#but they cause more stress than all my domestic orders combined

[shopwitchvamp]

might as well start warning ya'll now...

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 2

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy)

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

So it was true.  Confirmed.  Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were your soulmates.  Not that it bothered you much, it just wasn’t something you were planning on happening.  Things didn’t end too good with your last, well, and only, boyfriend.  Not ending good meaning he was in prison, at the moment. You weren’t sure when he was going to be getting out.  

Looking down at your arm, you lightly traced your finger over Steve and Bucky’s mark.  Here is the thing about your soulmate marks. Everyone has soulmate marks, at least two; yours and your soulmates.  But sometimes there are more and everyone has an ‘order’ for their marks. Think of it as a hierarchy.  The mark in top is in charge, kind of like the ‘alpha’ of the relationship while the mark at the bottom is at the bottom of the hierarchy.  It would make sense that Steve’s mark was on the top.  Hell, he was Captain America after all.  It just was the way it was and nobody complained about it.

There was also another unique trait to finding your soulmates, at least what you’ve read about. Once you find your soulmate, or in your case, soulmates, slowly you can begin to feel each other, kind of like a sixth sense or intuition.  You’d never known anyone who could actually be able to do this and you didn’t know if there had to be somewhat of a strong bond between soulmates, but you always thought that was pretty cool.  Like if something ever bad happened to you, maybe you soulmates could sense your fear. But then again, maybe that was just a fairytale.  

Lost again in your own mind, like you always were when Steve’s rough voice brought you back to the present. “Let’s sit down and talk,” he bellowed.

On shaky feet you followed him towards the couches and sat down.  Steve stood on the other side of the coffee table, his thick arms crossed in front of his chest.  Your eyes roamed over his form, mouth going dry at the sight of him.  The scowl on his face nearly made you coil back, as if his look burned you.  You were unsure why he looked so pissed, so angry and you didn’t know if you wanted to figure it out or not.  The biggest thought weighing on your mind was if you wanted to go through with a relationship at all right now, even if they were your soulmates.  

The couch dipped next to you and you couldn’t help but return Bucky’s smile.  Something about his smile made him look innocent, angelic, but you knew he was far from that.  Oh yes, you heard all about the Winter Soldier and everything those Hydra bastards did to him.  But you also knew that he was better now, he was an Avenger, fighting for the right side.

“So,” you began to say, the silence and tension thick in the air as you stared down at the ground.  

“What’s your name?” Steve barked out, causing you to jump slightly.  

A rough yet gently hand was placed at your back and you quickly realized it was Bucky’s.  “Jesus Stevie, can you be any more of an asshole right now?” came Bucky’s reply as his hand soothed up and down your back.  

He was right, Steve was being an asshole, but it was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to your ex-boyfriend.  This was a cake walk compared to him.  “Y/N, my name is Y/N,” you replied as confidentially as you could, trying to show Steve that you weren’t afraid of him or scared of his intimidating tactics.  

“Well Y/N, I’m Steve and that’s Bucky but I’m guessing you already knew that,” he replied, letting out a huff of annoyance as he looked at his watch.  “Look, I don’t have a lot of time for this right now so let’s just get to the basics,” he began.  “This is mine and Bucky’s living quarters.  There is another bedroom down the hallway if you want to move in. There is a communal kitchen and living room a few floors down that we all share, including the other soulmates. Most of the time we all eat together when possible and do movie nights at least once a week in the communal area. If you want to move in, you will also have a hobby room on the communal floor just like everybody else.  So what do you say?”

Well, it wasn’t the best speech you’ve ever heard from someone trying to get you to move in with them. Hell, your ex-boyfriend wooed you with flowers and romance for months before you finally gave in.  But this wasn’t your ex-boyfriend.  This was your soulmate, both of them, but you were still unsure.  Your own apartment was calling your name, wanting you to come back to the safety and comfort that was your home.  Did you really want to just up and move in with your soulmates?  Most people did once they met their soulmates, but you were still teetering on the fence.  This was the Avengers Tower after all and what place could possibly be more safe than that?

“Umm, can I…can I think about it?” you questioned, eyes slowly glancing up to meet Steve’s.

His large hands were on his narrow hips, his mouth in a tight line.  “Fine.  Do what you need to do.  I have to get back to work.”  And with that being said, he marched over to the elevator and slammed the button.  

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when Steve disappeared into the elevator, leaving you alone with Bucky.  

“Come on doll, I’ll bring you home,” he spoke with a soft voice.  

Looking to him, you smiled. “Thanks Bucky, but you don’t have to. I only live about a mile away.”

His whole body shook with a quiet laugh.  “I don’t think so.  No soulmate of mine is going to be walking the streets of New York at dark.”

~~~

The walk home was nice. Bucky was a gentleman as you asked him questions about his life growing up and being with Steve.  As it turns out, Steve and Bucky weren’t lovers, just best friends, more like brothers.  You felt embarrassed after you found that out, assuming they were together, but he reassured you it was fine and that it happens all the time.  You always assumed if there was more than one soulmate, everyone was together intimately, but now you knew that wasn’t the case.  Those with multiple soulmates didn’t mean everyone was intimate.  They could be a brother figure, a mother or father figure, or just best friends.  But you had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case with you if you decided to give this relationship a try.  No, you could feel deep inside that things would be intimate with both men.  

“I don’t think Steve likes me very much,” you blurted out like word vomit.  

Bucky sighed next to you as the two of you stopped in front of your door.  “I know Steve wasn’t on his best behavior tonight and I apologize for that.  He’s been stressed because he keeps getting new leads about someone but it keeps falling through.  Steve can be an asshole, but he isn’t normally like that.  It was just bad timing is all.  Please be open minded about this and give it a few days.  Why don’t you come back to the tower on Friday night and we can discuss what you decide?”

Friday night was two days away.  Two days to think about everything.  “I think I can manage that,” you agreed with a small grin.  

Bucky smiled back, giving you a nod and wishing you a good night.  

In the safety of your apartment, the first thing you did was grab a glass of water and dig your medications out of your purse.  Placing the pills in your mouth, you swallowed a gulp of water and sighed in relief.

The next thing you did was take off your clothes and get into your comfies; a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, your favorite combination.  

Lastly, you dropped onto your bed and stared at the ceiling, contemplating what you were going to do. Yes, Steve was being a douche bag tonight, but you could handle that.  Words and attitude were easy to deal with as your ex-boyfriend was that way. But that wasn’t all.  He had turned into a violent monster and you were lucky to get out when you did; you knew for a fact you wouldn’t be alive today if you were still with him.  

So yes, you caught Steve at a bad time and he was a douchebag, but you would give him the benefit of the doubt.  Not the greatest first impression but you could get over it.  

At the same time, is a relationship, not just with one person but two, something you were really ready for?  You rather enjoyed your single life.  Going to bed when you wanted and staying up as late as you could.  There were usually rules that were enforced when it came to soulmates, especially if you were at the bottom.  Usually the ‘alpha’ of the relationship had rules they wanted their soulmate to oblige and you didn’t know how stern those rules could be.  But you hoped you could also compromise those rules if needed.  

Just then, a sheet of paper slid under your door and you rolled your eyes.  You knew what it was before you even got out of bed to grab it.

Taking the paper in your hands, you went back to your bed and opened the note.  

Payback is a bitch.  Just like you.  Ready or not, here I come babe.

-J

Rolling your eyes, you dug beneath your bed and pulled out a small box.  Inside the box sat 15 other notes just like the one you received.  It was from your ex.  John was still in prison, this much you knew, so it was a friend of his dropping it off.  But you knew you were safe, for the time being, as long as John was in prison.  He was too proud to let anyone else do the damage he had done to you.  Oh yes, he liked to do it himself and you knew he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you, except for him.  

You had gone to the police about the notes, but because there was no actual evidence and he was still in prison, nothing could be done about it.  

As you looked over the multiple notes with the same kind of threats on each, you thought maybe perhaps it would be a good idea to move into the Avengers Tower.  At least you would stop getting these threats….right?

[rayofsunas]

haikyuu!! as dads (pt.2)

A/n: hello! this is the part two to the haikyuu!! as dads “series”. if I combined them they’d be very long.

Summary: haikyuu characters as dads/domestic living.

Pairings: Yuji Terushima, Akaashi Keiji, Yu Nishinoya, Tsutomu Goshiki

Warnings: some timeskip spoilers, fluff, parenting, angst (kinda, not really), swearing (maybe), crack, all characters are aged up

Word count: 2.2k

Part One!

Yuji Terushima

- childish man sigh

- he has a daughter and son, who he’s just as childish as, and it really shows

- boy has so much energy

- he’s ALWAYS chasing his son and daughter around

- he offers to take his kids to the playground, he says he’s doing it to give you a break, but really he has just as much fun playing on the playground as his son

- when he picks his sons up after daycare expect them to race to where you’re waiting by the sidewalk

- he will not let them beat him, he doesn’t realize it, but he gets caught up in having fun and will legit run off sprinting to you, leaving his kids in the dust

- has to repeatedly apologize and promise he won’t do it again, but it still happens everyday

- he’s an apprentice hair stylist so boy knows how to do hair

- you can find him playing with both of his kids hair if they let him

- it definitely puts them to sleep at night, so he does it often

- watches cartoons/movies with them because he also enjoys it

- his sons tries to say doing hair is for girls, and teases terushima about it

- BUT on the low everyone in the family knows he’s just joking and he secretly loves it

- would rather do something involving movement, boy can’t sit still for shit, so often he’s out and about with his kids

-adores his children so much

- he thinks they're so fun

- would rather hang out with them over adults

- “adults are boring” “I agree daddy”

- his children cling to him, and because he’s so close to them, they come to him to talk about anything

- wherever terushima is, his children were sure to follow when they were little

- despite being childish, after taking his now teen daughter to a soccer game, he managed to become famous amongst the mothers who called him “a hot dad with a tongue piercing”

- “I’m telling mom” his teen son said one day while his daughter was on the field still

- “what?” terushima lowkey was confused, doesn’t see the harm in the comments, as long as they don’t over step right?

- “why do you entertain them?”

- “it’s funny” he shrugged.

- “still telling mom.”

- because he’s childish, and his children come to him for everything, he has dirt on his kids that you don't know

- “if that's the case. i’m telling her what you did.” he smirks

- “what did I do?”

- "your boyfriend, last week, behind the bleachers...”

- “oh...”

- “yeah, oh.”

- “you know she supports your relationship, but she’s also protective, and she’ll wanna give you guys the talk.”

- “i’ll still tell her... she’ll beat your ass, childish old man.”

- his daughter still tells him things, but after her brother told her what happened during her game, she will keep certain things from him

- although terushima joked about telling you what went on between your son and his boyfriend, it accidentally slipped out at dinner

- “dad you promised!” “SORRY!”

- he was just having a nice convo with his family and then it slipped out, he doesn’t regret it lol, he thinks it's not a big deal, but when you began having the talk OVER dinner he regretted it oop

- your son claimed it wasn't an accident and therefore tells that he’s been allowing the mothers to flirt with him, but you're more focused on giving your son the talk

- “you know you always have to use protection. I know it may seem different, cause he’s a boy, but if you're doing an-”

- “BABE, SHHHH, I’M TRYING TO EAT!”

- “YOU SHOUDL’VE KEPT QUIET.”

- your daughter is so traumatized...

Akaashi Keiji

- when his daughter was born, he was lowkey stressed

- he wants everything to go smoothly and perfect, and it did, but he was stressed

- akaashi still to this day cannot say no to her

- he gives her that smile, and it just lowkey melts his heart, he doesn't show it though

- you would often come home to see them laying on the couch together, him reading a children's book to her, her pointing at the little pictures

- she’s wrapped around his finger and vice versa

- is in her life a lot more than other dads maybe but he also knows space is important

- he overthinks a lot, so he’s always worrying when his daughter comes home late

- he trusts her, but he knows how influenced teens can get when around with friends

- he’s the type of dad that seems scary cause his blank and serious looks, but he’s actually soft af

- he kinda strict though ngl

- he wants his daughter to do good in all aspects of life, school, careers, everything

- so he’s kinda the strict parent

- when his daughter was little, and even now, he makes sure she always eats good

- she can’t leave the table unless she’s cleaned her whole plate up, he’s very humble sooo

- he’s the one who helps his daughter through tough days or if she has mood swings lol

- he had to deal with bokuto and his ups and downs, so you best believe he’s skilled in that department

- he makes sure his daughter is always neat looking

- he’s not a clean freak by any means, but he always wants her looking presentable/neat

- when he learned his daughter had a boyfriend, lets just say he didn’t talk for hours after the first initial “oh...”

- “dad I want you to meet him” “who?” “my boyfriend- I just said that!” “oh...”

- “mom said you’d react like this, but he’s a good guy promise. “i’d only bring home the best for you to meet”

- doesn’t wanna accept she’s growing up and is sad about it

- isn’t gonna say he cried about it, but he probably cries in your shoulder when his daughter is out of the house

- it’s always been his daughter and him against the world, and it feels as if he’s letting her go, when in reality, he’s not

- she’ll still come home at the end of the day

- misses when she was a baby, because he could read books and tell her stories all day :(

-nonetheless he’s happy for her, just SHOOK

Yu Nishinoya 

- omg he loves his kids so much, he always does the most extra stuff for them

- throws over the top crackhead birthday parties

- has a football team of kids ngl

- 4 kids-

- and he wants more, but you said no :(

- it took him years to get over the initial shock that they also need your attention too- BUTTTTTT he got over it

- he has 3 sons and a daughter and keeps them so active lol

- he’s always going on adventures with them

- he’s the dad that would take his kids camping, in their backyard though (his youngest child is too young to go camping)

- but he sets up a cute little tent and bonfire and its so cute

- sooooo, nishinoya has grown since high school, and although he’s not the tallest or biggest man, he’s taller

- in old photos, his sons (if taller) make fun of his heigh, poor nishi

- will slap them silly

- if his sons are popular in school and get a lot of attention, they are the only boys he will accept who get attention

- he’d be like yes bitch, get them girls/guys

- anyone who looks at his daughter is going to face a rabid chiuaha

- he may not seem so strictly protective, but he doesn’t like when anyone flirts with his daughter

- it is his only daughter, and the youngest child at that

- he embarrasses his kids, A LOT. especially when they're older

- they didn’t realize as young children why the people would stare when they went to amusement parks or to get ice cream

- BUT NOW

- they see it :(

- when you decided it would be great for the whole family to go out for dinner, it resulted in your husband getting into an argument with a waiter for apparently “flirting with my daughter and my wife”

- simply put, the waiter was not flirting, he was just doing his job, taking your order-

- nishinoya is a rabid Chihuahua all the time, and results in his family getting kicked out of a lot of restaurants/places because he’s TOO LOUD

- if one of his kids got suspended from school, he legit can’t find it in him to punish them, he’s not strict at all and is a major goofball

- instead much to your dismay, he REWARDS them....

- two of your sons got into a fight with another boy, resulting in suspension? nishinoya takes them both out for dinner

- when he came home from said dinner, he had the largest grin on his face claiming to you, “they were standing their ground!”

- your son starts rumors about another boy? all nishinoya can say was that it was deserved

- your daughter bad mouths a fellow student and gets suspended for vulgar language? rabid chihuahua dad to the rescue!

- defends his daughter in front of you, the principle, and other child's parents while in the principles office

- the whole house is chaotic and a zoo, and you’re the only sane one tbh

- if not for you, they wouldn't be disciplined at all

- truthful, nishinoya means well and did mature (?) but overall he’s very crackhead chaotic embarrassing dad

Tsutomu Goshiki

- okay so goshiki as a dad is so cute uwu

- we all know he loves to show off, soooo

- he shows his son of every chance he gets

- when you three go to the grocery store, he’s always proudly holding his son on his shoulders, making sure people see him lol

- and when they do see him and comment how cute he is, goshiki just be like “i know” with the FATTEST smirk

- when he’s teaching his son how to walk, he’ll intentional take his son outside and walk him around on the strip of sidewalk in front of your house and a few of the neighbors houses

- he knows that your neighbor, a grandma who’s grandkids are all older and don’t visit much, will see it through her window and come out to gush at how cute your son is and how he’s a better walker than her grandkids when they were his age  

- goshiki couldn’t be prouder lmao

- brags about his kids to the Green Rockets ALL THE TIME

- will confidently and proudly say he has the cutest and smartest kid on the planet and will argue about it for hours to anyone

- “shiki, it’s not a debate, why’re you so defensive?” you asked one afternoon after picking Goshiki up from practice with the Green Rockets, one of his teammates sat in the back with your son beside him in his car seat

- you offered to take his teammate home seeing as though his ride wouldn’t be here for a while, plus he lived a street over so it was easiest and made more sense

- the whole way, Goshiki’s teammate was happily playing peek-a-boo with the three year old, your son was having a blast, and all you could hear were his loud giggles, it was adorable

- “i think he likes me” his teammate mentioned after fifteen minutes. your husband scoffed beside you in the passenger seat

- “i think so too. he’s shy because goshiki is always showing him off, but he really likes you!” you explained, eyes focused on the road

- the whole time gohsiki was glaring back at his teammate

- “look goshiki, he’s reaching for me! he wants a hug”

- “It’s just because you’re holding his favorite binky.”

- eye-

- “....whatever. I still think he like’s me.”

- your husband just coldly laughs and turns around to face the front, “no”

- goshiki spends a lot of time with his son in his early years, so they're very close and always do stuff together

- but on his sons first day of preschool he’s more nervous than his son is tbh

- he prideful, so he knows his son is going to make tons of friends and do alright, but he can’t help but feel bored and alone the rest of the day, since he’s so used to doing everything with him

- on his days off, he always woke up early with his son and spent the day together

- now he has to send him off to preschool for the WHOLE day...

- not gonna lie, the first week wasn’t as bad as he imagined it, but once the second week started, it kicked in for the first time that this would be an everyday occurrence until summer and it wasn’t something temporary

- on the second monday of preschool, after dropping his son off, he comes home sad and legit goes to find you to complain and whine

- “does he really need preschool?” goshiki whined.

- “yes, shiki, it’s important.”

- “homeschool is an option.”

-  you laughed. “who will teach him?”

- “me of course.”

- “what? NO!”

- an hour later...

- “i miss him.”

- “he’ll be back in two hours.”

- “two hours is too long.”

- probably cried in your neck a few minutes later because he was sad about it :(

- don’t tell his teammate though-

- he gets happy again though when you reassure him how much he misses goshiki too

- his response.... “well duh, I am his favorite.” prideful bastard...

- IS SO SO SO HAPPY WHEN HE GOES TO PICK HIS SON UP HUSH

- HIS SMILE IS SO HUGE UWUWUWU

10.21.20, rayofsunas

[dwellordream]

“...Because if we want to ask “What was life as a woman like in Sparta?” we really need to ask “What was life like as a helot woman?” because they represent c. 85% of all of our women and c. 42.5% of all of our humans. And I want to stress the importance of this question, because there are more helot women in Sparta than there are free humans in Sparta (as from last time, around 15% of Sparta is free – men and women both included – but 42.5% of Sparta consists of enslaved helot women). If we want to say absolutely anything about the condition of life in Sparta, we simply cannot ignore such a large group of human beings living in Sparta.

...The primary economic occupation of helot women was probably in food preparation and textile production. And if I know my students, I know that the moment I start talking about the economic role of women in ancient households, a very specific half of the class dozes off. Wake Up. There is an awful tendency to see this ‘women’s work’ as somehow lesser or optional. These tasks I just listed are not economically marginal, they are not unimportant. Yes, our ancient sources devalue them, but we should not.

First: let’s be clear – women in ancient households (or early modern households, or modern households) were not idle. They had important jobs every bit as important as the farming, which had to get done for the family to survive. I’ve estimated elsewhere that it probably takes a minimum of something like 2,220 hours per year to produce the minimum necessary textile goods for a household of five (that’s 42 hours a week spinning and weaving, every week). Most of that time is spent spinning raw fibers (either plant fibers from flax to make linen, or animal fibers from sheep to make wool). The next step after that is weaving those threads into fabric. Both weaving and spinning are slow, careful and painstaking exercises.

Food preparation is similarly essential, as you might imagine. As late as 1900, food preparation and cleanup consumed some 44 hours per week on average in American households, plus another 14 hours dedicated to laundry and cleaning (Lebergott, Pursuing Happiness (1993)). So even without child rearing – and ask any parent, there is a TON of work in that – a small peasant household (again, five members) is going to require something like 100 hours per week of ‘woman’s work’ merely to sustain itself.

Now, in a normal peasant household, that work will get split up between the women of the house at all ages. Girls will typically learn to spin and weave at very young ages, at first helping out with the simpler tasks before becoming fully proficient (but of course, now add ‘training time’ as a job requirement for their mothers). But at the same time (see Erdkamp, The Grain Market in the Roman Empire (2005) on this) women often also had to engage in agricultural labor during peak demand – sowing, harvesting, etc. That’s a lot of work to go around. Remember, we’re positing a roughly 5 individual household, so those 100 hours may well be split between only two people (one of whom may be either quite old or quite young and thus not as productive).

...Let’s start textiles. Spartiate women do not engage in textile manufacture (Xen. Lac. 1.4) as noted previously, nor do they seem (though the evidence here is weaker) to engage in food preparation. In the syssitia, at least, the meals are cooked and catered by helot slaves (Plut. Lyc. 12.5, 12.7). In the former case, we are told explicitly by Xenophon that it is slave labor (he uses the word doule, “female slave,” which clearly here must mean helot women) which does this.

So helot women now have an additional demand on their time and energy: not only the 2,200 hours for clothing their own household, but even more clothing the spartiate household they are forced to serve. If we want to throw numbers at this, we might idly suppose something like five helot households serving one spartiate household, suggesting something like a 20% increase in the amount of textile work. We are not told, but it seems a safe bet that they were also forced to serve as ‘domestics’ in spartiate households. That’s actually a fairly heavy and onerous imposition of additional labor on these helot women who already have their hands full.

We also know – as discussed last time – that helot households were forced to turn over a significant portion of their produce, perhaps as high as half. I won’t drag you all through the details now – I love agricultural modeling precisely because it lets us peak into the lives of folks who don’t make it into our sources – but I know of no model of ancient agriculture which can tolerate that kind of extraction without bad consequences. And I hear the retort already coming: well, of course it couldn’t have been that bad, because there were still helots, right? Not quite, because that’s not how poor farming populations work. It can be very bad and still leave you with a stable – but miserable – population.

Let’s talk about seasonal mortality. As the primary food-preparers in the helot household, helot women are going to have the job of managing a constrained but variable flow of food through an extended family that may include their husband, children, older relatives, etc. Given the low productivity of ancient farming, this is a tricky operation in systems where rents are extracting 10% or 20% of the farming yield every year, but given the demands of supporting an entirely unproductive class of elites, it becomes even harder. The key task here is stretching one harvest through the next planting to the next harvest, every year. That means carefully measuring out the food consumption of the household against the available reserves, making sure there is enough to last over the winter. If too much food is extracted by the elites, or the harvest fails or (likely) some combination, the family will run into shortage.

Now, the clever helot woman knows this – peasants, male and female, are canny survivors, not idiots, and they plan for these things (seriously, far too many of my students seem to instinctively fall into the trap of assuming serfs, peasants, etc. are idiots who don’t know what they are doing. These people have survived for generations with very few resources, often in situations of significant volatility and violence; they’re not stupid, they’re poor, and there is a difference!) – so she will have strategies to stretch out that food to try to keep herself and her family alive.

But that in turn often means inflicting a degree of malnutrition on the family unit, in order to avoid outright starvation – stretching the food out. It also probably means a lot of related strategies too: keeping up horizontal ties with other farming households so that there is someone to help you out in a shortage, for instance. Canny survivors. That said – especially in a situation where shortages hit everyone at once – a shortfall in food is often unavoidable.

But, we need to note two things here: first: humans of different ages and conditions react to malnutrition differently. Robust adults can tolerate and recover from periods of malnutrition relatively easily. For pregnant women, malnutrition increases all sorts of bad complications which will probably kill the child and may kill the mother. For the elderly and very young children, malnutrition dramatically increases mortality (read: lots of dead children and grandparents), as compromised immune systems (weakened by malnutrition) lead to diseases that the less robust old and young cannot fight off.

Second – and this is the sad and brutal part – feeding the agricultural workers, meaning the adult males (and to a lesser extent, adult females), has to come first, because they need to make it to the planting with sufficient strength to manage the backbreaking labor of the next crop. If it’s a choice between the survival of the family unit, and taking a chance that you lose Tiny Tim, our helot mother knows she has to risk Tiny Tim.

So in a good year, there is food enough for the entire household. Families expand, children grow up, the elderly part of the family makes it through another winter, imparting wisdom and comfort. But the bad years carry off the very young and the very old (and the as-yet unborn). For children who make it out of infancy, a series of bad years in early childhood – quite a common thing – are likely to leave them physically stunted. It was very likely that most helots were actually physically smaller and weaker than their better nourished spartiate masters for this reason (this is a pattern visible archaeologically over a wide range of pre-modern societies).

The population doesn’t contract, because the mortality isn’t hitting adults of child-bearing age nearly as hard, meaning that in future good years, there will be new children. In fact, societies stuck in this sad equilibrium tend to ‘bounce back’ demographically fairly quickly, because massive external mortality (say from war or plague) frees up land and agricultural surplus which leads to better nutrition which leads to less infant mortality which leads to rapid recovery.

...And so helot women must have spent a lot of time worrying about food scarcity, worrying if their sick and malnourished children or parents would make it through winter. Grieving for the lost child, the lost pregnancy, the parent taken too quickly. Probably all while being forced to do domestic labor for the spartiates, who were both the cause of her misery and at the same time did no labor at all themselves and yet were better fed than her family would ever be. Because peasant labor of any kind is so precariously balanced, we can really say that every garment woven for the spartiates, every bushel turned over, represented in some real sense an increase in that grief. Subsistence farming is always hard – but the Spartan system seems tailor made to push these subsistence farmers deeper and deeper into misery.

The instances of brutality against the helots – the murders and humiliations – which our sources preserve are directed at helot men, but it seems an unavoidable assumption that helot women were also treated poorly. Spartiate women were, after all, products of the same society which trained young men to ambush and murder helot men at night for no reason at all – it strikes me as an enormous and unsubstantiated leap to assume they were, for some reason, kind to their own female domestic servants.

In fact, the one thing we do know about spartiates – men and women alike – is that they seem to have held all manual laborers in contempt, regarding farming, weaving and crafting as tasks unbefitting of free people. I keep returning to it, but I want to again mention the spartiate woman who attempts to shame an Ionian woman because the latter is good at weaving, which in the mind of the spartiate, was labor unbecoming of a free person (Plut. Mor. 241d, note Xen. Lac. 1.4). The same attitude comes out of a spartiate man who, on seeing an Athenian convicted for idleness in court, praised the man, saying he had only been convicted of being free (Plut. Mor. 221c). This is a society that actively despises anyone who has to work for a living – even free people. Why wouldn’t that extend to its treatment of helot women?

To this, of course, we must add now the krypteia and incidents like the 2,000 murdered helots recounted by Thucydides (Thuc. 4.80). While the murdered are men, we need to also think of the survivors: the widowed wives, orphaned daughters, grieving mothers. This must have been part of the pattern of life for helot women as well – the husband or brother or cousin or father or son who went out to the fields one day and didn’t come back. The beautiful boy who was too beautiful and was thus murdered by the spartiates because – as we are told – they expressly targeted the fittest seeming helots in an effort at reverse-eugenics (Plut. Lyc. 28.3).

Finally, we need to talk about the rape. We are not told that spartiate men rape helot women, but it takes wilful ignorance to deny that this happened. First of all, this is a society which sends armed men at night into the unarmed and defenseless countryside (Hdt. 4.146.2; Plut. Lyc. 28.2; Plato, Laws 633). These young men were almost certainly under the normal age of marriage and even if they weren’t, their sexual access to their actual spouse was restricted.

Moreover (as we’ll see in a moment) there were clearly no rules against the sexual exploitation of helot women, just like there were no laws of any kind against the murder of helot men. To believe that these young men – under no direction, constrained by no military law, facing no social censure – did not engage in sexual violence requires disbelieving functionally the entire body of evidence about sexual violence in combat zones from all of human history. Anthropologically speaking, we can be absolutely sure this happened and we can be quite confident (and ought to be more than quite horrified) that it happened frequently.

But we don’t need to guess or rely on comparative evidence, because this rape was happening frequently enough that it produced an identifiable social class. The one secure passage we have to this effect is from Xenophon, who notes that the Spartan army marching to war included a group he calls the nothoi – the bastards (Xen. Hell. 5.3.9). The phrase typically means – and here clearly means – boys born to slave mothers. There is a strong reason to believe that these are the same as the mothakes or mothones which begin appearing with greater frequently in our sources. Several of these mothakes end up being fairly significant figures, most notably Lysander (note Plut. Lys. 2.1-4, where Plutarch politely sidesteps the question of why Lysander was raised in poverty and seemed unusually subservient and also the question of who his mother was).”

- Bret Devereaux, “This. Isn’t. Sparta. Part III: Spartan Women.”

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Seventeen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Tagging @anonymouscosmos, @culturalrebel, @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto and @nelba! Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains intense recounts of previous abuse, intense depictions of self-loathing, self-deprecation and brief mentions of depression. Stay safe!]

Cade caught Danse before he could depart after the rest of their unofficial 'war council' had been dismissed, the medical officer inquiring, "How are you coping, Paladin? I hope that your adjustment to your newfound knowledge is going well." The arch of his eyebrow indicated plainly that Cade was looking for a clear answer, possibly to dissuade his own concerns.

  "I am still uncertain, Knight-Captain Cade." Danse stated bluntly. "I know that Quinlan's reports are accurate. I know that I must be a synth. But it is...it's difficult to wrap my head around it."

  "My door is always open, Danse. As it's been since the day you were assigned to the Prydwen." Cade reminded him. "I can't say I've ever had the pleasure of doing a mental evaluation on a synth, but…" he trailed off thoughtfully. "Hmm, that's not quite right. You and I have had sessions before. Maybe synths aren't so different in their cognition. Perhaps this is a nature versus nurture scenario."

  "Perhaps." Danse allowed, but he knew that he sounded less than optimistic.

  "Maybe in a day or two, once everything has calmed down and you've had time to think?" Cade suggested. "Collect your thoughts, then come see me and we can discuss your current state and the repercussions of Maxson's treatment."

  The paladin nodded, relieved that Cade didn't wish to immediately evaluate him. It had been an incredibly stressful and arduous several weeks. More than anything, the paladin was longing to finally get some sleep.

  After he spoke to Haylen and Rhys, of course. They deserved his gratitude, if only for their combined efforts in delivering the tip-off that had literally saved his life. To say nothing of their care for Elizabeth in his absence, even though they were unable to free her. They had kept her alive, and that was more than the paladin had dared to hope for.

  Danse watched Cade depart, his mind miles away now. Backhand would be incredibly busy in the lead up to the assault. He felt almost irritated by that; it was unfair to ask so much of her so soon after what had transpired. But the luxury of time was no longer on their side. Danse understood, in a practical sense, that they needed to strike as fast as possible. It was entirely within reason that the Institute already knew of their plans and were preparing their own countermeasures.

  It still didn't erase the hollow sensation in his gut, the fear that Backhand was all too willing to stretch herself paper-thin for her various factions. He promised himself then and there that he would do his best to absorb some of the burden. 

  As much as she would allow. 

  The memory of her ripping her knuckles apart on the manual release of his armor, talking to Matthew's parents, taking her helmet off and smiling at him. Thank you, Danse or I thought you were dead or please don't do that to me again --

  Danse chewed anxiously on his lower lip. As much as she would allow. As much as he could feasibly handle. It should have felt odd that he was trading one leader for another, but Danse could only rationalize that it must be another portion of his programming. 

  "Paladin Danse, sir?" 

  Rhys . Danse started, turning around. He hadn't even heard the knight approach down the catwalk. Hell, he hadn't even realized he was spacing out in the hallway. "Yes, Knight?" He replied, nodding out of habit to acknowledge Haylen beside Rhys.

  "Elder Brandis said you wanted to see us, sir." The knight stated, sounding a bit hesitant. "He said we needed to discuss...certain things."

  Of course he did . Danse sighed heavily, bracing himself for some level of a disappointment-fueled tirade.

  "Danse, I'm so sorry." Haylen blurted out, her voice shaking. Danse was startled, tilting his head while she carried on, "I wish there had been some other way for me to tell you. You must have been terrified ." 

  "I was certainly confused, if nothing else." The paladin admitted with a wry smile. "I am immensely grateful to both of you, regardless of my own trials. You followed your training and stuck to your guns, and I couldn't be more proud." He deflated slightly. "Even if the pride of a synth means precious little."

  "The synth shit doesn't matter to either of us, sir." Rhys muttered. "We don't care. We're just glad you're back and that Maxson didn't manage to kill you. That's the important part, right?"

  "In a way." Danse agreed, grimacing. "Our battle is far from over, however."

  "Hey, we're doing something. That's more than a lot of people can say." Haylen reasoned, ever the optimist. "I've got faith in whatever plan you guys come up with."

  "Thank you for believing in me." The paladin murmured, giving the only surviving members of Squad Gladius a stiff salute. 

  "We know you, sir. You protected us, trained us. Built us up from basically nothing." Rhys sounded angry, his typically-sullen expression gone even more sour. "You think we could ever turn our backs on you? You're not that stupid."

  Haylen began to protest, "Rhys-"

  "Haylen, you and I both know he'll just self-deprecate until he dissolves. I'm not letting that happen." Rhys grumbled at the scribe, who fell silent at his reasoning. Her eyes were narrowed to slits and the sight was immensely entertaining to Danse, who couldn't keep a nervous chuckle from bubbling up in his throat.

  "I'm certain the two of you are aware of the devastating depression you dragged me out of all those years ago in the Capital Wasteland." Danse clapped Rhys on the shoulder and caught Haylen up in a rare one-armed hug. "How many times will you two save me? Should I start taking you for granted?" 

  "Paladin Danse, sir, w-we…" Haylen trailed off, her lower lip quivering. She buried her face in Danse's ribs and Rhys grunted.

  "Haylen, c'mon . Pull it together." He huffed, his own eyes looking suspiciously wet. "Listen, sir, I think I've made our position pretty clear. We follow your orders. Learning about that shit with Maxson-"

  "I'm so angry! " Haylen interrupted him, glaring upwards. "God Danse, I'm furious . What he did to you is unforgivable, inexcusable." She announced hotly. "Everyone assumed something was going on, but we also assumed it was consensual ."

  " 'Everyone' ?" Danse echoed, a weird surge of retroactive embarrassment seizing his body. "I suppose I should be thankful you all were so willing to offer me the illusion of privacy." He mumbled.

  "He's never coming anywhere near you again, sir." Rhys stated, his jaw set in an angry scowl. "I don't care if he's the last of the Maxson line. I'll break his fucking skull."

  His words stirred Danse's guilt to life, the ugly feeling rearing its head once more. "It is a difficult situation to be in. I do not envy our elders, past or present." Danse tried to pose the sentence with a modicum of compassion, though he was unsure of the attempt's success. The paladin knew that despite Maxson's position of power, Danse bore a majority of the blame for not standing up to the elder until it was too late to prevent his spiral.

  "Difficult, my ass ." Rhys growled under his breath.

  …

  "So we've got Preston, someone by the name of John D., the…" Ingram narrowed her eyes at the readout. " Atom Cats ?"

  "Yep. Real into their power armor. And Zeke owes me a favor." Backhand explained, continuing to scroll through her Pip Boy notes. "If I can get them to walk across the pond and cover the Castle, that will free up more Minutemen to join us."

  "Should I ask how you managed to ingratiate yourself with so many of these people?" 

  "I'm a sucker for a lost cause." Vega answered, her tone dry. 

  Ingram snorted, shaking her head. "Lucky for us, I imagine. Also lucky for us that you're the forgiving sort."

  "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Proctor." Backhand retorted. "I'm just not yet in a position to combat your aerial superiority."

  "Whew, gonna' file that one away for later consideration."

  A soft knock on the comm doorway interrupted the two women, and Vega turned to see Danse peering cautiously into the room. "Paladin! You're just in time, we were about to start rallying the troops. Want to lend a hand?" 

  "What needs to be done, General Vega?" The paladin asked, his posture gone stiff and proper. 

  Backhand could feel her smile dim slightly, but she reined herself in. They had all been through so much, she reasoned, and old habits were usually a comfort. "Well, I've got a few calls to make on my own, but if you can get in touch with Lieutenant Garvey that would be a huge help."

  "Understood." 

  Proctor Ingram (who had been watching their exchange with poorly-veiled interest) stepped out of the way so that Danse could settle down at the desk alongside one of their many radio switchboards. "Vega, I think the two of you can handle this." The older woman remarked, giving Elizabeth a sly wink behind Danse's back. "I'll start whipping the base camp into shape. Make myself useful, y'know. Ad Victoriam."

  Vega went bright red as Ingram saluted, the proctor sporting an absolutely infuriating smirk. "B-But Proctor--"

  "No buts! You guys handle the easy stuff. I'll manage the elbow grease." Ingram then mouthed talk to him! , before strolling out of the comm area. Backhand swore under her breath, thumping her fist into the desk in mute frustration. 

  "I can leave, General Vega." Danse offered, making her start and whirl to face him.

  "No no! No, uh, you're fine. You're not the problem here." Vega assured him, waving her hands nervously. "I'm just...I'm a little uptight, that's all."

  "Will your forces refuse to join us?" The paladin asked, his rigid posture easing slightly as he tipped his head back to look up at her. He continued in an undertone, "Would it be simpler to do it with your troops alone? Do you truly need the Brotherhood?"

  "We do need the Brotherhood, yes. But I don't think we'll need them for the fighting. We'll need them for the mass casualty options and the refugee care after the fact." Backhand began to pace, mostly so she didn't have to maintain eye contact. The paladin looked fatigued yet determined, and it pained her to know that rest was still so far away for them. Rest and the possibility of actually speaking with him about the thing that had been on her mind in one form or another since…

  Well, it had been a long time.

  "We'll need help rebuilding more than anything. Not a lot of settlements will be keen to take on synths, so I'll need to figure out some kind of alternative. I really need to talk with Nick and Dea--er, John D ., and get their input on this whole engagement." Backhand rubbed her temples. "And here I thought getting in would be the hard part!" She tried to joke. 

  After a moment of silence, Vega heard Danse clear his throat. "General... Elizabeth , I know you already have many responsibilities, all of them miles more important than my own struggles."

  Backhand looked over at him expectantly, a little confused. 

  "I have to give Cade a full report." The tall man said abruptly. "I...he wants to know everything that's transpired." He stared down at the floor, the heel of his boot scuffing the grating beneath them as he rushed to add, "I know it's selfish of me to ask you to--I mean, you've been through so much, b-but I was...rather, I am uncertain of this endeavor, and my ability to maintain my composure during it. You tend to have a mollifying effect on me for some reason."

  "You want me to be present when you give your medical officer the full rundown?" Vega raised an eyebrow, further confused. Danse was a soldier , surely he had endured a full physical before?

  "I am overly anxious. It means reliving some portions of my past that I find...traumatic."

  "Oh." Oh . Backhand felt stupid as the truth dawned on her. Everything that's transpired . Of course Danse would want someone he trusted with him, this wasn't a physical exam at all. "What about Haylen or Rhys? Are they more appraised of the situation?"

  Danse was shaking his head before she had even finished. "I did my best to keep everything that happened quiet, though it appears that I was unsuccessful. I was told that was my only option, and I did not wish to disobey Maxson's orders." 

  "That fuckin' asshole." Vega growled. "Alright, if you're sure it's me you want with you, I'm here."

  "You don't have t--er, that is, I regret taking up more of your valuable time, General Vega. I promise after this meeting with Cade, I will be fully at your disposal." He assured her, seemingly pained by his current state.

  "Danse, I don't care about that. I don't want you better just so you can get used up again, I want you better for you . I'm sorry that all of this robs you of the proper time to regroup, y'know?" Backhand apologized, her words deliberately quiet as she boldly laced her fingers through his own. "Once we're done here, though, you need to take some time off. General's orders."

  "I would have to speak with Elder Brandis on the matter. As his most senior paladin, I am unsure if he would be able to permit me that luxury." Danse replied unhappily, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before he released it. "' A run ashore ', always just out of reach."

  "I'm getting you time off, even if I have to kidnap you myself." 

  The paladin's chuckle in reply to her threat was subdued, but it still sent a frisson of happiness through her body. Backhand choked down the guilt of having those feelings in the first place for just a second, choosing to bask in the warm sensation. 

  "When you're ready, General, I'll need the proper frequencies to speak with the Castle." Danse's request brought her crashing back down to earth, and Vega rushed to oblige him.

  There's always something else to do .

  …

  Two days later, on the cusp of their attack on the Institute, the both of them were seated in Knight-Captain Cade's main office aboard the Prydwen. The older officer sat across from them in the cramped space, a clipboard propped up on his knee.

  "The only questions I'll ask will be strictly for clarity's sake." The knight-captain informed Danse quietly. "If you don't want to answer, that is entirely acceptable and within your right, but the more information we have, the better."

  Danse nodded, the motion stilted. "I understand, Knight-Captain. I'll do my best to cooperate." 

  Vega squeezed his hand. God knew she didn't like this one damn bit, but she was going to stick it out for him. After all, he had gone to bat for her against the elder . Loyalty like that was in short supply. "I'm right here with you, Danse." She said softly. He had gone pasty white beneath his usual windblown complexion, and he gripped her hand wordlessly. 

  "If you could start at the beginning, Paladin. Or as close to it as possible." Cade prompted him.

  "Yes, I...of course." Danse rasped. "The first time we engaged was shortly before the Brotherhood lost Knight Cutler."

  Cade looked at him over his half-moon glasses, seeming perturbed. "That was...so this was a prolonged assault."

  "Not an assault. I did as I was ordered." The dull tone of Danse's voice, the way his eyes had gone almost grey ...Vega wanted to know how the hell Maxson had ever justified this. "I could not bring myself to question Arthur. He came to me, at first simply asking for help even though it was an order. He said he couldn't sleep. I...I never told Cutler. I didn't think it was relevant. I thought I was helping the new elder." Danse looked up at Cade. "I know what it's like to not be able to sleep for all the thoughts in your head."

  "Was there a specific point in time where his behavior shifted? Perhaps when it became more clear to you that there was something wrong?" Backhand was grateful for the delicate way Cade phrased the question.

  "I…" Danse's brow furrowed. "...had just come back with...after what transpired with Cutler. Four days on base. I was furious with Maxson for stationing Cutler out there, furious with myself for not saving Cutler. I was grieving and hurt both physically and emotionally, as you recall." Cade inclined his head. "I assume you also recall the bite on my arm that appeared shortly thereafter. That was a...result of my inability to perform."

  "Ah." Cade murmured, jotting something down.

  Bite? Vega could feel Danse trembling. "I-I was...unable to function or perform for him in a satisfactory manner and that was his method of voicing his frustration with me." Danse swallowed hard. "I was mourning , Cade." He sounded like he was begging the other man to understand, begging him not to judge.

  Perform for him. Backhand sucked in a deep breath through her nose, willing herself to stay silent. 

  "After that, I would just comply. It was never as bad as that time. I would perform for him to the best of my abilities." Danse paused, "but I never sought him out, and nothing occurred without me being ordered to do so." He then proceeded to rattle off a distressingly-long list of dates, every time that Maxson had coerced him. "I was not interested in...well, anyone , after Cutler." He muttered after a brief pause, "the term broken seems fitting." 

  "You weren't allowed proper space to heal yourself after what happened with Cutler. You were injured and then forced to deal with someone who kept prying open your wounds because they enjoyed lording their power over you." Cade theorized, his voice a little sharper. " Broken is not fitting in the slightest, Danse."

  The paladin shrugged. "Whatever the terminology might be, then." 

  " Traumatized , Danse. Emotional wounds take time to heal, just like physical ones. Losing Cutler in the way that we did-"

  "I deserved it!" Danse cut off the medical officer, leaning forward and clenching his free hand on his knee. "I failed Cutler, Cade! I should have gone after him sooner! The treatment from Maxson is what I deserved ." His eyes were wild, frantic. "He's an abuser, but I am a man deserving of every last instance of that abuse for my inaction when it came to Cutler!" The paladin reasoned intensely.

  Cade sighed, rifling through his clipboard. "Danse, you did not deserve or garner punishment for the consequences of Maxson's orders." He informed the other man quietly. "You were simply a man who lost someone that he cared deeply about."

  "And to find out that I'm not even that much!" Danse spat. "I'm still trying to cope with the reality that I am a living lie . My identity as Paladin Danse is nothing but a memory now. Everything I held dear, everything I ever believed in is completely gone. Can you imagine how that feels?" Danse was nearly shouting at this point, moving to stand. "I started out as nothing , and I've ended up as nothing . And I don't know what the hell to do about it!" 

  Backhand brought her hand up over his elbow, hauling him back down into his seat. " Listen to Cade, Danse." She growled. The paladin fought her grip briefly, but ultimately slumped in the chair. Good thing too, Vega wasn't exactly up to full strength just yet. The large man was shaking again, his breathing coming in harsh bursts. "It's okay, it's okay." Vega found herself repeating the phrase, rubbing circles on his back between his shoulder blades. Many members of military factions found repetition comforting and Danse appeared to be no exception, the large man heaving a massive sigh under the weight of her hand.

  "Danse, I'll fully admit to being out of my element here. I never expected to have to treat a synth." Knight-Captain Cade said plainly. "However, I've known you for many years. We have an established rapport. Your body is indistinguishable from an ordinary human body, as proved by my records. Your mental processes and pain responses are normal for a human. I suppose what I'm trying to say is learning that you are a synth may not change all that much, despite what you may be feeling."

  Danse choked out a forlorn noise that might have been a sob, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so confused." He confessed plaintively. "You're saying I did not deserve punishment for my failings, but...how else am I supposed to atone for Cutler?" He looked up, tears welling up in his eyes. "How am I supposed to reconcile with these human emotions, Cade? I barely kept myself under control when I believed I was human!"

  "Your feelings have always run deep, Danse. Your empathy for your fellow man has landed you in hot water more than once." Cade gestured at Vega. "According to our infiltrator, even the most brutal of synths feel regret and remorse just like we do, though they have not been taught how to cope with it."

  "I still feel like a human. Nothing feels different, yet now I constantly second-guess everything I do. I've had a plan from the beginning to shape my future, but I have to wonder about whether that's a lie as well." Danse remarked bitterly. "I had...I had hoped…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."

  Backhand could feel her heart breaking the longer he spoke. His true identity was an immense blow to him, and on top of it he was still struggling under the burden of the guilt he carried due to Cutler's demise. He blamed himself for Arthur's demands. 

  "Listen to Cade, Danse." She urged. Her hand was essentially on autopilot as she traced small patterns on the center of his back, moving up and down his spine without rhyme or reason. "You're not to blame for what Maxson did. It's not yours to bear. Trust me, coming from someone who's more than willing to take on other folk's problems, that weight is not yours."

  "But-"

  "You trust me, right?" Vega interrupted him softly, cupping his face so that he had to look at her.

  "With my life, General Vega." 

  The rapid sincerity of his reply startled her and Backhand needed to take a moment, steeling herself yet again. "I know you trust Cade too, and I know this won't be a quick or easy process. But you accepting that whatever happened was not your fault would be a huge first step."

  "I...If I do…" Danse paused, hesitating. "Vega, if I forget about him..."

  "Hey, nobody said anything about forgetting. You told me about Cutler, about how important he was to you. There's no way someone like you could forget about him. But you need to forgive yourself, you have to understand that losing him was not your fault." Once more she found herself in over her head, but she did her best to tell him all the things she wished someone had told her when Sergeant Cathan had died.

  "He was...he was everything to me." Danse's voice cracked. "And I had to--I had to, he was...I had to."

  "What happened to Cutler and his team was an immense tragedy, and a needless one at that." Cade spoke up from his seat, his brow furrowed. "Maxson outed himself quite thoroughly during the trial, I would say. It will be difficult for him to explain his actions away when so many witnesses heard exactly what he said." 

  Elizabeth felt Danse go still, the paladin hanging on to Cade's every word. "Am I even permitted to be happy that he may face consequences?" He asked uncertainly, wringing his hands. "Is that a breach of protocol, Knight-Captain?"

  The medical officer shifted his weight, leaning forward to prop himself up with his elbows on his knees. "I can't promise you swift justice, you know how the Brotherhood operates. But Arthur invoked the right of a litany trial, then proceeded to break his own terms. To say nothing of the fact that he nearly killed someone uninvolved in the trial." Cade shook his head. "His abuse flourished in secrecy. Now that everything is out in the open, I do not believe even his status as the last Maxson will sway the other elders when they pass judgement."

  "Thank you, Knight-Captain." Danse closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "I...thank you, Vega." He continued, a little quieter. He caught her hand in his own, giving it a cautious squeeze. Almost as if he was imitating her gesture from earlier in the week. "I have so much to think about."

  "Agreed. Shall I put in a request to Brandis for a leave of absence?"

  Danse visibly recoiled at Cade's suggestion, his eyes going wide in dismay. "No! No, I am needed, Knight-Captain. After our assault has been carried out, and the Institute has been wiped from the map, I…" he hesitated, like the words were caught in his throat. "I will gladly take a leave. Until then, however, there is still work to do."

  "There is always work to do, Paladin." Cade chided. "Remember what I told you? You will burn yourself out and the Brotherhood can ill afford to lose you."

  "I'll see to it that he takes time off after our successful operation." Backhand stated firmly. Cade raised an eyebrow at that and Danse flushed across the bridge of his nose, stuttering a little. "Your health is important to me, Danse. You can be as stubborn as you want, but I'm not letting you weasel out of this." 

  "I suppose that will have to do." Cade sighed. "Do you have any questions for me, Paladin?"

  Danse shot a sidelong glance at Vega that she was relatively certain she wasn't supposed to see, the large man worrying his lower lip. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part, though, as Danse shook his head after a moment. "No, I...I just have some reflection to do." He got to his feet abruptly, saluting both Cade and Elizabeth. "Ad Victoriam, Knight-Captain. Ad Victoriam, General Vega."

  Cade returned the salute absently, already absorbed in writing something else down. Vega was a little slower, her query of, "do you need me, Danse?" coming out softer than she had intended.

  She wanted to believe that the paladin hesitated before he replied, "No, General Vega. I can manage."

Part Eighteen

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part seventeen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±4700 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part seventeen: Unable to sleep, Y/N goes over last night’s events, until she gets an unexpected visitor. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘After My Heart + Can’t Help Falling In Love’ - John Michael Howell. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Please listen to this song during the scene, it’s so worth it! Author’s note: I’m excited for this one, y’all! Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @winchest09 for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     The bunkhouse is silent after a festive night. All the lights out, except for the one on Y/N’s bedside table. Sleep might have come limited the past week, but she isn’t ready to close her eyes just yet. The adventurous trail, combined with the unexpected news about her qualification has her riled up with excitement. 

     Not sure what to do with this new found energy, she has taken out one of her notebooks, which is filled with scrabbles. She won State Championships with a relatively simple floorplan, not wanting to overshoot, but if she wants to leave an impression with the judges at Congress, she needs to step up her game. Combinations between exercises will push up her degree of difficulty, so she decided to change a few lines. Working on her freestyle tonight wasn’t entirely according to plan, but who knows, maybe the tequila and beer will add some creativity.

     She has changed into a comfortable tank top and a pair of shorts, the soft fabric a contrast to the sandy denim she’s been clad in the past days. The temperature is comfortably warm, early October in Arizona much more like summer compared to the autumn days she’s used to in Maine.

     Strangely, she hasn’t been homesick for Freeport at all. She misses her mom and dad, her brothers, but after her time living on campus, she’s used to being away from family. Her father travels a lot for work, and Jaime, her older brother by three years, moved to the other side of the country straight out of the Police Academy, fighting crime in Los Angeles these days. Middle kid Jackson bought a house in Boston and is busy with his real estate firm, while her oldest brother, Jeff and his wife are expecting their first child. Y/N wouldn’t say they have grown apart, but now that she and her siblings don’t share a house anymore, things have changed. They’ve spread their wings, built a life for themselves.

     She checks her phone when a message from Jaime pops up, sending her a selfie in which he shows off his muscles, holding up a fist. ‘Show them what you’re made of! You’re gonna ace that ride!’ he added in the caption. She closes the text, scrolling down the list of messages from family and friends, until she finds one from Jeffrey, which is a little more lengthy. ‘Mom said I had to wait until Dad reached you, so I hope you got the news by now, otherwise I’m in trouble. Congratulations, Sis. You worked so hard for this. I’m really proud of you, and I know Grandpa will be cheering you on from above. You’re already a champion.’ She smiles at the sweet words; she should really give him a call next week.

     Redirecting her attention to the notebook in her lap, she picks up her pen, sketches a new line, crosses it and bites on the pen cap, pondering. Marcel, her trainer at the Freeport Equestrian Center, helped her with the first version. She could get in touch with him tomorrow, she’s sure he will be willing to shed a light on what she has so far. Distance will be an issue, though, and with time being of the essence since it’s only fifteen days before they head towards Columbus, Ohio, where Congress is held, she has to take a different approach.

     What if she asks Dean to help her with the freestyle, or even to come with her to the show? He has helped her a couple of times during training and she appreciates his approach. His suggestions and tips paid off; his methods really seemed to work for both her and Meadow. The head wrangler knows Y/N and her horse well enough to offer advice in bringing out their best qualities, she just hopes he’s up for it. After some drinks, Dean didn’t stick around long. When she asked Jo where he went, she said Dean offered to do the final feeding round. Y/N thought about following him, but didn’t want to draw attention from the rest of the crew; them both gone would’ve raised suspicion and she doesn’t want to put him in the spot of having to explain himself.

     When Y/N noticed his absence, her stomach made an unpleasant flip. The uneasy sensation remained the rest of the evening, not evident, but brewing nonetheless, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. She wonders if something has changed, maybe. That coming home to the ranch caused Dean to reconsider. Why else would he distance himself?

     Doubtful, she takes a breath, her mind going places she’d rather not be. Still missing a steady foundation for them to start building a relationship on, doubt surfaces again. Deep down she’s scared that the cowboy might back out, which would cause heartbreak she’s not sure she can handle. She cares too much already, she’s too far gone. Y/N is passing the station of just being in love with Dean; it’s growing into something even more.

     Before her thoughts can spiral further, there’s a soft knock on the door. The kind that is soft enough to not wake her had she been sleeping, but loud enough for her to hear if she wasn’t. She slides out of bed, rises to her bare feet, careful not to bump her head against the top bunk like she has so many times already, and crosses her room. When she opens the door, she finds the man who has been on her mind on the other side, locking his green eyes on her. She’s pleasantly surprised to see him with it being past 11 PM already; she expected him to be in bed long ago after the exhausting past few days.      “Hey, what are you doing u--”

     He doesn’t let her finish and bridges the few feet between them, cupping her face with both hands and pulling her into a kiss. After the initial shock, which only lasts a fraction of a second, he can feel her lashes brush against his skin as she closes her eyes and melts into him, allowing him to deepen the connection. Her response takes away the restlessness that weighed on his chest like a chunk of concrete, ever since the thought of her leaving arose.

     They step into her room far enough for Dean to kick the door shut, preventing possible eavesdroppers from tuning in, his mouth never leaving hers. Instinctively, her arms snake around his torso, tracing the lines of his strong back through the fabric of his shirt. There’s a desperation in his touch that’s new to her, the way he longs for this connection is different. Eventually, he breaks the kiss and she studies him when he rests his forehead against hers. His eyes stay closed for a little longer, holding on to the moment while his hands slip from her face. 

     He didn’t want to steal a few seconds while surrounded by the crew, he didn’t want to get in line to give her a quick hug or a peck on the cheek. No, he needed to be with her, just the two of them without restrictions.

     “What was that for?” she wonders.      “Just wanted to congratulate you.” He smiles, trying to mask his concern, and sweetly presses his lips on hers again. “Personally.” And again. “Privately.” And again.      She giggles, triggering him to chuckle as well. He moves his head back to take her in.      “Congratulations, Yankee,” he says, genuine. “You earned it.”      “Thank you,” she smiles, still slightly confused. “Where’d you go earlier?”      “Someone had to feed those poor starving animals,” he jokes. “And since Bobby already had a few whiskies, and Garth is an absolute light weight, I took one for the team.”

     He was quick to take the final feeding round, not just because he was the last man standing. Doing one last check, giving the horses their hay for the night, making sure the stables are shut properly, locking up the tackroom and the cafeteria and eventually the large barn doors after switching off the lights; it offers him peace of mind. It’s a daily routine, a recurring series of actions, done so 365 days a year. Ensuring everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be in the place where he lives and works, grounds him when he’s feeling restless. It gives him a moment alone, the horses his only company, allowing him to think things over and collect himself again. Tonight was no different, because even though he was relieved Y/N’s father wasn’t the bearer of bad news, Dean felt disturbed with his initial response. For a good few minutes, he thought he was going to lose her, and the anxiety it surfaced was much more intense than he anticipated.

     Y/N keeps watching him as the cowboy is lost in thought. He’s trying to be funny and cute, but that’s not all there is to it; his eyes tell a different story. He kissed her a little too fierce, pulled her in a little too tight. Something is bothering him, and although she doesn’t want to force him to talk, she needs to know what it is before she loses her mind herself.      “What’s wrong, Dean?” she asks, softly, moving her hands up his chest.      “It’s nothin’,” he assures, shaking his head.

     But when the concern remains evident in her expression, he sighs. He doesn’t want her to worry, or think it’s something she’s done. If anything, she’s been absolutely perfect. God, she’s so patient. Even though she needs him, she offers him space. Expressing how he feels might be terrifying, it’s about time he’s fair with the woman who’s willing to wait.      “It’s just that, uh - when your dad called, he… he sounded pretty serious,” Dean admits, looking down. “I thought something might have happened with your folks or somethin’, and that you...”      He pauses, struggling, but Y/N knows enough.      “You thought Dad was going to tell me to come back,” she realizes.

     Suddenly his behavior makes so much more sense. His complete change of demeanor when he approached her table in the saloon after receiving the call, him seeming as nervous as she was when she picked up the phone. The sigh of relief when she told him and Jo the great news, his disappearance from the celebration at the saloon. Dean thought he was going to lose her, and apparently it scared him. Y/N is as stunned by the realization, as she is by the confirming nod he gives her.

     “Well - I mean - it could’ve been, right?” he says, shrugging his shoulders almost apologetically, like he’s not allowed to be worried about a presumption as such.      “I’m twenty-four, Dean. I’m not going anywhere unless I want to,” she reminds him, hoping to offer him some consolation.      “Glad to hear it,” he responds, his hands moving to her waist as he restores eye contact. “‘cause I’d hate to see you go.”

     Heartfelt, the beautiful girl in his arms smiles. She seems to understand the weight of his words, because she crosses her wrists behind his head and urges him to come closer. Dean’s heart swells in his chest when she brushes her lips against his, tentatively at first. His mind calms, the nerves subsiding. Not only is she staying, she also understands what’s going on in his head, and in a strange and unexpected way, it’s kind of liberating. Not having to pretend and put on a mask, not having to convince anyone that everything is fine. He’s gotten so used to telling people he’s okay, the words to express himself prove to be hard to grasp. Who knows, maybe one day he’ll get the hang of it.

     Dean’s mind goes blank when she deepens the kiss, swiping her tongue against his bottom lip. Her arms close around his neck a little tighter, holding him so close he can feel the warmth coming from her skin. She smells amazing, the scent of her shampoo still lingering in her hair, a sweet smell of a flower he can’t name. He presses his fingertips into her flesh, carefully shifting them under the hem of her tank top, even though he knows very well that he shouldn’t. It isn’t going to take long before he will not be able to stop himself.

     She feels him trace her sides, rolling up the fabric of her top as he does so. Normally she would be self-conscious about it, but when she parts from him when running out of air, all she sees in his eyes is adoration and want. Both seem to be waiting for each other, unsure if they should take this further. Afterall, considering what they agreed on, this would be a poor execution of taking things slow.

     Without breaking away from her gaze, his left hand travels down, following the curves of her hips. He adds pressure, gently pulling her against him. What she feels through the denim of his jeans has her eyes grow wide. A delightful tension starts to tangle up in her stomach, sinking deeper. Somewhat surprised that she apparently has this effect on him, she takes in a shuddering breath, gazing deep into his eyes. God, she wants to go there, but is he willing to as well?      “Are you sure?” she checks with him.      Dean doesn’t have to think twice and nods. To hell with it, he’s not going to waste another second.      “I want you,” he breathes, his voice husky.

     It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear him say. It might not be the confirmation of their relationship she’s been hoping to get eventually; it’s better. He wants her. He wants her.

     Free from restraints, she crashes her lips to his and Dean doesn’t hesitate to return the kiss with the same need. All the question marks, the doubt, the thoughts along the line of ‘what if it goes wrong?’ and ‘maybe we shouldn’t do this’ go right out the window.      It wouldn’t matter if they waited longer, because if that wake up call taught the cowboy anything, it’s that together or not, it would tear him to pieces if she were ever to leave the ranch. If he’s going to spend this time with her, he better make it worth her while, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll stay with him in the end.

     Eventually, his mouth leaves hers and begins to descend, his breath tickling her skin as he ghosts down her neck. Willingly, she rolls her head to her shoulder, offering him space to leave marks on her pulse point, then down her collarbone. The hint of delicious pain has her fighting back a moan, which proves to be challenging, especially when his hands roam down to cover her peach-shaped behind. Trying to distract herself and be useful at the same time, she begins to unbutton his plaid shirt, his touch momentarily interrupted until the piece of clothing falls to the floor in a puddle of blue, soon followed by his white undershirt.

     Before Dean urges her closer again, he drags the only chair in the room away from the small table by the window, sitting down and pulling her with him. The wood underneath them creaks when she settles in his lap, her bare knees on either side of the cowboy, holding herself up and leaning into his bare chest. The denim of his jeans stretches over his erection, rubbing against her core. The sheer thought of a few layers of fabric being the only barrier between him and her, sends a surge of heat to dampen her panties. Thank God she chose the lace ones earlier after her shower, the ones she can only wear whenever she’s not spending her day in the saddle. She wonders if he can tell how aroused she is already.

     Dean can. He can feel the warmth radiating towards him and he can feel himself growing even harder, too. His breath hitches and he stifles a groan when she rolls her hips, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Ho-ly shit. This might not be how he originally imagined their first time, in this tiny room with thin walls, this one chair and a bunk bed, but it feels so good. He has enveloped her in his arms, his hands roam her body, not leaving a square inch unattended. Without tearing the seams, he pulls the strap of her loosely fitted tank top over one shoulder, the material shifting down. His fingers then reposition to cup her breast, all while he presses kisses on top. When he moves his thumb over her stiff nipple, she pulls in an audible gasp.      “Sssh…” he hushes. “Wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors.”

     Y/N can’t help it, though. The friction she feels beneath her, combined with the touch of his mouth and his fingertips, is already beginning to build her up. She begins to pant, her lungs pushing out air in quivers. Dean doesn’t stop, however, and continues to knead her breast without hurting her, smothering the sounds she makes with another breathtaking kiss. His other hand has snaked around her waist again, splayed on the small of her back now, spurring her on to move against him. Good God, if he keeps this up, she might come undone without him even actually touching her down there.

     The chair creaks louder when she moves against him, triggering Dean to cringe. The old furniture is either going to break or wake everyone in the bunkhouse, and so he pulls Y/N flush against him and stands up. Without missing a beat or breaking the kiss, she folds her legs around his waist as he walks her to the bed. Laying her down and fitting himself on top turns out to be a little more difficult than he thought it would be, the bunk bed limiting his space, but after some shimmying, he manages.

      He hovers over the woman he’s about to be intimate with, mesmerized by the sight of her laying underneath him, her chest heaving, her eyes lustful. She’s the definition of gorgeous without even trying. Dude, how the hell did you manage to hold back this long?

     The trail of kisses he presses on her stomach has Y/N arching her back, her eyes closed in delight as he travels down. Gently, he opens her legs a little wider, feather light touches electrifying her skin, sending currents towards her center. His hands leave her then, teasingly letting her wait in suspense. She listens, trying to pick up on any sound of him breathing or moving, her senses operating on full capacity. He’s testing her patience like he has done for the past few days. A chill runs down her spine as seconds tick by, but then Dean palms her heat through the fabric of her shorts. She bites her bottom lip at the unexpected connection, her fists clenching the comforter and a moan escaping her throat. This is happening. This is really happening.

     Y/N feels him tracing the waistband of her shorts, before hooking his thumbs underneath the hem. He’s about to drag them down and move in, when they hear a door handle being pushed down. Her eyes shoot open in time to see Dean jerk back and sit up startled, hitting his head hard against the top bunk. The collision of his skull with the solid wood creates a loud bang, followed by a strangled groan. He curses through gritted teeth, trying to make as little noise as possible, while outside the room a door shuts. Horrified, they both stare at the other end of the room, not moving a muscle as shuffling footsteps cross the hall, opening another door and closing it again. A toilet seat is lifted up, the person whistling to himself softly. There can be only one person who needs encouragement to relieve himself: Garth.

     “For fuck’s sake,” Dean hisses.      Y/N is unable to stop a snort, sniggering silently, even though she tries not to.      “You okay?” she checks, trying to sound concerned. Not very convincing, apparently, because Dean shoots her a glare, while rubbing the sore spot on his head.      The toilet flushes loudly and obscenely, triggering the woman underneath him to giggle unstoppably. When he shushes her, frantically holding his finger to his lips, it achieves the opposite, causing him to break character as well. Doing their best to keep it down, she clasps her hand over her mouth while Dean presses his lips together, trying to compose himself.      “You need to be quiet,” he whispers.      “I c-can’t”, she hiccups, tears streaming down her cheeks.

     Garth heads back to his room, either sleep walking or he’s deaf, because he doesn’t pick up on any of the action happening on the other side of the hall. His door closes, the springs of his bed creak as he gets back in, and silence returns.      “Would you stop?” Dean chuckles, poking Y/N’s side when she fails to control her laughing fit.       “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” she returns, struggling to keep it down. “How’s your head?”      “It’s alright,” he claims, ignoring the slight bump when he runs his hand through his hair. “Moment’s gone, ain’t it?”

      She wipes the tears from her face, breathing in now that she’s capable again. Comforting, she reaches for his hand. As much as she would like to continue, the circumstances aren’t exactly ideal. Their first time together shouldn’t have to be clumsy and uncomfortable, in a bed that’s too small in a room with paper thin walls.       “Rain check?” she proposes.      Dean leans in to leave a kiss on her lips. “Rain check. ‘Sides, wouldn’t wanna have to hold back because you can’t keep it down.”      She pokes him in his stomach now. “Don’t get cocky.”

     Dean scoffs, sliding from the bed without hitting his head this time. Grinning mischievously, he turns around, pulling her to her feet as well. The cowboy takes a second to really look at her again, glad to notice the lack of insecurity in her composure. Her hair is messy, strands escaping the loose bun at the base of her neck, ready for bed in her pajama shorts and a comfortable top. She could have felt self-conscious in this situation, especially since their moment together came to an abrupt and slightly awkward end. But she isn’t, she feels at ease when she’s with him. A small smile forms on the cowboy’s lips.

     “You should get some sleep. We’ll skip the afternoon siestas, now that the temperatures are droppin’, so we’ll start an hour and a half later tomorrow. I figured you might wanna train Meadow first thing in the morning?” he suggests, picking up his shirts from the floor.      Y/N agrees, glad that she’s being given the space to focus on Congress. “Dean, about that…”      He glances back, patiently waiting for the follow up.      “I was wondering if you could maybe help me out with my freestyle?” she asks, a little shy.      “Yeah, of course,” the head wrangler responds without hesitation.       “Great,” she breathes, relieved. “And there’s this other thing.”      Dean steps closer, laying his shirt and flannel over his shoulder so that he has his hands free and can lace his fingers with hers. “What is it?”      “I was hoping you could coach me,” she says, looking up at him. “Not just at home, but when I have to compete in Columbus, too.”

     Humbled, he gazes back, the corners of his mouth curving up. Coaching such a skilled rider as Y/N would be an absolute privilege, and with the trainers he knows she’s had, he’s surprised she’s asking him. Sure, the connection they have personally is there on a much more professional level as well, but they are talking Congress here, the biggest show of the year, and possibly the most important one of her career. Apparently, she has as much faith in his abilities to guide her as he has faith in her talent.        “It’ll be my pleasure,” he states.      “Really?” Y/N responds, thrilled.       “Hell, yeah,” Dean says, excited. “I’ll have to check with management if I can get time off for Congress, but I have plenty of days left. Plus, I think Ellen is kinda rooting for us.”      She chuckles, but then does a double take. “Wait, what? Ellen knows we’re together? I - I mean, not together together, I get that we’re not an item--”      “-Ellen knows,” he grins, squeezing her hand when he interrupts her nervous train of words. “I think basically everyone knows by now, except Garth and Bobby.”

     A little uneasy Y/N glances from their hands up into his eyes. Wait… Is she reading too much into his words? He didn’t correct her when she used the term ‘together’. Why didn’t he? Is he worried he might upset her again? If anything, she doesn’t want to push him to oblige to something he’s not ready for.      “Dean, I know we just… I didn’t mean--” She pauzes, collects herself and starts over. “I know you’re not ready for a relationship and that’s fine, we had that conversation already. I’m not trying to rush you.”      “You’re not rushin’ me,” he assures, calmly. “I just needed a wake up call in order to pull my head out of my ass.”      The woman before him hesitates, “W-what do you mean?”

     The wrangler wets his lips, taking a second to choose his words carefully.       “When your old man called, for a minute I thought you were about to hop on a plane and that I was never gonna see you again,” he admits. “And - uh, it kinda freaked me out, to be honest.”      He huffs, barely able to believe what he’s about to say.      “I’m not gonna keep you waitin’ any longer, Yankee. I know I said I want you, earlier, but truth is…” 

     Y/N watches him glance down at their hands again, running his thumb over her knuckles. Nerves close off her throat, because she has a hunch that he’s about to break it to her; he doesn’t want the commitment. 

Tears begin to prick in her eyes, but not from laughter this time. She knew it was going to be difficult to get close to him. Dean keeps to himself, probably because he cared too much in the past and learned his lesson the hard way. The possibility of her leaving spooked him today, and now he’s done. He doesn’t want to risk that kind of heartbreak, he doesn’t want to rely on anyone. Dean Winchester would rather fill his world with a hundred shallow and meaningless flings than with one solid partner, and this is him setting her free, before things get out of --      “I wanna be with you.”

     Her racing mind, which was breaking the speed limit, hits a brick wall. Shocked, she pulls her eyes away from their entwined fingers, gazing at him almost dumbfoundedly. Did he just say he wants to be with me?      “W-what?” she stammers.      “I mean, if you’ll still have me,” Dean adds, a little unsettled by her response. “Look, I know I’m not exactly an open book and that I behave like a dick sometimes when you try to get through to me. I’m stubborn as hell and my communication skills need some work—”

     Now it’s Y/N who cuts him off for a change, closing the gap and kissing him passionately. He eases into her, smiling against her lips and leaves a peck on her hair when she embraces him and buries her face under his chin. Relieved, he allows the breath he was holding to leave his lungs.      “So, what do you say?” he asks, cocking his head back slightly to be able to look her in the eye again. “Up for a challenge?”      “Are we talking about us training together for Congress, or us as a couple?” she checks, regaining her footing again.      Dean frowns and chuckles at that. “Both.”      She doesn’t need time to think. She knew the answer to this question long before Dean was ready to ask.      “Yes,” she beams. “Hell, yes.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eighteen here

[indigosandviolets]

Maybe the quarantine is getting to me and I’m touch starved, but I wanna know what the BoB knuckleheads are like as boyfriends/husbands. I’m craving some romance.

ohhhh my god. okay. i can do this. i’m leaving out Welsh in this, just because i don’t think i could interfere with him and Kitty. I couldn’t. I, uh, also kinda wrote a few as fathers too cause i can’t get enough of that domestic shit.

Winters: Winters, to no surprise, is a very serious husband. He’s serious about the way he loves you in that he will quite literally do almost anything for you. He does not hesitate to show you off, but not in the way you might think. It’s “yeah, my wife is so much better than me at almost everything” and “my wife loves to do (insert niche thing here)” and he’s just really a “my wife” kind of guy. It’s adorable as fuck. You two have a daughter named Ginger (it’s still funny to you). She looks mostly like you, but she definitely has Dick’s eyes.

Nixon: Lew is insanely happy when he’s around you. You brought so much light into his life after the war — and you two own three dogs! Major Murray, Captain Colin and Lieutenant Larry. You have a son named Merriwether, and Lew always has him on his shoulders in the backyard. You’ll look out the window and Lew and Merri are pointing and waving at you and begging for you to come outside and play, and you always accept the offer.

Lipton: Lipton is easily the most loving husband. There is not a second where he doesn’t have a hand on you if he can help it. It’s not because he’s overly protective or jealous in any way, he just needs to hold you so he can stay grounded. You’re his rock. He was a bit too excited when he became a father and may or may not have written to the rest of the guys with a picture of you, him and your son John to show that everything was in order down there.

Spiers: I’m gonna be honest, Spiers wasn’t planning on admitting that he liked you at first because he didn’t want to have to lose you. After the war, though, did the sparks fly. He’s protective because of this,he even gets a little on edge sometimes even though he knows you love him. It’s just a defense thing, but when you hold his hand after a long day? It melts it all away.

Randleman: Okay, Bull is the literal definition of a gentleman. He pays attentive detail to what you like and when, and is somehow the best gift giver. He’s also got that southern charm that you just can’t get enough of. Though, he’s all about you being your own person. During the war, you would yell at the rest of the company for being idiots and he’d stand behind you, watching you take charge, thinking, “That’s my girl.”

Malarkey: Malarkey is actually insanely scared of losing you. After Bastogne and Foy, the thought of losing you was one of the worst nightmares he had. Because of this, he’s always holding your hand, making sure that you’re actually there. You’re more than happy to give him that extra kiss on the cheek, that extra hug, that extra squeeze to let him know you’re not going anywhere. After the war, you named your son Skip and your daughter Penny after your husband’s best friends.

Guarnere: Guarnere is always checking on you (“you okay babe?” “what’s goin’ on, doll? you good?”) to make sure the rest of the men know their place around you. Alone, he’s one of the most affectionate men you have ever laid your eyes upon. Around everyone else? The most serious motherfucker you will ever meet. He’s also super into pet names, oddly enough.

Roe: This Cajun boy is the prince of sweet. He’ll do so many things for you even when you don’t ask him too. You say something about how you’re gonna do the laundry later today? You’ll walk out of the bathroom and he’ll be in the middle of folding the clothes. He doesn’t really know how to not do things for you because he thinks it’s the best thing he can do to make everything for you so much easier. You constantly have to tell him that he doesn’t need to, but he always says it’s okay because he loves you.

Luz: Luz is a total goofball of a boyfriend. He can try to be serious but it’s just. not. happening. He might not have a hand on you, but almost any time you interact he’ll give you a kiss on the cheek. You two don’t go on dates, but you do have movie night every Wednesday and Friday, where he’ll have an arm wrapped around you while you two make fun of shitty B-movies (if Austin Powers was around during the time, that would definitely be your movie). Movie nights only got more cuddlier after the addition of your daughter Harriet, would lays on both of your laps. It’s the cutest Christmas card to ever exist.

Toye: Toye was very standoffish at first. He kept to himself with how he felt about you, not doing much until one day he sat across the table from you, didn’t say anything, and slid a single flower across. You two were together by the end of the day. The reason why it took so long? He was worried as hell that when everything in Foy he thought you’d want a man who was “whole” over him. You responded to this by kissing him and telling him that he had a “whole” lot of love and that you weren’t gonna leave him for something like that. It was just simply out of the question.

Liebgott: Lieb cannot get enough of you. He is absolutely in love with the very thought of you. It’s not that he sees you as an object or anything like that, he just loves every last inch of your body. It’s the perfect combination with your personality to him and he really can’t get over it. Every time he sees you it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time, falling in love all over again. You two may or may not have gone with a ‘J’ name for each of your children. No biggy.

Perconte: Perconte is very insecure about his height. You love it because he’s just as tall as you. He loves that you love it even though he’s not the most confident in it. That’s how your relationship started. You two are very much the kind of couple who will get drunk together and have deep conversations that aren’t very deep (last week it was on if sharks had thoughts, and if so, could Webster read them?) and they’d be followed by a very sloppy make out and a hangover the morning after. It was okay, though. You make helluva good coffee for hangovers.

Martin: Martin is a perfect combination of Winters and Guarnere in his being serious and protective. He doesn’t fuck around with the other men when it comes to you. You always tell him that he’s too stressed, and you have to get Bull to make Johnny realize that you’re perfectly fine with the rest of the men (that doesn’t stop him from wanting to kill Guarnere when he makes certain comments).

Babe: You two are the kind of couple to go out and do SUPER dumb shit together. I’m talking like riding bikes and maybe going and trespassing on federal property at 2 am dumb shit. Somehow, the two of you have never been caught. This might be why everyone calls your daughter, Jeanie, Troublemaker 2.0.

Webster: The best way to describe Web is domestic. It was like the two of you were a married couple just a month into the two of you being together. This is why the rest of the men said “You guys aren’t?” when you invited them all to your wedding. He’s a real sap, though. He melts at the way you smile at him and just can’t take his eyes off you. You’re too captivating to him, especially when you’re talking about one of his passions.

[tinyshe]

Sweden, a country that has handled the pandemic  differently than most of the globe, is being chided for its looser restrictions  and lack of lockdowns, even as data suggest their refusal to implement a full  shutdown of their society may have been the best approach after all.

While most other countries instituted stay-at-home  orders and shuttered schools and businesses, Sweden did not. While high   schools and universities closed and gatherings of more than 50 people were  banned, elementary and middle schools, shops and restaurants have remained open  during the pandemic.2

Now, news outlets are trying to use Sweden as an example of  what not to do to fight COVID-19, citing a high death toll. "The country's   mortality rate from the coronavirus is now 30% higher than that of the United  States when adjusted for population size," CBS News reported,3 but this doesn't tell the full picture of how Swedes have fared in comparison  to the rest of the world.

Sweden May Be Close  to Reaching Herd Immunity

If a novel virus is introduced to a population, eventually  enough people acquire natural immunity so that the number of susceptible people  declines. When the number susceptible is low enough to prevent epidemic growth,  the herd immunity threshold, or HIT, has been reached.

With SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19, some  estimates have suggested that 60% to 70% of the population must be immune  before HIT will be reached, but researchers from Oxford, Virginia Tech, and the   Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine4 found that when individual variations in susceptibility and exposure are taken  into account, the HIT declines to less than 10%.5

Independent news source Off-Guardian6 cited data from Stockholm County, Sweden that showed an HIT of 17%,7 as well as an essay by Brown University Professor Dr. Andrew Bostom, who  explained:8

"… [A] respected team of infectious disease epidemiologists from the U.K. and U.S. have concluded: 'Naturally acquired immunity to SARS-CoV-2 may place populations over the herd immunity threshold once as few as 10-20% of its individuals are immune.'"

And, as pointed out in Conservative Review:9

"… Naturally acquired herd immunity to COVID-19 combined with earnest protection  of the vulnerable elderly — especially nursing home and assisted living  facility residents — is an eminently reasonable and practical alternative to  the dubious panacea of mass compulsory vaccination against the virus.

This  strategy was successfully implemented in Malmo, Sweden, which had few COVID-19  deaths by assiduously protecting its elder care homes, while 'schools remained  open, residents carried on drinking in bars and cafes, and the doors of  hairdressers and gyms were open throughout.'"

Off-Guardian continues with Stanford's Nobel-laureate Michael   Levitt, who is among those in support of Sweden's lighter restrictions. Levitt  successfully predicted the trajectory of COVID-19 deaths in China, including when  the deaths would slow, and has stated that the pandemic would not be as dire as  many have predicted.

Have Sweden's  COVID-19 Deaths Peaked?

What's more, in an interview with The Stanford Daily, Levitt  stated in May 2020, "If Sweden stops at about 5,000 or 6,000 deaths, we will   know that they've reached herd  immunity, and we didn't need to do any kind of lockdown."10

As of July 17, 2020, there were 5,619 deaths in Sweden due  to COVID-19,11 and in a  study released by Levitt and colleagues June 30, 2020, which analyzes COVID-19  outbreaks at 3,546 locations worldwide, it's predicted that Sweden's total COVID-19  deaths will plateau at about 6,000.12

So far, Levitt is spot-on, and it appears, indeed, that  Sweden's COVID-19 deaths have slowed, peaking at more than 100 deaths per day   and now, midsummer, tallying in the low teens. The intensive care unit at Stockholm's  Sodertalje Hospital has also cleared out, housing 77 cases during the  pandemic's peak and only four cases as of July 17, 2020.13

Sweden's  Epidemiologist Calls Lockdowns 'Madness'

Sweden continues to stand by their handling of the pandemic,  despite heavy criticism. The country's state epidemiologist, Anders Tegnell,   even described the rest of the world's lockdowns as "madness," considering the  steep side effects they ultimately cause.

Levitt suggested that not only did lockdowns not save lives,  but likely cost lives due to social damage, domestic abuse, divorces,   alcoholism and other health conditions that were not treated.14 Bloomberg  reported:15

"'It  was as if the world had gone mad, and everything we had discussed was  forgotten,' Tegnell said in a podcast with Swedish Radio … 'The cases became  too many and the political pressure got too strong. And then Sweden stood there  rather alone.'"

Tegnell stated that shutting down schools was also  unnecessary during the pandemic, and scientists from the Institut Pasteur in  France indeed found that there was no significant transmission of COVID-19 in primary schools, either among the students or from students to teachers.16

"The study also confirmed that younger children infected by  the novel coronavirus generally do not develop symptoms or present with minor  symptoms that may result in a failure to diagnose the virus," study author  Bruno Hoen added.17

Meanwhile, while Sweden has encouraged its citizens to  engage in social distancing, mask usage is another story, and Tegnell has  stated that there's little evidence for wearing face masks.18

Stanford Expert Slams  Lockdowns

Outside of Sweden, other experts, including epidemiologist Dr. John Ioannidis of Stanford University, have also spoken out against   statewide lockdown measures in response to COVID-19. Ioannidis suggests that  150 million to 300 million people may have already been infected globally and  may have developed antibodies to the virus, and the median infection fatality  rate has remained low at about 0.25%.19

As continues to be demonstrated, the elderly and those with   underlying health problems appear to be most vulnerable, and protecting such  populations should have been a priority. But lockdowns for young, healthy  people are far more questionable. Speaking with Greek Reporter, Ioannidis said:20

"The  death rate in a given country depends a lot on the age-structure, who are the  people infected, and how they are managed. For people younger than 45, the  infection fatality rate is almost 0%. For 45 to 70, it is probably about  0.05-0.3%.

For  those above 70, it escalates substantially, to 1% or higher for those over 85.  For frail, debilitated elderly people with multiple health problems who are  infected in nursing homes, it can go up to 25% during major outbreaks in these  facilities."

Overall, Ioannidis said the mathematical models that  predicted hospitals would be overrun by COVID-19 patients were "astronomically   wrong," and although a handful of U.S. hospitals did become stressed, no health  systems were overrun.

"Conversely,"  he said, "the health care system was severely damaged in many places because of  the [lockdown] measures taken," while lockdown measures have also significantly  increased the number of people at risk of starvation while leading to financial  crisis, unrest and civil strife.21

What's more,  one study even found that 81% of people not exposed to SARS-CoV-2 were still  able to mount an immune response against it, which "suggests at least some  built-in immune protection from SARS-CoV-2 …"22

US Surgeon General Opposes  Mask Mandate

With mask usage becoming an increasingly polarized debate,  U.S. Surgeon General Jerome Adams encouraged mask usage but spoke out against  making them mandatory due to concerns that it could lead to rebellion.23

In my interview with Denis Rancourt, Ph.D., a former  full professor of physics, and a researcher with the Ontario Civil Liberties   Association in Canada, we also discussed the controversial  topic of masks. Rancourt did a thorough study of the scientific literature  on masks, concentrating on evidence showing masks can reduce infection risk,   especially viral respiratory diseases.

If there was any significant advantage to  wearing a mask to reduce infection risk to either the wearer or others in the  vicinity, then it would have been detected in at least one of these trials, yet  there's no sign of such a benefit. He said in our interview:

"It makes no difference if everybody in your team is wearing a mask;  it makes no difference if one is and others aren't. Wearing a mask or being in  an environment where masks are being worn or not worn, there's no difference in  terms of your risk of being infected by the viral respiratory disease.

There's no reduction, period. There are no exceptions. All the   studies that have been tabulated, looked at, published, I was not able to find  any exceptions, if you constrain yourself to verified outcomes."

This is another area where Sweden has stayed ahead of the  curve, as they've resisted asking the public to wear masks based on lack of   evidence of effectiveness and the risk that they offer wearers a false sense of  security. Tegnell did state that officials are considering whether to recommend  masks during use of public transportation, but stressed masks "definitely won't  become an optimal solution in any way."24

Sweden Speaks Out  Against WHO Warning

In late June  2020, the World Health Organization counted Sweden among European countries at  risk of seeing a resurgence of COVID-19. The warning was based on WHO data  showing Sweden had 155 infections for every 100,000 inhabitants in the past 14  days, a higher rate than in most of Europe.25

Tegnell,  however, said that this was a "total misinterpretation of   the data" and WHO was confusing Sweden with countries just at the outset of  their epidemics. Instead, any rise in infections is likely due to increases in  testing, Tegnell said, adding, "They didn't call to ask us. The number of admissions to  intensive care is at a very low level and even deaths are starting to go  down."26

Time will tell whether Sweden's strategy, which avoided  lockdowns and widespread mask usage, turns out to be the right one after all,  but some believe the writing is already on the wall.27

"Dr.  Michael Levitt and Sweden have been right all along," Off-Guardian  reported. "The only way through COVID-19  is by achieving the modest (10-20%) Herd Immunity Threshold required to have  the virus snuff itself out.

The  sooner politicians — and the press — start talking about HIT and stop talking  about new confirmed cases, the better off we will all be. Either way, it's  likely weeks, not months, before the data of new daily deaths will be so low  that the press will have to find something new to scare everyone. It's over."

To read this article in full ...

[chromolume]

did someone say... northern ireland travelogue?

i’ll start by saying that i was there for two days so i didn’t exactly have the deepest experience. mainly what i saw was the legacy of the troubles (which to be fair isn’t exactly made discrete). so my account is probably a bit unfair to northern ireland! my main, subjective takeaway was that it was quite... weird, but for many, many people living there it’s not. so while i’ll talk a lot about things that strike me an outsider to sectarianism, and i’ll discuss subjectively how i saw the north differ to the south, in a way that’s doing northern ireland a disservice. but that said... its not like there isn’t much to talk about

if you’re wondering when i first heard the word “wee” it was on the train from dublin to belfast. and if you’re wondering when i first got offended it was upon exiting the train at belfast and seeing a sign that said “londonderry”

lad quotient of belfast is higher than in dublin, smaller than in cork, as is to be expected. homo quotient surprisingly high. jerseys are political here. i did spot of few GAA ones.

belfast to me seemed very different from any other irish city i’ve been to. lots of new, nondescript, sorta ugly buildings which i’m not used to seeing in an irish city centre. but at the same time there was old buildings that were much more impressive and beautiful than you’d find anywhere else in ireland, even in dublin (maybe worth mentioning that at the time of partition belfast was the largest city in ireland).

the fact that these buildings were mixed with (and somewhat overshadowed by) bland new development i found strange. i haven’t seen any building in the rest of ireland as classically beautiful as belfast city hall (first one), but then note the bland glass building in the background. also, from many of the main streets you can see the completely uninhabited mountains very close nearby, making the city seem startlingly small. it has an urban vibe in the centre similar to dublin but the centre itself isn’t that big. and while i’m talking about the centre i should say that its mixed, modern and bears little relation to the kinds of things i’ll be talking about below. at night (albeit a monday night) it felt lively and safe. though this wouldn’t have been the case thirty years ago, you can’t tell when you’re there.

btw i had considered that there’d be union jacks in belfast so i wasn’t so surprised at the sight of those but it was seeing statues of queen victoria that made be think “oh, this place really is all that”

so now we get to falls road and shankhill, only a 10 minutes walk or so from the centre. this area is famous for the “peace wall,” which separates the catholic falls road from the protestant shankhill. this was the centre of much of belfast’s violence during the troubles and today remains a deeply political area. it’s a poorer residential area. i went to falls road first and then to shankhill so i’ll talk about it in that order.

both disconcerting names but at the end of the day i’d rather fall on a road then get shanked on a hill

on falls road you’d see an irish tricolour maybe every few minutes walking down the street. LOTS of palestine flags and pro-palestine murals here (in the north, some people express their politics by supporting either palestine if they’re catholic, or israel if they’re unionist. in my experience i didn’t see any israeli flags though the unionists showed little engagement with politics that weren’t their own. conversely the nationalists are supporting catalonia now.)

along with the irish tricolour there were many rainbow flags hanging from streets and houses, and many, many murals such as these:

seriously a LOT of palestine stuff

the messages of the falls road murals were nationalist, leftist, and supportive of disenfranchised peoples across the world. still, i found the level of politics on the street gave it a hard edge. ahh but i was very naive then and had not yet been to...

shankhill! lads without prejudice this area was quite bizarre. whereas i saw maybe five tricolours along falls road, shankhill looked like this:

i stress that these photos do not convey the amount of union jacks along this road. for the first picture, the entire street was like that. for the second picture, the entire row of houses was like that. i went into a catholic pub along falls road and saw a single, small tricolour behind the bar. i went into a protestant pub on shankhill and the entire place was covered in union jacks and slogans of “no surrender”

“no surrender” was their only slogan. their murals were graphic accounts of IRA terrorism, sometimes combined with very graphic images (to be fair, I saw some graphic images displayed by catholics in derry also). the posters had captions like “IRA - Sinn Fein - ISIS no difference.”

where falls road was political, shankhill was territorial. they displayed the crimes of their adversaries but ignored their own. i think the murals on shankhill are a response to those on falls road. they feel more than a bit propagandistic.

as i said, i didn’t find falls road to be exactly pleasant either. but with its LGBT support, and its support for oppressed peoples, it at least didn’t feel hostile. now HERE’S me being non-objective: unionists can’t seem to grasp to a righteous political cause. not that being unionist is an invalid position (i disagree with it, but they have their reasons), but their side was the side of the oppressors. they have no cause for the political engagement visible on falls road.

in general it was much, much more common to see union jacks flying in NI than tricolours. again, depends on the area, but while catholic areas would have a few tricolours, protestant areas would have many union jacks. the catholic areas were often ostentatious with... other things, though. still, never very much confusion as to which side you’re on.

this is divis flats on falls road, which looms over its part of belfast. until 2005 the top two floors were an observation post for the british army. during the troubles soldiers had to enter by helicopter at the top of the flats because of hostility from the locals living there. that’s the strangest thing about the troubles: the domesticity of the violence. despite falls road and shankhill being highly political, i found it hard to imagine the violence that must have taken place there. they were otherwise fairly normal-looking residential areas. an apartment building like this would also be a rare sight in the south. anyway anyway anyway in this picture you can see (if you look closely) one tricolour and two palestinian flags hanging from the windows. have fun spotting them as i write my post on derry...

it’s a privilege to live without considering politics and in northern ireland i found the very visible politics, from whichever side, to be wearying. it’s wearying to talk a walk across belfast and suddenly see a dozen union jacks, and know you’re in a protestant area. at the same time, i didn’t exactly love the sight of the irish tricolour either. 

to be continued dot dot dot

[jorjathomas]

Health for Teens - What is Self Help?

Although we are very familiar the words in the title, do we really utilise them well? Do we actually use certain activates or mechanisms that could help us? Do we brush off these matters because they aren't as severe as others although they are impactful? I had many questions around this topic which is why I have decided to research specifically about teens health mainly mentally. I wanted to look into mental health specifically; how this develops, what people do to ease these situations or what distractions are common amongst for teenagers that actually worsen their health. Firstly I wanted to see what Googles’ true definition of self help meant. Google quoted “the use of one's own efforts and resources to achieve things without relying on others.” 

Despite me agreeing with this statement, yes majority of these battles need to be overcome by yourself but a great deal of help can come from others so sometimes you might need to rely on them slightly while you are vulnerable. I think this topic is very hard to narrow down into a sentence however I hope to achieve guidance with this in the zine when combining journalism and visual art together so a person could understand a resonate with me better than a definition of Google. As my target audience is suited for teenagers (ranged between 17 to early 20s), it was important I researched what sort of percentage have mental health problems etc. It is estimated that 1 in 6 people in the past have experienced a common mental health problem so I believe this isn't a taboo subject to cover. I want to normalise this topic and evolve it overtime as I think this wasn't as spoken about in the past.

Firstly, what causes mental illness? I don't think there is a specific known source for mental illness but I believe environmental, social and psychological factors (and now technological) play a big role in someone's mental stability. Below are some brief examples what could trigger a mental health problem.

Environmental: childhood abuse, trauma, neglect, domestic violence, bullying, poorer areas, minorities.

Social: social disadvantage, poverty, social isolation, debt, loneliness.

Psychological:  physical causes, severe or long-term stress, genetics.

Technological: cyberbullying, comparison, media validation (likes and comments etc) loneliness online.

A lot of teenagers use unhealthy coping mechanisms to overcome these struggles and temporarily distract them from the issues surrounding them. Although this helps quickly, these habits often develop into an addition overtime. Examples of this is; drugs, alcohol, phone usage, self harming behaviours, excessive thinking and isolation.

A quote from beyondtheblues.co.uk (2019) “Back then, I wasn’t ready to face my pain. All I wanted to do was bury it. I indulged in excessive partying, binge-drinking, recreational drug-dabbling … you know, just living my best life. I didn’t care if my coping mechanisms were unhealthy because hey, at least I wasn’t depressed, right? At least I was still alive. I mean, wasn’t that the point?”

I think having a good balance of information will help these addictions not overcome someone's life. For example; I am aiming to be helpful for teens stepping into adulthood and putting yourself first in life. Adulthood has this perception of drinking and going all the time but, I want to show that this doesn't have to be the case and forming these addictions to socialise doesn't need to happen. I'm not exactly sure of the my content yet regarding what to add onto my pages however, I do what a healthy balance in showing self care and social life hacks which drinking and other coping mechanisms is associated with.

I believe that these substances that are considered as an ‘illness’ are developed over time and the figure above proves that they are within us prematurely or less severe at a early age. As we grow, we match our home environment and social environment and this is where I think they worsen. For example; When I was growing up, my family and I never discussed these sort of mental issues, especially my dad. I entered secondary school when technology was advancing significantly and when I was half way through school, social media was massive. I think being placed in a environment where most teens are rendered versions of their parents as well as social media, cyber bullies are very present, this is what has caused the increase in mental health issues and I have caught a mild handful of them. In order to tackle these issues, we need to educate peoples initial views and allow them to open up. This may cause a connected and kinder society.

“In the UK in 2018, there were 6,507 deaths by suicide (a rate of 11.2 deaths per 100,000 people). Rates vary across the UK, with the highest rate in 2018 observed in Northern Ireland (18.6 deaths per 100,000), followed by Scotland (16.1 deaths per 100,000 people), then Wales (12.8 deaths per 100,000 people) and England (10.3 deaths per 100,000 people).Overall, men accounted for three-quarters of UK deaths by suicide in 2018.” 

This figure by https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk was recorded prior the global pandemic so I am assuming they have increase significantly due to people being isolated which worries me. Spending a significant amount of time indoors and around members which you may not have done as often as before has brought  more mental illnesses within teenagers. Whether that's anxiety about the Covid or depression from being in a national lockdown, it is very worrying to see. I will cover social media and its effects on teens in a separate post as I think it is one of the biggest polluters in society at the moment. 

“ Another survey, released by Parents Together, found that the majority of kids surveyed (70%) reported feeling sad, overwhelmed and worried. Nearly half the parents (44%) are saying that their kids are struggling with mental wellness since the pandemic started.“ 

I knew mental illness is very common yet I was still socked to see these figures especially knowing they have grown. Its beneficial for me to know this when covering mental health content in my zine. As my zine will be focused around self care, having this knowledge will help and encourage me to include important information that could potentially help my target audience. The next post is some artist that I admired that convey particular mental illnesses within their artwork. 

[shoku-and-awe]

I first came to Japan at 16, and of the 10 years since my 20th birthday, I’ve spent 8.5 here. It’s weird to think about how being an outsider for so long (and while I was still figuring out who I was) has shaped my personality.

When I started working here, they told me that everything I did would be taken as a statement as a representative of my employer, of my home country, and of foreigners as a whole. It’s hard to really understand what that feels like without experiencing it for yourself.

One time a few years ago, I went for lunch with coworkers and on our way back, it started to rain. One of them said to me, “Huh, I never knew gaijin didn’t use umbrellas.” He didn’t say, “shoku-and-awe doesn’t use umbrellas” or even “Americans don’t use umbrellas” but “Everyone in the world who is not Japanese by birth doesn’t use umbrellas.” That’s a big assumption. (I’d left mine at my desk because it had been sunny when we left.) 

#notalljapanesepeople do this. But this kind of statement is quite common, (even with people who are worldly enough to know better -- enough so that I feel I have to be constantly aware of the possibility, guessing how whatever choices I make are going to reflect on non-Japanese people the whole world round. If I order one too many drinks and climb a tree in Ueno Park to serenade the moon with “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” that’s not a choice I’m making as one dumb drunk idiot; it’s the public policy of a global ambassador. Also, the OL who sees me is going to tell her daughter, who is one day going to grow up to be a landlord and refuse to rent her apartment to some poor research student from Lithuania or Peru or Morocco because foreigners are unpredictable (and also people in Hollywood movie wear shoes indoors). It’s hard to have that kind of responsibility all the time.

This was bothering me today because I forgot to bring a face towel to yoga. It’s a hot yoga class (up to ~39C / ~102.2F) so you need something to wipe your sweat. I had two options (1) use my shower towel or (2) rent a face towel. For whatever reason, I was paralyzed and could not make a decision.

I realized that the worst of the evils, the only outcome I really wanted to avoid, was people remarking on what I chose. So really, the choice isn’t (1) use my towel for free and have to dry off with something sweaty, or (2) pay to rent a clean face towel; it’s (1) use my towel and hear “Foreigners aren’t clean like Japanese people” or (2) rent one and hear “Wow, so fastidious -- you’re more Japanese than Japanese!”

Even if nobody said these things to me (today, I mean -- these things have been said to me in the past many, many times), I would hear them in my head anyway because they’ve been said to me in the past -- many, many times.

My personality is obviously a big part of this problem. If I was more willing to assert myself, less eager to just make things easier on the group as a whole, I’d have been less susceptible, but that’s just the way I’ve always been. But living with this awareness for so long has exacerbated some innate characteristics, and it’s surprising how often I’m in a situation where genuinely my only concern is how my choice will be perceived, not what the outcome will be.

It bears repeating -- it’s hard to have this responsibility. I take a lot of care with my appearance in ways I didn’t before. I’ve lost a lot of weight. When I leave my apartment, I am very, very conscious of how much space I take up, where I walk, where I stop, who’s around me, how loud my voice is. What’s worse, I’m very anxious around people who don’t have this same crushing awareness. It can be very stressful to go out with foreign friends who don’t understand what meiwaku and inconvenience our very presence is; I don’t want to spend our time together shushing them and herding them and policing their behavior, but the stress of feeling everyone’s eyes on me (imagined or no) is equally unappealing.

I know I’m not the only one who does this, but I often go out of my way to avoid unfamiliar foreigners. Like, cross-the-street, choose-a-different-restaurant level of avoidance. The obvious reason for this is that I don’t want to be associated with any potential bad behavior (and while lots of people do know the rules, statistically it’s safer to assume that any given individual is a tourist and will not). Because I know that everyone is going to assume all foreigners in a given location are together (which is a rational enough assumption).

Another reason is that I’m not always in the mood to run interference. If it’s giving directions or interpreting a brief conversation, whatever, it’s fine, but sometimes asking if you’re okay means that I have to go with you to the hospital, interpret for a few hours before the doctors finally diagnose you (as suffering from a rare combination of “discount-sushi-itis” and “nine shots of vodka that you lied about having had”), and then walk home alone at 3:30 AM in the cold. I am wary of this happening to me too often. Also, I’m probably already late for wherever I’m going.

And the other thing that happens when people assume (rationally) that any foreigners they see are together, if things go wrong, you can’t assume that anyone will help. I don’t run into this very often, but for example, when handing off freecycle things, or, once, talking with a few Russian sailors at an outdoor concert. The sun started to set, they started to get drunk and increasingly rowdy and even though I didn’t have cause to think that anything was going to happen, I had to recognize that if something did, it would be happening between foreigners. If one of them groped me or grabbed me, people would assume I was his wife; if I yelled, people would assume it was a domestic argument. 

Or would they? Maybe someone would have gotten involved on my behalf. Or maybe they wouldn’t even get involved on another Japanese person’s behalf -- given what I know of train groping, that’s a reasonable assumption. 

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I guess I’m a different person than I would have been if I’d stayed in the US. I was already a different person than I would’ve been if my parents had decided to raise me in Prague after all. Finish the sentence any way you want -- I’m a different person than I would have been if correct horse battery staple. I’m just kind of unhappy with some of these aspects of my personality. I feel stifled a lot. I mean, I have good days too, but it’s difficult for me to not care. 

One last thought -- I have a list of ways I am most likely to die. I think it’s hysterical, but it seems to alarm people, for whatever reason. Here they are, in no particular order.

Food poisoning from obviously rotten sushi that I ate because someone said へ〜、生物ダメなの？ [You can’t eat raw food?]

Spontaneous human combustion induced by social awkwardness

Earthquake or earthquake-related disaster

Stabbed by a stranger I snarked at for cutting in line

Swallowing my phone in anxiety at an unexpected phone call

So. Do you all know how you’re gonna die? Do you care more about the sweatiness of a towel or what a stranger might think about it? Do you cross the street to avoid other foreigners? Have I crossed the street to avoid you? (Sorry if so!) The end.