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blitzturtles · 3 years

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Title: It Starts Like This, Ch. 6

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba, FugoNara / NaraFugo (Could be platonic, honestly, tho the BruAbba definitely isn't.)

Summary: “What?” he snaps.

“I’m just thinking.”

A pause. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Notes: Turns out being dead has a bit of a long term effect. Who would have thought?

This fic got away from me, so I'm breaking it down by character interaction (sort of). Here's another Bucci-centric chapter for the Bucci-centric fic.

Additional Notes: Sometimes having two disabled folks in one relationship is... rough. Not at all based on real life experiences...

Content Warning: couple fighting and a panic attack.

Also, for unnecessary clarification: Moody doesn't zipper through anything. Abbacchio goes around barriers and resets her timer as needed. Oh, and I use she/her for Moody. I've got a fic planned for that eventually.

There's also a mild mention of a headcanon I have where Bucci is technically Narancia's guardian. For school and healthcare purposes. (Fugo emancipated post-disownment, and Giorno kind of flies under the radar.)

Bucciarati won’t admit it, but there’s something devastating about the first medication not working. Or not working well enough. They can’t be sure, but he’s not willing to continue on something that ultimately failed to curb such a traumatic experience for one of the people he cares for most. He can’t quite shake the guilt that’s been slowly wearing away at him for days.

It’s only the anxiety of having another seizure in front of his famiglia that has him permitting Abbacchio staying home once more. He can’t do that to Narancia again, and he knows that it won’t be any less stressful for the rest of them. It’s bad enough when Leone has to deal with the fallout, but he’s better prepared for it. He’s seen worse, and it’s part of what they both signed up for. For better or worse, in sickness and in health. They’ve done everything but scribbled their names on the paperwork to make it official, but Bruno thinks that, with everything else they’ve gone through, they’ve more than earned their right as one another’s life partner.

Still, that doesn’t mean that Bucciarati likes to be watched like a lab experiment. With eyes that are waiting for the slightest hint that something’s wrong. It makes him acutely aware of the fact that he could have another seizure at any given moment. That he might have one with no warning signs, or at least not any that he’d recognize as such.

That’s the problem with auras; he can’t seem to recognize them for what they are.

He’s being unreasonable, he knows. He hasn’t had enough seizures to know whether or not he’ll learn to recognize the warning signs, but it feels like it’s been an eternity already. And a thousand seizures, rather than a small handful. Part of that is due to how poorly he feels afterwards, and how off he feels on the medication. Part of it is how all of this has disrupted their lives in every way imaginable. And all of it has him in a sour mood.

“You’re upset,” Abbacchio starts with a frown. It’s the first time either of them has spoken all morning.

“I’m frustrated.”

Abbacchio hums in response. A quiet sound that wouldn’t normally grate Bucciarati’s nerves, but it gets under his skin and festers.

“What?” he snaps.

“I’m just thinking.”

A pause. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it,” Abbacchio answers, snappish and untrue. Even if it were, he knows why. Understands better than anyone else.

Bruno’s eyes widen slightly. A startled, wounded look evident in his blue irises, but his gaze hardens and he sneers,

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“Bruno, wait--”

But Bruno is already gone with nothing but a trace of gold left behind.

Damn that stand.

______

It’s a childish thing, to storm off, especially when Bucciarati knows that Leone’s only worried. That he hadn’t meant the words that came out of his mouth, and that he’s as scared as Bucciarati is. That this is all out of his depth, regardless of what they feel for one another or what promises they’ve made. It’s still terrifying the way it’s terrifying to watch Abbacchio cough up blood some mornings.

He regrets leaving the moment he stops moving. Stops tearing holes through walls and leaving Sticky Fingers to put them back together. It’s like someone punched the air out of him, and all he can do is sink to the ground, on his knees, with his head held in his hands and his mouth open, gasping for air.

Each breath comes too quick, and leaves before he feels like he gets any air. There’s something wrapped around his chest. Too tight, and somehow pulling tighter. It’s all he can do to lie down. Before the next inevitable comes. He already feels too light-headed with a lingering dizziness that makes it impossible to think through.

“Bruno,” the voice sounds familiar. Too much like his own echoing in his ears, but he’s not talking, much less calling his own name. His voice wouldn’t sound like that. Wouldn’t sound steady, if not worried, but, when he looks, there’s a mirror image of himself looking down at him. It falls to its knees, and a familiar sound rings out in the air as Moody’s timer runs out. She reaches for him as purple wraps around her frame once more.

“Bruno,” Leone repeats, this time in his own voice, from his own body. He all but collapses on his knees beside his stand and reaches out with careful hands to brush Bucciarati’s hair from his face.

Time freezes for a moment. Bucciarati expects consciousness to flee him without warning, but the air lingers. Stale and stiff and impossible to breathe, and all he can do is try and try to pull enough of it into his lungs to try to chase away the spots dancing across his vision.

Recognition flashes across Leone’s features. Where his hand has gone still in Bruno’s hair, it moves once more. A gentle carding. A distraction from the racing fears in Bucciarati’s head. He can’t calm his breathing no matter how hard he tries. It feels completely out of his control, and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Leone asks him seemingly out of the blue, but he knows that’s not right. That Leone must have been talking since his arrival, but Bruno can’t recall a word that’s been said.

“Yes,” he breathes, because he is now, and he meant to before. It’s just so hard to hear anything past the roaring in his ears.

“You need to calm down a little bit. Take some deep breaths,” Leone tells him, as if Bucciarati hasn’t been trying to do that since he stopped moving. There’s a sense of impending doom that lingers, pressing down on him until it’s crushing and unbearable.

“Hey,” Leone calls, tapping Bruno gently on the forehead, “You gotta focus on me, alright? Stop listening to whatever’s going on in that thick head of your’s, and listen to me. I need you to breathe in-- slower than that. Okay, good, hold-- now out. Annnd in--” They go through the steps several more times, until Bucciarati can successfully follow the counts more often than not. Finally-- finally he can breathe. Oxygen filters through his system, and his vision begins to clear. It’s only then that he starts to put the pieces together, and it’s shame that replaces the panic.

“I’m-”

“Don’t,” Leone cuts Bruno off before he can apologize. “I get it.” He moves to catch Bruno when he wobbles a bit too much upon trying to sit up. “Take it easy, will you?” He sighs and sits back.

“Sorry,” Bruno says, for lack of anything else to say.

“I’ll kick your ass if you apologize again.”

Bruno opens his mouth, and Leone quirks an eyebrow. It’s enough of a threat, empty as it may be, to convince Bruno to click his teeth together.

Leone huffs a sound that might be a laugh. Or it might be the last of his sanity slipping away. He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs. “I’m sorry. For what I said earlier. That was shitty. I’m just-”

“Scared?”

“Terrified.”

“That’s fair,” Bruno muses quietly. He absently wipes at his face, and it’s the first time he realizes that there are tears there. Streaking down both cheeks and plentiful in nature. He can’t remember the last time he had a panic attack. He’s better at running from his problems than he is dealing with them head on. At least the ones emotional in nature. The rest he’s always tackled with little more than a hope and a prayer to a deity he’s long lost faith in. “I’m sorry, too.”

“I told you to stop apologizing.”

“When have I ever listened to you?” Bruno snarks back, shoulders relaxing slightly.

Leone snorts, “Not a day in your life.” Bruno has the scars to prove it, too. Bastard. “C’mon. Let’s get off the floor. I’m getting too old for this.”

It’s Bruno’s turn to laugh this time, “You’re barely in your twenties.”

“And I’m too goddamn old. Up,” Leone pushes himself to his feet before reaching his hands out to pull Bruno upright. There’s a pause where the two are lost, staring at one another, and Leone decides ‘fuck it’. What better time to go for a kiss then after your partner has a full on panic attack? They’ve done worse with far more questionable timing.

Bruno responds to the kiss with a pleased little sound in the back of his throat. He tugs Leone closer, wanting the contact more than anything. He can feel Leone’s hands cradling the back of his head, fingers linking together at his nape.

“Gross! Get a room!”

Leone curses as they break apart and shoots Narancia the meanest look he can, “I will murder you.”

“Only if you catch me!” And the kid is off before Leone can even respond.

Bucciarati can’t help laughing at the whole display. He grabs for Leone’s hand before his partner can seriously consider killing Narancia. “May I remind you that I’m legally responsible for him?”

“They won’t find the body.”

“Leone!”

#bruabba #abbabru #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #jjba part 5 #part 5 #blitzwrites #fic: islt #blitz

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revolutionary-demosthenes · 4 years

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Two unrelated questions—1: Do you support the theory that John Laurens’s (and possibly Alexander Hamilton’s) death was assisted suicide? 2: What do you think life would be like if Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens could’ve gotten married? I love your blog, and I am totally going to never ever bored in House #7.

These are great questions! This is going to be a pretty very extremely long post, particularly the bit about your first question, so I added sub-sections to make it easier to read. I hope this is helpful!

TW: Mentions of possible suicidal and self-hating thoughts and feelings. If anyone reading this has had these sort of feelings, please reach out to someone and get help. Do not give up. You are loved. You are needed. You are worthy.

1: John Laurens and possible assisted suicide

This first question is difficult to answer, and there are lots of theories on it. It can also a very painful topic to discuss. Please take note of the TW. If this post is going to be triggering or upsetting to you, take care of yourself and skip it.

Let’s review the facts and circumstances around Laurens’s death to start.

After assisting Hamilton with taking redoubt 10 during the battle of Yorktown, John Laurens traveled back to South Carolina to again try and pitch the South Carolinian delegates for his black battalion. This was his third attempt, I believe. Again, his idea was quickly shot down, and it may have made it worse that that was what everyone was expecting. A letter from George Washington written July 10th, 1782 states, in a somewhat cynical tone perhaps more reminiscent of Hamilton’s worldview,

“I must confess that I am not at all astonished at the failure of your Plans.That Spirit of Freedom which at the commencement of this contest would have gladly sacrificed every thing to the attainment of its object has long since subsided, and every selfish Passion has taken its place—it is not the public but the private Interest which influences the generality of Mankind nor can the Americans any longer boast an exception—under these circumstances it would rather have been surprizing if you had succeeded nor will you I fear succeed better in Georgia.”

John Laurens was also collecting intelligence for General Greene, his commander at the time.

It is worth noting that most of Laurens’s time down south after Yorktown was spent trying to find military glory, which he did not achieve. He led several unsuccessful or insignificant skirmishes with the few remaining British soldiers.

Laurens also had just heard of the death of his wife, Martha.

He was confined to his bed with malaria, but heard that there was going to be a fight by the Combahee river on August 27, so he literally got up off his sickbed to fight in what has since been dubbed a ‘small skirmish.’

The British soldiers had been tipped off about the continentals coming. Laurens, who was leading a small detachment of soldiers, knew this. He could wait for more soldiers to arrive, or he and his men could start fighting.

Three guesses as to what he chose.

John Laurens had visited the Stock family the past night, and “enjoyed the company of Mrs. Stock and her daughters.” (John Laurens and the American Revolution, by Gregory Massey)

Now, I know there are many theories on this, but in this post I’m going to be examining two main ones. Firstly, that John Laurens’s death was not suicide, but instead another desperate grasp for glory, and alternately, that his death was to some degree planned and/or expected.

Theory A: John Laurens’s death was not assisted suicide/planned/intentional:

In very simple terms, this theory is mainly supported by the fact that John Laurens (and Hamilton, for that matter) were honor-obsessed and both had a thirst for military glory. Both were needlessly reckless in battle from the very start. Lafayette observed of Laurens at the battle of Brandywine, “It was not his fault he was not killed or wounded, he did everything that was necessary to procure one or t’other.”

Some evidence that also supports this is that Laurens’s battalion idea failed several times. He may have wanted to prove himself by becoming a famed fighter like the warriors of Greece and Rome that he admired.

His dash to the Combahee can be seen as in line with this. Opportunities for fame in battle were running scarce and Laurens didn’t want to miss any possible opportunity. You can also apply this to why he went ahead instead of waiting for the rest of the men during the battle. It would have been seen as more courageous to face them head on, outnumbered.

John Laurens was often overshadowed by his father, Henry Laurens. Military fame of the right amount could’ve possibly elevated John his father’s social status.

Also important to note, what Laurens did on August 27th was not out of character. So one could make a compelling argument that even if Laurens was not planning to survive the war, the battle at the Combahee was not necessarily the one he wanted to go out on. Especially because it was such a small action, not a glorious stroke of military genius.

So I do think that it isn’t unreasonable to read John Laurens’s death as accidental, however, if you are asking for my specific opinion I do think this next possibility is more likely.

Scenario/evidence in which John Laurens’s death was assisted suicide/planned/intentional:

(This is where the TW applies most heavily, just one last warning.)

John Laurens had a privileged life in some ways, certainly. He was the son of an extremely rich man, got part of his education abroad, and generally had all the inherent advantages to being a rich white man who was the eldest son of an even richer white man.

But his life (much like his friend Lafayette’s,) though seemingly tranquil and privileged, was filled with grief and loss from a young age. John Laurens’s mother, Eleanor Ball Laurens gave birth 11-13 times. Of these children, only five lived past early childhood. When John was about three, one of his closest playmates, his older brother Henry, died. And this was only one of many times (the exact number unknown because of the disputes of how many children Eleanor actually had) that John lived through the death of a sibling.

And there is one sibling death in particular that almost certainly hit John the hardest. His 10 year old brother Jemmy, while they were in Europe, and while John was technically in charge of him, fell and fractured his skull. Much like the Hamilton’s spending the night with a dying Philip, all John could do was try and comfort Jemmy while waiting for the inevitable.

Then of course there was the Francis Kinloch break-up. Obviously horrible. Then (possibly as a result of that breakup) getting a girl pregnant and being forced to marry her.

America. War. Alexander Hamilton. Love. Keeping the love hidden. France. Yorktown. The last attempts to become a war hero.

It is fact that Laurens and Hamilton based their relationship off Ancient Greek, Roman, etc. gay relationships. In this tradition it was traditional to be reckless in battle to impress your lover. So maybe it makes sense for Laurens to act insanely reckless when he and Hamilton are fighting together. But why would he keep acting that way after Hamilton goes home?

While on the subject of Hamilton, some of the most compelling evidence for John Laurens’s death being a suicide is that he clearly struggled with self-hate, likely because of his sexuality, for a long time. Think about it; he lived in a society that was not just unaccepting of same-sex love, and particularly acting on same-sex love, but it was literally a crime and being caught could result in extreme punishment.

Furthermore, John Laurens, as namesake, eldest son, etc, was under massive amounts of pressure to be perfect. To not bring shame to the family.

When John was in SC towards the end of his life, he had been away from Hamilton for more than a year. It is possible that without the gratification of the relationship (i.e., they are together, interacting on a day-to-day basis) John began to feel more unsure of their relationship? We do see that when John was away from his lovers, the relationships grew more distant and even unraveled. Yes I’m talking about Francis Kinloch now. But also as more time went by and Hamilton was back home in Albany and John was still in SC, their letters become less frequent. (Or more frequent but destroyed or lost. Honestly though JCH why???)

I also think that Laurens may have been worried that he and Hamilton’s distance was the only reason they could keep up a romantic relationship. Could Laurens have felt that once he “put on the toga” or joined congress, he and Hamilton would have to be just friends because of Hamilton’s wife and child? Judging by this line from a letter from Hamilton to Laurens, “Your impatience to have me married is misplaced, a strange cure by the way, as if after matrimony I was to be less devoted than I am now,” we can infer that Laurens may have at first have been supportive of the idea of Hamilton having a wife, perhaps because he thought that Hamilton was just using her to appear straight. In this letter, Hamilton also does allude to suicide. He tells Laurens, “For your own sake, for my sake, for the public sake, I shall pray for the success of the attempt you mention; that you may have it in your power to act with us. But if you should be disappointed, bear it like a man; and have recourse, neither to the dagger, nor to the poisoned bowl, nor to the rope.” I think it is extremely interesting that this comes in the same letter as the one where Hamilton tells Laurens he is getting a wife. The attempt Hamilton refers to in this passage is the attempt to free Laurens from being a prisoner of war, but I wonder if it has some sort of double meaning.

I also believe it significant that Henry Laurens seemed to get very anxious when John sent him a letter from Geneva at mentions suicide. From John Laurens and the American Revolution: “John’s haste perhaps explains an ambiguous passage that slipped into one of his letters. He referred to ‘two people the most addicted of any in the World to Suicide.’ Alarmed by these words, Henry sent an emotional reply: ‘What can be meant by addicted, to an Act, which can be perpetuated but once & no Man’s devotion to it can possibly be determined from anything short of the Commission? But, my Dear Son, I trust that your opinion on that Question is So firm, that you are armed with Such irrefragable proofs of the Impiety as well as Cowardice of Self Murther, as puts you out of danger of being made a Convert to Error, by any Man be his “Rank and distinction” ever So great, or by the finest thread of declamation tickling the ears and & fatally Captivating the Hearts of Giddy & inexperienced youth’”

The context of the passage from John’s letter is unknown, but his father acts so defensive and seems to be reassuring himself that John would never do that in his letter that I wonder if it was already a topic that Henry worried about. If this is the case, this suggests that John knew was queer from a young age, not just when he met Francis Kinloch, (and that letter is from around that time, just as a side note.) and/or that John had had mental health issues before this time.

Also significant: moving forward to August 1782, John was sick. He was bed-ridden. And he knew the fight at Combahee river was not going to be big. It was a small foraging party. All the redcoats were going to do was basically steal some flour. But still, he dragged himself over there.

He led his men forward even though they knew the redcoats were ready.

Then he immediately was shot down.

So, --dear anon who is probably horrified with the length and long-windedness of my reply--, here is the theory that makes most sense to me:

John Laurens had been having mental issues like depression for a long time. When he was with Francis Kinloch they alleviated slightly, but when Jemmy died and Francis Kinloch broke up with him, they came back full force. Since being with Kinloch had made John happier for a time, he decided to seek out more love. Wait a minute, John thought, if I can love a woman, that’d be killing two birds with one stone... the love will make me feel better, and it may cure me of my forbidden love for men.

But when John got Martha pregnant and was forced to marry her, I doubt that made him feel better. So he wanted to go to America and fight in the war. He believed in his countries independence, and this would be a way to go out with easy glory on the battlefield, should he want to.

He met Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton managed to convince John that their love wasn’t a sin or a sickness, and they were happy together.

Then Hamilton told Laurens he was getting a wife. He knew that this would be hard news for his Laurens, so in his next letter he made sure to make clear that they could still love each other.

But Laurens did not think that would be possible, once he realized that Hamilton really did love his wife, and was not just using her to appear straight. Laurens also knew that even if they did continue their relationship after the war, both he and Hamilton would feel guilty for what they were doing, especially considering that Hamilton really did love Eliza so much.

When the black battalion plan failed for the last time, it brought feelings of failure and hopelessness to Laurens.

When Laurens heard of the death of his wife, it brought back the guilty feelings for getting her pregnant, especially because she had fallen ill trying to bring Fanny to meet her dad in France.

When Laurens visited the Stock family the daughters again reminded him of his inability to have love for women. They also perhaps reminded him of his own wife and daughter who he had essentially abandoned in Europe.

With the war nearly over, Laurens decided if he wasn’t going to survive this war, he had to fight in some battles. So he got off his sickbed to go fight.

He knew it would be risky to go ahead without waiting for the main army during the small action at the Combahee, but he had done things that reckless before. And if he was going to die in battle, this would likely be one of the last opportunities.

To conclude this answer: I do support the theory that Laurens’s death was to some degree suicide, with assisted suicide being the closest label to what I believe it was. However I do think it was a complicated death that doesn’t necessarily fit perfectly within any label. I believe it was a combination of mental issues partly borne of being queer in a time that was unaccepting of same-sex love, the failure of his plans for abolition, being reckless in battle regardless, and, if he was going to die, wanting to die a war hero.

I think these factors together led to a premature death that was not planned exactly, but probably pre-mediated upon. What I mean is, Laurens wasn’t going to try and get killed, but he wouldn’t be cautious or try particularly hard to not get killed.

As for Hamilton, I honestly think it could go either way. Though I tend to lean toward Chernow’s answer, which is that it was not suicide, just stupid. (Like, Hamilton, your son literally died by shooting at the sky in a duel you are taking your own advice that failed horribly??) The main reason I believe this is that Hamilton had something Laurens lacked; a family whom he loved very much. Even though his political standing was slipping, I don’t think Hamilton would’ve wanted to leave his wife and kids.

Anyway, I hope this answers your question. Now for the much less depressing answer to the question,

2: What do you think life would be like if Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens could’ve gotten married?

I’m slightly unclear on whether you mean if they could’ve gotten married back in the 1700s or whether you’re asking for the modern AU I think is most accurate.

Assuming you mean if they could’ve gotten married in the 1700s, I think that they would have as long as it was main-stream and socially acceptable. I think they would’ve been very happy together, and I like to indulge in the fantasy of President Laurens and VP Hamilton.

I think John Laurens would not have died. I think he and Hamilton would have worked in the government together. I also do not think Hamilton would have would’ve dueled Burr.

John Laurens and Hamilton would’ve written together about 1,000,000,000 pamphlets against Jefferson and Madison.

The only duel would be Laurens vs Jefferson.

And they would’ve lived to a lovely old age together, adopted some kids, and lived happily ever after.

Never mind this is also depressing.

Thank you for the kind words about my blog and the great questions! Yes, if you are bored, house 7 is the answer.

If anyone has other asks for me, feel free to, well, ask them! And if you would prefer a short answer just tell me so, I won’t be offended!

#John Laurens #sad #death #Alexander Hamilton #Francis Kinloch #Henry Laurens #married #ask #anonymous #awesome questions

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giftofshewbread · 3 years

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CRITICAL MESSAGE *READ*

Does God Ever Let You Down? :: By Steve Schmutzer

Published on: February 26, 2021

Does God ever let you down?

Wait. Before you answer, I’m not interested in cliché replies. You know, “In all things, God works for the good of those who love Him,” or, “God’s plans are to give me a hope and a future.” I don’t want to hear that old standby, “He knows what’s best for me.”

Those responses ARE Biblically-based, and so they’re true when they’re properly applied with the right heart to the right situation. But in my experience, too many people say this kind of stuff when their faith has reached its limits. They are barely able to endure their pain, describe their confusion, or contain their rage.

Just because we can force certain words out of our mouth does not mean we are saying what we are truly feeling. Just because we can’t admit what’s really going on does not mean it isn’t.

Let’s be totally honest here – have you ever been mad at God? Did you ever bargain with Him in your heart and now you’re upset He didn’t keep up His end of the arrangement? Are you still “fighting the good fight,” but you’re exhausted and despaired? Did you take the high road – but you got the raw end of the deal?

Now – let’s get down to the brass tacks: Did you pour yourself into the task of raising your children the right way only to have them disappoint you with their choices?

Are you laboring long and quietly in a ministry while others with less gifting, less commitment, and less maturity are getting the reward and recognition?

Have you prayed and tried for years for a baby and one still hasn’t come? Meantime, irresponsible parents are popping out feral kids like rabbits?

Did you carefully plan for a simple and responsible retirement – only to see it all evaporate in the wake of unexpected health problems and medical bills?

Have you prayed around the clock for justice and truth to prevail, but all you see is the flourishing of evil and deceit?

Have you lost your job and now you are struggling to find work that pays the bills?

Did you find the man or woman of your dreams, but things have changed and now you wish you hadn’t?

So let me ask the question one more time: does God ever let you down? If you are feeling that way, or are tempted to – you are not alone. Even people that knew Jesus personally might have felt that way… or at least they may have felt they had reason to.

You see, we can talk all day long about our “relationship with God,” but three Biblical characters come to my mind that actually knew Him personally. I mean, they interacted with Jesus, they watched Him, listened to Him, and learned from Him. They knew who Jesus really was! Their lives are recorded in the New Testament as being part of His life, so the personal connection went both ways.

Despite that, I think it can be argued that all three of these people might have felt some disappointment with Jesus. Put another way, they might have admitted they felt let down by God.

But all three characters faced their natural reactions and chose to respond to Jesus in different ways. I think we can learn something from their examples because these are ways we still respond to Jesus Christ today.

The first of these three characters is John the Baptist. He had a key role before Jesus’ ministry. Since he and Jesus were cousins, he probably knew Jesus as they were growing up together. Maybe they even played together as children – this is not an unreasonable assumption.

John the Baptist turned out to be a rough and rugged character – unconventional, certainly. He was a strong man with equally strong convictions. He didn’t think twice about confronting the hypocritical religious leaders and calling them a “brood of vipers” (Matt. 3:7). His straight talk and no-nonsense approach attracted truth-seekers, and he had many followers and disciples.

A time came, however, when John the Baptist prepared the way for Jesus’ ministry as a “voice in the wilderness” (John 1:23). He did this because he had a right view of Jesus. John said of Him, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30), so John the Baptist grasped the proper priorities and how things needed to be.

None of this was an act. John the Baptist was a man of God who had a passion for proclaiming the truth and for living it out. His extraordinary ministry and exemplary character were affirmed when Jesus said of him that there was “…none greater” (Luke 7:28). To be sure, John the Baptist was the real deal.

It is difficult to know how much time John the Baptist actually had with Jesus Christ. There was that special occasion where John had baptized Jesus (Matt. 3:13-17), and John had felt that Jesus should have baptized him instead. But in their adult years, it seems they had little face-to-face contact.

We know John the Baptist publicly confronted Herod Antipas for the king’s sins (Matt. 14:1-13), and this had resulted in John’s arrest and imprisonment – and ultimately his beheading. This happened early in the ministry of Jesus Christ, so there was no opportunity for further contact between the two cousins after that point.

It is after John’s arrest that we learn of his doubts about Jesus Christ. In a desperate situation with his life on the line, John the Baptist faced gnawing questions. Reports of Jesus had found their way into John’s cell, and news of Jesus’ ministry had worked its way into the fabric of John’s deepest frustrations. Time had passed since that glorious baptism, and Jesus’ ministry was now thriving while John’s had abated.

John’s disciples fed him bits and pieces of information as they were able to, and it’s fair to say these reports reinforced the misgivings John had of Jesus. You see, the ministries and activities of Jesus and John were very different, and it’s not beyond reason to suggest these differences aroused John’s concerns.

John’s choices had set him apart from the crowd while Jesus’ choices had blended in. John the Baptist and his disciples fasted often, but Jesus and his disciples ate and drank with sinners (Matt. 11:18-19). John performed no signs in his earthly ministry (John 10:41), but Jesus – and his disciples – performed miracles of every kind (Matt. 9:35, 10:1). John lived reclusively, but Jesus was a very public person who was often surrounded by enormous crowds of people.

Now John was sitting in prison, captive most of all to his own disappointments. It’s not hard to imagine the questions that may have gone through his mind, such as, If Jesus was really the Messiah as he himself – John – had announced, then why wasn’t Jesus doing more? Why was Jesus not getting down to the business of establishing His kingdom and burning up the wicked with unquenchable fire? (Matt. 3:12). Was he here in prison because Jesus was powerless to do anything about the situation?

When John the Baptist could resist his own insecurities no longer, he sent some of his disciples to confront Jesus and to ask Him directly, “Are you the promised Messiah or should we be looking for someone else?” (Matt. 11:2-3). The question is a revealing one because it shows John had expectations of Jesus that were unfulfilled. It also shows that John the Baptist was unsure, doubtful, and delicate – the same way you and I have felt from time to time.

John wanted to know if he’d been misled. Was Jesus their only hope or was somebody else going to come along that was a better fit for the job? Was Jesus Christ really the Messiah, or not?

Jesus sent John’s disciples back to John with an answer, but it was hardly the one John the Baptist was seeking. Jesus challenged John to consider the evidence of His miracles, and he added, “…blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me.” In other words, Jesus exhorted John to cling to the truth of Old Testament Scripture. He did not give John a simple “yes” or “no” answer, but he left him hanging a bit. Jesus responded to John’s heart instead of his mind because John’s heart was the seat of his faith.

We can say John the Baptist was wrong for the ideas he had about how Jesus needed to operate, but – honestly – we’re not much different. We expect God to work in certain ways too, and if God does not fulfill our expectations, we also get disappointed.

We may not like to admit it, but it’s easy for us to think that if our God is really the God He says He is, then we have a right to expect something different from Him. I feel it’s likely that John died with some of his questions unanswered. That doesn’t mean his faith wasn’t real. It means he was human, and because he was human, his reactions to Jesus Christ were imperfect – the same way yours and mine can be too.

A second character that probably felt let down by Jesus Christ was Judas Iscariot. What do we know of him?

As one of the original 12 disciples, Judas Iscariot basically lived with Jesus for three years. He was given assignments and divine powers by Jesus (Matt. 10:1-4), and he was the official treasurer for the group (John 12:6) – albeit a deceptive and self-serving one.

The bottom line is Judas saw Jesus perform many miracles and he heard Jesus teach many times. He learned directly from the King of kings and Lord of lords, and he had the opportunity to grow as few others did. He saw the mistakes and the actions of the other disciples, and he learned from all of this. In other words, as a disciple of Jesus Christ, Judas Iscariot had the optimal schooling in the Gospel of the kingdom.

But it’s likely that Judas Iscariot was also a Jewish zealot. Many scholars believe his surname, “Iscariot” was a form of the title Sicarii, meaning “dagger-men.” This was a group of zealots who despised the Roman oppression. They were known to carry a knife with them, so they were prepared to assassinate traitors and capitulators. The Jewish zealots were principally motivated by socio-economic and political considerations. They believed that if they turned their nation back to God and incited a war against the Romans, the Messiah would rise to lead them and establish His Kingdom.

It’s easy to see how all this may have played out in Judas’ mind. Jesus was a righteous Jew and a descendant of King David. He spoke of establishing His kingdom, and he cast out demons, produced abundant food, and controlled the weather. Surely Jesus could lead the Jews to victory over the Romans and usher in God’s Kingdom! In Judas’ activist mind, his own ideas made perfect sense.

But somewhere along the line, the situation changed. Judas became disappointed as Jesus let him down. Jesus began to talk about dying, and His descriptions of His coming Kingdom didn’t fit with Judas’ ideals. Judas began to doubt Jesus, and he began to openly chide Jesus for His choices and priorities (John 12:3-6).

We know how this turned out. Judas chose to betray Jesus for 30 pieces of silver (Luke 22:3-6; Matt. 27:3-5). Perhaps Judas had come to a point where he felt Jesus was a fake – a false Messiah, someone who was not fulfilling the expectations that Judas had of a ruler that would lead Israel into her kingdom. We don’t know for sure – but it all seems to fit the larger story.

The bigger issue is the questions that are raised by how things ultimately transpired: How could Judas live, eat, walk, and talk with Jesus Christ day in and day out for three years and still turn out as he did? How could Judas miss the Messiah when he knew him so well? How could Judas hear the Gospel so clearly and miss having the right relationship with Jesus Christ?

We are left with some element of speculation, but it’s reasonable to assume that Judas resented Jesus and felt justified in his own views (Mark 14:6-16). Ultimately, that triggered his decision to turn Jesus over to the authorities. The greater account of Judas Iscariot suggests he had some underlying anger issues with the whole situation – which may explain why “Satan entered him” (John 13:27). The Bible teaches that our anger always gives Satan an opportunity (Eph. 4:27).

In the end, Judas’ response to Jesus Christ was likely dominated by a selfish desire for political change. Judas wanted conditions that were not there. Jesus didn’t overthrow the Romans as Judas wanted Him to, and so Judas’ selfish intentions led to profound personal compromise. It fostered resentment, clouded better judgment, and it ultimately destroyed him. Judas Iscariot wanted things to work out his way – not Jesus’ way. When Jesus didn’t do what Judas most wanted Him to do, Judas was through with Him.

Today, Judas Iscariot’s name is synonymous with betrayal, treachery, and disloyalty. He’s one of the most hated figures in Scripture – so it’s not without some hesitation that I suggest his patterns are often our own.

To lessen the blow, I’ll speak for myself. It is easy for me to get focused on one or two goals in my life to the exclusion of all else God is trying to do. In this situation, I can end up ignoring the things God is doing in my life, the lessons He is teaching me, or the way He is working in the life of my church, my friends, my family, and even my country.

Because it’s natural for me to become selfish in my expectations of God, it’s not hard to start compromising here and there and doing things I once never thought I would. I believe there is a huge principle at stake here. You see, we can be surrounded by believers and ministry and still fall. We can hear the regular teaching of God’s Word and still fail. We can witness God at work and still miss the most important need to be in a right relationship with God.

If we persist in thinking about ourselves first – what we can get out of the situation, what we think the outcomes should be, or how we feel “who” should be doing “what,” then we completely miss what God most needs to accomplish in our own lives the very same way Judas missed it. At that point, resentments creep in and we say and do things we ought not to.

And here’s the third and final character: the thief on the cross. By this, I mean the “good” thief (Luke 23:39-43). We don’t even know his name. There were two thieves who died with Jesus, and while both received the penalty for their crimes, the “good” thief gave Jesus the proper respect.

I feel that – for various reasons – the “good” thief is the most remarkable man of the three individuals we have assessed. What do we know of him? Not much, I’m afraid.

We do know that when Jesus was crucified, there was a cross on either side of Him. On His left and right were two criminals. In the Greek language, they are called “kakourgos,” which has the straightforward meaning of “criminal,” “evil-doer,” or “one who commits serious crimes.”

The “good” thief was a bad man. Other gospels call him a “robber.” He could have been a bandit – someone that ambushed others, took advantage of them, and left them for dead. It’s very likely that this “good” thief had been the sort of person that Jesus had in mind when He told His parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). This “good” thief had been a burden, a blight on society – and so he was sentenced to death for his crimes.

But despite his faulty resume, this “good” thief had a right view of God! He asked the other bellicose thief, “Don’t you fear God?” He put the “bad” thief in his place by correcting the latter’s improper assumptions of Jesus Christ.

To put this remarkable situation another way, the “good” thief’s mouth revealed the condition of his heart (Luke 6:45). The Bible teaches that you are what you say, and the “good” thief said to Jesus Christ, “…remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Whoa! By ANY measure, this is an astounding statement!

Consider that by this point, all of Jesus’ disciples had fled the scene, and only John is recorded as being at the cross (John 19:26). These disciples were the men Jesus had personally trained. These were the guys who had seen supernatural evidence of Jesus’ power and authority. These were the guys who had learned from the Messiah Himself – and they were nowhere to be found!

The “good” thief, on the other hand, had had none of that training and experience. He had not spent the same time with Jesus Christ, and he had not seen all the miracles Jesus had done. He knew far less about Jesus than others did. By conventional standards, the “good” thief had missed the boat.

On top of all that, Jesus Christ was now dying. Beaten and bloodied so badly, He was now unrecognizable (Isaiah 52:14). Jesus was breathing His last right there beside the “good” thief, and by all measures of the term, Jesus Christ appeared mortal. Few people at that crucifixion scene were confident in Jesus Christ’s future kingdom.

But faith sees through the way things seem to the way they really are (Heb. 11:1), and so here the “good” thief showed more faith than many upright personalities in the Scriptures. The “good” thief saw Jesus Christ correctly. He didn’t see a dying man – he saw a living King of kings. He didn’t see someone who had failed and was unable to deliver – he saw someone who was assured of having the final victory. He didn’t see someone who was abused and humiliated by others – he saw someone who had infinite power.

In short, the “good” thief recognized Jesus Christ as the Messiah! He knew Jesus was not an imposter or someone who couldn’t deliver on His promises. The “good” thief looked beyond the limitations of that horrible situation, beyond the natural questions that saturated that awful scene, and he fully understood that Jesus Christ would still receive and set up His everlasting kingdom.

The “good” thief faced personal adversities that exceeded those challenges John the Baptist and Judas Iscariot had faced, and yet – against all human understanding! – he still believed that Jesus was exactly who He said He was. For his astounding demonstration of genuine faith, the “good” thief received way more benefit than he had bargained for.

It’s a weighty question, but I have to ask it. Which one of these three individuals are you most like right now? Are you like John the Baptist: insecure, unsure, disappointed, and needing reassurance that God is still able to be the God you most need? Are you asking God to reaffirm Himself to you so that you can be convinced of His promises and plans?

Perhaps you are like Judas Iscariot: angry, resentful, focused on what you most want and what you feel the situation needs to be. Are you taking in the regular teaching of God’s Word and participating in a ministry – but it’s having little effect on changing who you are and how you’re seeing things?

Or, are you like the “good” thief? You are in a place where the odds are stacked against you – and by all standard assessments, there is no clear evidence that God is demonstrating Himself to you the way your desperate situation most needs Him to. Do you find yourself in a tenuous spot where you cannot see the power of God in the circumstances you are facing – – – and yet your heart is still bursting with faith?

I cannot answer the tough questions of these last few paragraphs for anyone but myself. However, my prayer for all of us is that our faith rises up and shows itself in the tough and uncertain times just as the faith of the “good” thief did.

The “good” thief didn’t see Jesus Christ as someone who had let him down – he properly saw the only one who gave him hope.

#Examine #Thy #Self #if #this #message #doesn't #pierce #your #heart #then #there #is #something #wrong

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Bedside Stories ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Edge is tired of being in the hospital and that is a fact.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Hints of Kustard Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Hospitals

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

With the IVs and all the monitoring equipment removed, the hospital room could almost be mistaken for a hotel. The walls were painted in cozily muted shades and the landscaped paintings were generic enough to match any accommodations they’d been given on their travels, even the most prestigious. The bed was the only distinguishing feature and even it was less confronting with the railings lowered; there was less concern about him tumbling out since the decision had been made to lower Edge’s pain medication to what he still considered unreasonable levels, but far more acceptable than the quantities that left his head swimming.

Currently the bed was somewhat sloppily made and Edge was settled on top of the blankets, fully dressed with his casted foot resting atop some carefully arranged pillows. Not generally one for fidgeting, he couldn’t help drumming his fingers against the bed-covers agitatedly. Today was they day the doctors agreed for his release; all they needed now was an orderly with a wheelchair and he could be out, away from this room and the four walls he’d been staring at for days.

It was honestly starting to verge on intolerable; he had crutches, the walk down to the parking lot was a short one with elevators to ease the path. And having to be the one sitting and waiting impatiently while his spouse read the release papers was a new experience, one he would have been happy to live without.

Particularly since Stretch seemed to be taking some measure of fiendish delight in it, his eye lights bright as they skimmed over the paperwork. He held up the checklist and said cheerily, “okay, babe, let’s go over this one more time.”

Edge sighed inwardly and nodded. He supposed he deserved this, considering how many times their positions had been reversed. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

Stretch looked down the slight protuberance of his nasal aperture at the sheet, “first question; what are you supposed to do this week?”

“Keep my leg elevated,” Edge recited flatly.

“right you are!” Stretch agreed, chipper as an abnormally cruel chickadee. “and what are you supposed to do every three hours?”

“Ice my leg to keep the cartilage from swelling.”

“you’re on fire, which, coincidentally, is not what you should do with your leg. okay, last one, this is a toughie,” Stretch leaned forward and asked with great solemnness, “when are you supposed to take your pain meds?”

Edge glared at him and gritted out, “As directed.”

Stretch beamed at him, flumping back into his chair. “a+, baby, great job! aced the exam.” His humor faded, replaced by an uncommonly steely determination, “so, this is how the week is going to go, yeah? the docs are highly paid medical pros who know what’s what and we’re going to follow the directions they gave us, that they went to many, many years of school for, and everything will go according to plan.”

“I’d like to think I know my own body best,” Edge muttered under his breath. Not quietly enough, Stretch’s eye lights flickered orange and he scrambled to his feet, stalking over to the bed to poke Edge in the sternum with a blunt fingertip.

“highly. paid. pros.” Stretch said firmly. “look, either you do as the doc says, or you might get to change your power stride into a drunken sailor lurch. follow the directions or you’ll never get to face Kevin Bacon in the dance off, yeah?”

“Yes, dear,” Edge grumbled. The situation was irritating, but blaming Stretch for his worries would be more hypocritical than Edge could stomach. Before Stretch could flop back into his chair, Edge hooked an arm around him and pulled him in, ignoring his squirming protests to tug him onto the bed and into his arms, pressing a soft kiss on top of his skull. “Love, I’m all right.”

“uh huh, sure,” Stretch managed to wriggle free enough to glare at him. “if i tried any shit and my excuse was ‘i know better than people who’ve gone to medical school’, you’d have my ass.”

Which was true, but aside from the point. “I’d like to state for the record that since I was admitted, at no point have I disobeyed any of the doctor’s orders.”

“not yet, anyway, but you’re still in arms reach.” Stretch gave up on clever escape attempts and settled against Edge’s side. “keep behaving at home, yeah? anyway, they should be springing us soon.”

“They should.” But there was no telltale sign of footsteps, nor the sound of rubber wheels on a tile floor and the irritable tension in his soul was on the verge of snapping. “Could you help me to my feet, I’d like to go to the restroom.”

Stretch pulled back, blinking with what would be a frankly hurtful amount of suspicion if Edge wasn’t sure he would have done the same thing were their positions reversed, “seriously? for what, all that healing grow you the ability to take a leak?”

“Don’t be crude,” Edge chided, “I want to wash my hands.”

“geez, i can bring you a wet washcloth, we’ll be home in like, an hour, why do you-”

“Please.”

Perhaps it was the urgency in his voice, but Stretch faltered, his sockets narrowing to show only the rim of pale white lights. It was perfectly true, Edge did want to wash his hands; even knowing that the hospital rooms were as clean as possible, everything freshly washed and sterilized, it wasn’t enough. He’d been here for days in this bed made up with sheets that weren’t his own, dressed in borrowed hospital gowns and subjected to sponge baths from the hands of relative strangers. The urge to scrub himself clean was constant and he was very much looking forward to showering in his own bathroom, but for now even though his release was imminent, his agitation was starting to slip his hold. At the very least he wanted to wash his hands with hot running water and plenty of soap before he put on a fresh pair of gloves, he needed that.

That Stretch’s expression abruptly softened was a small measure of its own relief, as was his nod. “okay, baby, let’s get you up.”

With some effort, Edge swung his legs off the side of the bed, Stretch helping guide the way. The cast was unwieldy, but it was hardly the first he’d ever had. Not the first broken bone or even broken leg, though Edge could admit it was the worst. He took a moment for his equilibrium to adjust before easing his weight into standing, faint spots dancing in his vision; it was the first time he’d been truly upright in days, but it was fine, just fine.

“okay, here’s the crutches--”

Stretch reached for them at the same time he did, and that was enough to somehow tangle the ends with both their own feet. They worked exactly as a lever should, knocking them both off balance and Edge tried to catch himself but the damage was done. All he could do was aim them both for the safety of the bed rather than the hard floor and Stretch yelped as they tumbled down to the mattress, Edge’s not inconsiderable weight on top of him.

That yelped turned closer to a wheeze as Edge accidentally jammed an elbow into his rib cage as he attempted to untangle himself from the maze of their limbs. By the time he’d managed to somewhat free himself, Stretch was laughing helplessly between pants for breath, “sorry, babe, that didn’t go as planned.”

“Yes, I suspected as much,” Edge said dryly. He was gathering himself for a second attempt, this time without the ‘help’, when a voice came from behind them.

“huh. didn’t think they allowed that kind of action in these rooms, but you do you.”

They both looked up to see Sans standing in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets and his normal smile playing on his mouth. The dark stains beneath his sockets were a testament to his own days in the hospital, his normal hoodie and shorts rumpled as though they’d been slept in. Which was often the case hospital or not, but seeing it here seemed particularly poignant.

“heya, what’s up?” Stretch asked. He slithered out from under Edge in an eely little move that would’ve come in rather handy only five minutes earlier.

“only the sky and satellites,” Sans said easily. “heard they were springing you, thought I should stop by.” He stepped further into the room, but didn’t close the door, and his grin didn’t touch his eye lights. “hey, stretch, why don’t you go see how that wheelchair wrangling is going, yeah?”

Stretch gave Sans a brutally unimpressed look; he might cheerily claim the title of idiot, but he was nobody’s fool. Low and through his teeth, Stretch said, “i think the orderlies know what they’re doing, doubt they need an amateur to help ‘em.”

Implying that he wasn’t about to follow the unspoken order to leave. This new protectiveness was not entirely unwelcome; to be honest it was somewhat endearing, but Edge couldn’t allow it to take hold. He gave Stretch a gentle nudge, jarring him from his glaring with a quiet, “Go on, love, see what’s taking so long.”

If Sans needed to speak to him alone, then it was likely Embassy business and from the way Stretch looked between them with an expression of distinct unhappiness, he knew it. He started to reach for Edge, his fingers curling abortively into a fist before they touched what Edge knew was a lingering bruise down the side of his face.

“fine. wheelchair wrangling, sure, yippee-ki-yay,” Stretch said flatly. “yeah, okay, but if you upset him, remember that i’m the one stuck riding shotgun with him all the way home.”

Sans only gave him a wink and a finger twirl, “don’t even worry about it, i won’t give the edgelord a reason to whip out the big guns.”

The sound Stretch made was a step past rude and when he stomped out, he yanked the door closed with a near slam, echoing in the small room. Edge spoke before Sans could, asking quietly, “How is your brother?”

Sans seemed unperturbed by the change of subject, “doing all right. about like you, itchin’ to go home. he’ll be here a few days longer yet, they’d like to keep a closer eye on the noggin, but the docs say everything’s going as expected.”

That, at least, was a comfort. “I’m sorry.”

“ooookay?” Sans said slowly, bemused. He rocked on his slippered feet and something about that was upsetting; he’d given up slippers for sneakers some time ago. To see them making an appearance outside of his own home was disheartening, a step backwards. “mind telling me what for?”

The words came with some difficulty, clogging in his throat, but Edge forced them out, “Papyrus shouldn’t have been hurt. He was my responsibility.”

Sans was shaking his head before Edge even finished. “yeah, let’s back up a few steps here. look, you were leading the security team, but you ain’t the only one on it, and if i can forgive myself for not protecting him, i’m sure as fuck not gonna blame you.” Edge said nothing and Sans’s easy smile thinned, “but hey, since you’re going with unnecessary guilt, guess we can hop into why i’m here. after you get settled in at home and you get a mo’, might wanna check out the paperwork for your psych assessment. once you’re back on your feet, you need to schedule an evaluation with the department head shrinker before you can get back to work.”

Edge frowned, already shaking his head, “That won’t be necessary.”

Sans shrugged carelessly. “maybe, maybe not, but what it ain’t is optional. i had to do it myself. it’s only an hour or so, just a chat to make sure your head is on straight.”

“I don’t need a chat,” Edge said tersely. In fact, he was fairly sure it was the last thing he needed, and it was definitely not something he wanted. “I survived Underfell, this incident is hardly comparable.”

Never had Sans’s grin seemed so like his brother’s, sharp and darkly amused despite his blunted teeth. “welp, have i got great news for you, pal. you’re not in Underfell anymore, you’re here and either you play by the rules or you don’t play, you get me, little brother?” For all his vow not to stir Edge up, those two words made him startle, unexpected emotion heavy in his chest, “and you can keep your bitching about it, this ain’t my idea, it’s from higher up. but i agree with it. get it done, you hear me?”

“Fine,” Edge gritted out. It was a terrible idea and unnecessary, but arguing with Sans was less useful than shouting into the wind and expecting it to obey, “Is that all?”

“it was everything on my shortlist,” Sans said, all languid ease once again, “stretch should be back soon. go home, get some rest, watch some shitty tv, smooch your honey on his face as many times as you can. i’ll try to stop by once paps is back home, maybe we can schedule a playdate for you two martyrs, and you can chat about tossing yourselves on grenades or whatever else you have planned. maybe if you two idiots can stop taking on the blame for any shit that rolls downhill, you’ll have a good time.”

He started turning to door and Edge blurted, “Sans.”

Sans stopped, head tilting curiously.

It was difficult to ask, given the state of whatever the relationship between Sans and Red was, and yet, Edge’s normal sources were failing him; the Embassy servers were still closed to him and normally his brother would be the one he’d go to first. Therein lay the problem. “I haven’t seen my brother since the day they brought me in.”

“no?” Sans said lightly, but before Edge could do more than keep the tight hurt from showing on his face, Sans sighed tiredly, his head drooping, “yeah, i know.”

“Do you know where he is?” It burst loose and to ask this way, so straightforward and desperate, felt wrong, almost felt like a betrayal, but it was his brother and his bottled up concern was starting to leak around the edges.

Sans sucked on his teeth loudly, but the sudden sincerity in his voice weakened Edge with uncertain relief, “working on it. i’ll let you know if i get any bites.”

“Thank you.” It was all he could hope for.

Sans gave him a nod and then he was gone, sidestepping into a shortcut. Edge sagged back on the mattress, exhausted despite having done nothing today but a foiled attempt at standing.

If he couldn’t investigate his brother’s absence on his own, then Sans was as good as he could hope for as an alternate. He might be somewhat kinder than Red, but Edge recognized a commonality between them, especially when it came to seeking information with less than traditional methods.

Sans was wrong about one thing, though; it had been Edge’s responsibility to watch over all the diplomats, and he’d allowed his personal distractions to interfere with his duty. If his mind had been properly on the task at hand, the damages would have been so much less, and he could only imagine the fallout that the Embassy was currently dealing with because of it since his access had been taken away. It was strikingly similar to the events at the Golden City restaurant with Jeff, his distraction keeping him from protecting those he was supposed to keep safe.

Liabilities, Red called them. Called Stretch. His pretty little liability.

Even worse was a truth he hardly wanted to acknowledge. If he’d given in or ignored Asgore’s instruction and brought Stretch with him, Edge had little doubt his instinct would have been to protect him to the exclusion of all others. Protocol dictated that his concern should have been for the diplomats, but he couldn't pretend that would be true if his husband was there.

Edge shifted higher on the mattress, wincing as he struggled to arrange his cast back on the pile of pillows. The room seemed too quiet without Stretch, echoing emptily, and Edge let his head drop back on the pillows, staring up at the plain white of the ceiling as he waited for the wheelchair and the much-needed freedom to go home.

But the word ‘liability’ was heavy on his mind, and the voice was his brother’s.

~~*~~

As it turned out, the coveted wheelchair was so close to their room, Stretch came damn close to tripping over it when he sulked his way out. And yeah, it satisfied a certain vindictiveness in him to sweetly ask the guy if he couldn’t come back in a half hour or so, since there was important Embassy shit going on behind that closed door.

The orderly didn’t even grumble, probably too awed imagining what the top secret shenanigans might be to think about the fact that Edge was supposed to be off-duty, like, really off, not supposed to be doing any work at all and if almost getting blown up didn’t qualify a person for some paid time off, then that contract needed some review.

But even if it was satisfying to send the transport guy off while Stretch indulged himself in a little justified annoyance, it didn’t exactly keep the guilt from skittering on up his back. Stretch ignored it and wandered down to the nurse’s station where there were a few chairs and a table lined up in a sort of ‘waiting hallway’.

The chairs were even shittier than the ones in the rooms, thin-cushioned and cramped, and way too short besides. Stretch slumped down into one anyway, letting his legs sprawl out in front of him instead of trying to sit properly with his knees up by his ears. It was awkward as hell, but even that was almost welcome. Better to get all his sulks out before he got back into the room, because he honestly didn’t want to fight with Edge today, not when he was about to get him back home. Once they were there it’d be easier, he was gonna make sure of that; one week of rest wasn’t too fucking much to ask.

He was playing a very morose round of ‘Words With Friends’ on his phone, trying to figure out what he could make out of FIX with the letters he had, when the tippy tap of shoes on the tile made him glance up.

To his surprise, it was Toriel and Frisk, and they seemed equally surprised to see him. That at least made sense, he didn’t have many good reasons to be sitting in the damn hallway like an uncommon sort of houseplant.

“Why, hello, Papyrus,” Toriel exclaimed. Sweet lady that she was, she didn’t ask about his current location, even if her shrewd gaze said she certainly noticed it. Technically, she wasn’t a diplomat herself, she only came along as Frisk’s guardian, but try to explain that to anyone who met her, staring at the way she towered over most Humans as they looked up into her regal face.

Yeah, there was a reason that most Monsters still called her the Queen even if she and Asgore were divorced.

Hearing his name from her made Stretch smile reluctantly. Tori was about the only person who called him Papyrus these days aside from his therapist. It was per his own request, way back when she’d come to him and asked for his help with the lab work. She wasn’t his friend behind the door any more than Asgore was, but somehow, it was soothing to have at least one Monster call him by his real name. Plus, she had jokes; it was something, anyway.

Frisk offered a cheerful grin of their own. They were currently making the teenager years their own, all gangly limbs and flared rashes of pimples, but their smile was always warming. Good kid, worked tirelessly to get Monsters the equality that they damn well deserved. They’d gone a long way in showing Stretch that most Humans were all right.

Not that the little fucker from Underswap really deserved the title of Human, but yeah, anyway, that was trauma for another time.

Stretch forced a little leftover cheer into his voice, “hey, guys, what’re you up to?”

Toriel smiled, dimpling prettily through her short fur. “Visiting the other Papyrus.” Her laughter was bright and sincere. “He’s a dear, truly, but it is rather like eating a clock. Time consuming.”

“especially if you go for seconds,” Stretch added gleefully, and Tori let out another peal of laughter, shaking with it as she leaned against her child. Who only shook their head and took her weight stoically, their smile sincere.

“That was a good one,” Toriel sighed finally, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “But if you’d something a little tastier than an hour, we’re heading down to the cafeteria for lunch. Would you like to join us?”

“can’t,” Stretch said, with true regret. Wasn’t often he got to spend time with a pure spirit of the punny kind. Stretch jerked his head towards the hospital room door. “edge is about to get sprung.”

Toriel only smiled, unoffended, “That is wonderful news, dear, won’t you give him my love?” And as Frisk bounced impatiently, she chuckled again. “Apologies, our love. Yes, yes, dear, I’m coming.”

The kid gave Stretch a cheekily salute and darted down the hallway towards the elevators, but before Tori could follow, Stretch caught her arm.

"tori?” Stretch asked, low, “can i ask a favor?"

"Of course,” Toriel glanced at Frisk, who’d paused, looking back quizzically, and called, “Go on ahead, dear, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.” She returned her attention to Stretch, her expression curious, “What is it?”

"you got enough juice for a little healing yet?" It’d been a few days, she should be replenished, but Stretch didn’t want to assume, not when he was already begging favors.

Immediately, suspicion filled her soft face, "Yes, why?"

He glanced distrustfully around the empty hallway as if someone might spring out of the walls before he tugged up his sleeve, showed her his wrist. The bruises swelling there were stark against the bone, slender, dark smudges only slightly wider than skeletal fingers. Toriel’s eyes widened briefly, then narrowed, studying them, but when she looked back up at him, Stretch met her gaze steadily. There were any number of Monsters here in the hospital with healing capabilities but none of them were ones he trusted enough to show. Not even Blue, but that wasn’t exactly about trust, now was it.

Very carefully, Toriel took his wrist in hand, the fur on her fingers ticklishly soft. Her thumb skirted over the mottled bruises as she murmured, "He wasn't quite awake, was he?"

Stretch said nothing, only nodded shortly, and her expression softened. "I spent a great many years married to a former soldier myself. Promise me this isn't an ongoing issue and I'll heal it."

"i promise,” Stretch said immediately, all stark honesty and he didn’t think he imagined a certain tension leaving Tori’s shoulders. “it's only the second time he's done anything like that in all the time we've been together.” Well, not including fun-time bruises, but that was probably some tmi. “and he was drugged to the gills, too. it was an accident, but my bro might not see it that way."

"You may be right,” Toriel said, with the tone of one who worked often with his bro and had a fair idea of his inner workings. “I have a slightly different understanding of these matters than he might. Hold still, now."

Warmth glossed out from her touch, the soft green of healing and instantly the bruises faded along with the lingering discomfort. A couple seconds of effort to keep back a possible defcon situation with his bro. Not quite a lie, not in his opinion, but even if it was, it was one Stretch could live with.

“thanks,” Stretch said gratefully, tugging his sleeve back down.

“Of course, dear. You take care now, won’t you?” To his bemusement, she leaned down and planted a kiss on top of his skull, the same way she might’ve to Frisk on any given day. “Take care of that husband of yours as well.” Her smiled turned tremulous. “I owe him a debt that I can never repay.”

“every day i can,” Stretch assured her, watching as she walked after Frisk. Come to think of it, might not just be a favor for him that she’d healed those bruises. Hiding them from Edge had been a hell of a chore, too, trying to keep him from feeling even more like shit about it, and not for the first time Stretch wished he was better at healing himself. It would be a nice trick for special occasions, for sure.

The sound of the wheelchair returning caught his attention and Stretch hopped to his feet, wandering back towards the hospital room. Looked like it was finally time to head home, and that, friends and neighbors, was probably gonna take all the patience he could get.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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migleefulmoments · 5 years

Note

I'm a psych major - i seriously believe that the CC fandom is a cult - the hate they send is cult like mentality, they have something seriously wrong with them. Like mentally. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them got arrested for harassment of C or D or their partners.

Come off anon and chat with me...there is a lot to unpack and I won’t do it publicly.

There is definite some mental health issues for in that fandom. I too keep wondering how far they will push it. If not them, will some follower of theirs do something stupid because they are emboldened by the rhetoric that the ccc leaders spew?

Whether the anons are real or the leaders of the ccc are sending anons to themselves-or it’s a combination of both- is unclear to me, what I do know is that the answers they are giving are consistently and purposefully misleading and often outright lies.

Two recent examples of their outrageous lies;

1. ANON::

“...have u seen naya say on the podcast that C was actually upset about santana's rant to kurt in that episode... because it was so real? it really makes u think that there was for sure one writer thay really did have it out for chris...

ajw720 answered:

That rant was 100% directed at C and it was divined by RM. He is raging with jealousy towards C, he has everything, looks, talent, creativity, and D. And things completely feel apart when RM realized C was genuine competition. You realize Blainofsky was punishment to CC for acting out that past summer? He literally broke up the fan favorite couple on the show during the last season for revenge. And he despises C in particular. And that rant was not aimed at K/urt. It was aimed at C. And I am glad N/aya commented on it, I can’t imagine how she felt being used on that manner.

FACT CHECK:

Had she spent 2 minutes Googling this she would have realized that fact Brad Falchuk-not Ryan Murphy- wrote Jagged Little Tapestry thus invalidating her entire theory.

Everything she said about Ryan Murphy in this paragraph is simply her fantasy. Ryan is a very successful and powerful Hollywood writer, producer, and director. He is also gay and married with young children and Is a powerful LGBQT advocate. His youngest son waged a 2-year battle with Neuroblastoma from 2016-2018. Neuroblastoma is a vicious form of childhood cancer that requires intense treatment. I used to be an pediatric oncology/bone marrow transplant nurse and this cancer and treatment is no joke.

Ryan Murphy is very creative- he created and wrote episodes of Glee, 911, and Nip/Tuck, AHS, ACS, and the upcoming The Politician. Check out his IMDB (X).

He has won numerous awards and nurtured a lot of queer content including Pose which hired both LGBTQ actors and staff making it highly unlikely that he would closet a gay actor.

She suggested Ryan is jealous of Chris because of his “looks” and his relationship with Darren. There is nothing to suggest that Ryan is unhappy in his married, his attracted to much younger or is attracted to Chris and/ Darren. Ryan called his husband, “His rock” in 2018 when talking about their son’s illness.

Abby ignores Ryan’s real life story, instead because it doesn’t fit her fanfiction character profile she created for Ryan.

2. ANON:

“....is it a known fact to the whole fandom that f/etusm/iarren is M/ia ?” (X)

chrisdarebashfulsmiles answered:

Hi, you know, i think (my opinion) that m/iarrens are ignoring purposely this fact. Like.. they have seen everything happening or showed here and decided to say “hey, you know? i don’t care”. Like they do with everything that is not part of the “D is straight” tale.

Let’s say that most of us have an idea about who the minions are (if they exists and i think i can tell you that maybe one is a real person)… but it’s irrelevant.

The account still exists because, and believe me i don’t know how this is possible, the stans who follow that account are more “m/ia stans” (the ones that bother us on our blogs and in blogs dedicated to hate and mock us) than “D stans. Let me tell you one thing: i speak with a good bunch of “m/iarren” that are D stans and we are on the same page, we worry for D. No talk of bullshit with them. Most of them understood that something wasn’t ok and they left their fandom, without becoming part of the cc one. Others are still here but more subtle and still respectful.

And I see why: because they want to understand what is wrong.

Anyway: D’s team gives her stuff, and this is one of the problem.

FACT CHECK:

In truth, there are very few “Mia stans” and a lot of “Darren stans”. The CCCers refuse to listen to what their anons actually say. Instead they pigeon-hole people into categories based on their own needs and they need us to be unreasonable and obsessed with Mia rather than Darren for their self-righteous antics to work.

Nobody that I am aware of is purposefully ignoring credible evidence that Darren is gay. None of us are looking at the “evidence “ and saying “hey, we don’t care”. The fact is that very few people care if Darren is gay or straight and the “evidence” is nonsense. I have yet to year one thing that sounds credible. Anyone else?

I did a very rudimentary look her claim that “The account still exists because, and believe me i don’t know how this is possible, the stans who follow that account are more “m/ia stans” than “D Stans”. I sampled 280 Fetu/sMiarr/en followers:

The vast majority were private accounts aka we cannot say why they are interested in the account.

4 or 0.1% called themselves Mi/arrens

10 or 3.5% listed Kl/aine or Gle/e in their profile

15 or 5.3% listen Darre/n or posted photos of him alone

1 or 0.03% was a Guns ‘N Hoses page DING DING DING we found the Mia Stan.

Darren’s team gives her stuff? What exactly would Darren’s team need to give her? She is his wife. She goes everywhere with him. they own a home and bar together.

Chrisdarebashfulsmiles had a rare moment of honestly when she said “Believe me I don’t know how this is possible”. The truth is. it isn’t possible. it’s all made up.

Abby stuck her nose in to the conversation with this wisdom:

ajw720

And a lot of the stans who refuse to accept it, need M because she is the only thing that makes d straight. And they know as soon as they start to question, they have to face reality

Um, no Abs, Mia is not the only thing that makes Darren straight.

Darren is straight because he is a man who is sexually attracted to women....the very definition of “straight”.

Darren has identified as straight for 9 years.

Your confusion around his sexual orientation is simply your refusal to respect his word because you believe you know more than he does about his own feelings-however that isn’t a valid argument.

His marriage to Mia is a personal decision to build a life with the woman he loves and has been in a relationship with for 9 years or so.

Let’s look at Darren’s own words over the years:

2011 'Glee' Star Darren Criss Comes Out—As A Straight Guy!(X)

"I think it's more empowering to everybody, including myself, if I'm articulate about identifying myself as a straight male playing a gay character," the actor says in the Hollywood issue of Out magazine. "Ultimately, that's more powerful for both communities."

When Criss first got the role of Blaine, he admits that he wanted to deflect questions about his sexual orientation, giving reporters answers like, "It doesn't matter if I'm gay or straight." But he decided that it was better if he was just honest and straightforward. Besides, he explains, he owes a huge part of his identity to gay role models.

2011 “Glee Star Darren Criss Dishes on Kissing Lea Michele & Losing Out To Cory Monteith (X)

I’ve been pretty overt about the fact that I am straight,” Darren told Billy and Kit. “I think it’s an important thing to be explicit about — not for my own sexuality, but just as a general statement that I am comfortable with my sexuality and very comfortable with the fact that I’m playing a strong gay character.”

2013 Cosmo Guy” Darren Criss On Glee’s New Chapter (X)

Q: You're not gay; you just play gay on TV. Do you ever feel the need to assert your heterosexuality?

A: No. I know who I am. I feel bad for guys who have to flex their muscles. But hey, if that's the way to make yourself feel comfortable as a man—as long as it isn't antagonizing anybody—go for it. I'm okay with your getting a Miata to feel like a dude; just don't be a dick about it.

Darren Criss Will No Longer Play Gay Characters (X)

Darren Criss has decided that he will no longer play gay characters. Why? Because he doesn’t want to be a straight actor taking potential roles from actors who actually identify as gay, he said in a recent interview with Bustle.

“There are certain [queer] roles that I’ll see that are just wonderful,” he explained. “But I want to make sure I won’t be another straight boy taking a gay man’s role.”

2018 Darren Criss on Playing Serial Killer Andrew Cunanan in ACS: Versace and Passing as White (X)

You’ve also played a lot of gay and queer characters. Has playing these parts informed how you think about your sexuality or gender? That’s a great question. God, we need like an hour. Sure, yes. Absolutely. It definitely has. I think being queer in general evokes more self-questioning than somebody who’s cisgender straight, because you really have to explore a lot of things about yourself that are meeting resistance on conventional social levels. So you have to go, “Okay, cool. Is this really how I feel?” There are questions that arise within yourself that doesn’t have to happen if you live in a hetero-normative universe. So in that sense, I think the journey of questioning oneself, which everybody does anyway — and should do— I admire that narrative. Even though I am not gay myself, or queer, I am a storyteller, and I love and appreciate the strength of character it takes for someone to get through that, whether it was difficult or not. I’ve been very blessed in my career with being allowed in the gay community. Again, as a cisgendered straight dude, that’s not lost on me. I don’t take that for granted. It’s been such a huge part of my life, even pre-Glee. I come from San Francisco doing theater, man. Like, I was raised by gay men. Not literally at home, but you know, as a young kid doing theater, my friends were these men and women in their 20s, driving me home and getting me dinner. These were my adult figures in my life, so unconsciously I’ve always had such affection for the life, whatever that means. So I guess inhabiting a gay voice is important to me because it’s a voice that I find inspiring.

These are just two of the many lies the cc fandom tell their followers in order to manipulate them into believing the fantasies that means much to them.

#cc #ccer #ccers #cc family #cc blog #ccc #CrissColfer Cult #cc fandom #crisscolfer #darren criss #mia swier #Ryan Murphy #Darren is straight

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wanderer-of-sol · 3 years

Text

Wanderer of Sol - Business Chapter 4

Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here

Chapter 4

After an appetizer of freshly baked bread, the nature spirit had regained a fair amount of her strength, at least enough to walk and find a more comfortable sitting spot in her servant's home, where he offered her, and the rest of his guests a meal.

“It's not much, not much at all, but my mother was a kitchen witch as well as a gardener. I've put what I can into it for you.” Jackal said, placing a bowl in front of each of his guests and began serving them. Jackal's lentil soup was famous. Almost as famous as his late mother's.

“The taste of this... I never knew having a tongue would be such a boon.” She was amazed that humans could turn something so simple as the beans she created from seeds and soil into something full of flavor and soul.

“Honestly Ma'am, I couldn't do it without you.” Jack was humbled by her compliment.

“Please, call me Sacra, Jackson. We're both children of nature. There's no need for formalities.” She smiled at him, then mimicked Robin, as she dipped her bread in the soup. Sacra's eyes lit up.

“Right. Sacra? What can we do to help the crops? And to keep you healthy?” Jackal hadn't even started his meal yet. He was too preoccupied by the current events and wanted to get the work done as soon as it could be done. He was a farmer after all.

“I'm not... I'm not sure how you can help.” She said with a sigh. The joy of her meal was gone, as she too knew there were pressing matters. “It's just so much work. You have thousands of acres of Mars' skin to plant your crops, which I could handle. But to feed your people, you have to farm in your buildings. Twenty floors of farm going into the sky. It's brilliant, and the lives of those plants are so well kept... But I can't keep up, poor Jackson.” She paused. Her eyes were sad, almost shameful, as she looked at Jackal “I'm a young spirit. Mars has only given her fruits to man for three hundred years, and my skin... You're only the third generation to grow here, aren't you Jackson?”

“Y-Yes, Sacra...” Jackal took her hand, showing his undying support for her. “My grandparents came from Venus, bringing their craft to help garden here on Mars. This isn't your fault. Not your fault at all. We're asking so much of you, Sacra. I'm a green witch. I should be able to do what my ancestors could, and help you.” Both parties felt the guilt of being unable to carry an unreasonable burden. The table was quiet for a moment.

“Did you know... Did you know your grandparents were there for my birth? They planted trees and herbs and fields here until Mother found it necessary to breath me into life, just like my elder sisters elsewhere on Mars. I was made out of the unyielding passion they showed for the plants, and my mother. I've watched them from that moment. I saw your mother come into the world. Watched her play in the greenhouses. Loved her while she watered my leaves. I held her while she looked at the stars from my tree branches. I supported her when she met your father, as he sold her seeds and tools. I-” Sacra laughed a little. “I remember your conception in a field just east of here, sweet Jackson.”

“Ha, that's probably more information than Jacky wants to know.” Munin chuckled, but Jackal corrected her.

“No, not at all. I think that's beautiful. Did you watch me the way you watched her?” He inquired.

“I did.” She smiled, rubbing the top of his hand with her thumb, affectionately. “I watched you plant your first crop. A potted sunflower. I was watching when you earned the name Jackal. You dropped a shovel on your toes, and yipped and howled. Your grandfather called you a 'little jackal'. I remember the blood and sweat you shed the first year you worked the fields with your family. That was a trying year for you, but you grew so strong. You're still so strong.” She reassured him. “I cried when you left my fields to spread and gather knowledge with the rest of Mars, but I cried joyfully knowing my sisters would meet you. You planted seven vast fields for them, in the impossible deserts. You would have gone on to plant so many more... I was there for your mother when she passed. Or she was there for me. I cried and cried, and she wiped away my tears before she moved on. I still cradle her bones. I miss her very much.” Sacra had many things she had to say. Smiles and stories that needed to be shared. Tears that needed to be shed. Both of them had tears to shed. By the end, there was no more guilt or burden. They could begin addressing the problem honestly.

First, Wanderer suggested they get a better understanding of the problem. A tour of the grounds and hydroponics towers.

“For the past few decades we've had to focus on volume. Even after terraforming when Mars was settled, there's not a lot of farmable land. And with the population boom at the end of the war, we've had to grow more and more. Lab synthesized foods help supplement, but humanity is still dependent on agriculture.” Jackal explained to the group as he demonstrated the hydroponics system.

Robin looked around and noticed that there were several people passing by as the tour continued. Often times people would stop and say hello to Jackal, or wave in passing. She found it peculiar, given that he was dressed in a way that most witches only do in private, or when meeting other like minded individuals.

“Quick question. How do the other farmers respond to you being a witch? I can't be open in an electronics store or hacker space without someone ridiculing me or threatening to burn me at the stake.” Robin's experience was echoed by Wanderer. Even in the 25th century, people still feared what they didn't understand.

“Oh, they're mostly alright with it. Mostly fine, really. Around here, farmers are superstitious, but we've been green witches here for, well like we discussed at lunch, three generations. Many of the farmers here were raised along my grandparents casting spells on their parent's crops. It's just part of life, and they're willing to accept it, wholeheartedly. We've always been a staple of the community.” He explained in a casual tone. For him, this was daily life. Through the rest of Mars, and even further out in the system, he had made a name for himself as an eccentric but brilliant botanist, agriculturist, and terraformer. In this town, there were no secrets.

The tour concluded in an office, reviewing orders and looking at numbers. Munin was abjectly bored. She'd had nothing useful to say since they left the green house. She did suggest causing civil war on Mars, thus lowering the population, and in doing so, lower the need for food. Wanderer told her it was a horrible idea, so she sighed and went back to picking her nails with her boot knife.

“Let's break it down and figure out where we can help Sacra do what she does.” Wanderer suggested. “Sacra, would better hydroponics make it a little easier for you to manage the growth of the plants?” He asked, and she nodded.

“But there's only so much I can do. While, if the plants got more nutrition and light, it would make the load lighter for me, I'm still not strong enough to handle all the layers of farms stacked on top of each other. It's like having to do twenty times the work on the same field's footprint.” She explained. Wanderer could tell she still felt upset that she couldn't manage this on her own.

“Robin, you've been taking notes this whole time, right?” Wanderer was starting to formulate a plan in his mind.

“Do you really need to ask?” She replied with a smirk, whipping out her touch screen.

“Obviously not. Do you think you could optimize the automated system a little?” Again, he already knew the answer, but he needed the conversation to gain speed, and get everyone's heads together.

“Oh yeah. Just from what I've seen, I could probably tweak the system and get another ten percent efficiency, without using magic. With Jackal's help, and if I commune with the AI that runs this operation, I might be able to double that.”

“That would be wonderful!” Sacra chimed in “I don't know if that would be enough, but it would certainly help. If only I were stronger.”

“How about a cult?” Munin suggested. “A spirit or god gets more power when more people believe in and praise them... Or fear them.” She said, not looking up from their nails, but admiring how clean she managed to get them.

“I-I don't know. The farmers are superstitious, but they don't have a cult mentality. Most of them already have a religion, and I don't want to impose beliefs on anyone.” Jackal voiced his concerns, but the gears in Wanderer's head were beginning to turn.

“I think I agree with Munin.” Wanderer stated sternly. Munin fumbled and dropped her knife, letting out a quiet “What the fuck, really?” as she turned to look at him. Jackal looked concerned, but he trusted his friend, and didn't object.

“Munin, how long can a spirit keep a human form?” He asked her, being the resident expert on the subject.

“Indefinitely, so long as they don't die. And they'd die just like a human, but they could, probably, get a new body if the rite was preformed again, after some time and with enough belief in them. Why? Are you suggesting Sacra becomes a living deity or something, because that's a little crazy, even for me.” Munin wasn't sure if she was on board for this one or not, but she was curious to see what Wanderer was thinking.

“Not exactly a living deity. Jackal, you said your family is renowned for what you've done. You, yourself, are a folk hero in the countrysides of Mars.” Wanderer reasoned, and Jackal seemed to follow.

“So... Sacra stays human and tend the gardens with me?” Jackal was unsure at first, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense.

“Exactly. She works here, posing as a witch, a friend of yours, maybe one you met on your journey, who's come to lend a hand in helping the food shortage. Before long the people here will love her. Would that kind of praise help her, Munin?” Wanderer needed to check his plan for holes before everyone got too excited for a solution.

“I mean, that's boring as fuck compared to starting a cult, but yeah, that should work fine. Praise is praise, when you're a spirit or a god. You just need people to believe in you, in one way or another. If you got that, you'd be stronger. And if they really like you, you could always expose yourself and start a cult later, I guess.” She saw the value in this kind of a plan, even if she thought it was the least entertaining variant of her plan.

“Sacra, what do you think of this idea?” Wanderer questioned. She looked like she was still absorbing it all.

“I'm... I'm still very new at this whole having a body ordeal, but I could get used to it. And I've watched the people of the area for decades. It certainly wouldn't be hard to pretend to be a witch. I would be willing to try.” She seemed optimistic, a little excited, and a bit nervous.

“Don't worry, Sacra. I'll fill you in on what you need to know about being human. It's easier than it looks.” Munin chimed in, winking at the nature spirit. Robin's jealousy was still easy to read on her face as she took initiative.

“Cool, I'll take Jack and we'll get to work on the hydroponics.” She declared, linking her arm in his and dragging him back to the room that housed the farm's servers, glaring a little at Munin as she left.

“Are you two actually dating now, or something?” Wanderer asked, half joking, but also half very much not joking.

“Nah, I just like pushing her buttons. I mean, I started pushing her buttons right before we landed, but like you said. 'deadlines and shit'. I'll help her blow off some steam later. You can help too, if you want.” Munin might have been trying to push his buttons too, but Wanderer was used to this kind of teasing. And he knew she definitely wasn't joking about a word she said.

“Alright then, I've got some antiques in the ship that might help give Sacra a boost. Altar cloths, offering bowls, incense, a couple books and the like. I bet Jack could make use of it, and it's well within his budget. I want to be in Asimov City by midnight, so let's get to it.” Wanderer said with a clap of his hands. He was happy be able to help, happy to be able to move some inventory, and happy to get out of that office before Munin started flirting with Sacra.

A few hours later, Robin was wrapping up her final enchantment on the servers, and ending her communication with the farm's AI. Her job was the most tedious and time consuming of the group's, but everyone else did what they could with the time. Munin brought Sacra a bag full of extra clothes that Wanderer had been using as packing material to keep items in his cargo safely padded and hidden. Wanderer helped himself into Jackal's kitchen and prepared dinner for the group. It wasn't as good as Jackal's cooking, but it was enchanted and consisted of lots of off world goods that would be hard to find on Mars. Wanderer didn't mind dipping into the ships pantry to celebrate a job well done. Besides, he knew he would be leaving with top grade produce and home made preserves by the bag load, as was tradition when visiting Jack.

With the last loose ends tied up, full stomachs, and a modest amount of credits in hand, they said their goodbyes. Each got another round of thanks from Jackal, and a hug from Sacra as they promised to visit again soon. It was time to move on. They had a long flight to make, and clients to meet in the morning.

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carmichael-psychology · 4 years

Text

How To Deal With Toxic People (And Why You Really Need To)

In an ideal world, all of the people in your life would be helpful resources, willingly by your side to provide support, add joy, and keep you balanced. But let’s face it: We don’t live in an ideal world (if we did, I’d probably be out of a job!). Most of us will encounter at least one person in our day-to-day at some point in our lives who does the opposite. Someone who drains your energy, undermines you, puts you down. I’ve recently been asked to speak about the topic of “toxic people” by FOX5 here in New York, and while “toxic people” isn’t a clinical term… I think I sort of knew what they meant. Toxic people chip away at your mental health and overall wellbeing, and the longer they’re in your life, the more damaging their emotional footprint can be.

Here’s the good news: You don’t need to tolerate behavior you find unacceptable! In fact, it is not only your right but your responsibility to limit their role in your life or remove them from it entirely. If you’re labeling someone or something as “toxic”, it’s part of your duty of self-care to manage the situation carefully. Plus, keeping someone around whom you actually dislike because you’re “too nice” to be truthful with them or at least quit engaging with them isn’t doing them any favors, either: Letting the toxic dynamic continue without giving them feedback will only encourage them to pursue and maintain unhealthy relationships with others. Plus, it can be seen as a form passive aggression on your part if you consciously allow someone you actively dislike to continue becoming more vulnerable to you as they mistakenly persist in a misapprehension that you’re friends. So whether you’re dealing with a sorta-toxic coworker or a so-toxic-it’s-traumatic partner, a “frenemie” friend… or even a toxic family member, here’s a guide to help.

1. Identify the problem.

This sounds like such a “duh!” step, but it’s one we tend to skip because it requires getting very real. First, you have to finally acknowledge the source of toxicity. This person can be a friend, a romantic partner, a relative, a colleague—no one’s off limits. And there’s a spectrum, which I like to break into three levels:

Level 0: The NON-toxic person. This is someone whom you may be accidentally mis-labeling as toxic. They may just have different values, beliefs, communication styles, or expectations than you. This person may even be a little intrusive or annoying, but this person is actually NOT really a “toxic person”. You’re just regarding them as toxic because you haven’t figured out how to set limits or communicate your needs with them. (Examples: A friend who always brings you down by constantly complaining about everything, yet you’ve never said to the friend, “Hey would you mind if we focus on the positives today? I’m trying to keep on the bright side here!” Or a friend who “bothers” you by calling waaay too often, yet you just keep blithely answering all their calls and carrying on unbearably mundane phone conversations without ever mentioning that you’re actually not a lover of long phone chats– how are they to know if you’ve never told them?)

Level 1: Mildly Toxic. Someone who is basically harmless, but who regularly uses energy-draining interpersonal antics: They may have a markedly dismissive attitude, regularly make snide remarks, pester you to do (generally harmless) things like meet for coffee even when you’ve made it clear you’d rather not, constantly try to “one-up” you, or place unreasonable demands on your time (or money). You’ve tried having heart-to-hearts to see if you can agree on a more respectful way of relating, but the person just becomes angry, refuses to take any ownership, or seems like they “get it” but then continues the same pattern without any actual willingness to continue working on it.

In my experience, all of us are likely to encounter at least one person like this in our lifetime. If you’re anxious about setting limits, try to think of this as a “training ground” opportunity, since learning to set basic limits is an important life skill. You don’t have to do it perfectly, and yes the person might get a little upset- but that’s their right, and learning to express yourself in an assertive-yet-courteous way will take you far in life.

Level 2: Toxic This moving beyond the Level 1 behaviors by violating boundaries in a more intense way. Someone who threatens to end the relationship whenever they don’t get their way, text-bombs you with angry and disrespectful messages over relatively little things (think ten text messages in an hour), or who finds other ways of objectively sabotaging your well-being (such as pressuring you to drink more than you’d like, or belittling your goals and ambitions) would be traversing from Level 1 to Level 2. They may ironically flip things around on you as well, such as playing the victim and lamenting that you have “thrown their friendship away” when actually all you’ve done is decline to respond to their abusive text message telling you they were “done with you”.

Such a person may also call you names when they’re angry, or say nasty things about your appearance; or disrespect your time or property (such as being unavailable to return items they’ve borrowed, constantly canceling or delaying plans moments before or even during the time you were supposed to meet, acting entitled to stay at your apartment or visit with you whenever they’re in town or it’s convenient for them even if you’ve explained it’s not a good weekend; or pressuring you to spend money on entertainment you’ve explained you can’t really afford).

Level 3: REALLY Toxic. Being physically abusive, stealing from you, verbally threatening you, or doing other things that are so intense they’re actually oftentimes against the law to do to another person. This category is actually the shortest and simplest to describe, since there’s really no “grey area” about these things– they’re clearly easy to recognize as 100% toxic.

Moving forward from a Toxic Person

Once you’ve ID’d the problem, the next step is to consider why you’ve allowed this toxicity to exist in your life. Oftentimes, we keep toxic people around because they’ve been in our lives for so long, it feels like our only option is to accept their behavior and make peace with it (for the sake of your history together). Other times, we let them bully us, physically or emotionally, because we’re too scared to speak up or don’t know how to set and enforce boundaries. And other times still, we almost like the toxicity or drama, because it’s become something we’re used to and we prefer familiarity over the unknown.

Repeat after me: None of these are good enough reasons to keep a toxic person around. Ready to set some boundaries? Read on!

2.Take action!

The best way to know if someone who you think is toxic is actually toxic—as in, unwilling to fix their behavior in order to improve the relationship—is to give them a real chance to change their behavior. Initiate a chat about what’s been going on—if they only respond with more toxicity from the get-go, that can actually help give you the clarity you need to move forward (possibly without them!).

Many of the clients in my practice are dealing with non-toxic or just mildly toxic behaviors, and honestly I think those can ironically be some of the most difficult to navigate— when someone is clearly being abusive, it’s actually easier to cut them out of your life. On the other hand, when someone is just a little manipulative or a “drama queen”, more nuanced strategies are sometimes helpful. Here are a few to get you started:

For a friendship you’ve outgrown: “I feel like things have changed in my life since when we first met many years ago, and I’m no longer interested in X. If you want to change with me, awesome. If not, I just want you to understand why there might be some distance as we move forward and possibly grow apart.”

For someone who seems constantly down on you: “For all of the negative things you say to me these days, I’m starting to wonder if you really get that much pleasure from hanging out with me; and honestly it doesn’t feel great to me either, since you seem to disagree with so many basic things about me. You have a right to your opinion on my hair/ weight/ job/ life, but I’m just not sure it’s healthy for either of us to continue spending so much time together if you find so many things about me to be so bothersome to you, especially since the things that bother you are not things I have any plan or interest in changing… and even if I did, I still wouldn’t appreciate feeling like it’s always open-season for commentary about my issues.”

For someone who constantly guilts you for not being able to spend as much time together as they’d like: “I really value all of our memories together and I don’t want there to be any hard feelings, but I don’t think I can live up to your expectations as they are now. There’s nothing wrong with what you seem to want in terms of a friend who is always able to return same-day texts and visit on a weekly basis, but there’s also nothing wrong with someone like me who is only open for less frequent contact for whatever reason. Could we talk about what we both seem to need and then see if we still think this makes sense for both of us? No hard feelings either way, I just think it’s best if we can be open with each other about whatever the situation is.”

For Level 2 toxic behaviors: Remember: You always have the right to end a relationship. But if you’d like to try setting some firmer limits instead of ending the relationship, you might try something like,

“I need to talk with you about something important: I’ve realized that I’ve allowed certain things to happen in our relationship that are actually really unhealthy for me, and I want you to know I’ve realized it’s my responsibility to stop allowing those things if I find them unacceptable. I may never have told you this, but when you do X it affects me in the following way: ______. So, next time X happens, I will (end our visit, block your texts for a while, stop chasing after you, put some distance between us, or whatever response seems logical– if you need help thinking of what’s logical, feel free to ask a trusted friend, therapist, or coach!).

For a Level 3 toxic person: In many cases, it’s best to cut off contact with someone like this– and please remember you always have the option to do this if you wish, no matter whom the person is– but in situations such as an adult child or a family member who is struggling with addiction, we may sometimes decide that we’d prefer to learn hard boundaries instead (ie “You can stay in my life and we can interact when you’re sober, but if you steal from me I will call the police; and if you call me any names whatsoever our visit will end immediately.” or “I’ll visit with you, but only when someone else I trust is present; and if you become physically aggressive I will call the police.”). Please seek a professional or call 911 if you need help at any point!

Many people in my office fear conversations like the ones above because they’re afraid of upsetting the person. They often feel better when they remember that actually, if the toxic person gets really mad and ends the relationship, guess what? They just made things easier on you. I know it’s tough, but at least you’ve freed yourself from the toxicity—and the charade of a healthy relationship. You’ve now made more time for all the other genuine and healthy connections in your life—go, you!

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Okay, Dr. Chloe, it’s not always that simple. What do I do if the toxic person is someone I can’t cut out—like, you know, my mother-in-law?” And that’s a great Q. First, be sure to schedule in some time for self-love whenever you have to be around that person, since being around crazy can make you feel kinda crazy (you know what I mean). Try scheduling a massage or dinner with your best friends to happen shortly after the visit, since they’ll help keep you grounded and give you a chance to unpack whatever happened.

Would you like to learn more about my acronym T.O.X.I.C., which offers steps to set limits with toxic people? Check out Part 2 of this series on How to Deal with Toxic People!

Would you like to learn more about setting boundaries, especially with people you feel you can’t cut out of your life? Check out my blog on surviving the holidays with your family… even if it’s not the holidays, and even if the people you need to set limits with aren’t family, the tips in this blog will work all year ‘round!

How to Survive the Holiday Season With Your Family

To see Dr. Chloe’s helpful blogs on anxiety, relationships, and career issues please see her blogs! Click here

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#toxicity #problemhandling #stress

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journal911 · 5 years

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why this must end, part 2

Relationships are supposed to be hard. They’re supposed to be a push and pull. Two people can’t go through life, living side by side, without struggling to communicate, relate, compromise, or be happy, at least a little bit. It’s supposed to be hard, because life is hard.

But--life is hard. So relationships shouldn’t be so hard that they make life harder. A relationship should alleviate the burden of life despite moments of pain. Those moments of pain should reveal growth and appreciation and a deeper connection. A relationship should not make someone suffer without purpose.

Our relationship does not alleviate the burden of life, at least for me. Work alone for me has been so painful and all-consuming that all I have needed for the past year is a companion, someone to lean on, someone I can rely on to be there when I need it most. But every night I come home to an empty bed. Every night I come home to an empty inbox. I go weeks without seeing you, and sometimes when I do see you you are completely wrapped up in your own world that it’s like I’m not even seeing you at all. I beg you to be with me and to be present and you fight me, tooth and nail, every step of the way. Call me petty. Say that it’s not you to be “that way”. It’s not just about listening to me talk about work; you will listen to me talk, if I start the conversation. It’s about being with me. Being a companion. Knowing that I can see you whenever and you’ll be happy, satisfied, excited. Knowing that I can call you and not feel like I should apologize for interrupting your life or whatever you were doing, even if it was nothing at all. Knowing that I can make plans with you without the worry that later on down the line you’ll find something better to do, or change your mind because it’s no longer what you want to do. Knowing that you’re there, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. I have to beg for that now. I shouldn’t. I have to scream and cry to no avail until finally you get tired and say, in essence, “whatever”, and spill an empty promise you know you’re not going to keep. I cry myself to sleep several times a week. Not necessarily because of you, but because of stress and anxiety and loneliness. All I want is you to be there for me, the way I have been there for you, picking up the phone at 2, 3, 4 in the morning when you’re panicking, cooing you back to sleep. Listening to you breathe on the other side for an hour just in case you wake up again. Sometimes, if I call you too late, you won’t answer and then you won’t call me back at all. Or you’ll text me sometime the next day saying, “missed your call, what’s up”. As if I just had some “petty” shit to talk about and it didn’t really matter. It matters. I matter.

Our relationship has made me suffer. I have spent so many moments crying in a corner of a wedding, or splayed across my floor, or chain-smoking on my front stoop, or head buried in a pillow, or in my office, or on a subway, or in an airport, or...I have spent so many more moments crying over the fact that you don’t care that I’m crying. Calling me petty. Saying that what I am upset about is bullshit, and that you’re not going to change, and that “this” isn’t going to work. It’s frustrating, because you play that as your trump card, like you know it’s going to shut me up because you said something bigger than the problem at hand: you’re mad I didn’t dance? This isn’t going to work, because I am who I am and I’m not going to change. When you say things like that, of course, me wanting to dance seems petty in the scheme of our entire relationship. But isn’t it also petty that you won’t dance with me just to make me happy for an evening? It’s not like we have so many evenings of dancing, or so many evenings together at all, that you can sit one or two out and I won’t notice. This is just one example, a recent example, of you framing the conversation, where whatever I get upset over is insignificant in comparison to the person you are as a whole. It has manipulated me into thinking that none of the things that I want or care about really matter that much. And that’s really fucked up, because who I am, and what I want, is just as important as who you are, and what you want. And usually at this point in the conversation, I give up. Sometimes I even say sorry. Rarely, we compromise. Always, I’m disappointed, upset, and alone. My friends are worried about me. They say that I’ve changed, that I’m darker, sadder, less social. They don’t understand how I cry so much, because I never really cry at anything else--I’m usually so stoic, so calm and level-headed. Something about you gets me, and its a combination of the intense love I have for you and the extreme frustration I feel when trying to reason with you. The things I ask from you are the very basics of what a relationship is, and still somehow you find a way to say that I’m being unreasonable, and that I’m asking too much. All I want is:

1) Consistent communication

2) Frequent quality time spent together

3) Empathy and sympathy for one another’s needs and desires

4) Efforts made toward meeting one another’s needs and desires

5) Compromise pursuant to disagreements or differences in opinion

This is not unreasonable to request in a romantic relationship, nor a regular friend or family relationship. It’s the basis of how to be in any relationship, period. Note that I didn’t add anything about “romantic gestures” or “living together” or “follow me on social media” or “become friends with my friends” or “go on dates” or “plan for the future”, all of which would also be considered reasonable expectations for a romantic relationship, and also, all of which I’ve either done for you, requested of you, or both, but that you have shot down on multiple occasions. (Literally denying my Instagram follow request! Ha.) And honestly, the fact that those things aren’t present in our relationship have worn on me, but I’ve stopped asking because I know they’re never going to happen and I love you too much to let them get in the way of a relationship with you. But those few things I listed as the “basics” are necessary to call what we have a relationship. And they’re not present. They’re not even close to present.

1) You call me sporadically, if at all. If I call you or text you, you usually don’t respond for a while, or you’re so quiet it’s awkward. You express little interest in the things I have to talk about other than basic mmhmms and “cool”, unless it has to do with stocks or something else you’re personally interested in. If I disagree with what you have to say, you say that I’m being too sensitive, not good at debating, short-sighted, or something similarly patronizing. You do talk to me about work sometimes, which is nice.

2) We spend maybe 3-4 days a month together, and you argue regularly with me when I say I want to spend more time with you. You tell me I’m being needy when I get upset about going many days without seeing you. When we do see each other, you are on your phone playing Yu-Gi-Oh for a long enough chunk of time for me to be annoyed, and then you get pissed when I tell you that. I’ve tried to come to your house, but it’s currently a mess and you’ve discouraged me from doing so for the last month and a half. When I ask you to come into the city, you say no, or if you say yes, you complain about parking, the drive, the cost, the time, etc. so much that I feel guilty for even asking you to come in in the first place.

3) You tell me the things I desire and need are “petty” and “bullshit”. You get immediately angry when I express my feelings or opinions, and speak to me curtly and forcefully. Your tone is consistently condescending and impatient. If I express emotion, such as raising my voice or crying, your tone becomes even more hurtful. You curse, sometimes at me, and sometimes calling me names. I can’t remember the last time I expressed the way I felt to you and you asked me questions, tried to figure out what’s wrong, or apologized for hurting my feelings. I often feel like you’d prefer me to not say anything at all than express the way I feel.

4) There have been times that you’ve tried to accommodate my needs and desires--I really loved when you brought me flowers and made me dinner on our anniversary. I appreciated that you came to those weddings with me. I loved that you sent me flowers on Valentine’s Day and took me on an awesome date. But generally speaking, these efforts are not the norm. My needs and desires are usually ignored when considering numbers 1-3, but also with stuff like: wanting to do things together; using the word “we” or planning things together; acting in any way like we’re a couple. That’s a need of mine: to feel like you’re my partner. I’ve expressed this to you, and you’ve made efforts toward the opposite, to actually back farther away from me than before. To tell me you don’t know if you ever want to move in, if you’ll ever feel ready, that you’ll resent me if it happens too fast, that we aren’t family yet, that you want to have two separate lives, that you want to feel like you have a place to get away from me. Like damn.

5) You end nearly every disagreement with “I’m not going to change”, “this isn’t going to work”, or “I’m not talking about this anymore, this is bullshit, I told you from the start who I am and I’ve never changed that.” Compromise isn’t something you’re familiar with in any of your relationships, because no one has ever demanded it. You don’t go deep with virtually anyone, so it hasn’t been necessary. But like, compromise isn’t screaming at and berating someone, wearing down their will to argue. Compromise isn’t empty promises. Compromise is actually acting in a way that satisfies both people, even if both people also have to give up a little of what they want. I’ve given up a lot for you. I’m moving to Newark instead of saving up for a house in New York because you refuse to move to New York. And I was happy to do that, but it was a sacrifice for me to move from my family and friends in New York to live with you in Jersey. It is a consistent sacrifice to refrain from talking to you and seeing you so that you can feel free and unbound; I have so many things that I need to talk about with my partner, but I feel like I can’t because you don’t want to, so I either have to swallow it or talk to someone else or just distract myself until it passes. It’s a sacrifice to spend money on things to help you be presentable--your clothes, your car, your house, our vacations, our dates. These are all compromises I was and am willing to make because I love you, and I want you to be happy, and I want you to be with me. But the other side of compromise is you returning those favors with favors of your own. Is this selfish? Yes. But isn’t it really fucking selfish to be sitting on your side of the table, receiving and receiving without giving what is asked in return? I recognize that you feel that you’ve done and sacrificed a lot for me as well, and I appreciate the things you have done and do to try and make me feel loved. But at a certain point, talking about my financial health and doing the dishes or cooking me a dinner every once in a while does not cut it. I need more.

I fucking hate this, and I hate that I have to do this, but I really do. I have to take care of myself, because you’ve proven time and time again that you will not, and that you refuse to modify your behavior in any way to meet basic relationship standards and/or my needs and desires on a consistent basis. I feel like I have tried everything I possibly can to make this work, including going to therapy, talking with you for countless hours, and giving up my personal happiness to accommodate your desires. This is not an equal relationship, and I can’t do this anymore.

I love you.

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wellesleyunderground · 6 years

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The Kindergarten Teacher reviewed by Lakshmi Gandhi (@LakshmiGandhi) & Asha Sundararaman ‘04 (@mixedtck)

This review first appeared on Lakshmi and Asha’s weekly newsletter - sign up here to get these gems delivered straight to your inbox!

Maggie Gyllenhaal has always been drawn to stories about troubled, dissatisfied women, so we can understand why the script for "The Kindergarten Teacher"— her new film on Netflix — appealed to her.

In it, she plays Lisa Spinelli a teacher and mom of two kind of boring teens who lives on Staten Island. It's clear that Lisa yearns for something more and tries to channel her extra creative energy through the adult poetry classes that she takes at night. But it's only when she realizes that her young Indian-American student Jimmy Roy writes and recites his own poems that Lisa really seems to come alive. While the relationship between the middle aged teacher Gyllenhaal portrays and her tiny student is instantly troubling, what was even more troubling was that the film never dealt with the questions of race or jimmy's cultural identity. That lack of acknowledgement added an extra level of stress for as Indian-American viewers. (Readers can check out the trailer for “The Kindergarten Teacher” here.)

Editor’s note: We avoided major spoilers for “The Kindergarten Teacher” in this week’s chat, but some smaller plot points are revealed below. Proceed accordingly.

Lakshmi: I liked how we both watched this film independently and both independently stopped halfway through to take a breather because we were so creeped out! (We discovered this when we compared notes on Monday morning!)

Asha: I was struck by that too!

Lakshmi: Any film where an adult is so drawn to a child is creepy of course but Lisa's insistence that she was the only person who understood Jimmy's art and talent was so gross.

I should also note that most coverage of this film erased Jimmy's Indianness to such a degree that I actually had no idea that this was an Indian-American story until I read two reviews by the critics Candice Frederick and Constance Gibbs.

Both Candice Frederick and Constance Gibbs are black women critics and both have written and spoken extensively about the need for more diversity in film criticism. They just further proved that by their fantastic coverage of this film. The racial overtones are very, very clear for anyone who has been a small child of color surrounded by white teachers. It was their reviews that inspired me to write my own piece for The Teal Mango.

Asha: Indeed. It’s also significant that this is a remake of an Israeli film where the teacher and the student are the same race.

Lakshmi: Yes! So it's completely different if the pair are of the same race and culture. It's still creepy...; but the white savior "I'm the only person who gets it" aspect doesn't exist if they are both white jewish Israelis.

Asha: Exactly, it’s totally different. But i'm not sure white filmmakers really get that.

Lakshmi: Yes! remember when I told you about the new PBS “Little Women” series and how it randomly made a shopkeeper Black?

Asha: I do!

Lakshmi: (To recap: There’s a classic scene in “Little Women” in which Jo sells her hair in order to earn some money. The newest adaptation has Jo begging and arguing with the shopkeeper and it took on a completely different meaning because of the casting. Imagine being a white girl asking a Black man for money in 1863! I still shudder when I think about it!)

Anyway, back to this film…

So when Lisa discovers Jimmy saying poems to herself she flips out and starts interrogating Jimmy's babysitter. The babysitter (who is a college student and perfectly fine at her job) explains that Jimmy's uncle Sanjay often reads him poems. Lisa —despite just learning that the uncle reads to Jimmy and teaches him things — becomes convinced Jimmy is neglected and no one is nurturing his talent.

For a viewer it’s so confusing. You can’t help but think, "Lisa, his uncle is teaching him poetry! His actual family has it under control!" But she goes wild anyway.

Asha: By that point she is just convinced she's the only one who sees him or who cares about him, which is bizarre.

Lakshmi: Also, that section also makes it particularly annoying that they gave Jimmy's character a Bengali surname, because there's a long tradition of Bengali poetry. I interpreted the knowledge that Sanjay was sharing poems with his nephew as a way of passing down those intellectual traditions. But it was very ‘white feminist’ (as they say on Twitter) of Lisa to never even consider that possibility.

Asha: Yes, it makes total sense. And since Sanjay's a writer as well, of course he's going to encourage that side of his nephew.

Lakshmi: And to me the most annoying scene was when the babysitter explains to Lisa, "oh, he does this all the time, he makes up little songs for himself.” In response, Lisa gets all indignant and says “THEY AREN'T SONGS, THEY ARE POEMS.”

In my head, I was like "Lisa you are a moron, they are ghazals." Jimmy is continuing Bengali poetic traditions and creating ghazals!

Asha: HA

Lakshmi: It's not out of the question that Sanjay taught him what a ghazal was!

Asha: And who is she to say that they're not songs anyway? When she said that, i was like "you don't know that....they might by lyrics...."

Lakshmi: That’s true. If he really is a prodigy, it's not out of the question that he'd write his own music too

Asha: Exactly.

Lakshmi: But that tunnel vision was so, so creepy. We see that every time the film deals with Jimmy’s dad in particular. Even though the filmmaker and screenwriter was determined to paint Jimmy's father Nikhil as a bad guy, he actually seemed like a good parent to me.

Asha: I agree.

Lakshmi: I mean, he was always at work and a little narrow minded...but there was nothing about him that screamed bad dad or that he didn't ultimately have his child's interests at heart

Asha: When we finally meet him, he seems way more in touch with his son than the beginning of the film made it seem and, by that point, far more clear-eyed than she is.

Lakshmi: That was particularly striking because all we had heard prior to that was Lisa whining about how the dad works all the time. But we know 1) his wife left him 2) he's an immigrant. Therefore Nikhil is the sole breadwinner in a country where they may not have a ton of support. He has to work all the time to live! Sometimes the best way to be a parent to ensure financial stability for your child. Plus, Jimmy has Sanjay and the babysitter! So he is being cared for! His care just doesn't meet Lisa's wacky standards.

Asha: i don't think anyone would meet her standards!

Lakshmi: Also, when you are dealing with people with delusions of grandeur (which I think we're supposed to believe Lisa is experiencing) if those differences didn't exist, she'd just latch onto something else

Asha: Yes, true.

Lakshmi: She does finally get to meet Nikhil at the club lounge he manages. She gives him a big speech about how "he's really talented." Nikhil, in turn, and he explains that he doesn't want him to be exactly like Sanjay and that he should be a little kid right now anyway. And... that's not totally unreasonable?

Asha: Yes! I loved that he exclaimed "he's five!" because really...he's five. So much can change.

Lakshmi: And she gets so upset when he won't let her take Jimmy to a fancy poetry reading in Manhattan (because, again, he's five!).

He explains that Jimmy plays baseball on that day of the week anyway. Lisa’s solution to this was… to kidnap him! She tells the person who is picking him up that's he's sick and just takes him onto the Staten Island Ferry into Manhattan.

Asha: IT WAS SO WEIRD! And inappropriate!

Lakshmi: In addition to the kidnapping, the reading she takes him to is so inappropriate for a child! There's alcohol, the readings sometimes contain sexual references, it's at night when he should be in bed. When the dad chews her out for all of those things, Lisa gets mad at him! She literally says something like "well, you have the right to your opinion.”

It’s another weird moment for the viewer because (once again) you’re just yelling at the screen. “You took his child! You are lucky he didn't have you arrested!”

Asha: Right???!

Lakshmi: He was such a good dad after that. He takes action right away and pulls Jimmy out of school.

Asha: He's definitely a good dad. He immediately gets him out of that environment.

Lakshmi: And he has a point. Why should they be cultivating the talent of a five year old? If Jimmy decides later that he wants to pursue poetry, let him do so. But he can just play baseball now like an ordinary child!

Asha: I don't think cultivating talent at a young age is a bad thing, but it can't come at the expense of everything else.

Lakshmi: Yes, and Lisa’s approach didn’t serve anyone but herself. Exposing Jimmy to weird adult poets at the age of five can do more harm than good.

Asha: Yes. There’s a limit. Encourage the poetry, but don't let it define the kid. But that is basically what she does.

Lakshmi: But not really! She uses his poems to define HER. So as we know, Lisa is taking this adult poetry class. All of the sudden her poems get really good. But It's not because she suddenly becomes talented! It's because she's passing off this child's work as her own

Asha: Honestly, as the teacher, i would have thought something was off because of the sudden shift in the quality of the work.

Lakshmi: I thought it was funny when during the critique section one of the students asked "why did you write this from the perspective of a little boy" and another person says "I thought this week's theme was realism" or something. So they are definitely confused!

Asha: Haha, yes. But it did also strike me that that's typical for a beginning class: taking everything literally.

Lakshmi: That's another funny thing about this movie: the poems are interesting, but they aren't Byron or anything.

Asha: Right.

Lakshmi: The "is he a prodigy?" issue is a very open question. Lisa could just be making it up, especially if -- as my new headcanon states-- he's just parroting his uncle Sanjay's writing

Asha: i definitely think she's making it up. I think what other people respond to, is the openness of the poetry.

Lakshmi: And if you believe that she's making it up, it’s easy to see why the dad is so dismissive. Lisa tells him that Jimmy should be treated like Mozart and he's like "ok, lady.” I also thought Jimmy's self-possession was a credit to his guardians.

Asha: Me too. They give him space to be who he wants to be.

Lakshmi: When Lisa essentially forces him to put her number in his phone (under his first name! Not under "Ms.Spinelli!") He let’s her add the number to the phone because she’s a grown up. BUT when she calls him he says "why are you calling me?" He is on alert.

Asha: He is. He knows something isn't right

Lakshmi: I'm not going to spoil it because the last 15 minutes are so good, but I want to say THE ENDING IS SO SATISFYING. It makes you sit up and say, “Go, Jimmy! Excellent job!”

Asha: Yep. He knows.

Lakshmi: Also, as we said in the intro, Maggie Gyllenhaal has a track record of being attracted to roles about messed up power dynamics. It’s clear though that she really didn't think this role through. Additionally, except for the two reviewers we mentioned earlier, no one else is really writing about the race aspect of this film. The race and culture gulf present in the film isn’t part about the critical conversation about it at all.

Asha: That doesn't surprise me at all

Lakshmi: Sigh. As an aside, the Los Angeles Times has done some really interesting pieces on the need for diversity in film criticism this year. This is worth a read.

OK, it's almost time for us to go! Did you have a final thought?

Asha: Honestly...I didn't need to watch this movie and i wouldn't recommend it

Lakshmi: I literally just laughed out loud when I read that, because I completely agree. As you (and longtime readers know) I don't like creepy things. In this case it was particularly painful to watch because felt like this film wanted to emotionally manipulate viewers just for the sake of doing so.

Asha: Yes. I didn't come away with anything deep or interesting. The film had zero self-awareness.

(Also, we didn’t talk about this earlier, the intimate scene in the poetry teacher's office didn't feel earned.)

Lakshmi: Yeah, that was absurd! You gotta earn sexy times with Gael García Bernal! Lisa didn’t earn any of that.

Asha: HA. I honestly thought that was the only reason they put it in there, because it was Gael García Bernal. She didn’t deserve him at all.

#wu review #the kindergarten teacher #netflix #movies #asha sundararaman #lakshmi gandhi

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