the last few months, I have lost count of how many times I or mutuals have a) discovered someone has been writing a story based off of their fic 2) have been asked to use an already written work to make their own or 3) already have started writing works modeled after an already written work and in hindsight asked the author if they could keep doing so (this third instance almost always happens after someone accuses them of stealing another work).
This feels like the fast fashion industry. Someone finds a story that is popular (whatever that means to the individual), takes all of the elements they think makes the story works, rearranges it, posts it as their own and and says they were 'inspired' (if they credit the original story at all).
This is why so many works that readers are coming across feel like they are the same thing. It is the same A + B + C = D over and over and over again, because people are outright just taking what they think works from other stories and using it.
Again - I am not talking about people who come across a trope, AU, genre or dynamic they like and add something similar to their story. I am talking about the people who are very intentionally and obviously writing the same exact fic with their own 'twist' (whatever that means).
Why is this a problem (beyond the fact that it's essentially roundabout plagiarism)? You're taking the heart, soul, and creativity someone poured into something and posting it on your own and robbing it of the originality, the essence, and the intention behind it. You cannot replicate a writer's feelings and obvious emotions that they have poured into the original work, and it shows. And it is gutting to the original authors who are finding remixes of their work across the fanfiction space.
Please consider whether or not you are inspired by a story or if you are redoing it in your own image. If you find yourself worried enough about your story that you feel like you have to publicly credit someone to avoid scrutiny, perhaps the question needs to be asked of whether you're just redoing what someone else already wrote.
Please do not confuse inspiration and recreation. 9 out of 10 authors will love that they inspired you to write, but would not love to find that you wrote a fic inspired by them that is a rearranged or hollowed-out version of the fic they wrote.
The fanfic space wants and needs more writers, but it does not need people unwilling to create their own art, instead taking bits and pieces from others and calling it a success.
Also adding: This problem also directly contributes to 'smaller' writers or more niche (often queer and bipoc) stories not getting the hype, readership, or recognition they deserve. On more than one occasion I've seen stories that had explicitly queer or bipoc characters taken and turned into heteronormative or white-presenting stories.
Note: This 1000% goes for actual visual art as well, including gifs etc. in fandom but I'm not well-versed there and thus, did not include it.
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iarrelm · 29 days
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Hazbin Hotel Swap AU - Charlie. Vaggie. Angel Dust.
Alastor, Husk, and Nifty
Here's the other half of my swap au! I think Charlie and Angel were my favorites out of the six to draw lol
Charlie -> Alastor
In this AU, Charlie's thoughts on sinners are more heavily influenced by Lucifer instead of her mother. Somewhere deep down she still really cares for her people and hates seeing the exterminations come every year, but after spending some time walking around them, a part of her also thinks they might deserve it sometimes.
She's still pretty estranged from her father. She's sort of angry that she's so influenced by him because she wants to love her people so much.
Because of that, she also makes sure to get a much better handle on her demonic powers.
When Lilith goes missing, Charlie decides to start taking a more active role in hell by making deals with sinners.
Mostly, what they consist of is her just asking them to be better. Some of the sinners do take the request from Charlie seriously, but most of them break the deal the moment she leaves their sight.
Does she do anything about those demons? Well, violating a deal with the Princess of Hell does have consequences. :)
(She doesn't do much. She just scares them a little bit.)
Word spread around that the Princess was making deals and some details may have been embellished a bit. Rumors snowballed and eventually she become someone to be avoided at all costs.
She happened to hear about the Hazbin Hotel by chance as she walked by a shop with an old radio in front of it.
She tells Alastor that the only reason she's helping is because she's bored. Everyone else in Hell is avoiding her, after all.
She actually desperately wants to be proven wrong about sinners. She wants to see that they'll try to be better not because she's threatening them to, but because they want to.
Vaggie -> Nifty/Husk
Brought in by Charlie to be the hotel's housekeeper. She has zero experience with this job, but she's a quick learner and Nifty is a decent teacher when she doesn't just grab the mop or broom and do it herself.
She owes Charlie her life. She never made any kind of deal with Charlie, but after Charlie saved her from bleeding out in an alley, she'd do anything to help the demon out.
The two of them aren't dating, because Charlie is under the impression that Vaggie is a sinner. And because of her complicated thoughts on sinners, not to mention the hostile way Vaggie interacts with other people, they didn't end up becoming very close.
Vaggie also doesn't really trust Charlie completely. She seems friendly on the outside, but the deal making seems sketchy.
Vaggie is still a fallen angel/exorcist. And because Charlie has some level of distrust towards other demons, she suspects that something is off but doesn't have enough information to confirm anything.
After being brought to the hotel, she mostly avoids everyone and does her work quietly.
Angel Dust -> Husk/Nifty
Instead of meeting Valentino, he met Charlie.
He was the first sinner that she ever made a deal with. In exchange for her protection, he would do her a favor.
When Angel first heard that he wanted to laugh, but she reminded him a bit of his sister. Not to mention, who better to make a deal with than the Princess of Hell herself, right? He supposes owing her a favor isn't the worst thing in the world.
Because he doesn't make a deal with Valentino, he never moves into the Vee's Tower, which means he spends a lot more time on the street trying to find a place to stay. It leads him to figuring out exactly what to say and do to get a free room for a night until he can find some way to pay for his own.
Charlie offers to help him get his own place but he declines because even if he does feel a bit of a soft spot for her, he doesn't really trust her yet.
He gets really good at reading people. He can tell at a glance if someone is worth trying to talk into letting him stay for a night or two. And also whether or not they'd be dangerous to try convincing as well.
After awhile he ends up meeting Charlie more and more often and eventually they become friends. By that point, their deal has been paid, but now they help each other out just because.
When Charlie calls him to the hotel, he's happy to help. He's the second most enthusiastic person about the hotel, right behind Nifty.
He doesn't know shit about bartending though. He's pretty bad at mixing drinks, but he is really good at charming people, so that makes up for it. Most of the time.
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bandi-off · 6 months
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Good jewish literature? Looking for recs 👀
EDIT:
Gosh, thank you EVERYONE for your contributions so far!! I didn't think for a second I'd get so much and so various recommendations, it is lovely to open the app and always have some new notes on this post of mine
As someone who's in his Very very first steps of conversion, I want to refreshen my reading experiences and leave behind the heavily Christian-influenced classics (which is not entirely wrong on its own!, it's just the same old, same old experience for me rn) and get in touch with more recent jewish literature, so I'm very thankful for helping me with this. I might pop up in later edits with my own recommendations!
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solaariia · 14 days
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the self-concept
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hellour! this is gonna be a long post!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
i was studying for my social psychology course today (for context i'm a psych major) and read something that might be helpful for everyone who's been having doubts about manifestation subconsciously being part of our everyday lives—as opposed to something made up by the internet.
the information i'm about to provide is from actual sociologists and psychologists, so this is rooted in studies. i promise i'm not about to pull info out of my ass! this is mainly just a very very brief summary of the self concept chapter we're reading about in class.
side note, i named all the researchers in case you wanna check out their work yourself! i made this post to provide insight about our self-concept and clear limiting beliefs. :)
what is self-concept?
so we hear the term self-concept a lot in the manifestation community. Neville, Edward, Sammy, Dr Joe Dispenza, bloggers on tumblr… all of them talk about it all the time. but what does it actually mean?
the self-concept refers to the total sum of beliefs that people have about themselves. it consists of cognitive molecules that social psychologist Hazel Markus called self-schemas. these are the beliefs about ourselves that guide the processing of self relevant information. but what does this actually mean?
well, self-schemas are to the self-concept what books are to a library. if someone asks about yourself, you will probably answer with something quick like: “i am a woman” or “i am a student.” those simple attributes are part of your self-schema; if we want to go deeper, body weight is also a self-schema. for people who regard weight as a crucial part of their beliefs, something simple like a gym trip with friends or buying stuff at the supermarket may trigger thoughts about the self. but if a person is aschematic (not concerned by a certain attribute) about body weight, no thoughts will pop up.
we already know that the self is a special object of our attention. whether its a thought or a song, our consciousness is like a spotlight. this means that it can shine on one object at one point in time, yet shift rapidly from one object to another and process information outside of awareness. in this spotlight, the self is at the forefront of our minds. its what's most important to us at that moment. keep this in mind for later!
to finish with the explanations, neurologist Oliver Sacks highlighted two important points about the self:
🩷 there is a private “inner” self, and an “outer” self we show to others. if we don’t self reflect to understand how were feeling, how will we understand our emotions and actions?
🩷 the self is heavily influenced by social factors.
now–what does that last point mean? well, what we think about ourselves is rooted from childhood. if we grow up hearing “you’ll never amount to anything” or “you’re my favorite child” (extreme examples i know), then that's what we’ll ingrain in our self-concept. this notion brings me to the fun stuff–the studies!
is self-concept scientifically proven?
psychologist Gordon Gallup performed a series of studies where he put animals in front of a mirror to test if they could recognize themselves. at first, they vocalized and greeted themselves in the mirror (my dog did this too when he was a pup, he would bark at his own reflection and play with it), but after several days, only great apes seemed capable of self recognition, using the mirror just like any other human would. grooming themselves, making faces… in short, they recognized themselves!
why do i bring this experiment up? well, this proves that the concept of “me” is necessary to define our self-concept. we must first recognize ourselves as Something to become Someone.
using that same study in humans, this process of self-recognition begins between 18-24 months. which means that from this point onwards we start to define Self (consciousness).
you might read this and–admittedly–think: “oh this blog post hasn’t said anything about manifestation!” true, but i want to present the basics or self-concept first to understand how it affects our daily thoughts!
there was another experiment we talked about in one of my lectures (i do not remember who performed this study specifically, but Dr Patrick Heck did one similar to this one and the results were the same), where participants were told to take a test. half of them were told to boast about themselves, and the rest were instructed to describe themselves modestly. naturally, participants who spoke highly of themselves scored higher on these tests than participants who didn’t. so… you all see where i’m going with this.
remember how i said to keep the “consciousness is a spotlight” paragraph in mind? i’ll finally touch on it with this next and last thing i’m gonna talk about (in this post at least!).
we already established that the first step in the evolution of our self-concept is the ability to recognize ourselves as Someone. the second step, however, involves social factors. sociologist Charles Horton Cooley introduced the term looking-glass self to suggest that other people serve as a mirror in which we see ourselves. and another sociologist by the name of George Herbert added that the only way to know ourselves is by imagining the opinions of our significant others and applying them to our self-concepts. sounds familiar?
how do i change my self-concept?
Neville mentioned the “mirror-self” on his conferences too. he said that one of his favorite techniques to better his Self was to imagine a loved one speaking kindly of himself. in his book Your Faith is Your Fortune, Neville wrote: “Stop trying to change the world since it is only the mirror. Man’s attempt to change the world by force is as fruitless as breaking a mirror in the hope of changing his face. Leave the mirror and change your face. Leave the world alone and change your conceptions of yourself. The reflection then will be satisfactory.”
since the self-concept is a library (our perception of Self) made out of self-schemas (books brought to us by our peers), we can see that sometimes, what we think of ourselves is just an amalgamation of beliefs implanted to us by the people in our lives. so if we were given these books we don’t like, why should we keep them in our library?
to change these negative beliefs we have about ourselves, all we have to do is replace them with positive ones. i know, i know, this is what every person who studies loa and manifestation regurgitates over and over. its nothing that hasn’t been posted to numerous blogs or twitter threads before.
however, the point about this whole post is to tell you why that is the only way to change your self-concept. if your daily thoughts are filled with phrases like: “my sp doesn’t want me” and “i’m so broke” or “what’s the point? this is all worthless anyways.” STOP. DROP. CHANGE.
journal. write your limiting beliefs in your ipad, paper, wood, stone–whatever.
use your hands to apply muscle memory. once you have them, CROSS THEM OUT!
i can’t manifest = I CAN MANIFEST EVERYTHING I WANT
i hope i shift tonight = I KNOW I SHIFT EVERY NIGHT
i wish i had money = I HAVE ALL THE MONEY I WANT AND MORE
just those small changes are enough to rewire your entire self-concept. also, exposure. the more exposure you have to something, the more insecure it will make you. if you’re having a hard time manifesting, remove all blogs, twitter accounts, and people that limit your beliefs. less exposure to negativity = less negativity reflected in your self-concept.
problems with the Self will always be there. if you remove a negative belief, another will pop up. all you can do is learn more about your “inner” self and recognize how you’re feeling. what you can do is focus on the positives, and automatically, your self-concept will change.
persist in the assumption until it becomes your reality!
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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
thank you all for making it this far! just in case, the book i got this information from is Social Psychology 11th Edition authored by Kassin, Fein and, H.R. Markus. there’s a lot of interesting information on this academic book that is similar to the ones Dr Joe Dispenza has written, so i could make another post like this in the future! take care!
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leidensygdom · 1 year
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Okay, I will try to explain this topic as well as I can. I will preface this with the fact this comes from personal experiences, and that they may not apply for everyone who has ties to this culture, but let's get to it:
What's the issue with Fortune tellers / "Exotic" circus performers, sexualized belly dancers and other forms of orientalism/Romani depictions?
So, as someone in the TTRPG world (specifically, the DnD community), this sort of trope is seen quite a lot. From the portrayal of Vistani (which has been tried to be fixed, but not... too well), to player characters in home games, as well as popular canon characters and podcasts, it's got quite normalized. Most of these tropes are based on Romani, which is a widespread ethnicity present all across the globe. Now, it feels almost strange to call it orientalism, given how Romani have been in Europe since the Middle Ages, even though they do have roots outside of Europe.
Romani face one of the biggest diaspora in the world: You will find Roma people under many names in very different countries, with cultures and traditions that can clash heavily. Their numbers can range from few hundred in some countries, to over a million in those they have a biggest presence. My own experience is tied to Spanish Roma, known as Gitanos, which is where my mother's side family comes from.
Gitanos are a widespread group, although they're most numerous in the southern part of Spain, Andalusia, where their presence has shaped the culture. Flamenco is thought to have been born from Gitano culture, and it has been adopted as a staple of the Andalusian identity, and the whole of Spain. Gitanos are hard to understand as their own ethnicity in Spain: There's been centuries of Gitanos and Spanish people mixing, and the average Andalusian is quite tan to start with (given Muslim presence there has also been pretty firm). It means it can be hard to "clock" a Spanish Romani person from a non-Romani one. It means you can find Romani people most would consider white, at least by Spanish standards. Most of the discrimination Gitanos face is cultural (and the whole ordeal can be a bit harder to explain from a more US-centric view).
Now, even when Gitanos have influenced Spanish culture a lot, they still face plenty of discrimination. They are one of the most marginalized groups out there. Laws have discriminated against them for centuries, on and off, which have put them in poverty. And poverty often develops into criminality, which has only seeded the idea that Gitanos are criminals, "lowlies", the bottom of society, "uncivilized", etc. Now, here comes a bit of my own experience with this.
My entire family is Andalusian, but both sides moved from there (the south) to Catalonia (north-east) in order to find a job during the Francoist (fascist) dictatorship. I won't get much into the specifics of the Catalan vs Andalusian beef because that's a bit of a massive topic too, but the important thing here is: My mother's side is Romani. My grandma faced some horrifying forms of discrimination, including the theft of her first child during the fascist dictatorship, which was taken from her by nuns (who ran hospitals at the time) to be placed into a "proper" family. (This is something that happened repeatedly at some hospitals during these times).
Now, she had two other children: My mother and my aunt. My aunt remained closely knit to Romani culture, and took part in it, which included marrying a Romani guy. She always did her best efforts to be part of it. I know she was into some culturally-related dances, which included some forms of bellydancing (which is also partially tied to Roma culture). But my mother decided she'd rather cut ties with her culture and become "civilised", by abandoning said culture.
This isn't too uncommon for Gitanos, to be honest. I've met a few people who come from similar backgrounds through my life. One of them was in university, where a fellow classmate gave an oral exposition about how his family had done a great job at "becoming civilised" by cutting ties with their own Roma roots. My university was a fairly progressive space, but no one batted an eye at that: The sheer hatred of Roma culture runs so deep even people who normally abhor racism and xenophobia consider Gitanos to be worth the hate.
There's a social pressure to do that, too. Everyone "knows" Gitano are criminals. I can't really even begin to explain how deeply does this sort of discrimination run. Roma are amongst the most hated minority groups in all of Europe (as well as most of the world). You will find that even in very leftist circles. People will try to erase the fact Roma have their own culture, and just make the world equal to "criminal", call them gy***** (which is a slur, btw), and detach them from being an actual culturally (and often racially) distinct group.
Now, this is only empowered by how media has taken our culture (it is almost hard for me to call it "our", given how much my mother ensured to take that away) and made it into a bad trope. Growing up, I was told my aunt was a sexual deviant who partook in indecent dances. Bellydancing is often seen as something very sexual (Wasn't, in origin), very unfitting. In media, bellydancers veer on the side of being a f*tish, and the common trope is the "bellydancer who seduces people in power for their own benefit". There's also the whole idea of shady fortune tellers and other magical tropes, that sort of weird mysticism that falls rapidly into orientalism. The idea that Roma will hex you, curse you, place an "Evil Eye" on you. And also the idea of travelling circus, people who perform in them being again full of that alluring exoticism, but beware! For they will enchant you, steal from you and run some massive criminal schemes on the way.
Now, when every tie a culture has on media is portrayed in a negative light, it's much harder for that culture to recover any sort of respect from the general populace. And that includes even people who are part of said culture, or people who have been removed from it. It has taken me so many years to unlearn a lot of these biases and realize where it has come from, and now I'm far too distant and far away from my grandmother to actually ever significantly connect to my heritage.
I've had the opportunity to witness what Romani culture is actually about, as I used to live with my grandmother during summers. A lot of the "mysticism" she took part of was actually about wards and protection. A lot of them were actually medicinal in nature, even if others were more superstitious. Red thread in the forehead for sickness and protection to curses, parfums (which contained alcohol or other antiseptics) on wounds, that stuff. My aunt was never a "sexual" deviant, she was keen on recovering and partaking on traditions from a culture that is slowly disappearing. The entire "promiscuous" idea is bullshit, Gitanos place a massive amount of power to marriage and loyalty. I had the luck to witness my cousin's marriage, which was a festivity like none other I had seen in my life, a colorful spectacle full of the most delightful attires, and my mother was whining the entire time over about how it was all an "uncivilised circus".
Now, this is why representation in media is key. Roma culture is broken into a thousand pieces and lost with every passing day. When someone decides to write an ambulant circus performer/fortune teller clad in exotic clothes full of golden jewellery, writes them as a criminal and makes the entire thing extremely sexual, they are feeding into the negative stereotypes about Roma.
Now, there's a lot of people who aren't even aware what culture does that trope even actually come from. I've seen people draw characters clad in Romani attires (often in, uh, rather pin-up or sexual contexts) and claim they're inspired by "x piece of media", where the trope is portrayed in the first place. I literally saw someone make a drawing in that way and call it "inspired by x (non-Roma) artist" instead of acknowledging where does all that come from.
I'm not asking people to not portray Roma people in media. Far from that. I just wish representation was better. Good representation is key towards making a culture seen in a more positive light, and teaching other peoples about it, and making people from said culture resonate with it. The very few times I've seen positive representations of Roma I've felt a bit of that connection with something that was taken from me. I want people to do a bit of research before giving a try to a Roma-coded character. Make an effort to not make Roma always the morally dubious fortune teller, the exotic alluring circus traveller, the bellydancer seductress. It's hard for Romani to produce widespread mainstream media because of how impoverished most communities are (because of the systematic discrimination Roma face all around the world), so the least non-Roma people can do is to be kind when they use their voice to talk or represent us.
I know this is a massive post, and I'm tagging it as "long post" for that reason, but I hope it is helpful for people. Feel free to ask or add your own experience if this is something that resonates with you too. Ask away if you want. I've been wanting to tell a bit my own personal experience, as this has always been a hard spot for me, and even if just a handful of people read this and understand what is this all about, I think it will have been worth it.
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vasito-de-leche · 1 month
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;R1999 - Self-Aware AU
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Headcanons about an Alternate Universe in which everyone knows they're living inside a videogame. However, Vertin is the only one aware of the entity inhabiting her own mind, the real conductor - the "Player".
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this is one of my favorite AUs to slap on whatever media I'm into so here we are <3 not sure if anyone's done this already, but PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE link me if you've seen any other ppl write for this AU! this one and any actor AUs are my absolute fave
this is just a word vomit introduction for fun, to get the basic ideas out of my head, so I can start writing for characters individually!
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Okay, okay! First of all, some context for the AU before I go deranged overexplaining my HCs!
Aside from the "Storm", there is something else that haunts the people of this world: the fact that their lives are nothing but a simulacrum, part of a game.
The requirements to obtain this "self-awareness" is unknown. Those within the Foundation believe it's related to their respective "roles", that only the main and relevant characters are given the chance to fully open their eyes to the truth. Those within Manus Vindictae claim that one must be strong enough to break through the fog of complacency and their assigned scripts, to have their full potential unleashed and obtain true liberation. Either way, similar to the "Storm", this is a well-kept secret for a very good reason - everyone wants to have the upperhand.
There is one outlier to this whole system. Vertin is not only aware of the truth of this world, but also of her duty as the eyes and hands of the "Player". She must experience it all for their sake. Or rather, whatever she experiences will be the story that the Player will see.
This applies to her suitcase, the place where the Player's influence increases tenfold, bending everything and everyone to their will through her own body and voice. The longer one stays within her suitcase - or within her general vicinity - the easier it is for them to become self-aware.
How does one become "self-aware" and what does it entail?
The requirements and the catalyst for a character to become self-aware are still a mystery. But that's mostly because I specifically wanted to keep them as vague as possible, to allow some flexibility for NPCs and other characters outside of Vertin's suitcase.
The whole process of gaining sentience or self-awareness is mostly described as waking up from a nightmare, or a very, very realistic dream. It's like a switch, something that happens in a second without any warnings whatsoever.
I like to think that most of the people who wake up are easy to spot, because it's a jarring experience and panicking is the most normal reaction - but that they're often taken care of by the Foundation or recruited by Manus Vindictae.
The levels of awareness also depend heavily on each individual - some only know that nothing is truly real, that everything they've done up until that point was just a carefully scripted lie, the most basic realization. Others can understand the rules that govern this game and use them to their advantage, either through observation and study or just inherently.
Overall, the experience of being sentient varies as well, with some describing a disconnect from their body, while others feel exactly the opposite. Again, keeping it pretty vague so that people can fill in with their own ideas!
I'll talk about Vertin's case in detail when we get to her specific bullet point, but the same way the Player is able to experience the "story" through her eyes, she's able to see the same things they do - this includes the UI, the menus and everything you can interact with in-game.
Vertin as a character and a vessel for the Player.
The most common thing I've seen in self-aware AUs in my years of fandom is to turn the player stand-in (the main character that serves for the player to experience the story through and/or project onto, depending on the genre of the game) into an obstacle, one that keeps the characters from truly interacting with the Player, capital P.
The second most common thing I've seen is to simply ignore the existence of this player stand-in and replace it with the Player themself, either through isekai methods or thanks to the customization the game allows, etc etc.
When it comes to Vertin in this AU, I know I want her to retain her role as the center of everything, instead of being sidelined by the Player. She's THE Timekeeper, after all.
There's still some details I'm trying to iron out, like whether she's always been self-aware or if she became self-aware at some point during her childhood at the St. Pavlov Foundation. But I like to think that her relationship to the Player is a parallel to her immunity to the "Storm" - neither of these two things are inherently good nor bad. Surviving the "Storm" is helpful, sure, but it's painful for her. Having an entity like the "Player" haunting her is scary, sure, but it can be an advantage. It's a matter of how she utilizes the assets she was given, since her adaptability and determination are big aspects of her character. Vertin makes up for her mediocre arcane skills with unconventional plans and strategies.
But this isn't to say that Vertin isn't affected by the presence of the Player. Ironically, she's the one person whose freedom is limited. During battles, her skills and Tuning are available to you, they can also prove to be vital to win a fight, but in the end you're still the one calling the shots and choosing when her friends get to attack. You're the one choosing the layout of the Wilderness. You're the one picking which one of her friends deserves to become stronger.
In the last bullet point I mentioned that some characters can understand the rules of the game - Vertin is the most extreme case, as she can see the same UI as you do. She learns the way you like to fight your battles, your own strategies, she can see this and more.
Overall it's a very complex dynamic. It's not as easy as saying that she likes or dislikes you, that she considers you a friend or foe. You're part of her, you influence each other in many aspects and are stuck together for reasons she can't even fathom. While you may be able to read her thoughts most of the time, she becomes invisible once you enter the suitcase - the main menu of the game. Sure, the character you selected to greet you every day is actually talking to her, not you, but she's out of your view and therefore, out of our range. That's when Vertin wonders the sort of person that you are, if you care about her friends as much as she does. Are you playing just to be entertained? Are you invested in these events? Will you be there for her until the end of her story?
Another detail I like to think about is that Vertin is the only one who knows your name. Because at the very beginning, you were asked to input a name and she was there.
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[screenshot was taken from this video, since it's the first one I could find that showed this specific part of the game lol]
Well, "your name" not quite right - she knows that whatever you wrote there is the name linked to your account, at least. And that's the name she knows you as.
Those who take residence in Vertin's suitcase or spend prolonged amounts of time with her, growing closer to her and all, end up becoming self-aware. This is a direct side-effect of your presence.
I like to think that characters who reach the 100% Bond can begin to sense the Player, to see the world in a similar way as Vertin does. Maybe even feel their presence EXACTLY like Vertin does whenever there's a battle. There is someone else on the other side of this screen, the fourth wall, who watches over them.
To some, it's hard to differentiate Vertin from the Player, as they just go hand in hand - but Sonetto, for example, has the easiest time telling the two apart.
On the subject of freedom and acting out of script.
The Foundation, Manus Vindictae, Laplace... It doesn't matter if they're self-aware and acting outside of what their script dictates, because they're missing one key ingredient: you. No one else but Vertin and her group knows about your existence, after all.
They don't know that the only story that matters is the one that Vertin is part of. The one that the Player gets to see and read and experience. And because the game gives you a very limited view into the lives of these characters, you don't know what neither Arcana nor Constantine do behind the scenes. You and Vertin don't see that, therefore, it never truly mattered.
Those most likely to start "acting out" are the troublemakers within Vertin's suitcase. Characters who are too curious for their own good, who are more susceptible to supernatural entities, who are just too impulsive - they would start to test the limits and see how far they can go, how much they can interact with the Player. Can the game be broken should they end up shattering the fourth wall? Is there a way for the Player to communicate with them? What will happen to Vertin?
I like to think that Vertin probably supports this, as she's rather curious herself, prone to questioning everything. She would also like to learn more about the Player, to truly tear into the game and see the full extent of your influence and her freedom.
Sometimes, Regulus and X will change their usual voicelines, just enough to be noticeable if one pays enough attention. Characters like Sotheby or Leilani might slip up and address the Player, rather than Vertin. Lilya, Pavia, Bkornblume have new animations and different expressions, ones you've never seen before - they stare ahead, as if searching for something, and then smirk or hum to themselves, deep in thought, like they realized something you're not privy of.
Sometimes, if you leave them as your selected assistant on the main menu, you can catch them muttering to themselves - idle quotes you never heard enough, about the outside world. Diggers does this the most, it's almost embarassing how easy it is to catch him talking nonsense, followed by Sonetto. If you leave Medicine Pocket alone for too long, you might come back to a screen covered in weird scratch marks.
On the subject of these characters being curious about the outside world and all, I think that a good chunk of them are generally content with the way things are?
We have to remember that in-universe, they're arcanists displaced from their respective eras. Their best chance at surviving is siding with Vertin, and if Vertin is content with the way things are, then there's no point in trying to disrupt what they have right now. They're curious enough to prod, but only as far as Vertin allows it.
And I think that's it for the word vomit!
There are some details I didn't know where to fit in, like the possibility of the fourth wall slowly dissipating the more time the Player invests in the game, leading to some characters being able to directly hear you if you talk while playing and whatnot. Or what would happen should someone outside of Vertin's suitcase figure out the existence of the Player, let alone interact with you in some way.
Or the concept of death being meaningless, unless it was pre-established by the game itself.
In Borderlands, there's this game mechanic where you can just be revived over and over and pay a percentage of your money as a fee, even though the canon that's established is that you play through the whole story without dying a SINGLE time - because the revival mechanics aren't canon. There's the divide between story and gameplay. That's pretty much the standard. But what about the deaths in battles in R1999? The amount of times I died to 1.3's UTTU's Flash Gathering is insane. How do self-aware characters feel about this, now that they know that they're bound to die over and over and be brought back because you have to do your Pneuma Analysis or reach the final stage of Limbo?
But that's pretty much it for now, I think I got most thoughts out of my system! Thank you for reading!
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hii! here's my other piece from the zine Sing It Like The Kids That Are Mean To You (created by @thrashbeatles and laid out by @birdloaf, get your physical copy here (when its in stock) and your digital copy here)
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Pete Wentz is, in many ways, the driving force behind Fall Out Boy, and he is a biracial black man. It is no surprise, then, that blackness is ever-present within the band’s art, through genre, through lyrics, through politics. Let’s talk about how race colours their work.
            To start, black genre influences are scattered throughout the band’s discography. The album art of Take This to Your Grave is an homage to John Coltrane’s iconic album Blue Train. Infinity on High is filled to the brim with funk, soul and R&B influences on songs like I’m Like a Lawyer with the Way I’m Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You) and This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race. American Beauty/American Psycho was an experiment in emulating mixtape culture, filled with samples and electronic beats, and getting its own remix album, Make America Psycho Again. M A  N   I    A drew its influence from dancehall and reggae, especially on Sunshine Riptide and HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T. They haven’t been shy about incorporating black genres into their work, and in fact, it seems to be a staple for them.
            Additionally, Pete Wentz’s lyricism in and of itself is in fact heavily influenced by black art, and one could argue it is quintessentially the work of a black poet. In his lyrics are strategic plays on words, inversions and remixes of classic phrases, and an endless stream of cultural references, all akin to the wit and flow of a rapper. Think lines like “I’m a painter and I’m drawing a blank,” or “You take the full, full truth and you pour some out.” Indeed, in his words you’ll even find braggadocio, a staple in hip hop, though his comes with a helping of self-deprecation, like in the line “Signing off, I’m alright in bed but I’m better with a pen/The kid was alright then it went to his head.” This is arguably a feature which endears so many people to his work, and it is the one which shows his blackness most evidently.
            Finally, while Fall Out Boy itself is not an overtly political act, the band has at times used their music to espouse black politics. In You’re Crashing, But You’re No Wave, the lyrics tell the story of Fred Hampton Jr’s conviction for aggravated arson following the 1992 LA riots protesting the acquittal of the police officers who murdered Rodney King. The song Novocaine also deals with black politics, being inspired by the murder of Trayvon Martin and primarily about the corruption of and threat posed by the police to black youth.
            The core idea behind Fall Out Boy is to make music “for the kids who feel like they don’t fit in anywhere”. When that sentiment is espoused by a man who grew up as part of the only black family in his neighbourhood, it gains a whole new meaning. Fall Out Boy is, in a very real way, for niggas.
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bradshawssugarbaby · 4 months
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Home For Christmas - Jake Seresin x OC
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A/N: This is my entry for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge, with the trope childhood friends. I was watching a lot of romcoms last night and felt inspired, it's definitely heavily influenced by 13 Going on 30, Just Friends + Sweet Home Alabama. (I realize only one of those is set in the winter, but I digress). I'm debating a part two/epilogue as well, if anyone is interested! Also super proud of this one, because it's the longest fic I've ever written.
pairing: Jake Seresin x OC
warnings/content: none, lots of fluff and pining. Jake's been promoted to Captain. Probably a lot of inaccuracies.
word count: 7.7k (literally my longest one yet, I'm sorry)
tagging anyone who might be interested: @littleenglishfangirl, @floydsmuse, @sailor-aviator, @mamachasesmayhem 🤍
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December, 1999
“Jake! Jake, wait up!” 
“Run faster then, I gotta get home before the street lights come on or my mama’s gonna be so mad she won’t let you come over tomorrow!” 
“Jake, your mama’s not gonna say no to me comin’ over and you know it.”
“Jenna, how you ever gonna keep up with me when I join the navy and start having to run a few miles every day?”
Jake turned around to face you for a moment, running backwards with a grin plastered on his face, his baby-faced cheeks red from the cold, his green eyes full of mischief as he watched you try and keep up with him. His sandy blonde hair stuck out slightly from underneath his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap, a handmedown from his older brother that he rarely left home without since Matt had given it to him. He stopped running, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, the cold air stinging his throat as he panted. You finally managed to close the distance between the two of you, raising an eyebrow as you panted, your own cheeks ruddy from the combination of cold winter air and physical activity. 
You and Jake had been best friends as long as you could remember. In eleven years, you couldn’t name a single time where the two of you had as much as had a disagreement, or went more than a few hours without talking to one another. Your mothers had been best friends in high school, and you two were destined to be best friends since birth - born four days apart in the same hospital, living on the same street and having your first play date at 10 and 7 days old. Jake was four days older than you, and he never let you forget it when it came to matters where age or maturity played a role. However, where Jake had four days more experience in the world, you had multitudes more experience in dealing with hardship than any eleven-year-old child should have. 
Where Jake had the picture-perfect family - a mom, a dad, an older sister, an older brother and him, all living in perfect harmonious happiness, never as much as a doubt as to whether or not there was love in his household, you had the opposite. An absent father, an only child, and a mother who worked two jobs to try and make life better for the two of you, you spent almost every waking minute with Jake and his family, not only as an escape to experience the happy, blissfully carefree life he lived, but also, as a favour to your mother, with Mrs. Seresin often volunteering to care for you when your mother had to work late or work on weekends. 
You were at the Seresin home almost every night, with Jake’s mother fussing over her best friend’s daughter, helping her lifelong friend however she could in guiding her little girl, you acting as the surrogate daughter that part of her had always wanted. Jake’s father trying to fill in the blanks where your father had lacked - offering to coach sports teams and including you in games of catch with Jake and his brother, taking you and the boys to get new baseball gloves or soccer cleats when needed, taking the three of you for ice cream after a big achievement in life. Jake’s 16 year old sister, Bethany, would take time to do your hair in the mornings before school whenever she had a chance, offering to do it in all the fun styles she and her friends wore, the kind you were often envious of, passing you old tubes of lip gloss she had lingering around in her backpack on your way to school, encouraging you to use them to your hearts content.  Even Matt, who at 14, thought his brother and his brother’s friends were the most irritating beings in existence, had offered you old sports jerseys of his that no longer fit, teasing you the same way he’d tease Jake, treating you like the little sister he never had. 
Until this past summer, you found yourself wishing most days that Jake’s family would just adopt you, let your mother move in with them and the two of you could just officially be a part of their fun, bustling family that served as your cheerful escape from life. However, when elementary school ended in June with middle school looming around the corner, Bethany had pulled you aside to talk to you about the transition between schools. 
“You know, middle school is…different. It’s not bad. It’s just…things change sometimes. You and Jake might start going on dates with people from school, and it might change your relationship. It happens,” She’d said matter of factly, not mincing words as she shrugged her shoulders, fixing her frosted eyeshadow in the mirror before turning to face you again.
“You might even develop feelings for each other.”
At the time, her words didn’t hold meaning for you. You and Jake had been best friends since Jake was four days old. Your moms were best friends. You practically lived in their home. There was no way things could change between you. You could never have a crush on Jake. He was Jake, the boy who would hide under his mama’s kitchen table with you and a flashlight, swapping baseball cards with one another, the boy who, when you were six-years-old, you’d witnessed eat an entire package of Oreos, then laughed at as he proceeded to throw up an hour later from the sheer volume of chocolate-vanilla sandwich cookies he’d consumed that day. Jake could never be someone you’d have a crush on. He was your best friend. That would never change.
It was two weeks later when Jake had been on the baseball diamond, pitching an inning of Little League with you in the stands watching on. His baseball cap had been flipped backwards to mimic one of his favourite major league players, his green eyes narrowing in concentration with every pitch he threw out. His golden blonde hair poked out the front of his baseball cap, much like it was doing today, on this cold January evening. His focus was on nothing but baseball, while yours was on everything but when it came to him. When he happened to look your way during the game, you felt a weird feeling in your stomach - a bubbling sensation, like nerves that couldn’t be settled. Your cheeks flushed, turning a pale pink as they became warm to the touch, reddening slightly as you felt Bethany’s gaze fall on you, a grin forming on her face as you proved her right about how your feelings were evolving for Jake. 
Since that day, you’d found yourself continuing to crush on him, each day your feelings grew deeper and more intense than the day before. At this point, you almost swore you could see yourself marrying him one day. You had to admit, you knew everything there was to know about him, you always had fun with him, and he was always happy to see you - you were convinced you two could be as happy and as in love as his parents were someday when you and Jake got older. You’d never tell Jake, you just hoped and prayed that he’d realize one day that he felt the same way about you as you felt about him. You knew there was always the chance that it might not happen, but you didn’t want to think about that.  In fact, as far as you were concerned, you hoped that there was never a day where Jake didn’t love you as wholeheartedly as your little eleven year old self loved him.
❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 
Present Day
“Jake, please, come back. I miss you,”
“I miss you too, Jenna, I’m coming home to you. It’s always been you.”
The ear-piercing screech of your phone’s alarm blared from your nightstand, interrupting your dream as it screamed at you. You rolled over in bed, groaning as you clumsily stuck your hand out, feeling around on the wooden side table for your phone to silence it and allow yourself a few more moments of peace and quiet before you had to start your day. The last think you wanted right now was to let this dream slip away on you - it was the closest you’d ever find yourself to Jake professing his love for you after all these years, and you clung to it whenever it cropped up in your mind as you slept. 
Jake had always been the one-who-got-away for you. You spent your entire middle school years trying to hide your feelings for him, refusing to break until he said how he felt first. You were 13 when he got his first girlfriend, Tiffany Donaldson, a girl in your class. Tiffany was pretty and popular, something that you couldn’t claim for yourself in either case - growing up with Jake, you were seen as more of a teammate or a sister-figure than anything else, despite his sister’s best efforts to help you shake that connection somewhat. After Tiffany, you two had begun high school, and Jake made the football team, and the baseball team. As the school’s star runningback and starting pitcher for the varsity team, Jake was popular beyond words. No one could hold a candle to him, and as his popularity soared because of his athletic prowess in school, you faded further and further back into obscurity, the limelight falling from you and onto someone new each time Jake began dating another girl. Eventually, by the time graduation rolled around, you and Jake had all but fallen out of touch with each other outside of family get-togethers shared between your mothers. 
You had just worked up the courage to tell him your feelings at the graduation party Jake’s parents had thrown for you both, convincing yourself that it was perfect timing - Jake had accepted an offer at the University of Texas at Austin, keeping close to home as he planned to study finance, his secret talent having always been math. You’d accepted an offer to study communications at the same school, and with both of you remaining local, it would be the perfect time to tell him how you felt and attempt a relationship with him, or so you thought.
Before the words could even leave your mouth, Jake was excitedly pulling you aside at the party, stopping outside of his childhood bedroom, the place where the two of you had often played as kids. His green eyes were full of excitement as he looked at you, causing your heart to race as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, making it hard to concentrate on his words. You almost didn’t hear him when he spoke, you were so transfixed on him. If the news had been anything else, you probably wouldn’t have even registered what he’d said the first time. You could still hear the excitement in his voice as he told you his news, and still feel the ache in the pit of your stomach as his words fell on your ears.
“I got accepted! I’m going to the Naval Academy, Jenna, can you believe it? I’m going to serve in the Navy, just like I always wanted. I’m going to be the best aviator they’ve ever seen. Just you watch.” 
Jake’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement as he’d told you his news, and it took everything you had in you to not fall apart as he spoke. While you knew he’d always dreamed of being a naval aviator, as long as you could remember, the news hit you like a ton of bricks, unexpected and hard as it rendered you speechless, leaving you nodding your head and smiling like an idiot while inside you wanted nothing more than to scream out how you felt. You knew this could never work out between you now. Your chance was gone, moving away to Maryland and joining the Navy before you’d even had a second to realize what was happening when he spoke. 
That was 17 years ago, and the moment still haunted you from time to time, more than you’d like to admit to anyone. At first, you’d kept in touch with Jake and his family, seeing Jake when he came home for holidays and such at first, but then, as you and Jake began entering your first romantic relationships as adults, you found yourselves including each other less and less in your lives. With each boyfriend you had, you realized more and more that you could never love them the way you loved Jake -he’d always be your first love, regardless of how he felt in return. When Jake graduated, he’d been stationed at NAS Lemoore, swapping Maryland for California. You’d still hear the odd update from your mother, who remained in touch with Jake’s parents, but otherwise, you didn’t ask much about Jake’s adult life. You knew he’d never married, that he’d become a Top Gun graduate, and held true to his word about becoming one of the greatest fighter pilots in the United States Navy, but other than that, you knew little about his life now. Last you had heard, last Christmas, he’d been stationed in San Diego. 
You sat up in bed, yawning and stretching your body out before heaving a heavy sigh and shaking your head to rid yourself of thoughts of Jake. You were preparing for a trip back home to Texas for the holidays, spending three weeks back with your mother, part of you wishing and longing for Jake to be visiting his family at the same time, while the other part of you prayed he was staying in California or serving a tour so he wouldn’t be able to be there while you were. It had been close to 15 years since you’d seen him, and the last thing you needed was to be reminded of how you strongly you felt. You didn’t need the help from seeing him. The memories of him were more than enough to keep you clinging on. 
Your phone rang and with bleary eyes, you picked it up, pressing the green button to answer the call.
“Good morning, sweetheart!” Your mother practically sang out in a voice that was far too cheerful for anyone to have at this hour. 
“Hi mama, what’s up? My flight doesn’t land until this evening.” 
“Well, I was talking to Mrs. Seresin about Jake, Matt and Bethany…” Your mother’s voice trailed off as she spoke, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mention of Jake.
“Mhmm?” You responded as you stood up, balancing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you folded a sweatshirt and set it down neatly on the bed, waiting to be packed.
“It turns out both of us are having our kids home for Christmas! Bethany’s coming down from Dallas with her husband and their little ones, and Matt’s coming from Oklahoma City with his fiancee, and Jake’s flying in on leave from California. He’s made his way up to Captain now, you know, Jenna. He’s made quite the career for himself.”
“Mama, I don’t need a sales pitch on why Jake Seresin is the perfect man for me, ok? He hasn’t seen me in years. He probably wouldn’t even recognize me if he saw me.”
“You never know. But I expect you to dress nicely for their Christmas party. You and I have been invited to join them, and I already said you would gladly be attending.”
“Of course you did. So Jake will be there, then?”
“I think his flight lands just before yours does today, actually. His mama and I were actually discussing if we should just carpool together to pick you both up like back when you two were in school together. Remember that? We used to take turns carting you kids back and forth from home to school.”
“I remember, mama. Don’t worry.”
“Anyway…we were talking and it turns out, Jake happens to be single.”
“Mama, why would I care that Jake’s single?” You replied, trying to sound as level-headed as possible. 
“Please, Jenna. You really think I don’t know about this crush of yours you’ve been harbourin’ for years?” You could hear the laughter in your mother’s tone as she spoke, and it stung, almost as though your feelings had betrayed you.
“Mama! I haven’t had a crush on Jake in years. Not since he left for the Navy.”
“Of course not…just, do me a favour? Wear something nice for that Christmas party, ok?”
“Sure, Mama, whatever you say.”
You finished the conversation with your mother and let out an exasperated sigh as you tossed your phone onto your bed beside you. You had to be at the airport in three hours, leaving you little time to completely reconfigure your wardrobe for the next few weeks at home in Austin. Peering into your closet, scanning the items as they sat on wire hangers in the tiny space, you frowned, realizing that nothing was worthy of a reunion with Jake after all these years. At the back of the closet, you found a black, form-fitting sweater dress that you hadn’t worn in years, but, as you held it up to yourself in the mirror, you figured it could work. Part of you hoped this reunion could be the thing that’d remind Jake of what he was missing out on for the last 17 years. 
As you finished packing your suitcase, you zipped it closed with a sigh, shaking your head as you tried to calm your nerves before getting yourself ready for your flight. There was a chance you could see Jake at the airport, and you knew you had to look your best, just in case. 
❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 
The flight from Chicago to Austin was the most painful three hours of your life. You tried to focus your attention on anything but Jake, but every movie saved on your phone, every book on your tablet, and every thought that crossed your mind was filled with him. You tried reminding yourself that he could be a totally different person from who he was when you were 18. That he could look completely different, act completely different - that he may not even know who you are anymore. The thought of Jake forgetting you was suffocating, closing in on you a little bit more every time it creeped into your mind. You took a deep breath as you departed the plane, your eyes scanning the crowd for your mother as you gripped your carry-on. Your face went white as a sheet as you saw her standing with Mrs. Serensin, both of whom waved frantically with excitement as they saw you.
“Jenna! It’s been so long, darlin’, how have you been? Your mama’s told me lots, but I feel like it’s no substitute for getting to see you in person!” 
“Hi, Mrs. Serensin! I’ve been ok, how have you guys been? Haven’t seen you in about, 15 years? I think I saw y’all the one visit after Jake shipped out, but I haven’t been home much for the holidays, Mama’s usually up in Chicago visiting me.”
“We’ve been good, Bethany has two boys now, Easton and Dylan, and Matt’s met this girl, Alexis, she’s wonderful, a real sweetheart. He’s gettin’ married next summer. “
“Oh, that’s great news!” You replied cheerfully, fighting the instinct to bite your lip as she failed to mention where Jake was at in life. 
“We better get going, Julie, Jake’s plane’s about to land,” Your mother said as she grabbed Mrs. Seresin’s arm excitedly, nodding her head.
“Oh, I thought Jake landed earlier?” 
“He was meant to, but his flight got delayed, he’s landing in a few minutes now, I think.”
You nodded your head slowly, reluctantly following behind as your mom and Mrs. Serensin led the way to Jake’s terminal, biting the inside of your cheek as your eyes followed the signage as you walked past. You tried your best to focus on something, anything, but your nerves but so far, your nerves were winning. You were terrified. What if Jake hated you for not staying in touch? What if he forgot all about you? What if you were the last person he wanted to see? What he if came through those doors with a surprise girlfriend on his arm?
“Ma!” You heard a voice call out. You looked up to see a tall, handsome man with neatly combed blonde hair, piercing green eyes and sunkissed skin. His naval uniform was still perfectly pressed without a crease on it somehow after his flight, and he looked perfect. You knew in an instant that it was him.
“Ms. T?” He chuckled as he shook his head, pulling back from his mother’s embrace as he gave your mother a heartfelt hug, before pausing as he looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head, his blonde eyebrow cocked upwards in surprise. 
“Jenna?”
“The one and only,” You shrugged with a smile as you tried your best to play it cool, forgetting for a moment that at 35 years old, you shouldn’t be getting tongue-tied and start giggling like a schoolgirl over a crush. The mere fact that you still had a crush on Jake was enough to make you feel like a fool.
“It’s nice to see ya, Jenna,” Jake nodded as he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you into his embrace. You breathed in the scent of his cologne, notes of whiskey and cedarwood encircling you as his grip remained tight, yet comfortable around you, as if he was hugging his long lost friend, which, he was in a sense. 
“Nice to see you too, Jake,” You nodded once as he pulled away, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at him, trying to commit this moment to memory before it drifted away on you. 
You swore out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mothers exchange a look with one another, a secret signal to one another, as if a master plan of theirs was underway, and everything was beginning to come together before their eyes.  
As the four of you headed out to the car together, you caught yourself repeatedly stealing glances at Jake. He hadn’t changed hardly at all since you saw him last, apart from gaining some muscle, and his cheekbones and jawline becoming a bit more defined as he’d aged. He looked incredible for 35, if you didn’t know him, you likely would have guessed he was barely 30, and you couldn’t help but feel yourself fall deeper with each stolen look at him. 
“So, you’re Captain Seresin now then?” You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him, hoping to break the silence brewing between the two of you.
“Yeah, this past April! I didn’t expect to get it, to be honest.”
Jake’s cheeks reddened as he smiled at you, trying to appear modest as he spoke of his accomplishments in the Navy since you’d last seen him. He had always used to have an ego so big that it’d rival some of the aircraft around in size, especially as a teenager - he was good and he knew he was good when it came to sports. It was part of what drove the two of you apart, but around you? He was modest like he always had been before, acting embarrassed by the achievements he’d otherwise never shut up about. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jake was nervous around you. Jake Seresin, the only service member on active duty with multiple confirmed kills, the US Naval Air Force Captain who’s served for the last 17 years without as much as a scratch on him, the man who graduated top of his class from the Top Gun program, where only the best of the best are selected to participate. Jake Seresin had no need to be nervous about impressing you. He could have impressed you by simply looking your way - but for some reason, he was nervous around you, reduced to a blushing, modest mess.
❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 
“Jake’s such a lovely boy,” Your mother said as she sipped her morning coffee, eyes fixated on the news program on her television set. 
“He’s 35, mama, he’s hardly a boy now.”
“Fine, Jake’s a lovely man, he’s still just as sweet as I remember him being when he was young. He comes back to visit whenever he gets a leave and stays for a few days, and he always stops by to say hello - he even asks about you sometimes.”
“He asks about me?”
“He sure does, he asked Julie about you the other day, in fact. He was asking if you’d be home this time at Christmas. Seems you two always come back to visit on opposite schedules and never run into each other. He was saying he’d like to see you again, Jenna.”
Your mother’s words hung in the air for a moment. You took a sip from your coffee mug and furrowed your brow as you thought it over. You dismissed your mother’s words as nothing more than an attempt to set you and Jake up on a date, one that you figured Jake wasn’t going to be a willing participant of. 
“Oh Mama, hush, he probably just said that to be polite because he figured I’d be coming home for the holidays anyway.”
“Jenna, why are you always so stubborn?” Your mother frowned, shaking her head as she let out an exasperated sigh.
“I’m not stubborn, I’m just…practical. I’m the only one who seems to realize the fact that Jake and I haven’t seen each other in 17 years, Mama. We’re not the same people we were when we were 18. He could be a serial womanizer with a series of broken hearts left behind waiting for him in California for all I know. He could have 17 kids by different women, or be a serial killer, Mama. I literally know nothing about him anymore.”
“Jenna Elizabeth Taylor, you’re just being ridiculous now,” Your mother frowned as she shook her head, sighing, “I think Julie would have mentioned it if Jake was a father, and do you really think he’s the type to go around breaking hearts for fun? Besides, how could he be a serial killer if he’s busy flying around on missions all the time?”
“You’re missing my point, Ma.”
“No, Jenna, I think you’re missing mine,” She sighed, setting her mug down on the table as she pursed her lips, “My point is, I know you’ve been holding out for him for years. He’s asked his mama about you, he’s been asking if you were coming home, he stops in to see me whenever he comes home - do you really think he’d do all that if he didn’t still feel something for you?”
“Mama, I’m not going to make a fool of myself and throw myself at him, contrary to what you think would work.”
You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and when you turned on your heel, you stood face to face with Jake, now sporting a fitted pair of acid-washed light denim jeans and a burnt orange Texas Longhorns football jersey and a brown corduroy bomber jacket shrugged on over top. His blonde hair peaked out from behind his beloved baseball cap, you’d swear it was the same one he’d been wearing since he was 15 if you didn’t know any better, this hat looked like it had been through hell and back.
He’d let himself in through the unlocked front door, almost certainly at your mother’s previous insistence or invitation. His cheeks were blushing again, his green eyes darting between the two of you, a blonde eyebrow cocked upwards as his gaze landed on you.
“Throw yourself at who?” He chuckled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth your way as gave you that same grin that he always did when you were kids. It was the kind of smile that always got him out of trouble, and sometimes, into trouble, depending on the situation. 
“No one,” You said quickly, shooting your mother a warning glance as you shook your head, a few strands of light brown hair falling free from your half-assed ponytail that you’d thrown it up into the night before for bed. You realized that Jake was now standing in your mother’s living room while you were sporting an oversized old Texas Longhorns tee and a pair of sweatpants - not ideal attire for seeing a man you were attracted to in, regardless of your protests about your feelings to your mother. 
“Right,” Jake nodded his head, but the tone in his voice told you he didn’t quite believe a word you were saying, “I know this isn’t a great time, but Ma wanted me to check and see if you and Ms. T were still able to make it tonight, she wanted me to ask in person, and she wanted me to see if you needed my help bringing anything over, she said you were bringing your famous taco dip, Ms. T? I can bring the dish over now for you if you’d like, Ma’s cleared out the fridge of anything that isn’t a necessity for the party so there’s tons of room.”
“Sure, Jake, honey, it’s in the fridge, Jenna can show you where, I just have to run upstairs and grab something to send to your mama’s with you,” Your mother said as she stood up, heading off up the stairs quicker than you could say a word, leaving you and Jake alone in an awkward stance, nothing but the sound of the morning news to fill the silent void between you, until Jake cleared his throat again before pointing his index finger towards the kitchen.
“In here? I’m sure I can find it if you need to go upstairs and get changed.” 
“I’m fine, not like you haven’t seen me in pajamas before, Jake.”
“Well, in my defense, last time we were like, 12.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen a woman in an oversized tee and sweatpants before,” You shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to be completely unbothered by the fact you felt like you were dressed like an absolute slob right now. 
“Alright, lead the way then,” Jake nodded as he followed behind you. 
You felt his eyes make their way down your body, and you swore you could hear him muttering something under his breath as he sauntered into the kitchen after you. You couldn’t make out what he had said, but it sounded almost like a “Jesus Christ” before he coughed and averted his gaze as you turned to face him. You opened the fridge and grabbed the dish containing your mom’s taco dip before setting it on the counter for Jake to take home. You raised an eyebrow at Jake as you caught him staring in your direction, a look of bewilderment on his face. 
“You good, Hangman?”
“Hmm?” Jake said as he shook his head, an awkward laugh escaping his lips as he raised an eyebrow at you, “How did you know my callsign?”
“Because it’s on the back of your jersey, genius.”
Jake raised an eyebrow as he looked down, as if he’d forgotten what shirt he was wearing today. He nodded his head and laughed as he ran a hand through the back of his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back up at you. 
“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just, uh, jet-lagged, I think.”
“Jet-lagged? Isn’t only two hours behind us in San Diego?”
“You can still feel jet-lag with a two hour difference, Jenna.”
“I’m not stupid, Jake, I know that, but you seem…distracted? Not tired.”
“I’m fine, honest,” He nodded as he shoved his hands into his front pockets, looking around the kitchen as you checked the fridge for the extra shredded cheese and green onions your mother had prepared the night before to top the dip she’d made. 
“Suit yourself, Jake,” You laughed as you set everything out on the counter for him and nodded, “If you give me five minutes to get dressed, I’ll help you bring it over.”
“Five minutes? God, I remember you taking 30 minutes to get ready when we were kids.”
“I was 12, it was 2000, I needed more time to perfect my lip gloss routine. Now I just have to put something warmer and nicer on than a t-shirt and sweatpants.”
“Fair enough, I can wait here. Your mama said she’d back down in a minute with something for Ma anyways.”
“Right, I’ll be back down in five.” 
You turned around and headed back up the stairs, sighing softly to yourself as you entered your childhood bedroom, opening your suitcase as you grabbed out a pair of jeans and a vintage crewneck sweatshirt. You tidied your hair up into a neat ponytail before heading back down the stairs to meet Jake, who was currently talking to your mother in the kitchen, his body leaning against the counter as he spoke. Jake looked up at you, straightening his posture as he saw you. He picked the taco dip up from the counter, along with the reusable shopping bag your mother had packed up of the extra ingredients. Sitting on the counter next to the food was a gift, perfectly wrapped with a gold bow and a tag written out in your mother’s sleek handwriting. Jake’s mother and yours had always exchanged gifts with one another, and it warmed your heart in a sense to see the tradition still carrying on for them. 
“So, you enjoy living in Chicago?” Jake asked, watching you as the two of you headed back from your childhood home, Jake having insisted on walking you back so you could spend some time catching up, even if just for a few minutes. .
“Yeah, it’s a change of scenery. It’s different from Austin for sure. How’s San Diego treating you?”
“It’s pretty good, I like being on the beach. I do miss home sometimes though,” He laughed softly, giving his shoulders a gentle shrug as he looked around at the street you grew up on, just a couple of blocks away from his own childhood home.
“I mean, yeah, I miss my mom sometimes when I’m in Chicago, but, I know it’s easier for me to come home and see her than for you to come home and see your family.”
“Jenna? Can I ask you something?”
“Mhmm?”
“Do you…do you regret leaving for Chicago?”
“No, I wouldn’t be where I’m at now if I hadn’t left. I have a really good career in public relations, and I’m happy with where I’m at professionally. I wouldn’t have gotten that if I stayed in Austin, just like you wouldn’t have gotten as far in the Navy if you hadn’t gone to Annapolis.”
Jake stayed silent for a minute, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, avoiding your gaze. You could sense tension between the two of you. The Jake you knew growing up was never awkward, and never stopped talking - had he really changed that much since he’d left? You couldn’t see the Navy taming him to the point where he became reserved, Jake had always been so outgoing, so full of self-pride that it often came off as cocksure arrogance, but most of the time, it was out of sheer disbelief that he’d made it that far. You looked to him, his hands firmly in his pockets as he let out a huff, his breath turning to vapor in the cool December air. 
“I should really get going,” Jake nodded slowly, checking his watch as he looked back towards the street, “I promised Ma I’d help her set up.”
“Right, right, I’ll see you in a couple hours? Mama and I’ll be there.”
“Perfect, I’ll see you then,” Jake nodded, a warm smile on his features as he turned to start heading back.
You let out a heavy sigh, mentally kicking yourself as you realized you’d just let another opportunity to tell Jake how you felt slip away from you. As you headed up to your bedroom to get ready, moving quickly to dodge any questions from your mother, who was probably desperate to hear how your alone time with Jake had gone. 
You shut the door behind you, sighing again as you sat at your old vanity table, brushing through your hair and sectioning it with a claw clip as you began straightening it, trying your best to calm your nerves and make a decision on how you were going to approach Jake. You wanted to tell him, desperately, how you felt, but, part of you couldn’t help but cling to the fact you might regret it. That you might be disappointed and find out that Jake never felt the same about you, and that he never would. Or that he’d be in a relationship with someone else back in San Diego, someone prettier, younger, smarter, better. 
On the other hand, did you really want to commit yourself to never telling him how you felt? Letting the door shut on the one man you’d loved the longest, the most, and the hardest in your lifetime? Could you really be happy with anyone else? What if something happened to Jake while he was serving and you never got the chance to share how you felt? What if, somehow, there was the off chance he felt the same way about you?
As you finished your makeup, taking a deep breath as you looked yourself over in the mirror, you nodded your head. You had to tell him. There was no way you could let him go back to San Diego without knowing. You couldn’t let this go unsaid any longer, if for no other reason than to give yourself closure. If he rejected you, you could move on - or at least, try to. You could finally let go of your feelings and meet someone, and try your hardest to love them with the same enthusiastic, all-consuming love you felt for Jake. If he felt the same way, you’d apply for a job transfer to Los Angeles as soon as possible, because a three-hour drive was much more manageable of a commute to see him than a flight from Chicago to San Diego. 
This was it, you were going to finally do it. You just needed to get Jake alone.
❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ 
“Oh, Jenna! It’s been so long, how are you?” 
Bethany’s voice was sweet as honey as she spoke, wrapping her arms around you in a warm embrace, as if she’d been missing you for years and the sight of you reminded her of just how much.
“I’m great thanks, Beth, how are you? Your mama said you have two boys now? Easton and Dylan?” 
“Yeah, they’re 6 and 4, they’re little handfuls like their uncles, but I guess that’s to be expected when you’ve got Jake and Matt as influences for you. My husband’s not much better.” 
Bethany laughed as she gestured towards Jake playing with Easton? Or was it Dylan? Jake’s unmistakeable toothy grin plastered on his face, his green eyes alight with joy as he lifted his young nephew up, tickling him, the young boy’s laughter filling the air as Jake continued to make him laugh. Jake looked up to see you with his sister, smiling as he set the boy down on the floor, ruffling his hair with his fingers before making his way over to you. 
“Jenna! Hey, I’m glad you came.”
“Told you I would, didn’t I?” You laughed, shrugging your shoulders as effortlessly as possible as you tried to play it cool, praying no one saw through the front you were putting up.
“Hey, Jenna, can I…can I talk to you for a sec?” Jake asked sheepishly.
You couldn’t mistake the look on Bethany’s face, biting her lip to hold back a grin. You caught Jake giving her a stare that could make any person stop dead in their tracks, his green eyes practically piercing through his older sister as she tried not to laugh. As you nodded your head, raising your eyebrow at the scene unfolding before you. You followed behind Jake as he led you upstairs to his old childhood bedroom. When he opened the door, you were confronted with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Old pictures adorned the wall, some including you and Jake as children, with ice cream covered smiles and skinned knees, baseball uniforms and halloween costumes, missing teeth and messy curls. 
“Ma hasn’t changed anything since I left home, I don’t even think she’s bought new bedding for this room.” He chuckled as he looked around the room, his large hands placed firmly on his hips as he stood in the doorway. 
“Still sleeping with those baseball player sheets you had as a kid?” You teased, eyeing the comforter on the bed, neatly made and pulled together, a sign of Jake’s time in the navy.
“You know it, I’m still a big kid, really,” He laughed, nodding his head as he pointed to a picture on the wall before looking over at you, “Remember this one? Your 7th birthday party, I think I snuck an extra little bit of frosting off your birthday cake and my mama almost killed me. She told me I had the table manners of a barn animal.” 
“You did, you used to chew with your mouth full too.”
“I grew out of it at least. I’m a little more civilized now.” Jake replied with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders as he turned to face you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath before exhaling sharply. You could see Jake chewing at the inside of his cheek, nodding his head as his eyes met yours.
“I have to tell you something, ok?” He finally said, sighing heavily.
“I’m listening, Jake.”
“I should have told you this a long time ago, but…I love you.”
You sputtered for a moment, eyes wide in shock as he spoke. He frowned, clearly expecting a better reaction than what you’d given him. Jake shook his head and took your hand in his, stroking the back of your hand gently with his fingers, which were almost surprisingly soft and smooth to the touch.
“I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t care if you just wanna be friends after hearing this, because even though the truth is, I'm scared to be your friend, I would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all. The last 17 years have been spent missing you and wishing I’d said something before I left. That I’d kissed you or held you, or said something, anything to you.” He frowned, nodding his head as he looked to the ground before continuing to speak, his voice beginning to tremble with emotion.
“I was stupid to just go and leave things there, but I’ve been paying for it ever since. No other woman has ever compared to you.”
Without another word, you gripped the front of Jake’s football jersey, using it to give you leverage to pull him in closer, your lips crashing into his just as he looked up at you to see what you were doing. Any initial hesitation either of you felt melted away into the kiss, your lips moving together passionately, Jake’s hands trailing their way down your sides to rest on your hips, pulling your body in closer to his. When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he maintained a small distance between the two of you, speaking in a low whisper as he watched you bite your now puffy, kiss-bitten bottom lip.
“Is that your way of telling me you feel the same way? Because if you do, I want to take you on a date. And I don't care if it's in the day, or at night, or whenever, as long as it's a real date. And I wanna sit there and tell you how beautiful I think you are, Inside and out. How you’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the world to me, without a doubt. And I wanna have babies with you, and I wanna marry you, and I wanna tell you every day that I love you and I always have." Jake nodded, his cheeks blushing as he scratched the back of his neck again, waiting for your response to his rambling feelings.
“Jake, I’ve spent the last 17 years of my life waiting to hear you say that.”
“I know, I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m so sorry I made you wait.”
“Promise me something, Jake?”
“Anything you want, pretty girl.”
“Promise me you won’t make me wait that long again? I’m not sure I can wait another 17 years for you to ask me to marry you.” 
“Jenna, I swear to you, I’m not making you wait for anything ever again. I’d marry you tomorrow if I didn’t think my mama would have me committed for running off to get married three days after our reunion.”
“You’d marry me tomorrow?”
“With bells on, babe. With bells on. I’d marry you right here, right now, in my beat up Longhorns jersey, and drive off into the sunset with you in my truck if you wanted.”
“I don’t know about that, Captain Seresin,” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him as you felt his hands caress your sides, “As tempting as that sounds, we do have 17 years of lost time to make up for.”
“And I intend to make up for every single second of that with you, Jenna. Here, Chicago, San Diego, I don’t care. I just want you. All of you, completely and totally.”
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local-lovey-wolfboy · 5 months
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Kind of wish people would stop saying that abuse 100% is never caused by personality disorders, especially when it comes to trying to advocate for cluster B disorders in the context of arguing against terms such as "narc abuse". Like, I get where you're coming from and all--abuse isn't inherent to having a CB-PD, and harmful behavior isn't inherently abuse. Those points are very true. The issue comes when you act like abuse is never connected to having a CB-PD, or that it's only ever minimally so ("All abuse is always a conscious and known choice" type of thing--except studies have shown that the majority of people who have been abusive thought they were doing the right thing and weren't aware that they were causing [significant] harm).
Like. When I was with my ex way back when (something to the tune of several years ago, after I'd recognized certain symptoms but before I'd connected them to each other or to any possible disorder), I behaved in ways that, if they weren't already abusive, would have been abusive if taken up just a single notch. When they were describing their life, especially negative experiences they'd had, I often treated them more like a lab rat I was studying than a person. We both recognized that I did this, and I hated that I did it, but it was well before I had the self-awareness and understanding of why I did it needed to try and stop it. I felt a desperate need to have control over the relationship, and consequently, over them. I tried my best to be respectful and to let them be their own person with their own opinions and comfort zone, but because they were the only person I could stand to be around in the world, and because of my lack of self-awareness, I felt that they were mine and my property, and I ended up treating them accordingly without realizing. At the time, I didn't--still don't--feel remorse or guilt for my actions; the most I felt was shame as I realized that I didn't view other people as people in the same way that others seemed to do so easily. And that did make it harder to want to change, because I didn't care that I was hurting them, I cared that hurting them compromised me and my values specifically and only because I cared about them, which made it hard for me to do anything other than spiral about being a terrible person; if it had been someone I didn't care for, I wouldn't have even felt the shame, and I would have had no motivation to change at all.
None of that would have happened had it not been for my [developing] PDs. It is correct to say that pwPDs aren't automatically abusive, and that someone's PD is not always the cause of abuse they committed, and that abuse isn't inherent to PDs. It is correct to say that the concepts of NPD/ASPD/BPD/HPD abuse are ableist.
Abuse, however, can still absolutely be connected to someone's PD. To say otherwise doesn't help anyone--instead, it serves to alienate those who may have some of the most severe symptoms and presentations of these disorders, and blocks them from resources and community because they're not "one of the good ones". If you want to advocate for pwPDs, you have to advocate for all of us--not just the ones who only commit "acceptable" levels of harm or only to themselves, not just the ones who are most palatable to persotypicals. If you want to explain why the idea of narcissistic (etc.) abuse is ableist, you have to understand that it's not because abuse can't be heavily influenced by someone's PD, it's ableist because it paints people with PDs as broadly and inherently abusive, and because people with PDs don't abuse others in such a distinct way that it's somehow different from other forms of abuse, and because you'll never be able to separate the term (example) "narcissistic" from NPD, nor NPD from "narcissistic".
If you can't make your point without alienating vast swaths of the people you claim to advocate for, then it wasn't a good point in the first place. People with PDs aren't not inherently evil because the symptoms of their PDs don't actually lead to genuine abuse and, actually, any abuse committed by a person with a PD was 100% a conscious choice that they were actively making; people with PDs are not inherently evil because we're complex people with different lives and experiences that shape us, and every person is capable of change so long as they are willing to do so, for better or for worse. Sometimes, our symptoms cause us to hurt people. Sometimes they even cause us to be abusive. That doesn't make us inherently evil--that makes us in need of resources and a supportive community that will let us self-determine and get better on our own terms.
Persotypicals, if you are going to reblog, I don't want to hear shit about your abusive cluster B ex. This is a conversation with and for other cluster B folks only.
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wheelie-sick · 3 months
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I am so tired of being referred to with they/them pronouns. being a Deaf gender nonconforming wheelchair user my existence in public is constantly scrutinized and picked apart. I am an object of curiosity and concern. I am a target for harassment, both deliberate and not.
being Deaf people see me and feel afraid. they see my hands moving and their mind is filled with terror. terror that I might try to speak to them and they wouldn't know what to do or say. terror that I might be speaking about them. terror that I'm not safe to be in public without a hearing person to watch over me. they see me as my signing first and a person second. I am an action before I am a human being.
being a wheelchair user people see me and feel afraid. afraid for my safety without an ablebodied person to guide me. afraid that they might mess up and say something offensive. and yet they feel morbid curiosity. they ask me if my butt hurts from sitting so long and they ask me how I use the bathroom if I can't walk. they ask me prying questions about my medical history and act offended when I'd rather not divulge. they see me as a wheelchair first and a person second. I am an object before I am a human being.
being gender nonconforming people see me and feel confused. they don't know what to label me as and don't know how to refer to me. they can't figure out whether I'm a man or woman and I don't want them to. they ponder my gender and my gender expression and my guesses at it and my sexuality. they wonder if I'm gay or just an odd looking woman. some of them have made it a game to guess "what" I am. I am a source of confusion before I am a human being.
being an action, an object, and a source of confusion people don't see me. they can't peel past the layers on the outside to reach my humanity so I remain something to twist around in their head. I am too much for anyone unlike me to handle. no one is exempt, not gender nonconforming hearing people, not Deaf pedestrians, not gender conforming wheelchair users.
because I have so many different very visible statuses applied to me no one knows how to label me and so they strip me of all of them choosing to focus on none since they can't comprehend all. they find comfort in they. they doesn't acknowledge my existence outside of my signing, they doesn't acknowledge my existence outside of my wheelchair, and they doesn't acknowledge my gender. I am constantly degendered, having my very deliberate expression erased in favor of labeling me as nothing. they doesn't require fitting someone like me into my worldview because it is neutral, it is nothing.
I am stripped of my gendered experiences as someone who was a woman and who is a trans intersex nonbinary man. I have my experiences defined out of existence because they do not align with hearing people's experiences or pedestrian's experiences. because my experiences of gender are so heavily influenced by my identity as a Deaf wheelchair user I have my experiences ignored and spoken over. I am stripped of my gender identity in the way people describe me. if I'm described as a man at all I am described as a wheelchair user and a Deaf person before people ever describe my gender.
it's misuse of a perfectly acceptable pronoun to enforce hearing, pedestrian, gender conforming society's norms. people do not use they/them for me because they think that I use they/them pronouns, they use they/them for me because they do not want to acknowledge who I am. many of the people who insist on using they/them for me are well aware that I use exclusively he/him pronouns but they don't care because in their head they see me as signing or a wheelchair and are confused about why a man would look like me. they think I am wrong about my own identity and think that because they are hearing, or a pedestrian, or gender conforming, that they get to assign the "correct" pronouns for someone like me.
I am so tired of being referred to with they/them pronouns
-> this post is about physical disability and Deafness. do not derail.
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