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song-ofthesky · 1 year

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Society of the Common Domestic Feline: An Overview

(in other words: worldbuilding as it relates to song of the sky cat society)

Nearly all of Song of the Sky takes place in what is known to humans as Chicago, USA. While Song of the Sky's Chicago is more or less exactly like its real world equivalent, there is one noted difference: An advanced, humanlike feline society that is somewhere in its late bronze age. These cats have developed a ruling hierarchy, philosophical concepts, and a rough bartering system, but they are not particularly advanced in terms of technology or scientific discoveries compared to humans. Note that Song of the Sky takes influence from real-world cat behaviors, but that many anatomical and physiological traits have been purposely ignored to make something more fantastical than realistic.

Area

The feline society of SotS largely revolves around Chicago and its surrounding suburbs. Because very few cats have ever seen another city similar in Chicago's scope, there is not much of a frame of reference and therefore the urban area is largely simply referred to as 'the city'. ('Chicago' is used by those who would be educated enough to know its name, IE government leaders or keen-eyed pets.) Only the most educated in feline society know the extent of the area. A pet from the suburbs might know the name of her hometown, and if she's particularly smart or well-traveled she will know a few towns, but for the most part- besides the City, which nearly everyone is aware of- cats will not fully know or understand where every place is in relation to one another, nor could they identify other Chicagoland towns. In fact, it is common for city-dwelling cats to be completely unaware of places outside the city at all. Mapmakers and surveyors do exist in feline society, but given there isn't much need for a map of such scale they are few in number. Other towns and cities may have their own cat societies, but it is exceedingly rare for Chicagoland cats to have ever heard of or interacted with these. They haven't exactly figured out global or even statewide communication yet.

Government

The cat society of SotS is united by one key thing: A government. As of the start of the novel, the Starblazer's system of government has been in place for two years, while the monarchy that King Sarastro is last in the line of had been in place for about eighty to ninety years.

Because of the rather disjointed nature of cat society, the government largely exists to facilitate new ideas and- allegedly- to protect the weak- particularly in Chicago, with its harsh conditions. The feline monarchy as we know it was kicked off after a collective realization that cats could not depend on their humans to care for them, and that they had to care for each other. This initially deeply philanthropic process soon found itself constantly failing, and so feline government evolved into serving the purpose of organization, historical record, and advancing society forward, in the hopes that one day feline society may exist fully autonomously with no need to rely on people. (This sentiment is not shared by every cat. It should also be noted that cats do not have a negative perception of humans, and actually consider them rather endearing; cats just have a natural self-preservation instinct that leads them to believe only themselves should take care of themselves.) Recently, the monarchy became more and more conservative, forgetting its original protective purpose entirely; this was a major factor in leading to the Starblazer's Revolution.

Normally, the government would work like this. At the top sits the king or queen (cats do not differentiate based on gender in the same way people do; it is if anything largely an afterthought). The King or Queen is obviously in charge. Under them is a Speaker, a bureaucratic role that initially was something of a public announcer but evolved into being the leader of the Council, a historian, and a confidante to the monarch (see the current Speaker's page for more on this). Under the Speaker is the Council, a large body of cats who collectively vote on important issues and ratify the monarch's ideas. Council cats are often the most educated of all cats, and often use their power to advance their own ideas for what feline society should study next. Council cats are either selected through a rigorous trial-based process that is at best exceedingly strict and downright dangerous, or born into it through Council parents- cats who were born in but left for whatever reason will have to take the trials to prove themselves still worthy. (It was also a customary rite of passage for the heir to the throne to take the trials themselves; however this isn't strictly necessary.) Because cats usually have litters and one-child births are rare, the heir to the throne isn't decided on at birth but rather once personality starts to develop. The Council also has cats that work tightly with and around them but aren't necessarily council members themselves- blacksmiths, strategists, artists, doctors, etc.

Since the Starblazer's Revolution, much of this has allegedly 'changed', but in reality it works quite similarly. The Starblazer is at the top in place of a king/queen. Her daughter, Pamina, is her heir- although the Starblazer says the choice isn't motivated by blood but rather because she feels her daughter is the one she can most trust. There is nothing analogous to the Speaker, but the Starblazer still has her own Council, largely made up of other former Council members like herself who defected with her. They have their own affiliated-but-non-Council cats- most prominently, the Starblazer's guards. Interestingly, the Starblazer and her Council employ a number of 'common' cats to catch food and make basic necessities, but these cats never see the Starblazer herself and usually only trade with her through her guards.

Prison, as it exists to humans, doesn't exist to cats, but punishments tend to be much more punitive and blunt in nature. Declawing is a common punishment for those who harm others with their claws, as is confiscating a cat's personal belongings or physically marking them with some kind of scar. Sentencing a cat to death is very rare, and the government generally sees it as abhorrent and unproductive; but it does not seem the government has a problem with cutting off resources or social connections a cat may need. Perhaps the most questionable punishment of all revolves around the trial admittance system: If a cat performs so badly the government cannot use them for anything valuable, they may be sentenced to being trapped in the chambers the trials reside in, only being given basic sustenance so they continue to live in permanent loneliness This is an extremely rare punishment that has not been seen in generations as it is very cruel and there is no real reason to implement it at all.

Currency and Jobs

Speaking of trade! A widespread currency system doesn't necessarily exist in SotS, as cats haven't fully wrapped their head around the idea of it- it's usually a frivolous idea that Council members have pushed for and little more. Instead, cats in SotS usually barter. Food is, naturally, the most common bartered item, but anything works if both parties agree to it. Cats that exclusively trade non-practical items are often looked down upon for frivolousness.

Having a job is often a matter of personal status. Pet cats, nearly always, do not have jobs- because they have humans that provide food and shelter for them, there isn't much of a need for anything, and if they really want something bartered they can usually find a way to make it work. However, feral cats nearly always have jobs. Hunters, animal-catchers, blacksmiths, tailors, artists, cooks, beachcombers; these are just some of the many, many jobs that cats can have. Most of these jobs provide pretty basic goods and services. More 'intellectual jobs', like astronomers, weather predictors, and scientists to name a few, aren't unheard of but are pretty uncommon among the general public. Some cats see them as quacks, and admittedly some are- there's some weird aunt who thinks she can predict the weather in every family.

It's possible for a cat to go fully 'off the grid' and hunt and provide for themselves, with no bartering necessary. However, this is a lot of work and extremely stressful for little to no reason, so only the most absolutely misanthropic do this.

Cats often pick up the jobs that their families have, and last names- or Destiny names, as they are sometimes called- often correlate with certain kinds of jobs.

Homes and Families

Cats in SotS aren't nomadic creatures- nearly everybody has their own housing. Pet cats obviously have their needs provided for already. Strays, meanwhile, will make homes out of anything. A used hammock, an empty barrel, a nest- if it's there, and it can be used as a bed, a cat will take it. Homelessness isn't an issue, but some areas are much more contested than others. Cats don't do much at home besides sleep and relax, and they don't really have notions of a multi-room house. There's no official record of property-keeping, but cats stealing each other's property has been an issue since forever and the government is trying to figure out a way to make it work. (Or at least that's what they say.) Cats used to be more territorial than they are now, but by now they are mostly really only territorial around their 'den' space. Cats that live close by will often develop small routine groups and trading systems with one another. Cats do not often pick fights with one another physically, although it isn't unheard of, especially if one side is confident they can win.

Cats don't always prioritize romance in the same way humans do. While there still is an idea of romantic love, it isn't seen as important unless a cat designates it as being so to them. Cats are not pack animals, but they are surprisingly social; cats who are put in positions where they feel locked out of society often become distressed. Cats also do not really see gender in the same way humans do- the only real notable difference to them is that females bear children and tend to be a tad more aggressive, while males tend to be a bit less sociable. As with humans, cats have various skill levels when it comes to child rearing. Interestingly, cats do not name their kittens for a month after birth, as it isn't uncommon for kittens to die soon after birth and because personality traits only become apparent in that time. Naming ceremonies are seen as a big deal. Cats will be saddened but not particularly grief-struck if a kitten does not make it to their naming ceremony, but after that moment the death of a child is an extremely hard loss.

Shapeshifters...

Shapeshifters are interesting creatures. It is unclear what taxonomy they come from, or even if they share the same taxonomy with one another. A shapeshifter is a small animal that can 'disguise' itself as other animals, with heightened intelligence and an ability to socially conform to some extent. Shapeshifting is a conscious process not learned naturally- it often takes years for a shapeshifter to learn to perfectly mimic an animal, and even then they will often never be exactly accurate. Some features may feel physically uncomfortable when shifted into other animals, while others might just be hard to shift out of. (Bird shapeshifters, for example, nearly always keep their wings because not being able to fly at a moment's notice makes them feel deeply uncomfortable, while a tortoise shapeshifter might not be able to shift his shell into his body without feeling some amount of discomfort.) Shapeshifters also can be told as a dead giveaway by their coat or plumage- they always keep the pigments of their 'original' species, even if the patterning changes, and the coat's texture will vary wildly based on what the coat is shifted from. A shapeshifter cannot shift into anything larger than a dog, as it will damage their organs internally. Many shapeshifters settle upon living life as an animal outside of their birth species, so there are plenty of cat shapeshifters to be found. However, they never really fully blend in, because they can't grasp at every single nuance that makes a cat a cat.

...and other animals

Cats cannot fully communicate with other animals, but they can pick up on body language. Dogs are fairly accurately understood, for example, but the more an animal strays away from feline-like anatomy and thought they harder they are to understand. (It is no wonder that the shapeshifters that have the most trouble understanding cats are initially non-mammals.) No other animal society seems to be as advanced as cats, humans notwithstanding... but perhaps other animals hide their societies to cats, just as cats hide theirs to humans.

Naming

A name is something very important to feline society. As said, a naming ceremony is where a parent names their child and designates them an identity, and it is seen as nearly as important as the day they are born. Last names- or 'Destiny' names- are also important because they often designate a cat's social status. If a cat has a carpenter mother, they are more likely to become a carpenter too. When two cats choose to marry- which, in cat society, is a much looser ceremony than it is to people, with no paperwork- one will choose to leave behind their Destiny Name for the other's. A cat with no Destiny Name at all, due to having no family, is often pitied or in some cases looked down upon.

The Monarch's Destiny Name is a sworn secret. The Starblazer considers her title/name to also be her Destiny Name, as when Pamina inherits the role from her mother she too will be renamed The Starblazer.

#hello.#song of the sky #reference #the world

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satorugojowidow · 3 years

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Something about people making Remi ship material AS SOON AS SHE SHOWS UP ON TWO PAGES feels so misogynistic and stupid like you really can tell people can't consume media outside of ships

Circe♥

Sorry for late reply. I didn’t want to repeat myself and my brain wasn’t working the day you send me this ask, so I wanted to wait and think in a answer.

“Ships” overall is a huge polemic in every fandom. Everything is valid? What is valid? How to discern what is valid in terms of “ship” and what is not?

What I consider a recurrent problem in how people relate themselves with fiction is the mistake in only think in the content. To understand consumption is important considerer why people chose a type of content over others. What it comes from this reflection is the pattern of identification. To put it simple, your consumptions and how you consume say something about yourself (not everything, nothing define you completely). So, say such a thing like “it’s just fiction” is just to avoid the discomfort of reflecting why we like certain stories, characters, ships, etc.

What it calls my attention regarding Remi x Megumi issue, is not the ship itself but how and when was formed. What I’m trying to point here and previous post is how people romanticize violence in relationship (and of course that is the result of our cultural system).

There is two persons trying to take advantage from each other, willing to kill each other. There is no single interaction that implies kindness, friendship or anything similar. So, again, in what is this ship sustained if is not in violence? The chance to built love from violence is one the myths of romantic love (this is been written in gender studies). This myth serves the idea that violence and love can co-exist. Why is misogynist? Because in order to stay in a relationship where you are abused you must believe that love can co-exist with violence and love has the chance to overcome violence “I can fix him with my love”.

If we analyze the panel of Remi and Megumi, the scene is very tricky. Even if we can excuse Megumi’s violence, since both are in a death game and she attacked him first, the scene has a symbolic charge. How she is on the floor holding the beaten cheek while Megumi’s stand behind, it really resemblance a scene of those classic movies where the men hit the lady and then they kiss. Those types of scene in classic movies are incredible misogynist, but are a point of references. There is a frame of reference operating that allows to read a scene of these characteristics in a romantic way So, I believe if this scene of Remi x Megumi was read as romantic and started a ship is because resemblance this type of scene of classic movies and because we -as society- haven’t dismiss the myths of romantic love or the idea that love can co-exist with violence.

Why Gege chose to draw the scene like that? Rhetoric maybe. If Remi is going to betray Megumi, Gege has different plan for this two that aren’t anything close to love.

#jjk reply #jujutsu kaisen meta #remi #megumi fushiguro #circe <3

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saiki-k-innie · 3 years

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Your boyfriend, Denki Kaminari, is the UA traitor

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Anime: My Hero Academia Character(s): Denki Kaminari Legend (y/n = your name): gender neutral reader, quirk not mentioned, y/n is a gamer (not a major plot point) Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: (very) minor angst, invasion of privacy Notes: I wrote this while listening to (this) playlist, originally in the comment section of the video. I decided to refine it and post it here, because why not?

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when you first found out, you were devastated.

Denki? Your little Pikachu? The UA traitor? preposterous. it was almost laughable. almost.

You were chilling in his room, playing on his PlayStation while he was out training with Kirishima and some others when you discovered his secret.

It was pretty common to see you in his room without him or vice versa. You two completely trusted each other with everything. There was nothing to hide from each other, or so you thought.

When you were about to claim a win in Overwatch, (you were KILLING IT as Widowmaker), Denki's monitor went black. No response from the controller or the console. Sighing, you pushed yourself back in his chair and ducked your head under the desk.

"oh my god" you breathed as you laid eyes on the rat's nest of wires tangled beneath his desk. It was absolutely insane. You couldn't tell one cable from another in the gordian knot of cords. You quickly identified the problem (the plug for the PlayStation had come loose) and fixed it. You cringed at the loss of your game progress but you had another problem at hand.

You powered off all of his consoles and settled down to solve the tangle of cables. Laughing, you didn't know why you expected anything more of Denki. He was so lucky that you loved solving puzzles, and knots were your specialty.

Looking closer, you saw that he had taken the wall socket apart and messed around with it to accommodate his quirk and gamer lifestyle. You were surprised that it hadn't started a fire, but decided not to mess with that because you were genuinely afraid of what would happen if you grabbed the wrong cable.

After a bit of untangling, you finally had the cords separated. You identified and tagged all of the cords at the speed of a professional, but one cord that ran straight into the wall remained. You couldn't find what it plugged into or where it went, and it was driving you crazy.

Temporarily abandoning your original task, you swiftly ran your nimble fingers along the mystery cable. It snaked along the base of Denki's desk into the back of one of his drawers through a clearly handmade hole. You wondered why this cable was so concealed while the rest were once so tangled and what it led to.

Extracting yourself from under Denki's desk, you took a deep breath and stretched our your back. You easily identified the drawer it was supposed to go to and opened it up. The drawer was surprisingly organized, containing game cases for games that you hadn't seen him play before, but you definitely recognized the titles. There was still no sign of what the cable led to.

You weren't going to give up so soon, though. If he thought this would satisfy your curiosity, he was dead wrong. Smirking at the feeble deterrent, you promptly removed all of the cases to see what they were covering up.

"Huh," you vocalized as you stared at the empty drawer. Something wasn't adding up. Peering at the back of the drawer, you could see the cable lead... underneath the drawer? No, you were sure that it was this drawer.

Inspecting the drawer carefully, you realized that the depth of the drawer didn't match the depth of the space allotted for it. You were starting to get excited. Remembering what Light did to hide his Death Note, you realized that the bottom of the drawer was probably a fake. Smiling fondly, you remembered how Death Note was the first anime you two watched together.

Ducking your head under the drawer, you saw the hole for the ink cartridge from a ballpoint pen that would reveal the secrets. You shook your head. How did Denki think he could hide something from his weeb s/o??? You swiftly disassembled a pen and poked it into the hole.

Success! the faux bottom popped up.

Nearly vibrating from the excitement of discovery, you carefully removed the thin wooden facade from the drawer.

What- What is this? There were several circuits and wires winding around the drawer, all carefully placed and put together so they covered the bottom of the drawer snugly. You saw a button, a switchboard, a headphone jack, and what looked like a place for a cd to sit in the area closest to you. The switchboard had three buttons labeled "play" "pause" and "record". The button off of the switchboard had no label, but it was significantly bigger than the others, so it had to have some significance.

The excitement slid off of your face and was replaced with a look of pure confusion and disappointment. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

Well, the puzzle certainly got a lot more complex but that wasn't going to stop you either. You stared at the labyrinth of lines and wires, like little highways connecting on the circuits and different components. You had completely forgotten your original objective of cable management.

Thinking for a second, you picked up one of the game cases that you took out of the drawer. The title read "Halo 3: ODST". Popping it open with the finesse of a pro gamer, you peeked inside, expecting to see the matching blue disk, but instead saw a grey cd with "021" scribbled on it in Denki's signature scrawl.

Shifting your weight onto your knees, you plugged your headphones into the audio jack. You pried the disk from the case and set it down in the drawer and pressed "play".

Your ears were assaulted with a series of beeps and you instinctively ripped your headphones from your ears. What was this??? After calming down, you sighed and carefully put your headphones back on. The beeping continued, and you realized that it was in a specific pattern. You identified it easily as morse code, and you remembered that Denki had taught you it a while back, just in case you had to communicate non-verbally. You used it to share answers on tests and talk in class more than anything, and sometimes to communicate during training. Jirou was the only other person who knew morse code in class 1-A, but you seriously doubted that she knew about this.

You pressed "pause" and removed the disk from the tray. You grabbed a notepad and reassembled the pen that you had dissected to reveal the bottom of the drawer. Sitting back down, you put the CD back into the tray and played it from the beginning.

Focusing completely, you wrote down the corresponding words to the rapid beeps. After about two minutes, the high-pitched beeps ceased completely. You put down your pen and read the message you had translated.

"Monochrome to Sparks. Bi-weekly report for week 11. Recruit for new members has proved successful. Two new villains by the names “Toga” and “Dabi” have joined us. We are still planning for the next attack on UA. Void has used intel for the specific layout of UA to detect weak points in the mainframe successfully. Crusty has suggested that we wait for the current term to finish to make our next move. We may be able to kidnap students of choice if they end up going on a training trip. That is all. Please send your reply at the usual time. Over."

Your jaw went slack. What- what is this? You shakily took the cd out of the drawer and replaced it. You opened up the other game cases that you had removed. They also contained grey disks, some labeled and some blank.

You placed the labeled ones in numerical order and listened to them one by one. The notepad was filled with all of the messages from months of corrospondence. Some had pre-dated the dorm system, so you figured that Denki converted their format to match the ones that were recorded after moving into the dorms to disguise the timeline.

Looking over your work, the puzzle pieces all fell into place. Denki had been working with the LOV for months, even before he came to UA. He had tricked you and your classmates into thinking that he was training to become the next generation of heroes with his charm and jokes. It all made sense, in a twisted way. Who would be better to be the traiter than him? To stupid in school to seem like he could pull it off, but insanely smart outside of the classroom. Was his academic shortcomings a fake too? No, you had sat there with him for hours trying to help him understand logarithms to no avail. He couldn’t of faked the tears of frustration he had before you agreed to go taste all of the flavors of Monster Energy and rank them instead of studying for midterms.

No matter what he had been planning, he still was your boyfriend. He was still your little static boy. Right?

You read over all of the messages over and over until your eyes blurred from tears. You put everything back and silently organized the cables you had pulled out. Shaking, you sat on his bed, clutching the notepad in your hands, waiting for Denki to come back.

After what seemed like forever, you heard his footsteps in the hallway.

When Denki walked in, you could tell he was exhausted.

You put down the notepad and held out your arms to him. He collapsed into you and exhaled, clearly wiped from training. You love him so much it hurts. He means the world to you, and you would do anything for him without hesitation. You solemnly made up your mind.

"Denki..." you started, rubbing his hair. "Mmmmph" he replied, noise muffled by your body. When you didn't respond, he sat up and faced you, rubbing his eyes.

You smiled sadly at him.

"What is it, my little spark?" he asked, his tone strained with worry.

You sighed and handed him the notebook with the messages written on them.

You watched his expression shift from confusion, to horror, to fear, to resignation. He didn't make it through all of the messages. He knew you would find this one day. He had made it so only you would know.

His gaze slowly panned over to the cords under his desk. When he saw that they were neatly organized, he sighed and put down the notebook. "y/n... let me explain... I understand if you turn me in. I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I understand if-" his voice broke and his eyes welled up with tears.

It hurt you so badly to see him like this. You looked over his beautiful face, distorted from the tears in your own eyes.

"Denki, when were you planning to tell me?" You felt so hurt that he kept this from you, but you knew why. How could he tell you? You both were training to be heroes. How was he supposed to tell you that you were part of the League of Villians?

"I- it all happened so fast, and I wasn't supposed to make friends, let alone be in a relationship. The shit hit the fan so quickly that it felt impossible to tell you. When we moved into dorms because of the LOV attack, I knew that I would have to tell you eventually. I set it up so we would know how to communicate in morse code so that you and only you would be able to find the communicator, and so that you would feel comfortable in my room. I just- I just hoped that maybe you would never find out." As he spoke, he moved his hands around feebly, just to let them rest on his lap.

You listened to him in silence. When he was done, you gazed into his honey-colored eyes that were trained dutifully on his bedspread and smiled. "I would burn down the world for you, Pikachu. I wish you would've trusted me with this sooner." You laughed and shook your head. "You are more important to me than you could ever imagine. If you are the UA traitor, if you are part of the League of Villians, so be it. I will shake hands with the devil if it means I will be by your side."

His blonde head snapped to attention. “Y/n...?” He looked at you quizically. This... didn’t sound like you. He knew that you were determined beyond measure to become a hero, and he didn’t expect you to be swayed so easily.

"Please, please, please don't hide anything else from me. I will always be on your side. Don't ever forget that, okay sparky?"

He looked at you, surprised that you weren't telling Aizawa about him at this moment, not that he would stop you. "Okay, my little spark."

"I love you"

"I love you too"

“... do you want to play a video game?”

“you know I do.”

“okay.”

“Hey y/n?”

“yes Denki?”

“let’s burn down the world together”

#mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #bocu no hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #denki x reader #bnha x you

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Hopelessness of Wanting [Part 2]

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

Continuation of an angsty dark fic request.

Warnings: suicidal thoughts/attempt (I made myself real sad with this one so be warned if you’re vulnerable to negative thinking), NSFW, smut (gender-neutral), unhealthy relationship, depression, neurodivergent reader. Melancholy rambling.

3,200 words

“Don’t worry about what Dr. Chilton thinks,” Nurse Clerval advised as soon as he was out of earshot. “He’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, but”—you tugged the hem of your scrubs—“He’s right. I keep messing up. I think he hates me.” You stopped there, too ashamed to admit you were the biggest fuck-up on the entire staff, new or not, or that you could tell Dr. Chilton regretted his decision to hire you.

“And the rest of us hate him. Just keep doing your job, learn the ropes—he’ll back off.”

You nodded silently and continued your rounds, delivering meds and checking in on patients. Amy had to be restrained again when she wouldn’t stop biting. Julianne seemed more confused lately, though you hadn’t known any of them long enough to tell what was normal.

Clerval’s words hung over you. It didn’t seem right that everyone hated Dr. Chilton. He was a little brusque, yes, but intelligent. Wickedly sarcastic. Posturing and puffing himself up whenever people he admired came to visit the hospital, and he wanted badly to impress them. Lonely.

Your cheeks heated at the thought of those intense bursts of green under his brow—the first thing you noticed when he conducted your interview. His eyes almost matched the light green scrubs you wore at the hospital you trained in, though the uniform here was white (as if leaning into the One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest vibe.)

But what drew you in wasn’t that his eyes were beautiful—though they were—it was the way they made contact with yours. Staring you down with fake confidence, as if he were forcing it. That stare must have been off-putting to most people, but it made your spirit leap with that particular spark of connection one only feels when finding a kindred spirit.

“Hey! Still sulking? Hurry it up,” Clerval called, jolting you to attention. You trotted after.

It was nice having a mentor on the staff, but at the same time, it just felt like having another person to eventually disappoint.

“Here! What’s next?” you beamed.

***

Dr. Chilton didn’t back off over the next few weeks as Nurse Clerval suggested. The more you thought you were getting the hang of routines at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, the more mistakes you seemed to make, and the harder its administrator came down on you. And the more the handsome, scarred Dr. Chilton hated you, the more nervous mistakes you made.

In nursing school, you aced everything technical. Every written test. Every memorized statistic, sterilization procedure, medication instruction, and anatomy diagram. But when it came to interacting with patients and families—being compassionate yet professional—nothing came naturally. As a child, you learned how to fake eye contact by staring at the bridge of someone’s nose. How to smile bright and encourage others so they don’t reject you. So they don’t see you as cold or weird. But sometimes, you felt like an alien just parroting human behavior.

The guy you had been dating when you started working at the BSHCI said something similar to you when he broke it off. That you were “unavailable” and never understood what he needed.

There was a reason your first choice job was at a hospital where the only patients were mentally ill murderers.

Dr. Frederick Chilton was the same way. Just better at hiding it, or braver about not caring when his mannerisms rubbed people the wrong way. He didn’t fall apart like you did. He was… incredible. As soon as you met him, you knew you wanted the job. His smile was forced but friendly that first day, and you went home dreaming about getting to know him better.

But as soon as you were hired, the friendliness went out of his eyes. On your very first day, you passed him in the hall and smiled. He frowned and informed you that you were five minutes late clocking in. Everything—every forgotten ID card and typo on a patient file—was proof to Dr. Chilton that you were incompetent.

Worthless.

He even pointed it out when you couldn’t stand up for yourself and let Nurse Clerval defend you.

Pathetic.

Why did you ever think someone like him might like you?

He wasn’t an asshole. The constant reprimanding and disciplinary write-ups were no more than you deserved. It just hurt coming from someone you admired and wished things could be different with.

God, you wished just once he would smile at you again. Tell you that you did a good job.

Your fist hovered over the dark mahogany of the carved doors to Dr. Chilton’s office, poised to knock. To tender your resignation. You hadn’t seen the extravagant interior of his office since your interview, but you could imagine him in there: laying back on the leather couch sipping a Scotch, surrounded by tall shelves of medical books and sculpted wall molding. The air filled with the library smell of old paper.

In your imagination, his cold green eyes would soften, and he would ask why you were leaving. Apologize for being so hard on you. The Chilton in your mind clasped your hand, and you both blushed, wondering if the gesture was merely a show of professional support, or if it held a deeper meaning. He clasped tighter instead of dropping your hand, knowing— understanding—the heat behind your gaze.

A dull thud came from inside the office, followed by footsteps and a muttering voice, muffled through the door. The footsteps started heading your way, and you walked briskly down the hall toward the exit, not looking back when a moment later, the mahogany doors creaked open.

Coward.

There was no point quitting, anyway. You would never find another hospital job as slow-paced, where you rarely had to speak with outsiders—only the regular long-term patient-inmates, and a small staff of orderlies, guards, nurses, and psychiatrists.

Sometimes you thought you should quit nursing altogether, but then what would you do? Flip burgers? You’d be bad at that, too. There was nothing you wouldn’t be a failure at.

A fog hovered over you, creeping its tendrils into every thought, turning every tiny setback into the end of the world, and making every success unimportant. Leaving BSHCI wouldn’t make it better. Nothing would make it better. You were the fuck-up. Anywhere you went, the problem would always be you.

Every smile you gave was forced, but you kept smiling as if everything was normal. So long as nobody could see you drowning, it wasn’t real. There was still hope that you could get your shit together, and no one would be the wiser that you were actually a disgusting piece of human trash. So long as you could smile like you were fine, you weren’t a complete failure.

But the more you pretended to be upbeat—pretended to be someone likable—the more you were certain your coworkers didn’t like you. They must have been sick of covering for you by now.

A week later, the nurse you were replacing grunted, “Finally,” as you sprinted through the door three minutes after your shift started. That one unremarkable interaction was the final proof of a theory you had been nursing for a long time:

Everyone’s lives would be easier without you.

That was the final conclusion, the final, creeping thought the suffocating fog wormed into your head. The crescendo of a distorted symphony that had been subtly building to this from the beginning.

You couldn’t force yourself to smile anymore.

***

You didn’t have authorized access to the medication supply room, but you swiped a key from Dr. Tenley’s office. For a secure facility, the doctors of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane were lax about locking their own offices. She would notice it was missing by Monday morning, and there would be serious repercussions for stealing it, but you weren’t concerned. You wouldn’t be around to face them.

With the high-potency drugs available in a hospital and a working knowledge of pharmacology, ending a life could be quick and relatively painless.

The key clicked in the door. You glanced up and down the hallway to make sure no one was coming. But the coast was clear.

A halfhearted breath puffed from your nose. Part of you wanted to find it funny how easy this was, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

You stealthily opened the windowless metal door, stepped inside, and shut and locked it behind you without making a sound. Once inside the small room, you let out a silent sigh of relief (or despair). Only a handful of people had a key, so you were unlikely to be interrupted, especially at night with only a skeleton staff on duty.

There were three rows of tall storage shelves crammed into the walk-in closet with clean tile in the few places wall was exposed. The whir of a climate-control system drowned out the pulse in your ears as you scanned for the drugs you were looking for.

You found them faster than expected. They could have at least been hidden. The universe could have put a few more obstacles in your path, but instead, the universe was giving you a big fat sign it wanted you dead.

You picked up the packaging. Turned it over in your hand.

Just a handful of these, and all the problems you cause would be over. No more reprimands. No more disappointing everyone you meet. No more wrenching in your gut every time Dr. Chilton looks at you with contempt when you long to see a smile. No more trying so hard every minute of every day.

It wasn’t like too many people would be sad you were gone anyway. Most of them will be relieved.

Your eyes stung.

Wasn’t someone going to walk in and stop you?

Your lip trembled. Why would anyone want to stop you?

Tears rolled down your face as the reality of your plan set in. Survival instinct kicked and clawed at the cloying fog of twisted logic that promised you would be helping everyone if you stopped existing, but it was losing the battle.

And then you heard someone call your name.

You sniffed and looked up. No… not someone calling your name. Moaning it. You crept to the last row of shelves at the back and gasped—Dr. Chilton had his laptop tucked onto a shelf and was watching a clip of security feed on loop. His red, glistening erection thick in his hand as he masturbated, whimpering your name over and over.

You watched silently—he was so engrossed he didn’t notice your shadow falling over the aisle. It was only when the package of drugs slipped from your hand and clattered on the floor that he jumped with a shriek, covering himself, though his massive erection was still conspicuous in his pants. His eyes bugged out at you, face red with embarrassment—but then they quickly narrowed to anger.

“What are you doing in here? You are not authorized to be in this room,” he barked.

All you could think about was what you heard—the name gasping from his lips. It overpowered every other thought. “Were you… imagining me?”

His nostrils flared. He hastily shut the laptop which was looping security footage of you outside his office door.

Then he laughed—forced and cruel. “What I imagine is not your concern. Do not read into it. I have never shown you special treatment, have I? Do you think that I could have feelings for an incompetent nurse?”

“I know that!” Your lip trembled again now that the briefest spark of hope you had was shattered. Of course he didn’t like you. He was just a pervert who jacked off to all the nurses. “Don’t you think I know that I’m worthless? You’ve made it abundantly clear.”

Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks, and Chilton’s eyes softened, as if for the first time realizing that all his attempts to hurt you had succeeded. You were hurt. And he did not enjoy it as much as he thought.

“You are not worthless,” he said quietly. Then his eyes flicked down to the floor, at the medication you dropped. He picked it up, read what it was. His expression fell. “What were you doing in here, nurse?” he swallowed.

“Nothing. I just… needed something for a patient.”

“Lie,” he said.

You looked away. Everything was numb. It barely even occurred to you that someone stopped you after all. A handsome, awkward, cruel doctor you admired was in the same room with you and had said his first kind words since the day you met.

He took a slow step toward you. Then another. His hand—slender and surprisingly large—pressed your arm in an attempt at a comforting gesture. An alien parroting human behavior.

“You are not worthless. I assure you, none of your mistakes have been grievous. You are certainly not the least competent of my staff. Far from it. So don’t…” He swallowed. “…Do not do anything rash.”

“Sure,” you scoffed. “Then why am I the one you’re always reprimanding? The one always being called to your office?” You knew what he thought of you; he was just trying to talk you down.

“That…” he began in a broken voice, “That must be painfully obvious now.”

Your eyes peeled away from the floor and found his face, and the storm of emotions flashing over it. Shame. Trepidation. A faint light of hope.

“You like me?” Your voice sounded far away. The analytical part of your brain was whirring away above the swamp of depression bogging you down with lies that nobody could like you. But it made sense. As the words spilled from your mouth, it was like a veil lifted.

Pulling pigtails. He was pulling your pigtails because he liked you. A middle-aged psychiatrist ought to have more emotional maturity handling a crush than a third-grader, but there was a reason he worked at a hospital where the only patients were mentally ill murderers. There was a reason his staff hated him. Why he was lonely, and why you desperately wanted to be the one to fill the empty space by his side.

Frederick Chilton was a lot like you.

You could understand each other and be less alone in this world, together.

***

His eyes were closed and he was muttering something self-flagellating and vaguely apologetic when the kinetic sense of you moving closer caused Frederick Chilton to look up.

No longer out at arm’s distance, you were within each other’s breathing space. And now, he was genuinely terrified—terrified you were going to return his feelings. Of the joy it might bring crashing down on him like an airplane. He read something he never expected to see in your body language, and it shook him deeper than being walked in on with his cock in his hands.

You should have reported him for ethics violations.

If you made the case to the hospital board that he created a hostile work environment because he wanted you sexually, he would lose his job and do everybody a favor.

But this—the intention in your body—this was the farthest thing from what he deserved. You confirmed his fear when your soft, perfect lips melded against his. Yet, as always when he knew a thing was wrong, he did not push you away. Did nothing to stop you. He let you deepen the kiss slowly, and you were warm, the taste of you sweeter than he imagined in all his lonely nights of fantasizing.

His cock twitched, your closeness awakening his urges again. He moaned as your lips parted, his lips parting with them, and your tongue gently probed inside. You were tentative at first, investigating only the nearest reaches of his inner lips, and then his hand spasmed on your arm, and with a low growl, he pulled your closer—then you became ravenous. All the turbulent emotions churning within you broke free in that kiss. You sobbed into his mouth, your tongue, hot and fervent, explored and assaulted the depths of him, your hands weaving into the hair behind his neck, and he could taste your salt. It was all his tongue could do to keep up—to let himself be consumed.

Dear god, if only that passion would have ended him then and there. The moment your lips met his in an unexpected act of reciprocation was the fulfillment of every want, every tattered and twisted hope—the highest delight a man such as him could achieve. And he knew—rightly so—that all that could follow was suffering of his own design.

Dear god, let me die before I see this in ruins. Let me die with my happiness.

***

The sex wasn’t all that good. But then again, you had gone into that supply closet intending to never come out, so overall, being fucked by the man you had been pining for was a positive turn of events.

It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first time with Dr. Chilton, pressed against a cold tile wall. A hungry kiss led to his clothed erection pushing against your thigh, led to you unbuckling his belt.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispered hoarsely, nervous eyes darkened with lust—and you nodded, sliding down your scrub pants, which stuck on your sneakers, hobbling your ankles. He was in too much of a rush to let you take them off—he only opened up his slacks and pulled his cock out of the fly of his briefs. And then he was thrusting into you from behind—frantic, desperate. Your ankles being bound only added to the thrill of him being in control. Dr. Chilton wanted you after all—fantasized about you—and now he was taking you, and all you had to do was surrender to his desire.

His breathy moans rose with each snap of his hips, his hands traveling up your chest under your shirt, fingers curling around your neck, possessing you. Touching every inch of skin he could get his hands on. And that noise that saved your life, your name on his lips, he chanted in your ear.

He was fast—hips racing as if this were his only chance, and if he waited, you would disappear—and he finished fast. You didn’t spend long with your face pressed to the cold tile when his moans broke into a shattered scream, and his head slumped, sweaty, against your back.

Then he turned you around to face him and got on his knees. Heedless of his own mess that he’d left sticky and bitter inside you, he pumped his fingers into you and sucked like he was fulfilling a duty. Clinical about the task, and efficient. It didn’t take him long to bring your arousal to a climax in his mouth.

After, he was quiet. When you had cleaned up, he looked at you like you were a mistake… only you weren’t certain what kind of mistake. If you reached out to reassure him, would he jerk away and tell you to never speak of this again?

“Was it… all you expected?” you asked robotically. Your arm crossed your body, hugging yourself.

And then he kissed you again, softly. He ran his fingers over your hair and pulled back just far enough to study your face. His eyes were wet, clouded with a million thoughts and regrets you would only learn about later.

“You are perfect,” he whispered.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Since I went some places this chapter... Please don’t bottle up your feelings if they’re telling you horrible things about yourself. They aren’t true, I promise. You matter. ❤️

Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Online chat: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/chat/

Help via Text: https://www.crisistextline.org/ (Text HOME to 741741)

List of additional resources: https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/suicide-resource-guide

Tags:

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes / @barbasimp / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq

#frederick chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #dark fic #angst #This was supposed to be a oneshot! *sobbing* A oneshot!!!#my writing

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bluesockets · 3 years

Text

HUGO WEIDERMANN ( HE/HIM ) is a CIS MALE, THIRTY-SEVEN year old THERAPIST & PSYCHIATRIST who has been living in Moorbrooke for TWO YEARS. They were born on MARCH 5 and right now, they are currently residing in REDGRAVE GROVE. It has been said that they look suspiciously like MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose HEAVY BALLOON by FIONA APPLE. ( ox, 21+, cst, he/him )

❮ it grows relentless like the teeth of a rat it's just got to keep on gnawing at me !! ❯ TW : ILLNESS, DRINKING MENT. !

full name : hugo weidermann. nicknames : he actually hates most derivatives of his name. calling him ‘huey’ is a one way ticket to getting your number blocked. pronouns : he/him. age : thirty-seven. date of birth : march 5, 1984. zodiac : pisces. gender : cis male. sexuality : gay. hometown : munich, germany. current residence : redgrave grove. languages spoken : german + english.

BIO !

—— hugo was born into a moderately wealthy family right in the middle of munich, germany. his parents pushed a lot of their #grindset on him and his baby sister. unfortunately for him, this meant a future of perfectionism and unrelenting gifted kid syndrome. he sacrificed a lot of his social needs for grades early in his life and after a while, it all became second nature. once in a blue moon he’d talk to his peers in scouting but he’d stutter, stumble over his words, and never quite found the right things to say. figuring himself a lost cause, he studied. he helped his mom with the garden. maybe occasionally played half life or duke nukem on the family computer. all of this dedication to perfection made him a shoe-in for harvard university, all the way over in the united states. his parents, father especially, encouraged the idea. that was all he needed to get himself on a plane to massachusetts. he was just glad his family could afford frequent flights back home, in case everything went to shit. —— when he first landed, hugo thought he’d only be in the states for school, but he ended up liking it a lot more than he thought he would. after finishing school and taking up a residency in downtown boston, he moved to new york. he made a good amount of money, was able to keep in touch with the few friends he met in college, and even secured a few long term relationships along the way. he hit his thirties and finally felt that he reached a point of contentment. this ... didn’t last long. —— right before he was able to buy his first house in the city he fell ill and, after seeing more doctors than he could count on both hands and feet, was diagnosed with lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. this wasn’t something he thought he was going to be able to handle by himself, so his sister came down from her home in germany to assist him with his daily needs. the two of them definitely couldn’t afford new york and medical bills on hugo’s salary alone, which led them to pack their bags and head to ( what his sister considered ) the next best option. moorbrooke, maine !! he wasn’t too stoked about this. he’d be leaving most of his support system behind and he knew absolutely nothing about the area, but his sister found a job there and it was a good place for him to start a private practice of his own. he’s still struggling over the loss of independence and the complete change from where he was in life before, but he’s coping ! after spending a lot of time inside and away from the people of moorbroke, he finally thinks he might be ready to actually make a life here. even if he wasn’t, his sister isn’t gonna move the two of them any time soon.

TIDBITS !

he’s a very nice dude and will totally engage with people, he just cannot bring himself to let his walls down. you really gotta know hugo well if you wanna have a conversation about anything serious without him deflecting the whole damn time.

his accent .... god rest his soul. he’s been living here for 20 years and sometimes people still need to take a second to understand him. especially when he drinks. two beers in and the man needs a translator.

speaking of drinking, he doesn’t do it often, and he can’t hold his liquor. i’d actually advise people to never give him alcohol. like, ever.

was on the rowing team in college. please don’t ask him about it. he’ll talk about it forever.

if it weren’t for his dog and his bees he’d be at rock bottom. outside of writing ( which i will get to in a jiffy ), beekeeping is his favorite hobby. ask him nicely and he might give you a jar of honey.

before coming down with lupus and RA he wrote two very boring books for psychiatrists and psychiatrists only. now that his focus has shifted away from his career a little bit, he’s in the middle of writing a poetry collection.

you will find this man at every bookstore in a 10 mile radius. he can’t be in the sun for too long so instead he likes to look at stuff he promises himself he won’t buy and then buys it anyway.

CONNECTIONS !

clients

he’s got fifteen clients on his caseload just to keep himself from losing his mind. he specializes in family, grief, trauma, and stress but doesn’t limit himself too much because of how small the town is. what i’m saying is : let hugo prescribe your characters drugs.

fellow beekeepers

he’s kept to himself a lot during his time in moorbrooke but his sister used to force him out at least some of the time. she drives him to beekeepers association events and conventions often enough, i would imagine it’d be a lot easier for him to talk to someone who shares the same niche hobby !! if your muse doesn’t keep bees, i’m always down for him to talk to some of the people who buy his honey at farmer’s markets.

former close friends

hugo met a lot of people ( particularly on harvard’s rowing team ) in college and during his stint in new york. i’m sure it’d be great for him to meet someone he knew up here because he’s honestly so tired of having to get used to new situations by himself.

flirtationship but hugo is oblivious the entire time

this guy is definitely the type to flirt with people on accident. i think it’d be really fuckin funny if he was flirting back and forth w someone he wasn’t consciously flirting with in the first place.

😏

listen the only thing i love playing out more slow burn self improvement and found family is romance. he’s been single since he was in new york and i think he deserves a little smooch. please dm me if your muse is also deserving of a little smooch.

etc, etc, etc !

there’s definitely more i want. i want everything you have to give me. however, if you’re in need of specifics, i would love to see : his doctors, people he can become friends with + let his walls down around, people he can teach german to, other authors, beta readers, and neighbors !

what am i missing. ah, yes.

pinterest / spotify [coming soon!]

#mbintro #* ‣ 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐧 ― abouts. ❜#illness tw #drinking mention tw

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Thirty One

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

Roman was literally shaking as he sat in the car with Damien and the Queen, with Virgil in shotgun and the Queen driving. “Roman, are you okay?” Damien asked softly.

“Yeah,” Roman said, continuing to shake. “I’ve just dreamed of this day for years now. I get short hair again.”

“Any plans?” Damien asked. “In terms of haircut?”

“Probably a quiff,” Roman said. “Not very original, I know, but if it works it works.”

“Very true,” Damien said. “You’d look rather dashing with it.”

“Shut up,” Roman said, blushing.

Damien kissed Roman’s knuckles and said, “Never, my love.”

Roman took as deep a breath as he could in his new binder and sighed. He had insisted on wearing it when he tried on clothes, purely so that he could ride the euphoria of gender-affirming clothes and body at the same time. But all the happiness and nervousness building up in his system meant he was shaking rather violently, and couldn’t see any signs of stopping soon. “You know, between your comments and the plans of the day, it’s not unlikely for me to just faint.”

“I’ll catch you before you hit the ground, my love,” Damien said with a soft laugh. “But I’ll also try to go easy on you for a little while, just until you calm down.”

Roman nodded. Part of his shaking was out of sheer nervousness. What if his mother was right? What if this wasn’t what he wanted? What if the haircut turned out poorly? There were so many ways that this could go wrong, and Roman knew it wasn’t healthy to focus on them, but they were difficult to push from his mind.

As they pulled into the parking lot in the shopping center, Damien growled and Roman swallowed. There were people pointing at their car and pulling out phones, presumably to take pictures. “The drawbacks of being royalty,” Virgil snarled. “The fucking papparazzi.”

“I don’t want to deal with questions,” Roman said faintly. “If I have to hear one more word about my mother today, I’m going to burst into tears.”

“I’ve got you, my love,” Damien said, grabbing Roman’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “It’s a ten-foot walk to the door. And no one will bother you once you’re inside. If anyone so much as think s about interrogating you, they’ll have me to answer to.”

Roman looked at Damien, noticed the sincerity in his eyes, and smiled softly with a small nod. Damien would be there for him, he didn’t doubt that.

They let go of each other’s hands to step out of the car, and Roman gave the obligatory polite wave to the people before walking past the car to Damien, linking hands with him as they walked into the barber shop.

“Prince Damien!” one man who was cutting another’s hair exclaimed, hastily bowing. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I’m afraid my fiancé is in need of a good haircut, Vince,” Damien said with a grin. “My mother and Virgil are right outside, so no funny business, understood?”

“Of course! I never shave the heads of newcomers unless they ask for it!” Vince laughed. “Have a seat, Your Highnesses, anywhere you like, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Damien practically dragged Roman to a chair in the back, while two barbers puttered around the shop, and Vince finished the haircut. “I only trust Vince to deal with the bird’s nest that is my hair,” Damien explained to Roman. “Not that the other barbers here aren’t excellent, but Vince was the only one I trusted as a child to not yank on my hair when there were tangles, and since then he’s always gotten top priority on my haircuts.”

Roman nodded, not letting go of Damien’s hand for a moment. “Good to know he’s experienced,” he said.

Vince finished brushing hair off the other client, who quickly left, and Vince turned the sign on the door to “Closed.” “For just a bit of privacy, Prince Roman. I know that you must be going through a lot right now.”

Roman smiled nervously as Vince came over. “I appreciate it, thank you,” he said.

Vince draped a sheet over Roman’s shoulders and tied it in the back, pulling his loose ponytail out from under the knot. “Your hair is very healthy,” he complimented. “How short do you want it?”

“Chop it all off,” Roman said. “Much as it’s healthy, it’s entirely too long for my tastes.”

“Oh, I understand that,” Vince said. “Any style or length you want?”

“Quiff please, no longer than four inches. Three would be ideal,” Roman said.

“You’ve got it, Your Highness,” Vince said, taking a pair of scissors out of a drawer and straightening Roman’s ponytail.

Roman clutched Damien’s hand tightly as the scissors went to the base of his skull, and with two high-pitched and expertly placed snips, his ponytail fell to the floor, hair coming to rest above his shoulders in a bob. Roman looked at the mirror and laughed. “I look like a bisexual,” he joked.

“Not for long,” Damien laughed back.

“Taper fade on the bottom?” Vince asked.

“Please,” Roman said.

“Hang on one moment,” Damien said, pulling out his phone and pressing a few buttons. “Hey, Remus?” Damien asked into his phone.

“Yeah, you’ve got me!” Remus’ voice came over the phone, and Roman’s face broke into a relieved grin. “What’s up?”

“I think there’s a moment Roman would like to share with you,” Damien said.

When the flash on Damien’s phone came on, Roman waved to the camera. “Guess who’s finally getting his hair cut!” he crowed.

“Hell yes, my man!” Remus exclaimed. “I want to see them shave your head!”

Roman laughed as Vince grabbed a razor and began to get rid of all the long hair on the back of Roman’s head. With Remus on the phone he felt so much more relaxed, and more self-assured. He knew he was trans, and so did Remus. Remus never questioned him for a second. This was what Roman needed, and it was nice to be reminded that this was normal, this was healthy, this was good.

Remus was giving running commentary in the form of compliments, and Damien just sat back in his chair with a pleased grin. When the fade was complete, Vince took a pair of scissors to the hair that was left on the top of Roman’s head, combing it so the short strands left were pointed towards the front, rather than to the sides. Roman watched this process in the mirror in awe, finally looking at his reflection and seeing someone resembling himself. When Vince took off the sheet after brushing the last of Roman’s hair off his neck and shoulders, Roman stood slowly, observing his new look in the mirror.

“How do you feel, Roman?” Damien asked.

Roman broke into a wide grin. “Gone are the days of Veronica Sarah Ayer!” he crowed. “You are looking at none other than His Highness Roman Augustus Ayer, prince and soon-to-be-husband of Damien Byron!”

Damien whooped and high-fived Roman, and Roman felt tears coming to his eyes as Remus cheered and clapped over the phone. “You did an amazing job as always, Vince,” Damien said. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Vince said with a bow. “I hope the two of you have a great rest of your day.”

“You too,” Roman said as Damien paid Vince and the two walked out.

The Queen gasped as she saw Roman and exclaimed, “Oh, dear, your haircut is perfect!”

“Thank you!” Roman said, grinning. “It feels amazing to look like myself.”

“Are you ready for an updated wardrobe?” the Queen asked.

Roman nodded, blinking back tears. “So ready to figure out what styles I like in men’s clothing,” he said, voice watery.

Damien kissed Roman’s cheek and Roman squeaked, whacking him lightly.

“Damien Janus Byron, if you do not behave with your fiancé, you will not get to help him pick out clothes, and that’s a promise,” the Queen warned.

Damien turned away and swore under his breath, and Roman blinked in shock. “That is...quite the middle name,” he said mildly.

“It was his father’s choice of name for him. I told him simply that if he didn’t want his son to be bullied for a majority of his childhood, we would give him a more common first name. Damien was what we agreed on. But Janus is a family name,” the Queen explained.

“I see,” Roman said. “Sort of, at least.”

The Queen smiled. “Are we ready to keep shopping?”

“Yeah,” Roman said, smiling. “I think I could even brave a couple reporters if I had to. Still hoping I don’t have to, though.”

“We’ll try and avoid it,” Damien assured him.

They walked to the stores just a couple buildings away, and Damien swept Roman into the most upscale of them all. Damien looked around, waving off the associates who tried to walk up to the three of them. “He’s fine,” Damien said. “Just give him a moment to soak it all in.”

Roman looked around, feeling all the air leave his lungs. There were mannequins with suits in the windows, button-up shirts on the shelves, nice pants, both of the dress variety and ones more appropriate for a relaxed dress code. And not a dress or skirt in sight.

“The women’s equivalent is across the street,” Damien said. “But I figured you’d much rather be in a men’s store, at least to start.”

“Thanks,” Roman said faintly.

Damien nodded with a smile. “Go wherever your heart tells you,” he said. “I won’t judge...too much.”

Roman laughed, but dutifully walked further into the store. There was a pastel green button-up that he picked up, looking around. He grinned when he saw T-shirts, knowing that territory much better. He grabbed a shirt with Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album art on the front because rainbows, duh, and then went for a pair of dark skinny jeans, and called, “Damien, I’m gonna try on a look, I want your opinion when I walk out of the changing room!”

“Copy that,” Damien called into the racks. “I’ll meet you on the far right where the changing rooms are!”

Roman sprinted through the aisles, grin splitting his face. He was a fashion disaster sometimes, bue he had a good feeling about this. He tore off his shirt and caught his breath for a moment inside the changing room. He shouldn’t make a habit out of running in his binder, he saw now why Remy was so strict in his instructions.

When he had his breath back, he took off his pants and put on the shirts first. The green was a stark contrast to the gray, so he had a feeling he was on the right track. He pulled on the skinny jeans, up over both of the shirt’s ends and made sure they were tucked properly. Roman did the bottom two buttons of the green shirt and looked in the mirror, giving himself some nervous finger guns. The shoes on the other side of the door were undoubtedly Damien’s. Roman took a deep breath, ran his fingers through his hair, and unlocked the changing room door, walking out with his hands in his pockets. “Thoughts? I need something more iconic than that time Remus went out on Halloween dressed as a stripper—complete with rippable tuxedo. This do it?” he asked Damien.

Damien said nothing, looking Roman up and down for a moment, before he said, “Fuck, I’m gay. If we weren’t in public I would jump your bones.”

Roman squeaked. “So you’re a fan, got it,” he said with a laugh. “This is going to be my ‘ultimate boy mode’ look.”

Damien managed a strangled laugh. “Yeah. Mother is grabbing you some dress shirts and pants for special occasions. But as for style...looks like you’ve got at least one look. Now go on and take it off, we’re getting that and anything else you might want.”

“I have good stuff in terms of T-shirts already, aside from a disparaging lack of rainbows. I might buy a flannel and some pants, but let’s be real, I’ll be stealing your shirts most days.”

“At least you’re honest,” Damien huffed as Roman retreated back into the stall.

Roman changed back into his regular clothes and walked out, new outfit in hand. “I’m wearing that combo to Pride first chance I get, I hope you realize,” he informed Damien.

“Fine by me, so long as I get to scare off any pretty boys who try to make a pass at you,” Damien said, just a hint of huskiness still in his voice.

“You’re not as discreet as you like to think you are,” Roman said, glancing down and then up meaningfully at Damien.

“Hey, be careful who you tease,” Damien warned. “I’m most likely going to be the one teaching you how to position when you get a packer, and if you keep this up I’ll make tasteless jokes every time your packer shifts.”

Roman sighed. “Okay, I see your point,” he allowed.

The two of them got a few more pants for Roman, and Roman picked up a yellow and red flannel, and then went to the front of the store, where the Queen was waiting for them. Once everything had been rung up and they were walking out of the store, Roman laughed. “God, this doesn’t feel real,” he breathed. “I’m free. I’m genuinely... free.”

“Glad to hear you feel that way,” Damien said, kissing Roman’s temple.

Roman turned to Damien and smiled. “Am I free to kiss you?”

“Ah...” Damien glanced away, turning red. “I don’t know how to feel about that. It’s not a no...”

“If it’s not a yes, then it’s a no,” Roman said. “It’s okay. Hopefully you’ll be okay with it by the wedding.”

“I do as well, I do not want to disappoint the people waiting for us to kiss,” Damien laughed nervously.

“Even if you aren’t, I know ways to fake it,” Roman said with a shrug. “Besides, we don’t even have to use tongue. That’s not a requirement for a kiss at the altar.”

“I would be slightly concerned if it was,” Damien laughed. “I do not need all my relatives to watch me kiss using tongue.”

Roman snickered. “Remus would make disgusting gag noises every time I kissed a boyfriend when I was younger. It was never appreciated at the time, but looking back on it, it’s a little endearing. I mean, he’s still a little shit, but...”

Damien laughed genuinely and a few people turned their way, before one brought a camera out of her bag. “Oh, no, the paparazzi are after us!” Roman hissed.

“To the car?” Damien offered.

“To the car!” Roman agreed, and the three of them rushed to the car and order Virgil to drive, narrowly dodging the woman as she tried to cross the street and get a good picture of them.

“Are we going to continue to risk the commonwealth tearing us apart or are we heading back to the castle?” Virgil asked.

“Back home, please,” the Queen said. “I need to make some calls before the wedding rehearsal tomorrow, see if we can change plans that involve Roman’s parents, and ensure that Remus leaving the country won’t endanger his security to the throne.”

“What, no dance practice?” Damien questioned.

“Oh, you two will get plenty of dance practice in,” the Queen assured. “I just won’t be there to oversee it. I trust Logan to keep you two from killing each other.”

“Hey!” Damien squawked indignantly, while Roman just tittered next to him.

#royal growing pains #deceit sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #roceit #our creations

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swanlake1998 · 3 years

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Article: Why I Left My Classical Ballet Job to Explore My Roots in Javanese Dance

Date: February 6, 2021

By: Cat Woods

At the peak of her career, dancer Juliet Burnett left the Australian Ballet to explore her Javanese roots. Now, the Indonesian-Australian ballerina is drawing on her heritage to expand the often narrow world of performing arts.

When Juliet Burnett smiles, the full gloriousness of her high-cheekbones and angular face are both feline and balletic, not dissimilar to the finely boned, regal faces of Javanese dancers. Her facial expressions, like her body — sculpted by almost two decades of professional dance — are deliberate and refined.

It's been five years since Burnett left The Australian Ballet at the peak of her career, having been steadily promoted, over 13 years, to the role of senior artist within the Melbourne-based company.

From her family home in Sydney, where she is temporarily living while borders are closed for travel due to COVID-19, Burnett is fired up about the attitudes of classical dance. She has memories of feeling like an outsider amongst a largely middle-class, white company that espoused creative adventurism but failed to appeal to — or recruit — more than a couple of Indigenous dancers, nor to make the Asian-Australian dancers in the company feel that their cultural heritage was encouraged in the imperial values of classical ballet. "Black dancers, Asian dancers, and dancers of color aren't made to feel like their cultural provenance is celebrated," she tells Allure.

"I felt like the role of women in classical ballet is to be subservient," she says now, reflective and thoughtful in her wording, though not cautious. Burnett is not one for tip-toeing about. "Not just the roles for women, but the very system of classical ballet.”

The Australian Ballet encountered backlash in June this year after it published a black square on social media. The national ballet company was accused by its Instagram followers of being "lazy," doing the bare minimum in its response to Black Lives Matter.

In 2019, in a review of the Australian Ballet’s version of The Nutcracker for Australian arts publication Limelight Magazine, the critic viewed the production as perpetuating "racialised stereotypes of Chinese characters." The lack of diversity in the ballet industry as a whole has been brought to public conversation by numerous dancers over recent years, including Misty Copeland, who, via a 2019 Instagram post, called out dancers who were in blackface during a rehearsal for a performance for the Bolshoi Ballet in Moscow. (Following the post and media coverage, the New York Times reported that the general director for the Bolshoi said in a statement at the time that the ballet company "will not comment on the absurd allegation" of racism.)

A statement provided to Allure from The Australian Ballet says: "The Australian Ballet aims to reflect the diverse Australian community that we operate in and foster an inclusive environment for all. We’re continuing to learn and we are working on longer-term strategies to increase participation in dance across all communities, and provide more access to The Australian Ballet for all Australians, it may take time, but we are committed to working on the bigger picture."

The statement continues: "The Australian Ballet recruited its first Indigenous dancer [Ella Havelka] in 2012, and since then has recruited a second First Nations dancer."

While Burnett would eventually become an outspoken advocate for diversity in ballet, her experience with dance began without an agenda towards a career, nor even the intention to practice classical ballet.

"My grandmother, Raden Ayu Catherine Ismadillah Brataatmaja, was a professional Javanese dancer," she says. "As soon as I was five, my mother was curious about whether dance was in my blood too, so she enrolled me in ballet with the idea that I could follow in her footsteps. She was totally not a pushy dance mum."

Brataatmaja was the star palace dancer of the Surakarta Sultanate (Javanese monarchy in Indonesia), performing the royal court dance Bedhaya Ketawang for Indonesian royalty. Widyas Burnett, while also fully encouraging her daughter to embrace classical ballet, endeavored to make the costume for 14-year-old Juliet's first school choreographic effort, "Campursari." The final number combined classical ballet moves with Javanese dance positions, set to the soundtrack of traditional gamelan music.

Like many young dancers who are recruited to train endless hours through their pre-teen and teenage years to be auditioned for international ballet schools, her talent was spotted by her dance teachers, Valerie Jenkins and Christine Keith. Her graduation from The Australian Ballet School led to the beginnings of her career in 2003. As a dancer with The Australian Ballet, she embodied Odette in Swan Lake, Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, Giselle, and La Sylphide.

In 2011, Burnett was awarded the Khitercs Hirai International Scholarship, intended to allow members of The Australian Ballet companies to travel internationally. She used the scholarship to visit Indonesia to study her grandmother's art of Javanese dance and to initiate workshops for Indonesian kids — particularly those in underprivileged "slums" along the Ciliwung riverbank in Java. Burnett also trained in the theatrical, dance, and meditation techniques as pioneered by her uncle, the actor, poet, and activist, W.S. Rendra.

"When visiting my Mum's side of the family in Indonesia, we'd arrive in Jakarta and there's this big fly road that was built during Suharto's time, and you go across this modern freeway and you peer down the side and there are all these shanty towns," she recalls. At a young age, Burnett was struck by the financial inequity in such a big, prosperous city. Her parents were very open about the fact that many children didn’t have access to clean drinking water, but "then I'd go to my aunt's place and have a beautiful home-cooked meal and watch their big screen TV and everything’s clean and they’ve got their maid cooking for us." Once her dance career started taking off, she "wanted to go back and try and reconnect and bring something back to [those children]."

"Ballet dancers can live in a bubble," she says. "The level of training, rehearsal and performance becomes more than work, it's a lifestyle. I knew, from early on, that I would have to work to maintain my curiosity for other cultures, other forms of dance, to ensure I was not losing my own spirit."

There was no sudden event that resulted in Burnett's choice to leave The Australian Ballet. In fact, Burnett says she had been open with the Ballet from the beginning of her tenure about the fact that she found the hierarchical structure to be outdated and felt that it clashed with her values, and saw the system of promoting dancers destroy careers. Since leaving The Australian Ballet, Burnett has been more creative and vocal in demonstrating how dance can be a political and social statement, and provocation to limited perspectives on culture, poverty, justice, and gender. She created and shared “Injustice: a short film” on her website last year. To get the clips seen in the film, Burnett made a call out on Instagram, inviting people to submit videos of themselves following her choreographic instructions.

In pre-pandemic times, Burnett resided in Belgium, where she is a dancer for The Royal Ballet of Flanders. Burnett has also just launched her own company, A-Part. "It's purely online for now," she explains, "but obviously, once the travel restrictions allow and it is safe to do so, it will be a real-world dance company that travels and performs."

For Burnett, working with the Pina Bausch Company and alongside Akram Khan as a first soloist dancer with The Royal Ballet of Flanders allowed her to shake off the shackles of rigid, classical training and methodology in favor of the liberation, the sometimes feral and primitive nature of contemporary dance and to finally indulge her need to journey into her own Indonesian roots.

"What's wonderful about the Royal Ballet of Flanders is that it's enabled me to dance the choreography of Pina Bausch, Akram Khan, and Édouard Lock, all these contemporary choreographers who I'd never have had access to in Australia," she says. "After I left The Australian Ballet, I wanted to delve into my artistic identity."

Burnett's activism has been creative, positive, and aligned with her belief that education and collaboration are the only ways to provide inclusive, safe environments for those in the dance world. She has presented master classes in collaboration with Ballet.id (Yayasan Bina Ballet Indonesia), which is a non-profit foundation enabling partnerships between Indonesian and international dancers and academics.

In an essay for Pointe in August, writer and educator Shaté L. Hayes writes that the only meaningful response to racial insensitivity within ballet is to genuinely commit to change within ballet schools through major companies. Posting PR-approved hashtags isn’t enough.

David McAllister left his role as artistic director of the Australian Ballet last year. In the statement provided to Allure, the new artistic director, David Hallberg, says, "The future of The Australian Ballet will continue to uphold the rich repertoire of classical ballet but as well, search for new ways to communicate the spirit of dance in this country. I am absorbing the diversity that makes Australia the great country it is, full of varied voices in dance, music, and art, that will be a part of building the repertoire at The Australian Ballet."

That can't happen too soon. Burnett's bravery in speaking of her own experience of working within the ballet world as an Asian-Australian also echoes the experiences of Black, Latinx, and multiracial dancers internationally. “For those of us who were mixed race or fully Asian, Black, or a dancer of color, the ballet world can feel really homogenous, and difficult to find your place and to find a way to celebrate your cultural identity with truth and authenticity,” Burnett says. “It’s important not to be afraid to question the systems that we work in, to say things to your directors. I really hope for a day when the structures we work in don't ask dancers to be mute, subservient, and to comply all the time."

#article #juliet burnett #allure #racism #ballet

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dangerousconnoisseurdonut · 3 years

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Somebody Help Me; the Inspiration Bug for Gotham won’t Leave Me Alone!

It’s just about three in the morning here but just in case this idea is any good, I want to get it posted and get some feedback before I go to bed.

Now, when the Wayne’s died, there was no Alfred to look after him so he was given to Kathryn Monroe who raised him hating himself because he’s intersex (thank persephoneblck for that; she lit that particular fire) and genderfluid, so one day he’s male and one day she’s female (if that isn’t the right term, please tell me and I will fix it). She arranges his marriage to Theo Galavan (disgusting, I know), who is a drug runner and is hoping to get control over Wayne Enterprises and Bruce’s money. He too is cruel to Bruce regarding his sex organs and his ‘gender problems’. He would much rather have a little housewife, but Bruce never developed breasts and everyone knows the Wayne heir is (technically) a male, so he mocks him and knocks him around.

One day, they go to Paris, not for pleasure, but business as he has to make connections with a pair of Mob Bosses known as the frozen duo; Oswald Cobblepot and Victor Fries. Bruce is forced to attend the meeting where Galavan is his usual, slimy self, and poor Bruce is bored out of his mind until one of Victor’s youngest enforcers, Jonathan Crane, comes over and starts talking to him and gives him some water. Bruce is thrilled as someone is not talking to him like he’s an idiot for a change.

Of course, Theo has to go and ruin it by insulting the pair, who demand monetary recompense. When he refuses, Victor says he’ll be taking Theo’s ‘Boy Toy’ until he pays up. Bruce naturally books it and when some guards try to stop him, he shows that he may be seen as dumb by everyone else, but he stills knows a few things from the fights he got into as well as the training he got from an old friend of his father’s Reggie (he needed someone, OK? And I liked how Reggie tried to teach him to fight dirty). He gets away and is almost out of the building when he sees flashes of teal and ginger, and is soon held by two more of Victor’s henchmen, Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska. They soon chloroform Bruce and get him out to the car.

When Bruce wakes up, he’s in a nice house; in Germany. Bruce tries to escape, only for a sudden feeling of lethargy to overtake him. This goes on for five minutes, then goes away, only for it to come back. He also manages to notice a sensor on his leg; slimmer than the ones used by police, thankfully, but Bruce knows his every step will be monitored. This goes on until Victor’s butler, Alfred, arrives and tells him that Master Victor wishes to have breakfast with him. Bruce agrees to go with him, and is officially introduced to Victor ‘Mr. Freeze’ Fries, along with his top enforcers; Jonathan, Jerome, Jeremiah, and Jervis Tetch. Victor explains that Bruce is insurance so Galavan will pay up (not using Bruce’s money of course as Oswald’s lover and pet hacker Ed Nygma went into the system and locked Galavan out), and that Bruce woke up for a brief period on the plane ride over which they used to their advantage for Jervis to implant a hypnotic suggestion where, if Bruce tries to escape, he will feel intense exhaustion. But, even with the tracer, Bruce will have full run of the place, save for any locked doors, and there is a charming little town nearby if Bruce wants to explore, he just has to tell Victor and he’ll have someone escort him. Jonathan feels bad about the whole business and offers to stay with Bruce when he wants companionship, which is appreciated when Bruce does want to explore the town. Bruce, happy to finally have someone want to be his friend after so long, tells Jonathan everything; his loneliness, his feelings of inadequacy, even the fact Bruce is intersex as well as being genderfluid.

What Bruce doesn’t realize is that the five men are all in a relationship; Jerome and Jervis play Daddy to Jonathan and Jeremiah, and Victor is the Alpha Daddy, sometimes disciplining Jerome when he has to. But, when they saw Bruise with Galavan (including a poorly hidden shiner), they were immediately attracted and wanted him in their bed. Now, Jervis, Jerome, and Victor obviously could force the issue, but want to try seducing Bruce first, so the send Jonathan in to gain Bruce’s trust and find out the best way to seduce him.

When they find out about Bruce’s gender issues, unlike Theo, they start giving Jonathan little gifts to give to Bruce to find out what he likes and what he doesn’t; he seems to prefer lipgloss over lipstick, nice, subtle scent for perfume, nice dark colours for nail polish, even if he doesn’t wear it where others can see it. When he finds a dress in his closet, he can’t resist trying it on, only for Jervis to find him with it on. Bruce is initially horrified, but Jervis manages to calm him down as he explains he had a very nice tea party set up but everyone else was busy *outside* the house, so Jervis wanted to see if Bruce wanted to join him; he can even wear the dress.

Bruce later finds out, sadly, that the reason Theo has been taking so long in getting the money, is that he was poisoned not long after the meeting, killed in a freak accident from ‘falling’ out a window. He is shocked to hear that Kathryn Monroe is dead as well. He fights the compulsion and goes to leave, going so far as to hurt his leg to get the tracer off. However, the men realize what Bruce is doing and try to persuade him to stay, though Jerome makes the mistake of calling Bruce ‘Princess’, which leads Bruce to realize that Jonathan was playing informant on him. When Bruce still tries to leave, Victor has Bruce pinned to the bed and tied down, telling the other four to ‘help’ Bruce understand why he won’t be leaving and to help their ‘Baby Girl’ understand her place with her new ‘Big Brothers’ and his new ‘Daddies’. Bruce is then taught the human equivalent of ‘System Overload’. When Bruce still tries to refuse the arrangement, Victor just promises Bruce that he’s a very patient Daddy, one who will wait as long as necessary for Bruce to realize they belong there, and will, along with Bruce’s other new Daddies and Brothers, show Bruce how much they all love him every. single. day.

Personal Note: Persephone, the lack of messaging makes me sad too; we have no privacy! All of our ideas and thoughts out in the open where anyone can see and mock them! Honestly, I feel like there’s a parallel here between us and Oswald wanting to do the nasty with Jim at the Policeman’s Gala but can’t find a dark spot to do anything more than hold hands.

#gotham #mobsters #bruce wayne #victor fries #jerome valeska #jeremiah valeska #jonathan crane #jervis tetch #kidnapping #overstimulation

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rookisaknight · 3 years

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Raf Tanager, meet Hope County

⤘⤘⤘There’s a new Deputy in Town⬽⬽⬽

So as a side benefit of getting into this fandom again with a brand new gender and a brand new vibe: a brand new deputy. Excited to introduce you all to my boy, they were developed for a joint Deputy au with @ophiebot (who will do this for their Deputy Elijah Rook if so inclined). Not exactly reinventing any wheels here, but this time its about the indulgence.

FYI, Molly is still extant, but her story I think has been explored in my brainspace as much as it needs to be.

➷The Basics

1. Give their full name, and describe them or post a picture! (Height, build, hair, eye, and skin color, etc.)

Rafael "Raf" Tanager (birth name REDACTED). 5'4", prone to chub but hardening up with the frequent exercise, solid build. Freckles on cheeks that darken as time goes on. Short hair kept red by some truly obsessive hairdye upkeep, which is harder than you might think. Hazel eyes. Burns and shrapnel scars around the eyes and mouth.

2. How old are they?

3. Sexuality and gender?

Bisexual, transmasc genderqueer. She/they/he but a preference for they/he when he doesnt trust the person using them.

➵Pre-Game

1. How did they end up at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department? How long have they worked there?

Raf grew up closer to Missoula, but he’s still a Montana native. They’ve been at this for around 8 months, pretty much right out of graduating college. Even they honestly aren’t sure how they ended up here, just the latest in a series of adrift jobs after graduating, taken primarily to avoid any potential financial dependence on their family. Probably would have resigned soon were it not for. Everything.

2. Relationship with Pratt, Hudson, and Whitehorse?

Pratt: Used to hate his guts. The teasing felt too much like flirting for their comfort and he was honestly kind of a bully. Now its trickier. He's pathetic in a way that’s hard for them to be around, as awful as that is, because it hits too close to home.

Hudson: Had a massive crush on her for most of their early days that pretty much went out the window post Eden’s Gate. They still try a little too hard to impress her though.

Whitehorse: Intellectually, they resent his passivity since it means a lot of Eden’s Gate ended up falling in their lap and he’s STILL insistent that maybe they should have left it alone when they’ve all had months to realize why that was a bad idea in the first place. Emotionally, well, they’re maybe a little in need of a father figure or two.

Elijah Rook: The former Rookie. They were quietly a little intimidated by him prior to all this and that’s never fully gone away, but they’ve now been able to witness more of his dorky side that makes it a little harder to take him seriously. You try chaperoning this guy from one end of Hope County and considering him at all frightening.

3. Do they have an education?

They have a MASTERS and its never relevant to anything because its a humanities degree, specifically the classics. Part of the reason they’re a little adrift currently, there was no easy dismount out of college. Just a hell of a lot of debt.

4. Where are they from? Did they speak a different language there?

Missoula, or close enough to it. They picked up some Latin and Greek from their degree. The Latin comes in handy more often than you’d think, what with the cult stuff, but the reading material is a real bummer.

5. Is there anyone outside the valley that might have come looking for them?

They’ve never had many friends in college and high school that could outlast physical proximity and they basically ghosted their family since that was easier than coming out to them at a certain point. So no, no one they want to find them is looking.

6. Did they have a religious background of any kind?

His father is a preacher, and while there’s some baggage there they would still describe themselves as broadly religious. Or at the very least superstitious.

➷Inside Hope County

1. What was going through their head when the helicopter went down and during the subsequent chase?

The crash was honestly the easiest part. That was just panic. The chase was the hard part. The helicopter exploding ended up catching them in the face, leaving them with burns and scarring that would remain for the rest of their life. She's lucky she wasn’t blinded. Still, he was forced to stumble out of the woods in intense pain and bleeding out. Had it not been for Elijah they definitely would have been taken then and there.

2. Were they afraid of Joseph and Eden’s Gate? Angry?

Terrified. Not just because of what they’ve done but because Raf knows intuitively that he's susceptible to it. As early as their first encounter they have a hard time breaking the hold Joseph gets on their mind. Even though they’re conscious of HOW they’re being manipulated, its hard to resist it.

3. Did they trust Dutch?

At that point Raf would’ve happily taken literally anyone who seemed to know what they’re doing and wasn’t holding a gun to his head.

4. How did they feel about their team being taken by the cult, did they count them as lost, did they want them back, did they not care?

Absolutely the nightmare scenario: people’s lives depending on them and their ability to be decisive. Had it not been for Elijah they probably would’ve high tailed it out of there and tried to find someone higher up the authority chain to deal with this mess. Still, just abandoning them all didn’t sit right with him either, and by the time they’d liberated Fall’s End even he had to admit he was there by his own choice.

5. How did they take to the idea of being part of, if not leading, the resistance?

Again, Raf doesn’t really do well with people depending on them. Alone. they probably would have found it a lot more miserable, but Elijah significantly helped lighten that load for them in terms of having a direction. They’ve found out they’re accidentally pretty good at working with a variety of people and can even be inspiring without meaning to. Still, in their ideal world they would’ve been left alone, or at least remained a foot soldier.

6. Which companions did they recruit, and who did they travel with the most?

All guns for hire were recruited, but Sharky and Nick were their go-to’s, Sharky for personal reasons and Nick for air support. Grace was usually the adult supervision when Nick couldn’t make it but. To be frank Raf's aim isn’t great and it drives Grace a little nuts on prolonged missions. She’s tried teaching them but it never really seems to stick.

7. Did they have time to find romance amidst the chaos? How did they do it?

Sharky. That relationship was a bit of a cold opener (and don’t bother, Sharky already beat you to that joke). After getting their face fucked up during the escape they’ve had a pretty healthy aversion to fire and explosives, making his recruitment a little harrowing. Still, Sharky's sweet in his way, makes them laugh and breathe a little easier when the pressure gets to them, and operates on a pretty similar brainwave. They’ve been joined at the hip since their first few months in Holland Valley. They’re both a little on the codependent side, but really, who are they to complain.

8. Feelings about Joseph?

Joseph taps into a lot of vulnerabilities inside of Raf intuitively. The absence of a strong support system, the loneliness, the fear, the directionlessness, the relationship with their own spirituality, it all provides him a unique entryway into their psyche that he is exactly the kind of person to exploit. As a result, he tends to fixate on them over Elijah, usually to their detriment. Still, that connection can sometimes go both ways, and there are things about Joseph that Raf understands which even his brothers never fully do.

9. Feelings about the other Seeds?

John: They have a unique capacity for antagonizing him. Probably because as an oldest child themselves they know exactly how to jab at the youngest child insecurities. Still, that relationship didn’t stem any deeper and he focused his energies a little more on Elijah. Still, they have him to thank for the Sloth scars on their arm, thanks for that. They’re starting to run out of unmarked skin.

Faith: Faith, meanwhile, was a little more directly focused on Raf, partly because her region was the first time they had to operate a little more on their own. For personal reasons, Elijah wasn’t particularly able to engage with the Bliss. Meaning if Burke was ever going to get saved Raf had to be the one to go in there, again and again. Faith, like Joseph, can tap a lot of that loneliness that Raf has, as well as some gender and sexuality stuff Joseph can’t touch. Suffice to say Sharky had a pretty good reason for being as overbearing as he was during those months, even though he was eventually able to do the job. As a side note, they haven’t had access to their ADHD meds for MONTHS and it doesn’t help when the cult drug is the first thing to make your head feel clear in a while.

Jacob: Jacob was utterly uninterested in Raf and the feeling was mostly mutual. He doesn’t really get him or what he’s about, just knows that the county would be better off when he was put down. Transition goals, though (don’t tell Staci they said that).

10. How did they handle having to kill animals and other humans? Had they done it before?

Animals yeah, you don’t live in Montana as long as they did without hunting occasionally. People....well. You can get used to it.

11. Which canon ending did they choose in-game, and would you have changed the ending at all?

Resist. I wouldn’t. Raf might.

➷Personal

1. Favorite weapon(s)?

They usually prefer to show up to spots early and lay traps, try to minimize the direct combat involvement. When it can’t be avoided though, their pistol isn’t ever far and neither is a hunting knife.

2. Stealth or firepower?

Stealth, one hundred percent. Sharky and Eli are here to do the firepower.

3. How did they spend their time, when not fighting peggies?

A lot of bad movies with the boyfriend and a LOT of poker, one of their more unknown talents. Resistance isn’t gonna fund itself.

4. Where did they live during the events of the game?

Wherever there was a bed they could fall into. Their little trailer they’d been living in prior to all this got absolutely decimated while they were healing up on Dutch’s island.

5. Any other facts you want to share about your Deputy!

He’s got almost supernatural luck to the point that a couple of their guns for hire have gotten superstitious about bringing him to certain events. Including fishing. The catch just always seems somehow a little better. Also he’s privately obsessed with the 1998 recording of Cats and is terrified of anyone finding out.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry deputy #oc: raf tanager #oc: elijah rook #joseph seed #sharky boshaw #long post #far cry rook

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moghedien · 4 years

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Could you recommend some adult sff? Love your blog btw!

Thank you!

And ok, I could give you better personalized recs if you give me some idea of what you’re looking for or what you like, but I’m gonna give you some general recommendations. Also I only really feel comfortable recommending books that I have personally read, and there are tons more out there than what I have read. If you want to find more, looking at recent Hugo nominations over the past few years might be helpful. Also one of the reasons why I know anything at all about the SFF world is that I’ve been listening to the Sword and Laser podcast for like, a decade. I never really mention that podcast, but its literally why I started reading at all and also they have a pretty active goodreads group as well.

So recommendations:

Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie:

This is one of my favorite books period. This is a far future space opera about an artificial intelligence who used to be a spaceship and now is only one human body, and she is ANGRY ABOUT that. I don’t really want to say more than that, but if you like AI shenanigans and being sorta confused as to what is going on the entire time, then this is the book for you! It’s the first book in a completed trilogy.

The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan:

Obviously I’m gonna recommend the Wheel of Time. This is the first book in a 14 (actually 15) book series and if you need something to do with the next 1-5 years of your life *motions toward EoTW*.

So the Eye of the World, I think is uniquely good as a book if you kinda want to get into adult fantasy for a few reasons. For one thing, its kinda considered to be one of those “classics” of the genre but its not too old to be offputting to some readers. It’s a 30 year old book, so its not reflective of the genre now, but you can definitely see its influence all the place, even outside of just books. The Eye of the World specifically, also goes out of its way to make readers comfortable. It leans heavy on Tolkien references and tropes at first without being a straight up copy of Lord of the Rings like some classic fantasy books are. Its done very purposefully, in my opinion, to make the reader feel like they have some idea of what’s going on, and the series quickly drops the Tolkien references as soon as its established itself enough.

Also the Gandalf parallel for the series is a smol bi lady and there is 24 year old rage healer who wants to fight everyone with her own two fists.So many women to stan.

Leviathan Wakes by James S.A. Corey

This is the first book of the Expanse, which is a nearish future space opera that takes place in our solar system. Mars has long ago been colonized and is a completely separate government entity than Earth, and conflict between the two planets has been stirring. The Asteroid Belt has also been colonized and have long been little more than tools of corporations that run their colonies. A group of ice haulers working in the outer planets get in the middle of one of the biggest secrets in the solar system and find themselves in all kinds of trouble.

I don’t really want to say more than this, but this is probably the only SF series that I actively keep up on when a new book comes out. There are 8 books our currently, and the 9th and final book will be out sometime in the near future. There are also several short stories and novellas set in the world, and there’s a TV show that I really like though I need to catch up on it.

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin

Hello, this book comes with content warnings for literally everything, but it is such a good book/trilogy. This is book about a woman trying to find her daughter again in the middle of the apocalypse. Definitely a heavy read but absolutely brilliant. The world has a magic system based on geology and the people that can use that magic....saying they’re discriminated against is an understatement. I don’t want to say much more about it, but if you have any kind of content you can’t read for whatever reason, I’d check before picking this up. This is the first book in a completed trilogy

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

So this isn’t really super SF heavy and is actually sold as a literary book, but it takes place after a flu pandemic has wiped out a large portion of the population...so maybe this is a bad time to read this book, OR its the best time to read it. Depends on how you’re dealing with *motions at the world*

The book flashes back to before and during the pandemic a lot, but is largely about art’s importance and is actually quite optimistic in its messaging, and this is another of my favorite books ever. But yeah, might be a bad time for you to read it of you can’t deal with the content now.

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

I just remembered that this book also has a plague, but its a subplot and not the major thing. So this is a big ol’ chonky standalone book that is high fantasy, deals with multiple cultures having to interact and work together, and has dragons. Also there’s a genunine slow burn f/f romance and *chef’s kiss*. I can’t really say much else, mostly because I struggle to explain this book, but its very good and probably my favorite book from last year.

The Calculating Stars by Mary Robinette Kowal

In this house we stan Mary Robinette Kowal, ok?

So this is a science fiction that is more an alternate history that poses the question, hey, what would have happened if an asteroid slammed into the east coast in 1952 and the world had to scramble to colonize Mars so that everyone didn’t die on earth when the climate got catastrophic, because that’s the inciting action of the book. The main character is a Jewish woman who was a WASP pilot in WW2 and is a computer for the space program when all this happens. The book deals with sexism, and racism, and xenophobia, and all the social issues that are gonna come up with it being set in 1952, but Mary Robinette doesn’t flinch away from addressing social issues in any of her books, even when it makes her main characters look bad. (Also if you like Pride and Prejudice, she has a series that is just Pride and Prejudice with magic and like, yeah, its good).

A Natural History of Dragons by Marie Brennan

This is a book which poses a question, what if dragons were like weird animals that were real and an eccentric woman spent her entire life traveling the world to study them and then told the stories of that in her memoirs when she was too old to care about the consequences of publishing all her scandals. That’s what the book is about. This one is probably actually the weakest in the series, just because it deals with so much set up. It’s a great series to get on audio because Kate Reading is a fantastic narrator, and the prose works so well as audio, because it’s just someone telling you her life story. There are five books in the series.

All Systems Red by Martha Wells

So this is a novella and is the first in the murderbot series. Basically a killer robot gets addicted to television shows and accidentally became sentient. I haven’t read the others in the series, but I really need to reread this one and get to the others.

Jade City by Fonda Lee

This is a fantasy set in world sorta inspired by the early 1900s but is in a fantasy world. It’s like a mafia movie and kung fu movie had a baby and it was this book. The sequel is out currently, but the third book is set to release next year.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

This is another heavy read. This is a SF story set on a generation ship that has a society very heavily inspired by the antebellum south. There’s class issues, race issues, gender issues, mental health issues. All kinds of things intersecting here. Its fantastic, but a heavy read.

Assassin’s Apprentice by Robin Hobb

This is another fantasy classic, and is the first of the Farseer Trilogy. The title is sort of also a description of the book, so like. I’m not sure what else I can say. I haven’t read further into the series, but people I trust love it, and honestly I need to reread this and read more of the books.

Doomsday Book by Connie Willis

So if you think that Station Eleven might be a bad book to read at the time, then this is THE WORST POSSIBLE BOOK TO READ RIGHT NOW. Or, maybe the best. Depends on how you cope. This is a book about time travelers based in Oxford and the main character accidentally gets stranded in the past right as the Black Plague is about to hit. And it hits. The book is horrific. The second book in the series is much funnier. This one ain’t funny, but is good. Just, oof.

Mistborn or Warbreaker by Brandon Sanderson

So if you want to get into the Cosmere, which is a series of series that interconnect and will ruin your life, then then my personal opinion is to either start with Mistborn or Warbreaker. People might not agree with me, but that’s my personal opinion.

Warbreaker is currently a standalone (a sequel will come out eventually but its not set up for a sequel so you can 100% read it as a standalone). The magic in this world is based on colors, and the story revolves around two sisters. One of them is betrothed to the horrific God King of their neighboring kingdom. The other sister ends up being sent in her place because their dad hates her. I adore Warbreaker so much. It has it all. Two women discovering their true places on the prep/goth spectrum. Talking swords. Vivenna. Everything you can need right there.

Mistborn is a trilogy that is very emo and will ruin you. Its about people who swallow metal to get magic powers and live in world where the dark lord won already, so they’re all emo. And that was the worst description of Mistborn I ever could have written, but I find it too funny to change.

So if you’re interested in the Cosmere, but are afraid to commit long term, pick up Warbreaker. If you want to get into a series right away, pick up Mistborn.

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bubblegumchaos · 3 years

Text

TW: Violence, dark humor, all that jazz. Go no further, angry shit, yadda.

So, yanno...i'm just gonna yell into the void about something.

When i was very young, I read a lot of encyclopedias. Most of my knowledge of the world was attributable to the Encyclopedia Britannica, which my mother kept because well, a home should have a nice, impressive looking set of books. Along with a bunch of other old books that just...really weren't the best choice for a regressive anti-technology apocalyptic fundamentalist cult, but then, as we used to joke, my mother doesn't have to make sense, she just has to make decisions.

So, I eventually started plumbing the depths to try and figure out "what the hell is wrong with my family."

While i didn't get an answer about my family in general, I did note that i seemed to be oddly suited to the definition of "psychopath," minus the whole "being a problem for society at large" thing. Asocial, low empathy, lack of guilt, inability to plan cohesively, difficulty conceptualizing consequences, near total lack of emotions except curiosity and rage, both of which are carefully stifled, aggressive tendencies...frankly, I look at my younger siblings and i can definitely assure anyone that asks that had I not been raised quite far away from society, or if I'd stayed in the cult, I would most definitely have been a problem for society.

But psychopaths are *monsters,* you see. They're so, so bad, you see. Everyone assured me, at great length, that I couldn't be that, no, no sirree. I was too nice. Too kind. I didn't punch people nearly often enough (largely because I don't like being punched outside of sex, and I like to be in charge of where I'm being punched, and even that mostly cause I'm kinda badly out together physically, but that's aside the point.)

I wasn't *hate-able.* My empathy was too high.

On that last note, I have spoken elsewhere and i believe here regarding my empathy. My empathy is specifically a learned skill picked up by reading Edgar Allen Poe's Auguste Dupin stories. Dupin explains his near preternatural ability to get inside people's heads by his learned skill of micro-mimicking body and facial language and then analyzing what he feels when he copies someone else. Works absolute wonders, particularly as up to that point (i was 8-9), I was using the classical technique of provoking and hurting people around me to experimentally figure out how other people worked. Admittedly, it's somewhat like recording a speech and listening to it at the lwvel of a whisper in a crowded room, but then mimicry is far less likely to get you punched, and see previous for my feelings on getting punched.

But now i had, for all intent, a system to demonstrate empathy. Thanks to my mother's abuse, I had a complete paranoid delusion aping guilt. I could check plans past others, and once I got my hands on Google at 14, I had the capacity to directly look up what the general, societal consequences of most actions were and model behaviors that achieved my ends. I further had 18 years of direct training in mind control and manipulation, thanks to my cult.

You may notice that what you just read sounds like the origin story of a serial killer. Ape people around them to avoid detection, paranoia making them scrupulous enough to not get caught, and careful study of laws to find the lines, plus a hyper manipulative persona.

Roll with me here. This continues forward.

So, i'm out and about, 2, 5, 6 years free of my cult. I have married a self avowed psychopath who actually HAS been diagnosed with antisocial disorder thanks to a teenage habit of theft and punching people. He is fairly sure I am not one, since I perform guilt and empathy fantastically, by rote at this point. I literally have days that my face hurts from faking emotions for too long, i am slowly developing agoraphobia because there are far too many people to mimic in a retail job, and my guilt subroutine is just a voice chanting in my head, "they're coming to get you, don't fuck up" 24/7 to the point that i am developing hallucinations, but yeah. It's definitely not psychopathy. At this point, that's just ASPD, and i'm just too darn social. Never that. I'm no monster, you see. I'm "nice."

About this point, I have learned to use mind control techniques to help people, carefully applying them with direct permission to help people open up and discuss problems. My near preternatural ability to get into people's heads, my ability to find information, and my absolute lack of fucks about morals (thus making me wildly nonjudgemental), makes me the go-to confidant for many of my friends. This neatly surrounds me with people that can smooth my life out, but you can't tell people you're friends with them cause the world is made of grey paste and you're deathly bored 24/7 and being allowed to pick through people's minds and help them optimize is the closest you get to not wanting to shoot yourself or others. Or that you carefully maintain contact with people so you can check and make sure you're not doing anything jail worthy. Or that a large group to mimic lets you blend in easier, and finding one that also is transgressive, but socially permissable (thanks, kink) blows off some steam.

Of course, people that don't know me find me deeply off-putting, as I am at this point rapidly learning to turn off the mimicry when not immediately interacting with people. This results in me appearing utterly emotionless, but as soon as people talk to me, bing, back on. I had also joined the kink subculture, giving my hedonistic and transgressive sides an outlet.

I'd also gone to the trouble of getting a multifaceted degree. Ostensibly, my degree is "multimedia journalism." If you aren't aware, this means I have a degree in research, interpersonal communication, public speaking, written communication, mass communication, some psychology, critical thinking, media creation and analysis. In short, I have the literal perfect degree for figuring out, communicating with, and functionally understanding people, as well as a vastly enhanced ability to locate obscure information.

Fast forward again. Three mental breakdowns, four years of therapy, poking at my gender, figuring out a lot of mental health problems, and a rotating series of diagnoses, life is...slowly improving. I've left a toxic marriage (toxic on both sides), moved to a completely new place, started over. I have sort of resigned myself to focusing on my (admittedly annoyingly complex and wide ranging) physical disabilities.

And it comes up, in talking to my partner, that his adoptive mother displayed (she's dead) quite a few signs of ASPD. And he asks curiously if there's any connection between ADHD, autism, and ASPD, mainly cause the "personality disorder" part. PD's can, with long or early exposure, sometimes be passed on, you see.

Guess what's being studied, right now? Not a connection between ASPD and ADHD. A connection between psychopathy and ADHD. Wait, but I thought psychopathy wasn't a thing, says I? I thought there was only ASPD, now?

Ah, but for you see, the DSM is a load of horseshit. And i have heard that from multiple communities with different relations to it, and from multiple therapists, psychiatrists, professors...as a general rule, when the people who use it, the people it's used on, and the people who teach it all agree that a document is manure, I get a touch distrustful. I get more so when current studies use umbrella terms disavowed by a document known for being reductivist and that has been noted as having a great number of entries that were manipulated deliberately to make them as narrow and unusable as possible.

So anyway.

Turns out that while no, ADHD and Autism don't make you a psychopath, there's a distinct overlap. Empathy issues are a possiblity in all three, though both ADHD and autism can create *hyper*empathy. Inability to navigate social constructs is another point of overlap.

But really, it's the serotonin deficiency that hurls it across the line for me. And the genetic factors. Can psychopathy result from environment? Yeah, seems so. But there does seem to be a genetic and neurochemical component. Which is...curious for a disorder presented as purely a traumatic abreaction that creates dangerous amorals.

I then looked it up. And wouldn't you know, psychopathy is only pathologized as ASPD/APD, and DPD? The former is the sort of psychopathy that is characterized by violent amd criminal antisocial behavior, and the other an inability to understand and perform social mores at all. But this is the DSM, so these are of course diagnosed by problems caused for others as a first line.

Violation of societal norms, lack of emotions other than rage, aggression...it's almost like the same people that named a serotonin and function deficiency Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder to enshrine the disorder only by those aspects that make neurotypical people uncomfortable rather than seeking to help the neurodivergent person, the same people that invented torturous behavioral correction therapies to "fix" the neurodivergent person? Those strike me as people that might possibly have looked a serotonin deficiency that causes rage, limited emotions, impulsivity, difficulty conceptualizing consequence, and potentially a hell of a lot of other fun side shit and decided to call that "Doesn't get along with others well" disorder.

What really kicks it in the teeth for me, however, is that psychopathy used to mean more than "a social pariah." You see, Theodore Millon, the guy that wrote the book on personality disorders, noted between 5 and 10 subtypes. Do you know what they are?

Nomadic

(including schizoid and avoidant features)

Drifters; roamers, vagrants; adventurer, itinerant vagabonds, tramps, wanderers; they typically adapt easily in difficult situations, shrewd and impulsive. Mood centers in doom and invincibility

Malevolent

(including sadistic and paranoid features)

Belligerent, mordant, rancorous, vicious, sadistic, malignant, brutal, resentful; anticipates betrayal and punishment; desires revenge; truculent, callous, fearless; guiltless; many dangerous criminals, including serial killers.

Covetous

(including negativistic features) Rapacious, begrudging, discontentedly yearning; hostile and domineering; envious, avaricious; pleasures more in taking than in having.

Risk-taking

(including histrionic features) Dauntless, venturesome, intrepid, bold, audacious, daring; reckless, foolhardy, heedless; unfazed by hazard; pursues perilous ventures.

Reputation-defending

(including narcissistic features) Needs to be thought of as infallible, unbreakable, indomitable, formidable, inviolable; intransigent when status is questioned; overreactive to slights.

(It should be noted: the features listed above are simply what each presentation is most likely to display if disordered. A reputation-defender may not display narcissm, a risk taker may not be histrionic. A malevolent [what a terribly judgy name...] could be negativistic, or avoidant, or histrionic. And so on.)

Now, ya may be going, "wait, hold up, narcissism is on there! We still have that! Schizoid is on there, we have that! Sadism, paranoia, we got all those things!"

Flash quiz: do you know what a personality disorder is? It's a series of learned behaviors that require moderation and unlearning.

Why yes, they did spin multiple neurotypes off into diagnoses that require behavioral therapy to "fix." Why on earth would you think they wouldn't? They're still trying to use reparative therapy on auties. Hell, near as I can figure, histrionic got spun into Borderline Personality disorder. You know what the therapy for that is? DBT, aka, "it IS your fault and you SHOULD feel bad."

Beyond knowing there used to be different flavors, did you know that there is about a millionty scare articles about how psychopaths are everywhere? Guess why.

What do you get when someone has an absolute need to see what's on the other side of the hill and no real fucks to give about how you get there? You get scientists, explorers, people utterly driven to find out. Think about how many of our science and exploration heros are noted as deeply weird and off-kilter. We have whole stereotypes about this. There are books and articles devoted to the transgressive personas and behaviors of famous scientists and explorers.

What do you get when someone is belligerent, paranoid, truculent, violent, fearless? Snipers. Literally. The army has openly stated they like psychopaths quite a lot. Someone that can look at a map of human lives and commit calculus with the phrase "acceptable losses" makes a damn fine general, wouldn't you say? Hunters, too. Make a good king? Or bounty hunter. Or, if we're going to be honest, a martial artist. Hell, think of all the ways our society accepts violence in real terms and symbolically. Management. Video gamer. Espionage. Actuary. Pest control. There are THOUSANDS of of societal uses for people like this.

Covetous? Well, banks are openly quite loving towards psychopaths. CEOs are indicated here. Businessmen. Fandoms with collection as a function have any number of anecdotes of individuals who have an intense drive to get more. "Focused on the chase, rather than the victory, to the exclusion of all else" is considered a positive, laudable personality trait. To put it in other terms, "can't stop, won't stop, never done." Sports players, yes? Football, rugby, hockey...

Risk takers are the real standouts, in terms of societal love. Doctors. Firemen. EMT's. Skydivers. Extreme sports players. Equipment testers. The list goes on. Society loves risk taking psychopaths. Hell, look at the diagnostic criterion up there: it's mostly traits with high positive connotations.

Reputation defending? Politics. Law. Advertising. Acting. Writing. Religion. Leadership of any kind.

I'm not talking out my ass here. All those fields have been noted as friendly towards, attractive to, and having a high representation of people who fit the behavioral model of psychopath.

But only if they're useful. Like literally every other non-normative neurotype.

Society loves ADHD and autistic people when they're displaying savant abilities or when they can mask well enough to use their sensory and cognitive differences to societal ends.

And if they're a problem for people around them, that's treated. The underlying difficulties? The societal structures that punish and harm them? The pain of adapting their entire neurobiome to do all the work of interfacing with different neurotypes while being driven to harness anything useful and discard the rest of their brain? No, we don't treat that. That's just the price of doing business. "Pull yourself up and don't be a problem."

And here's the problem, in plain terms: psychopaths who learn to cope, to mask, to adapt like I did are never diagnosed. I have spent most of my life fairly concerned about the fact that I seem not to have emotions or compunction, that i am always consciously working to figure out and connect to people around me on the most basic level, that I am constantly working to keep an active model of social norms going at all times. And I don't mean "shake hands, eye contact." I mean I have the same mental conversation regarding "don't shoot that person" and "use a turn signal." All prosocial behaviors, all social behaviors period, are a struggle to understand.

The funny thing is, it also makes antisocial behaviors difficult. Shooting someone seems remarkably inconvenient in many cases. Regardless of whether I care about getting caught or not, shooting somone will interrupt my day.

Not shooting them also seems remarkably inconvenient in many cases. Yes, it'd be a pain in the ass to shoot them, but then again, if I do it correctly, I only have to do it once.

But again, "correctly" is a wildly unfixed variable, and the whole question won't come up if I always ensure I fail the "do i currently have a firearm" step. And I don't. Ever.

That's how my brain works. Y'all go on about moral and ethical and legal reasons. That's an exhausting conscious mental conversation to have every other day, so my shortcut is:

"Should I shoot them? Oh, right, I don't have a gun. Guess not. Should I get one? No, cause I might shoot someone, and that'd be a pain in the ass. Welp, no shooting people."

And so it goes. I don't understand any social norms. Good or bad. I have all the problematic issues still, mind you. Environmental factors. I mimic and I was raised in an apocalypse cult in Oklahoma. I spend a lot of brain space sorting between prosocial behaviors and the violent antisocial behaviors I was taught were prosocial.

Because, you see, I can't really understand the prosocial behaviors, but I can see they work. And antisocial behaviors don't, really. Have i impulsively pocketed something? Couple times. Even got away with. Can't steal a house, though. And theft gets boring, for me.

Ok, except piracy. I may quite enjoy piracy.

Cooperation with a larger whole can and does yield benefits. Forcing myself to sit through mind numbing gratification delays does seem to yield results that are beneficial, though I really try to keep that one to a minimum. I refuse to be bored if I can help it. Making nice talky sounds gets me shit faster than making angry talky sounds.

Possibly this is a result if being raised manipulative. No idea. Kinda don't care.

Point is, I'm one of the psychopaths that, while not immediately useful, is also not actively a problem. So no-one will listen when i talk about everything being gray and cold and exhaustingly complicated because people make no sense and almost all my emotions are dialed so far down it's a joke i lack the ability to laugh about.

No one has believed me that the one emotion I have in spades is rage and that i have to literally consciously work out from first principles why violence is a bad option as my sole method of controlling that, my ONLY EMOTION OF ANY STRENGTH, which I cannot allow myself to feel for any length of time because I start losing sight of that consequence model and I worry i'll make a mistake I can't unmake. Or that it took me two decades to learn not to smash things I need when someone looks at me funny. Or just smash them.

Or that i have to keep my hands in my pockets and chant "don't steal" in my head some days. That I wear tight clothing with shallow pockets to make stealing harder so that, like guns, I simply can't do it easily and therefore short circuit my behaviors.

People are more than happy to hurl me at any problem that requires a lack of emotion, but if I dare to be less than appropriately emotional on a date? At a wedding? Funeral? If I make an error and don't diagnose it myself and perform contrition appropriately, regardless of if I knew there was a social or personal rule there? Well, I'm fired/broken up with/punished/evicted.

But I am not actively a problem for society. So none of those things are worth diagnosing. Or helping in any way.

And those that are useful? Are often fed utter horseshit and encouraged to break society. Bankers creating recessions. Generals commanding useless wars. Cops. Doctors that uphold a broken system. Politicians that pursue a broken society.

I know, I can see, that ASPD people catch a shit ton of shit cause they get blamed for "useful" psychopaths mistakes, and none of the benefits when said same psychopaths are lionized. Looking back at what it was, and what it is now, pathologically speaking, it makes perfect fucking sense for the asshats that designed a diagnosis to only include the people they don't like as the "sick" ones, and label the "good" ones as "heroes." Makes a nice distinction there between people we want to demonize and people we want to lionize for having the exact same chemical imbalance, and neatly creates a fall group when any of the "heroes" trip up. Silence those who can't cope, elevate those that can, treat neither effectively, and if an elevated one stops coping, we can just "realize" they were "sick" all along, and oh, yeah, those sick people are so bad, you guys, nothing like those heroes at allllllll.

I am...so tired of this society bullshit.

So anyway, I'm a psychopath. Paranoid, some schizoid. So whatever grains of salt you feel like taking, grab 'em, I guess. I'd mostly like for people like me to stop being weaponized, lionized, or punished for having a different neurotype. I'd like to be able to talk to a doctor about that and for there to be some options beyond "stop that," "get locked up," "have you considered the army" (yes, a doctor actually asked me that as a teenager) or "you seem fine, tho."

And if you resonate with this, well...I'm 32, never been arrested, mostly managed to avoid terrible shit, and I've got a life, couple partners, and I'm surviving, so like. You can do this. Lotta people wanna tell you you can't have this or that cause "you're not bad, tho." They're stupid. Y'ain't evil, just different. Don't let them get to you.

And (this is a joke) if you decide to shoot someone, do it once, correctly. Saves time.

#actuallymentallyill #vent #tw violence

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inwoagwo · 3 years

Text

[Women in Finance 3] Women who broke the glass ceiling

Top women financiers in Korea say concerted efforts needed from families, companies and society to create level playing field.

By Kim Young-won & Jie Ye-eun ([email protected]) ([email protected])

"The Korea Herald is publishing a series of special reports on the glass ceiling in the financial industry, focusing on South Korea’s market compared with other major economies. Funded by The Korea Press Foundation, the series will evaluate where Asia’s fourth-largest economy stands in terms of gender equality, will reflect on changes being made and will explore ways to boost inclusion in the sector." Ed.

Looking back at her 41-year career in South Korea’s finance sector, Sohn Byung-ok, former CEO of Prudential Life Insurance Korea, recalls how she struggled to strike the right balance between work and home. Sohn, the first female financier here who made it all the way to the top, said it is never wise to be a superwoman and that she believes in excelling simultaneously at home and at work. “You need to make wise choices and then prioritize things that you should focus on,” she said. “You need to seek your family’s understanding when you have projects to be done, and also (make clear) to the company that you have family matters to deal with. You need to have your voice heard from both sides.” After starting her career with Chase Manhattan Bank in 1974, it took her nearly four decades to break the glass ceiling in the finance sector -- and more than 130 years since the country’s modern banking system was introduced in 1878. Before 2011, the year Sohn was named CEO of the foreign insurance company, Korea had no female representation in the top ranks of finance in the private sector. Asia’s fourth-largest economy, which elected its first female president seven years ago, still has no women in public office supervising financial policies and regulating markets. Sohn’s rise to the top led other women to follow suit. The state-owned Industrial Bank of Korea named Kwon Seon-joo as the first female CEO in 2013, and Citibank Korea welcomed Yoo Myung-soon just last month. The list of female CEOs in finance also includes KB Securities CEO Park Jeong-rim, IBK Capital CEO Choi Hyun-sook and Cho Jee-eun, incoming CEO of Lina Life Insurance.

From left: Former CEO of Prudential Life Insurance Company of Korea Sohn Byung-ok, former CEO of Industrial Bank of Korea Kwon Seon-joo, Citibank Korea CEO Yoo Myung-soon, IBK Capital CEO Choi Hyun-sook and Korea Exchange executive director Chai Hyun-joo (Yonhap, IBK, Citibank, IBK Capital, KRX)

The Bank of Korea has women on its monetary policy board. Suh Young-kyung, former deputy governor of the central bank, was named as a board member in April. Now, for the first time in the bank’s 70-year history, it has more than one woman on the board. Lim Ji-won, managing director of investment bank JPMorgan Korea, has been a BOK monetary policy board member since 2018. Their presence, perceived as quite significant, was still not enough to shake up the industry, which has long been considered a boys’ club. The proportion of female executives among Korea’s financial companies was 4.1 percent as of March 2020, according to a joint study by The Korea Herald and corporate data research firm CEO Score. Women’s chances of getting promoted to executive positions in financial companies was also slim. While the companies had 37 executives for every 1,000 male workers, they had only 2 female executives per 1,000 women. Untold stories Scarce female representation in the industry today owes much to the corporate culture of the past, when men were considered the main breadwinners.

(The Korea Herald, CEO Score)

Chai Hyun-joo, who became the first executive director of securities operator the Korea Exchange last year, said financial institutions have traditionally been “men-only” clubs even at the entry level. “We had just a few women when I joined (the Korea Exchange) in 1991, and we were given back-office assignment such as typing and receiving telephone calls,” she said. “It was the time when women building their careers was rare, and because of that sort of dominant perception, people from the Finance Ministry and brokerage companies were often reluctant to talk with me, and asked to switch their calls to male colleagues, implying that they don’t want to talk business with a woman.” What Sohn and Chai had in common was not only the difficulty of balancing work and home life, but also surviving in the “gentlemen’s club” -- alone. In contrast to their male colleagues, who often received helpful support and advice from their male superiors, the women fought obstacles to advance their careers, oftentimes on their own. Since most of her colleagues were men, Sohn said she had to make extra efforts to keep “one step ahead” of her peers in terms of both work quality and quantity, adding that she studied for a master of business administration at night and additionally learned English and accounting. Being nervous at work was an everyday affair. “Wherever I go, I was the only woman on the team. … But because of that I was compelled to complete the job wishing to get assigned to key posts while being careful not to make trouble with male colleagues,” said Chai. “I was obsessed to work better, thinking that me doing my job well might open new opportunities to my (female) junior colleagues.” Forget about glass ceiling The financial sector still lags behind in achieving gender equality, and this could pose serious risks for individual businesses as well as the nation’s economy, according to experts. “The issues regarding the lack of female leadership will likely get even worse if no effort is being made, and that is why the government has recently looked into the problems and revised a bill to require listed companies to have at least one woman on their director boards,” said Kim Woo-chan, a finance professor at Korea University Business School in Seoul. “The fact that there are glass ceilings and discrimination for a particular gender means human resources are not efficiently utilized, which could undermine the nation’s overall competitiveness,” he added. The newly revised bill, which went into effect in January this year, requires a listed company with 2 trillion won ($1.83 billion) in assets or more to have at least one female board member. After a grace period that runs through August 2022, some 150 listed companies meeting the criteria must have at least one female outside director in the boardroom.

(The Korea Herald, Gallup)

According to The Korea Herald survey, 44.3 percent of the 517 respondents said there needs to be a law that mandates a company have a certain number of female executives. Women respondents were more supportive than men, with 57.5 percent of female respondents saying they agreed with the idea, while 30.3 percent of males agreed. The study also suggested that female representation in top management could lead to improved business performance. Slightly more than 40 percent of survey participants said increased female representation would have a positive impact on their companies’ performance and earnings. Despite the government’s drive for gender equality, an increase in the number of women across industries and a slow change in perceptions of gender roles, the glass ceiling still exists. But it is not unbreakable, as Sohn’s experience shows. “A glass ceiling exists almost everywhere, and it was worse than now some years ago,” said Sohn, who now serves as an outside director of Standard Chartered Bank Korea. “As the financial market now has some C-level figures, it is the time for women to stop moaning about the glass ceiling, and to start breaking the glass ceiling in their minds and do their utmost to excel at work,” she said.

Herald. 2020. “[Women in Finance 3] Women Who Broke the Glass Ceiling.” Koreaherald.com. December 13, 2020. http://www.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=20201213000183.

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#noticias #the korea herald

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queenawesomecos · 4 years

Text

my weird f*cking plot ideas

Hi!

So I love me some good Kiribaku and sometimes I come up with really strange ideas. I thought, since I sent them to some people for roleplays already, I could post them here to see what you guys think.

Also, if you’re up for a roleplay (no oneliners please) I do Kiribaku (I play Baku) and Shinkami (I play Denki). So my plot ideas are Kiribaku but we could always switch it up to turn it into Shinkami ;)

Also, a general trigger warning is now in order. My ideas are rarely trigger-free.

Edit: Add me on Discord if you’re up for a serious, long-term rp! Here: Queen0fAwes0me#3170

Quick reminder that some of this might be written poorly or confuse you. That’s because this used to be just for me so I don’t forget anything. It’s not meant for the outside world but I’m too lazy to go through it :D

based on songs

Like It or Not by CG5 feat. Dawko

Evil Kirishima. Bakugou is locked up in some old building and Kirishima is there, playing a game to find him. He talks to Bakugou over the speaker system. Maybe Kirishima and the others were affected by some sort of quirk that made them evil.

Monsters by Diztord

Bakugou is depressed and tries to kill himself. He survives barely and can see spirits and demons from now on. Kirishima is a demon who wanted to latch onto his soul as soon as he died but then Bakugou survived and he decides to stay with him.

based on nothing in particular

Prostitute!Bakugou

Baku and Kiri are fighting a villain. They were on the way to whatever and there’s no backup yet. The villain is popular because of their quirk. They can create alternative realities. No one really knows how it works though since no one ever broke out of it.

Bakugou gets his by the quirk after a speech from the villain about he would be nothing without his quirk. Kiri tried to pull him away in time but gets sucked into the alternate reality as well instead.

Everything’s the same except Bakugou isn’t anywhere to be found and in his place Shinsou is in 1A. Kiri tries to find him, talks to Deku, goes to Baku’s old house, it’s empty. He finds his father in town and finds out that Baku’s parents got a divorce ten years ago and Baku stayed with his mom who started drinking at some point. His father started a new life.

Baku is a prostitute in the worst part of the city. Kiri goes there to find him but Baku doesn’t want to listen to him so Kiri has to pay him for the time.

The key to getting out of it is realizing that something is wrong and managing to fix what was changed. Since Baku has Kiri, he’ll manage.

Alien!Kiri

Kirishima is an alien (rock alien, like unbreakable). His ship crashes in the woods during a party nearby. Some teens are drinking in the woods. Eijirou Kirishima is a jock. He bullies his peers, including Bakugou who is more of a nerd.

Eijirou goes deeper into the woods, following Katsuki to harass him. The alien witnesses this and attacks Eijirou, taking over his body/changing his appearance into Eijirou's so he can walk among humans.

Katsuki sees it all and passes out. Kirishima gets him back to the others or something.

Eventually Katsuki helps him and teaches him about human stuff.

Kitsune Baku and Oni Kiri

Kitsune Baku was taken from his mother as a child. His mother was killed. He was taken to a research facility for paranormals.

Humans don't know about paranormals. Baku is drugged and held at bay with alpha pheromones while they do tests and shit.

One day an intern makes a mistake and Baku manages to escape. The facility is in the woods where Kiri finds him before the scientists can take him back. Head scientist is Chisaki.

Kiri sometimes goes into the woods to think. The forest keeps pulling him back.

He takes an unconscious Baku to his friends Denki and Toshi who live closest. Denki is a kitsune too (five tails, Baku has nine) and Toshi is a dark witch but uses it for good. Kiri knows about them. Most of their friends are paranormals but he doesn't know he's an oni.

When he was a toddler his parents were killed and a lesbian human couple took him in, one of them being a light witch. She locked away his oni side because it was too powerful and aggressive.

There are different types of paranormals.

Magicals (witches, warlocks, normal humans with magic based powers)

Creatures (fae, pixies, Fabelwesen)

And demonics (spirit based, kitsune, one)

Demonics have a secondary gender system (maybe. Maybe it's a bad idea and Baku was just drugged with normal stuff)

Anyway Kiri immediately feels a strong connection with Baku.

Toshi uses his magic to analyze Baku (don't know what else to call it). He takes his hand and has visions of what Baku went through.

Denki stays with Baku in bed while Kiri and Toshi leave them.

Kiri wants to take Baku back to his place. Toshi tries to tell him off.

Denki and Toshi know about Kiri being an Oni. Kiri's mothers asked Toshi to look after him and Kiri found out about them being paranormals. Since it didn't trigger anything, they told him everything.

Baku wakes up and freaks out. Toshi tells him that they know what happened to him. They ask for his name but Baku doesn't remember. Toshi takes his hand again and triggers a memory to find out which ends up being the day when they took Baku from his mother and killed her. She yelled his name before she was shot.

Toshi finds out the name and Baku has a panic attack. Kiri rushes in and hugs him and Baku blacks out again.

Kiri goes into a sort of frenzy and takes Baku back to his place.

Baku wakes up in Kiri's bed and likes the smell. Then he gets out of bed and finds Kiri in the living room. Kiri tells him that he's safe. Baku freaks out and wants to leave. Kiri tells him that humans don't know about paranormals and Baku thinks he's a prisoner again.

They talk and Baku finds out that Kiri thinks he's human. Baku tells him that he's certain, Kiri is not human.

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