#granted yes i could do more to advocate for myself when this happens. but i know it would be a losing battle. so i just dont. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeeyee-alumni · 3 years

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Ellie’s (lack of a) character arc & why the result is an unsatisfying story

Let’s state the obvious: Ellie does not have a character arc in The Last of Us Part 2. A character arc is defined as a gradual transformation or inner journey of a character in response to changing developments in the story. And you may argue that Ellie from the beginning of the game is not the same as the one at the end of the game, and I would agree with you. She went from a woman consumed by revenge (not really but we will stick with that for now) to a woman able to forgive her aggressor and move on. However, there are problems with this supposed inner change on multiple levels. a) the change is not gradual b) the change comes out of nowhere c) the change is not informed by anything I don’t think there’s any need to thoroughly explain the first statement. Ellie has the same goal from the beginning to the very last second before attaining her goal. At no point in the story is she self-reflective, questions her methods, there’s no moral dilemma for her, no inner conflict, no doubt that causes her to put her own actions into a new perspective and possibly change her motivation. From beginning to end she believes to be 100% justified in her goal to kill Abby. Subsequently, if Ellie were actually consumed by revenge, the only logical conclusion to her story would be for her to eventually drown Abby.

Which neatly leads me to the next point: her change comes out of nowhere. The decision to let Abby go, as is implied by the narrative, is triggered by a random, arbitrary flashback of Joel. First of all, the timing here is outright comical. For what reason is she having this specific flashback at this very moment? Sounds like contrived, convenient bs to me to give the appearance that her decision is informed by something (which it isn’t, and we'll get to that in a moment). Second of all, getting a flashback to the most important person in your life that has been brutally murdered in front of you, seeing an image of what could have been and what was unjustly taken from you, is not gonna inspire you to forgive your aggressor. If anything, it would make you more determined and sadistic. And third of all, I hear you all yelling "but it was a flashback to their conversation about forgiveness and that inspired her to forgive Abby." And I have multiple qualms regarding this line of thinking. Number one, forgiving the person you love most in this world for having lied to you cannot be compared to forgiving the person who brutally took said person from you. This actually further accentuates my previous point, this is the person that robbed you of your opportunity for reconciliation. Implying that Ellie's thought process here is „I wanted to forgive Joel, but this person robbed me of any opportunity to, so I have to forgive her” is muddled, nonsensical and quite frankly unrealistic. And number two, is the implication here that this is the first time Ellie has thought back to that conversation? That’s a whole new level of nonsense. She will have reflected on all moments with Joel, including this one, and yet at no point prior to this moment had she considered even the possibility of forgiveness, as I have illustrated earlier. So why now? Very obviously to get a payoff, which was neither set up nor properly developed. And moving on to my last point: it is not informed by anything. I know a lot of players didn’t want Ellie to kill Abby, and even I felt that way at first, albeit presumably for entirely different reasons (I was so drained and removed from the narrative by that point that I only thought to myself "just go home, you psychos"). But upon reflection, I concluded that that would have been an unsatisfying conclusion narratively speaking. Nevertheless, Abby seems to have grown dear to many players. After all, they have spent several hours with her, they have seen her struggle, overcome her obstacles, fight for what she believes to be right. Their feelings towards Abby are informed by the person they have seen her to be and by the experiences they went through with her. Yet Ellie is missing all of that context. She has not been with us throughout our three days in Seattle, she doesn’t know Abby outside of her having horrifically killed Joel and she has not gained any new information that would lead her to change her opinion about her. And so, we have another example of the story making characters do things that are not informed by anything, for the sake of a poor payoff. And since we're talking about characters acting nonsensically, let's talk about the roughly three minutes leading up to Ellie nearly drowning Abby, shall we? Ellie approaches the beach absolutely determined to find and kill Abby (repeatedly murmuring Abby’s name to herself). Yet when she reaches the pillars, she cuts Abby down, letting her free Lev and follows them to the boats, indicating that Ellie has changed her mind, showing pity/empathy upon seeing Abby a mere shadow of her former self. And yet again, we have Ellie acting in a way she never has before. She didn’t have pity for Nora who was coughing her lungs out, or for Jordan who had advocated for letting her live, or for any other innocent WLF or Seraphite that came in between her and killing Abby. But the one person she holds a grudge against to the point of killing hundreds of innocent people without batting an eye, that is the person she is suddenly capable of feeling pity/empathy for? Is it really that surprising that Ellie's actions here feel forced, uncharacteristic, and illogical? But it actually gets worse. In an additional display of Druckmann not knowing how humans work, we have Ellie putting her backpack with all her gear in the boat, looking at her bloody hand and then remembering "Oh yeah, that's the woman who killed Joel. I almost forgot.” And at this point in my playthrough I was laughing out loud. And so, we have Ellie all of sudden determined to kill Abby again, so much so that she is willing to threaten an innocent child’s life (this by the way was the final nail in the coffin for me, they thoroughly obliterated Ellie’s character throughout the entire game, but this goes against the very core of her being). And we know the rest, they fight, Ellie nearly kills Abby but eventually lets her go. To summarize what happened in the three minutes before our big emotional payoff to our 25 hour-long journey of playing this epitome of misery porn: Ellie has 3 - count them 3!!! - changes of heart. Her motivation does a perfect 180 almost every minute. This is not how people work! That’s lazy, contrived beyond believe, and borderline comical levels of writing, because Druckmann prioritized having a final boss battle on a beach over organic, coherent, and logical storytelling (but I guess it was worth it for the goddamn visuals). However, what’s most infuriating is that there are such easy fixes if one only thinks about it for more than two minutes that could erase nearly all for the major issues I just illustrated while maintaining the plot points of the two fighting on a beach and Ellie letting Abby go. If we have Ellie walk to the beach immediately, finding Abby there untying the boat (Lev nearly passed out in the boat, Ellie not seeing him) and she then attacks Abby, immediately we have erased two of Ellie’s changes of heart, she remains consistent in her goals/motivation, not jumping back and forth between two extremes. The two women fight much like we see it in the game, and then as Ellie is about to finish it, we hear Lev calling out to Abby. And there we have our motivation for Ellie to not kill her. Not because she gets a random, convenient flashback, not because she forgives Abby (Abby has done nothing to earn Ellie’s forgiveness), not because Abby has earned her redemption, but because Ellie cannot find it in her to put an innocent child through the pain Abby has put her through. Because at the end of the day, Ellie’s hatred for Abby does not outweigh her capacity for compassion and empathy for those deserving of it (a core characteristic of hers that was established in the first game). Because Ellie would rather let an individual live that is undeserving of it than cause the same pain she was put through to an innocent child that is undeserving of it. Granted, if we were to go with this ending, we would still have to build towards it properly and therefore would have to tweak the rest of the game, mainly by showing Ellie being self-reflective, merciful towards innocents, and even doubtful about her goals at times to make her final decision informed by prior developments in order to have the character arc actually be a gradual transformation leading to a logical conclusion. I have been a writer for nearly 4 years now, which means I am in no way an expert, or the most creatively talented person around and yet I would argue that this ending would be much more satisfying to most players than the alternative we were presented with. Because as it stands, none of our actions or decisions (and yes that is something important to consider when we are working within the medium of video games), or Ellie’s for that matter, lead up to this conclusion. The conclusion to this story, the final moment, the big emotional payoff hinges on a random flashback, not on any other developments that previously occurred in the story. Subsequently rendering all of the 25 hours entirely pointless, none of it had an influence on the finale, none of it mattered narratively speaking. So, is it even a surprise that many found this to be dissatisfying? I noticed a few people who are fond of Abby accusing people feeling differently of having too much of an emotional bias or even going as far as to say they are less emotionally intelligent. This is problematic for two reasons, a) different people have different reasons for disliking Ellie’s final choice. Some still hate Abby as much as in the beginning, others feel drained and indifferent, and others still feel similarly to how I feel in that it’s mainly narratively dissatisfying. And b) the same story can have a different effect on any amount of people (otherwise, we would have settled the discussion about what the greatest movie all of time is long ago). My point being, that no matter how you feel about this particular story you are 100% justified in feeling this way, and yes that includes people that by the end of the game still hate Abby just as much as they did the moment she bashed Joel’s skull in. That does not necessarily have to be personal bias, more often than not it’s the ability to see through the storytelling techniques used, rendering them mostly ineffective for these people (and I include myself in this). I wanted Ellie to kill Abby not because I was unable to empathize with her or couldn’t see past my own personal bias, but because that would have been the logical, narratively satisfying conclusion to this specific story.

#tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us part 2 #ellie #ellie williams #joel #joel miller #abby #abby anderson #writing #storytelling #character arc #rant #themes #motivation #rewrite #I posted this before but deleted my account so here it is again

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fiction-boys-rule · 3 years

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Imagine...joining the Leverage team and liking Eliot.

Pairing: Eliot Spencer/(Y/N)

Warnings: slight violence, fluff

Word Count: 2,200

Boring real life has been very stressful lately so writing has been non existent. If any of you have any ideas or requests, I am happy to take them. The characters I write for are very limited and this year I’m working on changing that, so my apologies. Hope you enjoy :)

You blow out the candles, smiling as the team claps and cheers. Nate holds up his glass from his position on the couch, making you roll your eyes and smile.

“Did you make a wish?” Parker asks, gazing up at you.

“Yeah.”

“What was it?” Hardison asks.

Parker quickly slaps his forearm, making him protest and glare over at her.

“What the-“

“You know that if you say a birthday wish out loud it doesn’t count!”

“Why not? That’s kids stuff.” He frowns.

“It doesn’t come true! And it’s not kids stuff!” Parker glares at him.

“Alright, guys. I won’t say my wish, okay? Let’s just have some cake.” You intervene.

Sophie smiles over at you before you cut the cake and serve everyone. Later, you gratefully take a glass of whiskey from Nate and enjoy the silence of the apartment. Everyone else has gone off to do other things while Nate and you decided to stay behind.

“I know I promised I wouldn’t say my wish, but can I still say it?”

Nate leans back in his chair, lazily looking over at you.

“Well, I don’t believe in those things. If you don’t put it out there and chase it, how will you get it? I guess you can consider me the devils advocate here.”

“Alright. I’ll indulge you. My wish was to finally be able to go out and help you guys.”

“Help us?” He eyes you warily.

“Yeah. I mean I know I do already in my own way but I just really want to see what it’s like out there. Even if it’s just being in the background.”

“You’re already in the background. With Hardison. Safe background.”

You roll your eyes.

“Not what I meant. Don’t you want me to see how this works? I mean you always complain that I don’t get it. So let me get it. Come on. I promise I’ll listen to you and play it safe. But let me have some fun, please!”

“That’s the problem. It’s not ‘fun’ out there, kid. It’s a job. I don’t know if you can handle it.”

“Handle it? You know what I can’t handle? Hardison for one more day! No offense to him but I can’t stand another day stuck with him in that hot van! I can’t, Nate! I’m going crazy! Stir crazy! Can you at least let me do this once? Please!”

“What’s so bad with Hardison?”

“Parker this, Parker that. He’s always talking about her and I wouldn’t mind it if he actually went and told her how he feels! He reminds me of someone I know and I can’t stand it!”

“That person you know is that bad?”

“Yes, he is! And he’s not granting me my birthday wish!”

You lean back and sigh, glaring at him. He sighs, holding his face in his hands.

“Bad enough I have to accommodate everyone else and now you? You’re the one I like because you never ask for anything!”

“I’m asking for one thing and suddenly you don’t like me?”

He grumbles, sighing heavily and rubbing his face.

“The alcohols not going to kill me, it’s going to be you or Sophie.”

“Oh, I guarantee you that. We’re already planning your murder. We have plans A to C done. How much does your ex hate you by the way?”

He suddenly looks up and sends you an annoyed glare. You laugh softly, running your fingertips on the rim of your glass.

“You remember how I had that friend whose dad owns a whiskey company? Well, they offer care packages for people they know and the discounts are so good. But it’s not my favorite and I don’t want it to go to waste. Don’t want my friend to think I’m taking advantage of them. But they did offer me a full tour of their distillery. Full of test tasting, complimentary dinner, drinks-“

“Sophie is going to kill me.” He groans, shaking his head side to side.

“Well that was going to happen either way.”

He groans, taking a bigger swig.

“Just listen to everyone and don’t get in the way of them doing their job. I’m pairing you with Eliot. So far you’ve been getting along. I think he likes you.”

“Likes me?” You stutter.

How would Nate know about your crush on Eliot? How would anyone know?

“Yeah, well he brings you your favorite drink every day and he got you that gift.”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“I’m not doing this right now. Leave me in peace and regret and I’ll update the team later.”

You slowly get up and smile as soon as you close his office door. Checkmate.

Time Skip

"While I'm proud of you, we don't know who we are dealing with exactly. You've seen it before. Us, the professionals, even get in trouble sometimes. But we trust Nate to make a plan to bail us out."

You frown as you see all of the orange soda in the fridge. Choosing to just grab bottled water, you close it and turn to a very worried looking Sophie.

"I'm going with Eliot. It'll be fine. I’ll be fine."

"By any chance, did you have a say in who you were joining?"

She peers innocently at you.

"No. Nate just said and I went along with it."

You take a swig and watch as she looks away.

"Ah, I see.”

“Why?"

"It's nothing."

She gives you one last undecipherable look before heading to the couch and sitting next to Parker. You frown. Even being with the team almost a year, you didn't know everyone that well yet. When you had applied for a “secretary title with a concoction of ever changing duties” position working alongside Nate, this was the last thing you expected. You’re glad you took a risk and gave them the benefit of the doubt. It took a while to gain their trust, but they eventually liked you and included you more and more in what they actually did. It was probably because they liked the extra manpower and variety than their already established and constant team members. You sit on the couch and wait for Nate to come reveal the big plan.

"So, you're tagging along with Eliot?" Hardison asks while typing away at his laptop.

"Uh, yeah."

He clicks his tongue while shaking his head.

"You're going to regret it. Eliot isn't the best or easiest to work with."

“Then who is?"

He looks over at you with a “really?” look.

"Obviously me. I would love to teach someone my skills."

You nod slowly and laugh.

“What's so funny?"

"Eliot also said that about you, remember?"

"You mean the Denzel case?"

"Yeah."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about."

You laugh and look over at the door opening. You see Eliot and he comes in, sitting next to you.

"Hey." You smile.

"Hey. Where's Nate?"

"Probably getting drunk in his office. Want me to go get him?"

"You shouldn't. He'll come out eventually. Probably thinking about his big plan." Sophie says.

"Alright! Is the whole team here?"

You all turn your heads towards Nate.

Time Skip

"A basement is a pretty bad place to hide a bunch of cash. Just saying." You mumble as you follow Eliot through a hallway.

“Yeah, well some people aren't as smart as others."

You quickly turn your head around a corner to check for any guards.

"You know, I thought you would be mad, or even annoyed, that Nate let me tag along."

He turns his head around a corner.

"Yeah, well I think it's a good way to learn something. I like to teach. Just don’t make Hardison my student.” he grumbles.

You run towards a door. He opens it and you squeeze in.

"Alright. That's the control room. See a metal box?" Hardison says.

You tune out Hardison's orders to Eliot while you look for any guards.

“Hey, I'm going to go check the other door. That should be the door to the basement. If it's a basement." You whisper.

Eliot nods, cutting a cord.

"Yeah, go. Tell me if you see anything."

"Y/N, be careful. Just because there haven't been any guards yet, doesn't mean you should get confident." Nate says.

"I'll be fine. The door is right here." You whisper.

You open it and look in.

"It's just a big room with nothing in it. Just some vaults. There could be something in here.“

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to greet Eliot before a fist comes at you and you feel pain before darkness greets you.

"Y/N, hey. Hey. It's okay. How you feeling?"

You groan, adjusting your eyes to a bright light. Your head is pounding and your jaw is feeling sore.

"What? Where am I?"

"She's alive!" Parker yells, making you grimace.

"You okay, Y/N?" Nate asks.

Eliot clears his throat forcefully.

"A guard found you. Knocked you out pretty good. The guard blew us. We're going to have to find another way out. You okay? Not feeling dizzy? You might have a concussion."

"Yeah, I'm fine. What about the basement?"

"Forget about it. We just need to get out of here."

“We could use the window in the basement. It's small, but I bet we could fit. It leads to the backyard. All we have to do is run across the yard in the blind spot of the cameras, climb the fence and we're out of here."

"You remember all of that? Damn, Nate. She deserves a promotion." Hardison says.

"Thanks." You say softly.

Eliot shakes his head, "Lets get out of here, then."

The moon is bright after you had escaped the house and were waiting for the team to pick you up. You were leaning against a wall next to Eliot, letting the cool night breeze hit your face. You were listening to Hardison and Nate bicker about something.

"Thanks for uh-saving me, I guess." You say suddenly, breaking the silence.

Eliot looks over at you. He motions for you to take out the ear pieces and you do. He takes yours and his, and puts them in his pockets.

"What was that for?" You ask.

“We don't need to hear Hardison complaining. We get that enough already." He says.

You both laugh.

“But seriously. Thanks for helping me. But I just want you know for the future I would rather get caught than risk-"

He shakes his head, frowning.

"I don't like to think about that. Point is, it didn't happen."

You nod, looking at the moon.

"I think you did good. For your first time. I wouldn't mind having you tag along again." He says.

You smile, looking into his beautiful blue eyes. "Thanks. I enjoyed myself. And I think I’ll have a bump on my head to remind me about this little adventure."

“Well, at least you’ll still have a head, darlin’.”

You both laugh softly. He moves to stand in front of you and lays a hand on the wall.

"Just be more careful next time, alright? I don't want anything bad happening to you."

"What, I worry Big Bad Eliot?" You tease.

“Yes, you do." He says.

His low voice sends shivers down your spine. He slowly starts to lean in until his face is inches from yours. His eyes gaze at you softly. You move a hand up to his neck and gently move him closer. You both close your eyes as his lips place a small kiss on yours. Soft and slow. You shiver from an incoming gust of wind and pull him closer. You kiss him back harder as his other arm hugs your waist. He grips your waist harder and pushes you more against the wall. You moan, gently scratching at his neck. As he pulls away slowly, he bites your lower lip. He moves back and nuzzles his face in your neck. His lips press against your shoulder blade and his facial hair tickles your skin.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N.” He whispers.

You bite your lip and your arms surround his back.

“Two gifts in one day. Wow.”

You both laugh softly and he kisses your neck, holding you and comforting you with his warmth.

"So...." you whisper.

He pulls back to look down at your face and smiles.

"So...the team is here."

You quickly look over and see the van waiting at the end of the alley. Eliot grabs your hand and motions with his head. You smile and walk beside him as he leads you to the curb. He opens the van door and Hardison's shocked face greets you.

"One time. One time. And Eliot's stupid charm overtakes you. Unbelievable."

You laugh and hide your blush as you get in the van, sitting next to Eliot.

"So, I take that it went well?" Nate asks, looking at you with a knowing look.

“Yeah. Perfect." Eliot says, looking over at you with a smile.

You blush and lay your head on his shoulder.

“Surprising but it worked out in the end.” You chuckle.

Nate laughs, shaking his head as Hardison mumbles rapidly, driving all of you away.

#leverage #eliot spencer #eliot leverage #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer imagine

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scullydubois · 3 years

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Only the Light Ch. 20

I now present to you a chapter that is filled with more angst than Chris Carter could ever dream of, and for that, I am truly sorry.

Scully and Mulder's foray into domesticity with Emily is interrupted by the past catching up to them. Faced with despair, they cling even tighter to each other.

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Scully is granted maternity leave, though it’s only for two weeks, which Missy let her know is “a piss-poor bargain.” And she knows this is true, but she also has more incentive to stay at her job than ever, so she’d like not to lose it. The fact that advocating for herself and her child would mean risking her job is a mess in itself, but one lone woman can’t be expected to take down the patriarchy, and besides, she’s already tried and failed.

As for she and Mulder, they hide their flirtation in plain sight. Mulder’s perpetually present in body or spirit, but his behavior never reveals anything more than it did before. Every morning he swings by to say hi, brings Scully coffee and a bagel with full-fat cream cheese, and checks if Emily’s picked up any new words. Personally, he’s working on “alien” and if you ask him, she’ll get it soon. She knows that it refers to her UFO stuffie, so sounding out the letters can’t be far behind, much to her mother’s dismay.

On Wednesday of the first week, he shows up at 6pm with takeout carbonara from a local Italian joint. His presence makes every Scully girl happy, but it makes one in particular the happiest, and Melissa realizes that there are definitely things her sister has failed to mention. She doesn’t question it, but watches with glee as the situation unfolds.

After that first night, Mulder keeps coming back with dinner and refuses to let either sister shoulder the cost. On Friday, he stays for a movie too and gets to participate in Emily’s nightly tucking-in ritual (a tickle on the left foot, a tickle on the right foot, and a big smooch on the forehead).

Saturday afternoon, he joins them for a stroller push through the park, earning some serious side-eye from Scully when he suggests that they stop at the playground because, according to the mama bear, “Em can only take six steps at a time, Mulder.” So instead they buy hotdogs from a vendor and eat them on a bench, Emily sandwiched between her mother, her aunt, and her...Mulder. They couldn’t ask for more.

That night, Mulder hangs around after dinner because what else is he gonna do? Go home and watch old baseball games until he falls asleep? A new leaf has been offered to him, and he’s gotta turn it.

He’s baffled when, upon announcing that it’s Emily’s bathtime, Scully goes to the kitchen and switches on the sink.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What, your mother never washed you in the sink when you were a baby?”

“Not that I know of...I have a hard time envisioning myself ever fitting in a sink.”

Scully scoffs. “I forget. You were a Vineyard boy.”

Before he can come up with a smart response to that (as if there actually is one), Missy pipes up. “Oh, I bet you were the kid that took baths with your mother,” she teases. “Care to confirm or deny?”

“If I did I blocked it out of memory, thank god,” he testifies.

Having spread a towel on the counter, Scully strips Emily down and perches the girl on her hip. She sticks her hand under the faucet.

“That’s not too hot, do you think?” she asks Missy, who tests it as well.

“That should be fine.”

Mulder joins in too, and immediately regrets it. He shrinks away from the water, shaking droplets all over the room. “Jesus, Scully! Are you trying to boil her?”

“Babies lose heat quickly because of their body surface to weight ratio,” she says matter-of-factly. “They’re more susceptible to the cold.”

“I think the cold will be the least of her worries,” Mulder quips.

“If you really think it’s too hot, I’ll turn it down…” There’s a concerned crease beneath her eyes, and it makes Mulder feel bad about his joking.

“No, no, you know what you’re doing,” he assures her. “You’re her mother.”

As she lowers Em into the sink, Scully’s heart twinges. Her. A mother. How many times will she have to hear this before it stops feeling like news to her?

One week and bathtime has already become routine. Missy fills a plastic cup and pours it gently over her niece, the water cascading down Em like she is nature’s own. Scully soaps her palms, then glides over her daughter’s skin with such care that its memory may blight any future affection Em is graced with. And then another waterfall, and the gentle brush of a wash cloth against eyes and nose.

Scully squeezes a penny’s worth of baby shampoo into her hand, looks to Mulder. “Come on, get in here. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?” she says with a smirk.

He smirks back and shakes his head as she lifts his open palm and shrinks her accumulation to a dime. “Although, technically I am getting my hands cleaner…”

She boops him right on the nose with a shampooed finger. He laughs.

Missy smiles. Oh, to see destiny play out right in front of you. “Someone’s cracking dad jokes,” she points out, unable to resist. This observation is much too on-the-nose for the pair (quite literally for Mulder), who simultaneously blush but say nothing.

Mulder wipes the shampoo from his nose and plants it on Emily’s head, joining his partner in making soapy circles over the girl’s tuft of strawberry hair. Scully’s full attention is directed toward her daughter. As soon as the lather is sufficient, she dons the lifted lilt of motherhood. “Okay, time to rinse! Missy, will you do the honors?”

Missy turns the faucet, fills the cup, and lets it flow over Emily. Mulder and Scully wash their hands off in the stream.

And as Scully leans for the towel, a splash of red dirties its fresh white surface. Mulder notices it first. He points at his partner’s porcelain face. “Scully, you’re bleeding.”

Her hand shoots to her nose. Sure enough, it stains her fingers. “Shit.” She turns away, goes for a tissue. “I haven’t had nosebleeds since I was fourteen,” she tells them, as if that invalidates this one. She wipes away a glob of blood, her stomach turning. “Missy--” her voice shakes involuntarily, “--will you dry Em off?”

“Uh-huh.” She nudges Mulder. “Will you grab a new towel from the linen closet?” she whispers, not wanting to further upset her sister.

Mulder goes off without a word, and Missy squeezes out Em’s hair as best she can. “What a pretty girl!” she gushes. “All clean!”

“Yee!” Emily throws her little fists in the air, injecting joy back into the room.

“Time to put your PJs on, and get a tickle, tickle, smooch.”

Mulder scrambles back in with a new towel, skirting around Scully, who remains occupied with her own situation. He slides the soiled towel away and helps Missy swaddle Em. Mulder ruffles the little girl’s hair, and she laughs like a music box.

“Mol-dy.” She spits it out in halves, as if she’s been rehearsing.

Mulder’s eyes water with recognition. “Mulder? Mul-der? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Moldy,” the girl declares again, certain of herself.

Missy adjusts Em on her hip, smiles at Mulder. “Looks like you’re Moldy now.”

Mulder bites his lip to hide his overwhelming delight. “Yeah, I...I never thought I'd be so happy to be called moldy.”

Next thing he knows, Scully is at his shoulder with a tissue stuffed up her nostrils. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Em called me Moldy,” he tells her, full of satisfaction.

“Oh.” It comes out relatively unimpressed, but really, she’s just distracted. “Missy, will you get a diaper on her before there’s an accident? I would but I’m still--” She gestures to her nose.

“Yeah, yeah.” Missy smiles at the baby in her arms. “PJ time, Em!” They go off toward the bedroom, a happy pair.

As soon as Em is out of sight, Mulder spirals toward his partner, panic-stricken. The glee of moments ago has evaporated.

“Are you okay?” He touches her hair, shoulders, and the familiar small of her back, unsure of where he should land.

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” Her grip on his elbows--keeping his hands firmly placed on her waistline--suggests otherwise.

“You’ve got to see a doctor,” he pleads. “This could be...”

“This could be what, Mulder?” The steel in her blue eyes is a death grip. She’s never liked being told the obvious.

“Scully…” He sighs, rubs his neck, wills her to say what they both know. When she doesn’t, he takes his hands off her and wrings them together. “The Mufon women...they said it would happen to all of them eventually.” He’s careful not to lump Scully in with their group.

“And what do they know?” she retorts. “One of them was sick. One.”

“Okay, well, don’t you think it’s better to be safe than sorry?” he reasons. “You have Emily to look out for now.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “Don’t guilt trip me. It’s a nosebleed. Those happen all the time for completely benign reasons.”

“Yeah, but they don’t happen to you. You just said--you haven’t had one since you were fourteen.”

She clenches her jaw. He’s right, and she’s playing the fool. His position is the one she would take if this were anyone other than herself. She’s gonna have to lose this fight with as much grace as possible.

“Fine. I’ll get it checked out, but they’re gonna think I’m insane for coming in because of one nosebleed.”

“That’s a nice change of pace--you being the insane one for once.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants me to go, so you’re not out of the woods.”

“Good, I’ve finally got some company!”

Scully smiles in spite of herself. “Yes, yes you do.”

--------------------------------------

It happens very quickly, as most calamities of life can be said to. This gives it the unreal quality of a nightmare that might soon be woken up from, if there is any justice in the world.

Scully snags a doctor’s appointment for three days after the initial nosebleed. By the time she walks into the waiting room, one nosebleed has quadrupled into four, and her minor concern has snowballed into abject terror.

Margaret Scully drove into the city to watch Emily so Missy could join her sister. Scully insisted that she would go alone, but Missy wouldn’t accept this. She threatened to tell Mulder the details of the appointment if Dana didn’t let her go, and that was enough to earn her a spot in the passenger seat. Scully can’t take the thought of Mulder witnessing the worst--let alone her reaction to the worst.

And so it goes something like this: they are taken to an exam room, at which point Scully explains her situation to a nurse, including that she has recently learned she is at high risk for cancer. The nurse assures her that such a diagnosis is highly unlikely, but makes a note for the doctor. The doctor comes in with knitted eyebrows and listens to Scully describe the aftermath of her abduction experience with a heavy emphasis on the convoluted but substantial claims of the Mufon women. She asks if Scully has had any other symptoms, to which Scully replies that it’s hard to tell because she has an infant in the house and thus, a marked lack of sleep.

The doctor laughs, but it’s not a haha laugh, more of an I feel your pain. She agrees that the women’s claims are concerning, but tells her patient not to fret. They’ll take all the precautions, run any test that might assuage her worries. There’s a quip about how it’ll be on the government’s dime since it covers Scully’s insurance, and then the doctor leaves to order an MRI.

A full body MRI, which Scully has never had, and which she hoped she would never require. There’s no deeper sickness than one that cannot be pinpointed, and no greater fear than of the unknown turning into the worst case scenario.

The MRI is completed that same day. As she slides into the machine, Scully thinks of Betsy Hagopian and wonders how she’s doing. It has been many months since she stood outside an exam room and watched Betsy enter one of these. Has fate been kind to her?

For a few minutes, her world is limited to the mere inches between her face and this life-saving yet life-ruining contraption. It is noisy and sometimes bright and altogether disorientating. She is glad when it’s over.

The images return almost immediately, and maybe it would all have been okay if Scully weren’t trained in radiology herself, if she wasn’t able to recognize the glaring speck of light in her nasal cavity for what it is. But that one glance is all she needs to know that waiting by the phone isn’t an option.

“It’s a tumor, isn’t it?” she blurts as the radiologist tries to escort her and Melissa from the room. “In the nasal cavity. I have a M.D. I saw.”

“Your doctor will call with the results,” the radiologist insists, standing by the open doorway.

“No, no, you can’t do this to me,” Scully sputters. “I know what I saw, and I don’t have any time to waste.” Her eye twitches in a combination of stress and anger. “I have an infant daughter.”

The radiologist sighs, pity on top of pity. “Perhaps your doctor will talk it through with you now.”

“Yes. Please.”

And it is talked through, though there’s no need to make it complicated: nasopharyngeal carcinoma. Inoperable, and just barely in the realm of treatable. That’s the kicker, the coyote in the pasture, the cloud covering the sun. In the words of Scully’s doctor, it is auspiciously rare. And in Scully’s brain, it is the bottom she’s been expecting to drop out from under since she held her daughter in her arms.

Melissa drives home. The sisters cannot fathom how they will tell their mother. Cannot fathom ruining her blissful time with the granddaughter she’s just met. When they turn onto their street, Scully swallows hard and coughs on her own spit. “Will you do something for me?”

Missy looks over, eager to do anything she can, yet terrified by the possibility of the request.

“Will you take me to Mulder’s?” Scully mumbles. “I would just take the car but...I can’t face mom right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

Missy bites her lip. “And what am I supposed to tell mom when she asks where you are?”

“The truth,” Scully says curtly. “She doesn’t need the backstory.”

Missy drives past their building, though she’s not completely sold on her sister’s reasoning. “Don’t you think she might wonder why you aren’t coming home to your daughter?”

“I know she’ll wonder, Melissa, I know all of this,” Scully snaps because she needs to. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Missy’s voice is barely perceptible. I don’t care; she knows how low her sister has to be to say those words.

They complete the drive in silence, Scully biting her nails--a habit which she has never possessed, and perhaps just acquired. The car idles as Missy pulls up to the curb of Mulder’s building.

“I can pick you up when you need it,” she tells her sister as she pulls herself out of the car. “I’ll bring Em.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Scully says, closing the passenger door and edging toward the building. Missy hears a thanks float toward the car, then her sister is gone like a teenage girl embarrassed by her mother.

-------------------------------------

They sit on Mulder’s couch, muted. Words cannot fathom the injustice of this situation, nor can they suffice as empathy. Their hands are clasped together, a throughline of strength between them. This is what they need now; the most primitive language of all.

Scully’s watery eyes brush Mulder’s face. His own eyes, more pained than usual, look into hers. Without a word, she drapes an arm around her partner’s shoulders and scoots into his lap. He is surprised but not distressed. What else is left for them, now?

She is tiny, so tiny. And she is his.

Their eyes meet once again, speaking in tongues. Scully nods, and then Mulder does too. This is it. This is it.

Permission granted at last, Scully’s lips travel to her partner’s jawline. The first time her lips have touched his body, and this is where they go. She is a constant box of wonders, a fortune he can never predict. Her lips are much like he has fantasized they would be: wondrously soft and silky, stroking him like they have always meant to be there. Yet he couldn’t have imagined the urgency with which they burrow into his skin. As if she’s making a mental map of his bone structure. He never expected that she would want him this much.

His hands find her hips and grip the cotton of her shirt between his fingers. It is enough to tear her away from his flesh. Mission accomplished. His breath travels past her ear, hitting her neck. It is shallow and warm as he breathes her name. Her real name, the one her family calls her. She breathes his own back to him, like a bird responding to a mating call.

She feels his lips on her neck, wet and aching. It feels like God. This is the most blasphemous thought she has ever had. She throws her head back, exposing the whole of her skin to him. What is holiness, if not this moment?

He showers her in tattoo kisses, and she lets him, she lets him, she lets him. This is not just what she wants, but what she needs. No one will save her now, she knows this. So she has decided not to be saved.

Her shirt ripples as he clutches it. “May I?” He is breathy, awe-struck.

“Only if I can do the same.” Always about equality, his Scully is. He lifts his arms, lets her strip him first. He is fraught with the temptation to feel insecure, inadequate, but this is not about him--this is all for her. There is no time to dwell on this anyway. Scully takes in the sight, then puts her own arms up with a hint of impatience. He pulls her shirt over her head, and goosebumps adorn her as the air hits her bare stomach.

It is unimaginable, the significance of this moment. All Mulder can do is keep going, lest the emotion hit him and he find himself blubbering all over her. His hands travel her body...it is slender and white, but so solid, so strong. Cartilage forming ligaments forming joints connecting bones. And her skin, stretching over her hips and framing it all. The masterpiece that is Dana Katherine Scully.

He fears for the day she will cave in on herself. Already, one of his hands covers her whole rib cage. Right now he can cradle her body comfortably against his own, but the day will come when a single cautious touch will crush her, and his heart along with it. He wants her as she is now forever.

Seeing that he wants to pamper her, Scully lets herself be pampered. He showers the taut length of her collar bone in kisses. The vibration resonates throughout her bone structure, and already she can feel him in places she’s only fantasized about having him. He is going to heal me, she thinks. If anyone could heal her in any way, it would be him doing this.

She shows her gratitude by kneading circles into his soft tissues, so tense from all their days chasing ghosts. The sinew relaxes beneath the pads of her fingers, and she feels like she has solved the most important X-File of all.

Mulder traces his way along her spine. He has never touched her here, nor ever even fantasized about it, and there is an erotic tension--like a needle about to drop on a record--that neither one of them could have seen coming. Inevitably, his hands converge at the hooks of her bra. She arches her back in approval. He slides the hooks away from each other, and both of them feel the release. She shimmies off the garment before he can pull it out of the way. No secrets, not anymore.

Mulder didn’t expect to cry and is aware that most women wouldn’t take that as a positive sign, but seeing her, like this, knowing what they both know, tears feel like the least he could offer up. She is...beautiful is too weak a word to describe it. He needs to invent a new word to capture the essence of his emotions, the reverence with which he views her. He is not a religious man, but he will worship her until the end of time.

He has known this, intuitively, for a while, and now he’s putting it into practice. He wants to do everything he can for her, give her everything she wants. Yet he doesn’t know how to, and this scares him. She has always slipped through his fingers, always turned on a dime just when he thought he figured her out. Tonight is no exception. How was he to know that he’d be on his couch with a half-naked Scully in his lap?

He fears the tears will offend her, so he nuzzles into her heartspace, his nose pressed against the heart that is--by the grace of that God she worships--still beating. His lips meet the plush of her left breast.

Where does he go from here? The dusty routine he’s used with other women--the few who have given themselves to him or let him hand himself over--is not worthy enough for Scully. He could never touch Scully in the ways he’s touched the women before because she is not like the women before. There is no mere giving or taking here, no detached exchange of commodities or pleasure for the sake of pleasure. This is survival. They are symbiotically keeping each other alive.

A drop of water hits Scully’s skin, slides down the curvature of her breast. She shudders. A tear. That’s what it is, she realizes. Mulder is crying. It’s a baptism of unfortunate proportions.

She cups her hand against his chin, tilts it up so his bleary eyes meet hers. She rests her forehead against his. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She kisses each eye closed, his lids fluttering beneath her lips. “It’s okay.”

His breathing steadies. He is quite certain that it is not okay, that it never will be, but he listens to her, lets himself pretend.

Hands still on his chin, she careens their lips together. His mouth on hers; a godsend. They caress each other for a moment, then Scully opens wide, and Mulder does too. They are reflecting.

If Scully could compress herself, pushing every particle of air out of her lungs and into his, she would. As a sort of thank you, for everything. For what he has done, what is doing, what he will do...She will never have to live without him. She knows this now, and it makes this easier. But he will have to live without her, and so she must make sure he gets the memories he needs to carry on. This is how grief works, she’s acquainted with it. These moments, these feelings, these bated breaths and tender touches, will be his survival mechanism for awhile. Until the day when he can throw them off and go on without her ghost. It will happen one day, and she will be glad that he made it.

She feels him pressing against her stomach, which is certainly not where she wants him. “Fox…” Her hands hover above his belt. She unzips his fly first, her hand warm against him. He is dizzy with want as her fingers curl against his belt buckle, loosening it with confidence. In a sweeping gesture, she pushes his jeans off his hips, exposing him. The thrill she feels, seeing him big and bare in front of her, is a new kind of livelihood. She’s overcome with the desire to take him in her mouth--and that has never, never been her first instinct. She ducks down, but he stops her.

“Dana, no. You.”

She doesn’t need to hear it twice. She sucks in a breath, arches her back, and slides onto him. Slowly, gasping as they go.

“Am I hurting you?”

Scully shakes her head, lips parted. It has been nothing like this before...nothing so fulfilling. She crosses her ankles, binding them completely together at last.

Unity triumphs against the self, their union abolishing the world’s insistence on the solitude of the individual. This is what it’s about, isn’t it? Being joined, not only in spirit, but in body? Knowing that whatever horrors are to come, he will feel them as she does. Her dwindling will be his too, her losses an equally empty space within him.

She is teetering on the edge of something she can never come back from. She is not afraid.

She careens her fingernails into his back as the pressure builds. If it doesn’t come to a head, she’ll die right here, she thinks.

She barely registers the cathartic noises coming out of her, though they give Mulder great delight. He thought she would be quiet, and the fact that she’s not trying to hold anything in--after holding everything in for so goddamn long--is the most moving part of the experience.

And they want this to go on forever, but they want the release. Mulder swivels his hips into her, bringing them both closer to climax. Scully curls against him.

“I’m sorry,” she cries into his ear.

“What?” He nearly pulls out of her, fearing that she’s hurt.

“No, no--” She scrambles to stay with him. “This--” she pants “--is so good.” She lowers her lips onto his as confirmation, then speaks into his open mouth. “I’m just sorry to be the one to go.”

He frames her ribcage, thumbs arching toward her belly button. “Fuck, honey...don’t say that, don’t even think that…”

They won’t linger on the choice of pet name, the tenderness with which it settles over her, nor the absolute devastation of her words. There is simply no time.

Scully hides her face in his neck as the wave breaks over both of them. There is no world anymore, only the two of them on this couch. They have forsaken the physical realm, ascending to heaven in time with their heartbeats.

Mulder understands then what his reciprocal means when she says she needs proof to believe. Now that he’s been there and felt it, he knows that heaven exists, and holy shit, what does that mean for the life he has lived and the time he has left? What did it mean for Samantha?...What will it mean for Scully?

They collapse into each other, a melted mass of skin and bone. Two becoming one, becoming two again. Mulder strokes the back of his partner’s head, presses his lips to her temple. Her chest rises against him in jagged breaths.

“You are the only proof I’ll ever need that this life is worth it,” he murmurs. “Just you.”

Scully looks up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He kisses them away and wraps his arms around her. “I don’t know if you got the memo, but I love you, Dana Scully.”

She rests her cheek against his. “I love you too, F--Mulder.”

Mulder chuckles, his amusement shaking both of them. Scully closes her eyes and snuggles into him. He puts his hand over her heart, feels it beating steadily into his palm, and longs for it to stay like that forever.

#i have been working on that last scene since uhhh...october #i apologize for any emotional distress this and the following chapters will cause lmao #probably only two or three chapters left!!!#thank you for reading <3 #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #the x-files #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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fearlessmayee · 3 years

Note

Top ten AFHF documentary moments, go!

Thank you for asking sea, but you've really put me in a dilemma, how the f am I supposed to choose 10? All of it was my favorite, he shined like the sun throughout the entire thing.

1. We got to see him in his element, him being nervous and excited just anticipating to share his passion with us. Can you imagine him thinking wishing to run away, and yet, staying put, squaring his shoulders and facing it head on. Hoping to give up, yet hoping against hope to do it again, even if it's just one more time.

“I hate this feeling [before going onstage]. Helene always said to me, that's a choice is it nerves or is excitement? It’s the same. Only now I look in the moment I feel it, but I look at it differently. […] I always have this feeling before in my mind where I’m thinking ‘if I could run away, I would’ but now I’m thinking ‘just get me out there!’ ”

2. You can see, that he is so far away from his ''image'' of One direction, yet the same teenage boy having this unattainable dream of being a singer, and that lad from donny. Expectedly, yes, he has grown and changed throughout the years, but his fundamentals and core remain the same.

“You know coming from a situation like One Direction it was never gonna be a walk in the park becoming a solo artist. I’ve had shit to deal with.“

2. BRUH, Vulnerability? from a white male? In his 20s and 30s?Who's an reputed artist? Who's a millionaire? I-? This line was just so true, and raw, and REAL.

“When everyday is the same, it’s hard to feel creative and its hard to get any kind of inspiration”

3. This sentence to me represented acceptance of struggles, usually a strong personality would rather not acknowledge his/her/their struggles. They'd rather be seen as someone who can do this in their sleep instead of saying, that yes my life is hard sometimes.

“Too many times in my career have I had to pick myself up and go ‘right let’s go again’ ”

4. Efforts, the sheer efforts. When you're at the level that you are, you happen to start putting significantly lot less effort in your work. Instead here's this baby, who is working even more hard, putting in extra energy, time, and assets into honing his craft. A true dedicated artist.

“I put in a lot of work with Helene over Zoom as well because of that I don’t think I’ve ever been that excited over a gig and I finally feel like I’m gonna get out there and not just enjoy it for fucking just bathe in it. Love it.“

5. Right, an artist who values his fanbase instead of taking them for granted and only using them for their money? you're kidding! An artist, who regularly emphasizes the importance of his fans, and never forgets to thanks them? Right, you're dreaming! An artist who meticulously plans a free festival for his fans? You're delusional

“Just the togetherness. That’s what makes me feel like I can take on the world. Because with that lot behind me, who’s gonna fucking stop us?”

6. Helene. That relationship - its closeness and intensity -- really surprised me. You can tell that they share a deep meaningful emotional bond. She's a mentor for him in every way and its clear she loves him as much as he loves her. A pretty rare sight, in between people who don't give really seem to give a fuck about him. There's a mother/son vibe there and he seems to trust her as completely as she admires him. Tbh, Helene I cried too.

“I trust Helene implicitly. She can tell me after I smashed it and I’m trying to read between the lines. Today, today she was fucking crying man.”

7. The moments the band were given to really what they can do, jamming out (including the strings going for it too.) Steve is phenomenal as is Michael, but they're all incredible frankly. The band was so cool, I'd also like to mention the other artists and people who's work The production design, the set design, the lighting, the sounds. Everyone except the marketing and advertising department, should clap themselves for a job well done.

8. Charlie. How well he gets Louis. How loyal he is to Louis, how much he appreciates who he is and what he can do. And how extraordinarily skilled he is at what he does himself. In fact this demonstrate just how good Louis is at finding people whore superb at what they do. He did his job phenomenally, exceptionally.

9. The fans as shown through the lens, which might be a substitute for through Louis eyes. Their love, their pride and delight came across so clearly .I loved that all the rainbow flags were given the spotlight - instead of being skimmed over, Only the Brave was a true moment. Similarly Two of Us, was a real moment, the fans knowing how much the song it meant for him, and understanding its value and being respectful about it. How they seemed shell-shocked and speechless during changes.

10. Maybe most of all, the reckless, fun, fuck it all style of the celebration shots moment and the band euphoric celebratory hug, showing their bond and relationship clearly. I absolutely loved those moments in the film because they were so Louis. He may be the leader but he's also a literal kid, a partner in crime some might say, pure unpredictable fun.

Watching the AFHF documentary, I feel every emotion that Louis went through and I know that we all are felt them together. He was just so happy and confident during the concert. A God on the stage. Anyone who has doubts Louis performance abilities, I urge you to watch 5 minutes of this. The immensity and intimacy are like nothing I’ve experienced with any other artist.

He is a real person, instead of some carefully crafted media persona; he is genuine artist, instead of any fake popstar wannabe; has real talent, instead of pretending to be talented; he is humble and kind, instead of someone advocating to be humble and kind, he is gold, instead of being glitter, and he is the SUN, instead of the moon who leaches of off someone else's light.

His character and personality was really visible. This was better than any interview, any promo, anything we could have hoped for. His standards are so very high, and he’s truly harder on himself than anyone else around him. I've no idea how he doesn't drown in the pressure and instead finds a way to break the expectations. Truly, As many have already commented, Louis always delivers, because what he gives is from his incredible intelligence and his big heart.

The reason it was fucking unbelievable was yes, ’cause I played me music and I sang some shit, but more importantly that we all are in the same room with the same idea, the same intention, the same feeling... And that, more than anything, is what I’ve come away from these situations feeling just this togetherness, and that is what makes me feel like I can take on the fucking world.

#asks #answered asks #sea #louis tomlinson #awfh festival #awfh documentary

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cherrychonk · 3 years

Text

The Transfer Part 8

1/2

Your five weeks in the hospital were not fun, not fun at all. Kya decided to extend your stay in the hospital after the same day she allowed you to go home, you fell down the stairs of the hospital. In your defense, the floor was slippery and you didn't get to grab the handle in time, the paparazzi taking pictures with their flash didn't help either. Lin was pissed when she learned about your fall and how the nurse failed to catch you. She was chewing the poor man up and down, and when you woke up she chewed you up too.

So here you were, finally getting discharged home, again. You were walking out of the hospital once more. Jia was waiting for you at the lobby to take you home and make sure you wouldn't have a repeat of the stairs incident.

“Ready to go home?” She asked, grabbing your bags.

“Heck yes, my bed is waiting for me.” You smile as both of you walk to the front door where Lin and Mako were waiting.

“We’ll escort you to the patrol car. Don't want them to get out of line and try to do anything stupid.” Lin responded as Mako opened the door.

The four of you started walking as people with cameras started popping out of the bushes and started taking pictures and asking questions. You held onto Jia’s arm as the anxiety rose.

“Brace yourself.” Lin muttered.

“Officer Y/N! Officer Y/N! How are you feeling?” One of the men asked.

“Umm, I'm doing good thank you.” You answered, trying to walk a bit faster.

“Officer Y/N when are you returning to work?” A woman asked.

“As soon as I'm cleared.” You smile nervously.

“So you are going back to work! What do your coworkers think of having a heavily tattooed officer around them?”

“Well I think-”

“Do you belong to a gang? Are you a criminal?”

“No, of course not! I think people are-”

“How close to death did you come close to when you went inside the building?”

“Very close, I-”

“Are you planning on doing more body modifications?”

“Not right now. Maybe-”

“What is the meaning behind your tattoos?”

“Well, actually some don't have meaning they are just pretty and-”

“Is it true you are a dangerous mob leader back in Ba Sing Se?”

“Of course not!”

“Are you an aggressive person?”

“No!”

“Why do you have so many tattoos if you aren't a bad person?”

Their questions were infuriating and you were losing patience. “THEY ARE JUST DRAWINGS ON SKIN! People can express themselves however they want as long as they don't hurt others!” You barked.

This seemed to eager them as they got closer into your personal space, their cameras almost touching you.

“Officer Y/N do you like women or men?”

You blushed at the intrusive question. “W-what?”

“Is it true you sleep around?”

“No!”

“Y/N do you find your female coworkers attractive? Have you slept around with any of them?”

“What kind of questions are those?!” You asked.

Lin growled as the questions got more and more invasive. She could see as you started to decompensate so she instructed Jia to have the patrol ready.

A soft hand grabbed your wrist as the Chief started dragging you along. You could feel the warmth coming from her hand and felt yourself blush. Her face was stern, looking only straight ahead. You felt her hand push you inside the patrol car and the door closing behind you. From the window you could see the Chief ushering people back and giving the car space to leave.

Soon you and Jia were making your way out of the hospital parking lot and towards your home. Mako was behind you on his motorbike.

“So that was intense.” Jia said, making conversation.

“Are they always this invasive?”

Jia shrugged. “Usually they aren't that invasive but I guess since you're new here they got excited.”

You sighed relaxing into the back seat.

“You okay?” Jia asked, looking at you from the rear view mirror.

“That little walk drained more energy than I imagined.”

“Good thing you're going home.” Jia hummed

You fell asleep in the car, your head laying on the window. You only woke up when Jia hit a pothole and your head smacked hard against the glass.

“Frick!” You yelp, grabbing your head.

“Sorry! Sorry! We're here.”

You look out to see a bunch of people with cameras waiting at the front steps of the apartment complex stairs.

“Ugh, fuck me.” You muttered.

Jia chuckled. “Don't worry, the big guns are here.” She pointed with her head towards the Chief’s patrol car pulling out beside them. She got out and knocked on the window.

“Ready?”

You nodded, opening the door and following behind her like a pup. Jia and Mako were by your side too, making a body barrier between you and the other people. You reached out and grabbed the Chief’s belt to keep the pace with her. She looked back at you questionably but as soon as she saw your anxious face she nodded and continued walking.

These people were as relentless and rude as the other ones. They asked about your family, your friends, your relationship life and even your sex life. One of them even got as bold as to ask your favorite positions. You felt utterly humiliated and embarrassed as the Chief guided you to your apartment’s front door.

“You're okay. I'm going to disperse the crowd with the other officers so you can have some privacy. I advise you to stay inside in case someone gets the funny idea to come knocking.”

With that the Chief left, closing the door behind her. You scurried to the window to watch her and the other officers disperse the crowd. Some people even got physical with the officers earning themselves a stay in jail. You stayed by the window until they were all mostly gone. A few stayed behind and pointing their cameras up to the window.

It was lunchtime so Mako brought take out and Lin came back to eat lunch with the three of you. Jia was serving everyone.

“I don't get what is so interesting about me. I'm sure there have been officers more interesting than me doing cooler things. Why do all those people want to take pictures of me?”

Lin took a sip of her cup and settled it down. “You are a heavily tattooed police woman. Being a woman alone in this world will grant you media if you do the slightest thing that can capture people's attention. You did this by saving a little girl’s life while being covered in more ink than a museum's canvas.”

Jia and Mako nodded. “Being a police woman myself, I've been in some attention more than once.” The blonde responded.

“Really? What happened?” You asked intrigued.

“A politician asked me out and I declined. I was respectful but I guess he didn't like that. He started saying that I was trying to seduce him or some shit. Almost cost me my job.”

“I wasn't going to allow that.” Lin responded, taking a bite of her food.

Jia nodded, smiling. “Yeah, that's the thing with Chief Beifong. She doesn't do injustice. She investigated and found that he did that a lot. Gave him a fine and almost jail time for slander, dude never did it again.” Jia’s smile grew wider. “That's why Chief Beifong is my hero.”

Lin scoffed, a light blush covering her cheeks while Jia giggled.

“Are you ready for your future interviews?” Mako asked.

You groaned. “No. Not one bit. That's just stressing me out. Can we not talk about it? I prefer to have some peace while I can still get it.”

“Well you have to talk about it eventually.” Mako responded.

“I talked to Korra and Asami. They agree to help you with them. Sato especially is really good when it comes to personal interviews so she can be a great help.”

You looked at Lin shocked, mouth agape. “Avatar Korra and Asami Sato?”

“Do you know any other Korra or Asami Sato?” She quirked her eyebrow.

You were trying to understand the information. “Asami Sato, the CEO of Future Industries and Avatar Korra themselves are going to mentor me?”

Jia chuckled at your amazement.

“Y/N they're ordinary people like you and me. It's not like you're meeting a god or something.” Mako scoffed.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” You smack the table. “THEY ARE LITERALLY THE MOST TALENTED,BADASS MOST AMAZING WOMEN IN THE WORLD!”

“Don't smack the table, I'm trying to enjoy my meal.” Lin growled.

You blushed. “Sorry.”

“Though Mako is right Y/N, Asami and Korra are just like you and me. They're so sweet.” Jia charmed.

“YOU KNOW THEM?” You yell in awe.

“Volume Y/N, you're not at the park.” Lin said, irritated.

“Sorry, sorry. I just can't believe you guys are so casual about them. I mean come on!”

Jia chuckled. “Soon you're going to meet them yourself and see how down to earth they both are.”

“We are having dinner at Temple Island tonight and you're going to be meeting them. Kya and Amara will also be there. It's usually casual so don't go completely overboard.”

“Tonight!?” You asked.

“You have any other plans?” Lin asked.

“No- No. It's just so sudden.”

“Zhu Li wanted me to tell you about an interview for monday. You could decline but it's not in your best interest. This is your chance to advocate for people like you, and I can tell you there are many.”

You nodded as the four of you continued to eat in comfortable silence.

Jia looked up and finally took a good view of your place. “Nice digs by the way.”

“Thanks.” You smiled.

Your apartment was modest to say the least. It was adorned in Earth Kingdom and Fire nation decor. A few plants here and there, pots and vases on the top of shelves and a few colorful rugs. You had some paintings that you have brought from home, they were of poems, animals or beautiful flowers.

“Hippie shit, reminds me of Kya’s apartment.” Lin said, looking around.

You laughed blushing. “What? We like colorful things. Not everyone can be dull and soulless.”

Mako almost choked on his food and Jia fought to keep a laugh from erupting from her gut as they watched the Chief arched her brow. You smiled nervously and continued eating.

Lunchtime was soon over and you helped Jia clean up. Lin and Mako left the apartment but not before reminding you to be ready for dinner at the temple.

Part 2

#lin beifong #the legend of korra #fanfic #y/n

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rabbitindisguise · 3 years

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mmm something I don’t like is when people get pissy about realizing the motivations people have for things (which should be neutral, almost inherently, at least in my opinion)

like someone asks you a question just so that they can talk about their own life? why is that bad? it’s bad because they don’t feel like they can just ask outright to share their exciting news, not because the other person thinks it’s impolite

so much of what people think of as “bragging” is people being genuinely enthusiastic about being alive and being super bad at hiding it when the other people around them are miserable. And that’s just cringe culture, especially because neurodivergent people tend to have difficulty picking the “right” tone. Being somber about the fact that you, idk, just had a major exciting life event just because there’s a pandemic happening is just ufcking bizarre because we need all the happiness we can get anyway.

This was also true before the pandemic, too. People also felt this way when someone in my family had cancer. And sure! I felt, at the time, horrible (lmao understatement) and wanted everyone to act like something terrible had happened (totally irrational). But I was also depressed and the lack of people having just regular conversation prevented me from having access to a much needed coping mechanism. While “regular conversation to combat depression” doesn’t work for everyone, making only acceptable way to cope with bad circumstances be wallowing is bad. (No matter how much I advocate for a good wallow- and I advocate for wallows for the same reason, sometimes socially unacceptable behaviors are just things people do and we should embrace that.) This wasn’t something I wouldn’t have though of at the time (seeing as I was depressed), but it’s still true.

And sure, it’s really hard to extrapolate out the fact that “people deserve the right to talk about their exciting news in a consensual manner with other people” to a time when I felt like the sun should stop coming up because to do otherwise was inconsiderate. Sometimes doing hard things to help others in minor ways during the most difficult of times is worth the effort though, no matter how monumental.

I definitely feel this more and more as the Circumstances drag on. People are messy and complicated and have weird feelings that can’t be categorized into our narratives of what it means to be a person. Sometimes they have unsavory feelings, like pettiness and spite and rage and grief over dropping a corn chip on the sidewalk. And that’s okay. The idea that we have to purge ourselves of our bad parts just to be a good person makes “good person” a lying competition. Granted, a lying competition where an unknown percentage of the population of people who aren’t lying struggle to connect to the people around them because this standard genuinely works for them and comes naturally to them. But a lying competition for the people who aren’t naturally virtuous nonetheless. Considering how much most people in society hate liars, you could probably see how feeling like a liar (also known as “imposter syndrome”) can actually wear someone out psychologically.

Anyway yes I like hearing about cool shit and I don’t feel bad when I hear about cool shit because I, myself, am a badass. Tell me about the cool shit that happened anytime and I will revel in not having to talk about my feelings in return even if I don’t have things I want to share at the moment

#personal #relationships #activism #cringe culture #ableism #elitism #neurodivergence #mental illness #cancer #life advice

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pjstafford · 3 years

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A Look at my 2020

The end of the year is upon us. It’s been a tough one for all of us. It is a year we will all remember forever. I want to do a positive reflection of this year. I will probably write a blog about what I hope our country’s New Years Resolutions should be. The thoughts on that have been rolling around my head for a few days. But today, December 16, at 4:30 a.m. and unable to sleep, that 2020 familiar dread of what will happen today waking me early, I want to look at some positives. I want to unwrap the positives of 2020 like a Christmas gift before Christmas so that I can wrap myself in them as a blanket of warmth. One thing that I have been truly impressed with is the resilience of the human spirit. Let’s call this a resilience exercise.

Counting my blessings one by one...

1. I am alive. Surviving is a cause for celebration. As far as I know I have been COVID free...although there were a few days in April or early May when I was sick with something and in Feb I had the strangest cold in my life and this time last year weeks of fatigue ended in frozen shoulder syndrome on Christmas Eve. See, I want to be thankful, but I don’t want to be naive in my retrospection. Best to be honest. I’m not sure if I had COVID or not, but if I did I survived with relatively minor symptoms. Every cough or sniffle I feared in a completely irrational way was COVID. There was the week I walked around sniffing everything to make sure I could still smell. It dawns on me it is going to be difficult to write a honest and, yet, positive, retrospective of 2020. I am alive, but I have never been less healthy. I’ve gained weight. I haven’t had the physical exercise to which I am accustomed and now when I try to take a long walk I realize my stamina is gone. It will take years of concentrated effort once things are “back to normal” for me to become normal again. It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I did yoga daily in the Spring and switched to an online Tai chi class in the summer, but I don’t live near beauty or anything interesting so wasn’t motivated to walk and just my everyday life of lockdown in a studio apartment meant less movement. All of which sounds even to me like not very good justification. Did I mention though that I survived. I am alive. I will take that as blessing number one.

2. No one I care about very deeply has died or even been seriously ill from COVID. Doesn’t March 2020 seem far away? I don’t want to be dismissive of 300;000 dead especially with more to come. I or someone I love could still be gone by New Years Day. But in March and April we held our breaths for an apocalypse and at some point most of us decided to take a breath. I don’t know really if it’s good or bad that we have simply adjusted our normal and the number deaths we are willing to accept. It’s bad, what am I saying? It’s bad. But how long can we wait in fear? So I don’t know, but I want to count as a blessing that those I love have all survived to date. I cannot vanquish the fear, but I can be grateful for survival.

3. I have maintained employment in a bad economy and have mostly been able to work from home. There have been some struggles. Sometimes the work I do is depressing. Sometimes I feel I don’t make a difference. There has never been a worse time to be an advocate...or a person with disability, or a caregiver, or a provider agency, or a health care professional. I have maintained employment.

4. I count among my blessings the fact that I had a wonderful 2020 before....remember there was a 2020 before. I love when my work takes me to Santa Fe for a prolonged time. A friend came out in Feb for a wonderful weekend. Another friend came to Albuquerque to see me for my birthday in early March. I remember thinking how social I was in those first ten weeks in 2020. It’s as if I somehow knew....it sustained me.

5. I count among my blessings that when I felt my mental health despair getting at its worse...the strain of living alone in a studio apartment, working from that same apartment and following the Governor orders not to go or do anything. ..that I had friends and two weekends of “risky” behavior; a friend who came for the Fourth of July holiday and an out of state trip to Durango in late September. I’m fortunate that when I had to have human contact my closest friends were there for me

6. I count as my blessings that Biden won the election. It’s not simply a matter of politics. I’m not sure if the last eight months of the Trump Presidency wasn’t worse for my morale than the pandemic because Trump kind of lost whatever semblance of sanity he had. Part of the trepeditation over what each new day will bring is what Trump will say, do, tweet, exacerbate. I still fear revolution in the street before Jan 20. The pandemic is not the worse of what America has gone through. That’s the oddest thing about this year.

7. Here is the blessing which probably will be unpopular. The lockdown and stress of all we have experienced is tough, but the slowdown is a blessing for me. My life had gotten pretty busy. While I miss travel, it’s ok for a year not to have had the time suck that travel for work entails. I will be so happy the first work trip I get to go on, but I feel like 2020 has given me the gift of time. It’s odd because, like many, my creative sense has suffered. I have written almost nothing. Still, I often think of a Dylan lyric, maybe in the next life I will be able to hear myself think. I could hear myself think this year. Unfortunately I thought about the existentialist angst of the meaning of life and my failures as a human being and I don’t think there is enough time still to process the effects of the pandemic and I’m sick to death of the sound of my thoughts, but....I have been given this unique gift of time. Even on December 16th I am not rushed to shop, to cook, to decorate, to go to a zillion parties. It’s a different year. The Holiday will still come. It is pleasant not to feel urgency over, let’s face it, non-urgent things. I am mentally and emotionally fatigued, but not nearly as physically exhausted as I was this time last year

8. The next one is a big one. The gift of living in the moment. I have spent my entire life since 7th grade when Miss O’Neil gave me a copy of The Rubyait of Omar Khayyam trying to live with the philosophy of living for the now. Clear the cups of past regrets...tomorrow, why I may be myself with yesterday’s seven thousand years. The only time I have ever truly experience this is in a handful of concert experience. Even now, I fear for my future and I blame myself for my mistakes. Still, my relationship with time has changed. There is the sun rising and setting and that is a day. Seasons will change. But the gift of time means I can approach my day differently. When five o clock comes on a workday, a needed nap is a step away. No where to go on a Friday night... no where I can go...means the weekend rhythm exists only as I define it. The simple pleasures we always take for granted mean something more now. There is a coffee truck that stops near me on Fridays and Saturdays. When it first started stopping I was over the moon that I could walk and get a latte with fairly little risk. If I go to the grocery store and have a conversation with a stranger, it is different than it was before. Mindfulness exercise and meditation is one thing, but nothing can compare with this year to further my lessons in this pursuit. May I take the lesson with me into years to come.

9. Zoom...yes, of course I have zoom fatigue. But five friends in five different states having a monthly drink together on zoom is a benefit of the pandemic. I watched a movie this year with someone who lives in Brazil. I celebrated a friend’s sixtieth person even though I couldn’t be with her. I’ve attended book discussions and readings in New York and I already have tickets to an event in March. Kind of love New York. I’ve never been there in person. Just a lot happens there. Educationally and socially the world is now open to me. I am not limited to what is going on in my community. I hope this doesn’t completely go away.

10. Finally, storytelling and music. I found it hard to read new things in the lockdown for a while, but in March friends asked me to a virtual book club of three books I already read and we reread them together which took us into the summer. I rediscovered the Foundation series of Asimov and suddenly I could read again! My favorite book I’ve read published in 2020 is Jess Walter’s The Cold Million. I did read a digital advance copy of David Duchovny’snew book due out in 2021 and it is, in fact, the breakout novel I knew this hot young writer would eventually write. Looking forward to 2021 book club! I finally binged Breaking Bad and The Travelers as well as The Queens gambit and watched Peanut Butter Falcon. I am doing a disability focused watch on the X Files and I better kick it it the rear because I’m presenting on it in Feb. at a conference. My God, Dylan put out his first original music in eight years. It will take me eight years to fully ingest it and enjoy it. You see, no matter what happens, humanity will tell its stories and gather to make its songs. It’s that human resilience. Creation of art is not trivial. It’s vital. It has continued in this odd and strange year. It is humanity’s greatest gift and I have definitely used it this year as a resilience and growth tool.

Those are my top blessings in this horrific and, yet, wondrous year. However, you have been impacted, what we all share in common is that In a very short time it will be a memory of a year in the past.

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bippityboppitybibuck · 4 years

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I know this post will likely go no where but in the midst of everything happening in the news (especially with coverage going down on the protests) and the understanding that not being racist isn’t enough and that we all must be anti racist and the fact that white people are raised into a society that is inherently racist and as such we internalize things we don’t even realize and then have to actively go about unlearning those things, I felt like I had a story I could share.

I am white, and middle class, and who at the time of this stories events identified as a straight, cis woman, who was considered neurotypical.

I was 15, in tenth grade, in a good school with a good group of friends, I was the poster child for ‘healthy upbringing’.

I had also had twitter for about a year. Through Twitter I learned what the n-word was, I have no memory of knowing it before that age (something that is a direct result of my privilege). Though twitter had taught me the word it didn’t teach me its meaning. For a long time it was just another word for me. However I eventually came across the “what is your first memory of being discriminated against” post where POC retweeted with their stories of being called atrocious names at an age where I was dealing with nothing more than not understanding why my friends liked Barbie dolls but I liked plastic dinosaurs.

Of course as you could probably guess the N-word was a common part of that thread. I believe that was the first time I realized the word was far more damaging than twitter had led me to believe. For context this happened almost 7 years ago in early 2014 possibly even late 2013. If you remember anything about the twittersphere for teens in 2013/14 you understand what I am talking about in this story.

One day at school I was with my friend at our lockers getting our books, I have no idea what we were talking about but at one point I thought it right to use the n-word, I didn’t though, I got as far as ni- before I switched the word and said my friends name (her name started the same way). I can’t say with certainty why I thought it was right to say the word. It’s easy to blame it on the content I was exposed to on twitter, but I stopped myself from saying and that proves that I already knew it was not a word I should say (not as in it was a curse word equivalent of fuck or shit because I was already saying those).

I’m not writing this to get brownie points for being a ‘good white person’ and not saying the word, I’m writing this to show any white person who thinks they are above the system we were raised in that you aren’t.

I’m a vocal proponent of the black lives matter movement, (despite my location) I march in gun control marches, I march in women’s rights marches and I attend pride with a sign that reminds people that we didn’t always have the freedom we have now. I vote so far left I’m essentially a socialist, I advocate for proper representation in the media for all underrepresented and marginalized groups, I do this and more.

I have spent years unlearning my bias, unlearning the engrained influences that the media I grew up on instilled in me (POC are always the bad guys, mug shots for POC and family portraits for white people- trying to convince me that POC are inherently more dangerous) the fact that this happens shouldn’t be news to anyone because this tactic is in every single facet of media that you can see in normal cable, satellite, the internet. It’s disseminated through everything, you have been exposed to it from infancy (all of your books featured white characters didn’t they? Even that is part of this system)

I took the time to understand what I had been raised in and how it hurt communities that I valued, for some it may start as an understanding that it hurts a friend instead of realizing the broad and overarching scale of the damage done. And I may be putting my foot in my mouth with this but as long as it starts somewhere right? (this is in the same vein as understanding women shouldn’t be harassed but only because you have a daughter, no woman should be harassed no matter her relation to you- you shouldn’t examine your biases because you have a black or brown friend no POC deserves to be a victim of your bias but if having that friend causes you to examine it all a little harder then at least you are examining it).

I knew at the time that the word wasn’t one for me to use at least to some degree, and yet I was going to use it. My friend asked me about right after, wondering if I was about to say the n word and I said no, because in that moment I knew that it was so far past wrong for me to say it that I was ashamed I almost had.

To any white person reading this, you are not above how we were raised, you are not above the system that overwhelming benefits you and those like you. My parents did a hell of a job raising me, but I know they were raised into the same world, and I know that because of that, biases they hold/held were projected onto me as a child, it takes time to unlearn everything, for anyone who suffers/ed from internalized misogyny who has also gone about unlearning it, sometimes you slip up and think that a woman wearing revealing clothes is below you because she’s a ‘slut’ and you know that when that thought crosses your mind you stop it in its tracks and reevaluate.

It is a never ending process, and it is one you must engage in. Listen to black voices, listen to brown voices. Engage in black and brown spaces but understand that it is not a place for you to look for a damn pat on the back for not being a racist, it is not a time to get on a soapbox and wax about how not racist you are - don’t make it about you, you are there to learn that is all. I am a white person I can not speak on what they have experienced at the hands of a system I have taken for granted all my life. If anyone is wondering I have never said the n-word, not in songs, not in memes I’ve read aloud, not ever.

In the same way a man who has never assaulted a woman isn’t somehow an exceptional man I am not an exceptional white person for never saying that word. It is the bare minimum for you to not use the words that are so often hurled at POC as insults, insults that have centuries of history of oppression and genocide behind them. This goes for any word of that caliber, any. They are not yours to use, if you hear someone say them that does not give you a pass to say them as well, if you see a person who shouldn’t be using them use them make it known that that shit doesn’t fucking fly, never has, never will.

Too often we see people apologize for their behaviour only after they’ve received backlash for it. But this only feeds into the system. No one and I do mean no one knows this story except for me, not the friend who was part of it, not my therapist, not a soul. I could have taken this to my grave and no one would be any wiser about it. But that benefits me and me only. And that is part of the problem. Our re-evaluation of our past transgressions shouldn’t come only when people bring it up. Yes you can do it without sharing it like I am but you must do it. It’s one of the first steps into the long long (never ending) process of unlearning things you aren’t even aware you’ve internalized.

It’s 2020, this conversation should have been happening at this scale (in terms of how big it’s been on media outlets) for decades now, but it is happening now, and as such we should all take the time to participate in it.

Hey white people, do me a favour and read this, thanks

#black lives have always mattered #blacklivesmatter #black lives matter #racism #unlearning your inherent racism #feel free to interact #white people especially #free to rb

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elizawright · 4 years

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Other Experiences

Interviews with other women with Aspergers

Source: Aspergers Uk Facebook Community

I noticed while being on the group most of the participants were men backing up the statistics that majority of the Aspergers community are male. This backs up my own theory that women find it harder to get diagnosed as majority of what doctors associate as “Aspergers Characteristics” come from male representatives. A good point from somewhen else in the group suggested that it also comes from the fact women are better at masking.

First Interview

Below is an interview I conducted with a lovely lady called Lauren, it was a very interesting read and supported what I already believed to be true through my own experiences. Women with autism are rarely represented in the media and struggle to get diagnosis or support from others as they show different characteristics to the majority of the Aspergers community:

Q. When were you diagnosed with Aspergers?

A. Feb 2009 age 13 nearly 14

Q. Did you find it difficult to get the diagnosis?

(Quite often women with Aspergers are refused diagnosis as they don’t show what doctors perceive as “characteristics”)

A. it was difficult and took about 8 appointments to get a diagnosis as lot of signs/traits were interlinked with other conditions I already had diagnosed

Q. Name 3 things positive about your Aspergers

(Eg, it makes me more creative)

A. I'm strict with time (not been late once), very well organised and creative

Q. Do you feel there is enough positive female autism Representation in the media? If no, how do you think we can improve? If yes, please provide an example?

A. No I was diagnosed with mental health before I had my diagnosis and a lot of people say to women because you can do eye contact or you have empathy/show emotions that they are not autistic when they are. People need to remember women are naturally brought up to be more mature/grown up then men so we learn things sooner than men would.

Q. List 3 things you struggle with? What could nurotypical people do to help change this?

A. Going out to busy/crowded places, meeting new people/socialising with new people and changes especially to routine. Neurotypical people should be taught about autism in school so less bullying happens and more support can happen even simple things like structured routine or explaining something in a different way or putting it into a real life prospect.

Q. Is there anything else you would like to add?

A.People need to realise that autism is a invisible disability and there isn't a certain look like down syndrome. People also need to remember that autism is different in every person so just because one person with autism is aggressive it doesn't mean everyone is going to be aggressive. Finally to remember autism comes in different levels and severities so one person with autism could live independently with a little bit of support while another person with the same diagnosis might need 24 hour care and support

Second Interview

Another lovely lady called Sophie bravely answered two of the questions for me:

Q. Is there anything else you would like to add?

A. I feel autism is based more around men. The way this could be improved is if people were more aware that autism can affect both males and females

Q. Did you find it difficult to get the diagnosis?

A. I didnt actually get diagnosed until I was 19 but I went to John Parkes when I was younger as ny mum thought I was different but they only said I am left handed but use ny right hand so it was left at that until I was 19 and my mum started working in a school and realised that I did a lot of the things that an autistic child at the school did

Third Interview

Lastly was a very helpful interview by a lovely lady called Ebony. I felt the most connection with Ebonys answers, pretty much everything she said I could relate to, specifically the struggle our mothers had to get a diagnosis, the miss belief in diagnosis of you don’t fit the stereotypes and the frustration with the lack of positive female representation.

Q. When were you diagnosed with Aspergers?

A. I was diagnosed at 8/9 years old

Q. Did you find it difficult to get the diagnosis?

(Quite often women with Aspergers are refused diagnosis as they don’t show what doctors perceive as “characteristics”)

A. My mother found it difficult to get me an assessment to get diagnosed because I have a genetic condition which they wanted to overshadow autism under. Even though they’re totally unrelated. She fought in court for two years before I was granted a full assessment

Name 3 things positive about your Aspergers

(Eg, it makes me more creative)

3. Aspergers makes me more observant. Aspergers allows me to focus specifically on and learn things really easily with things which I am really interested in, in detail, which is really useful for my degree. And Aspergers makes it easy for me to process visual information

Q. Do you feel there is enough positive female autism Representation in the media? If no, how do you think we can improve? If yes, please provide an example?

A. Absolutely not. Autism seems to be very much represented by men with the very typical characteristics (Big bang theory and atypical prime examples). I think there needs to be more female influencers who are on the spectrum speaking about it and also in movies, using autistic female characters as the main character instead of male

Q. List 3 things you struggle with? What could nurotypical people do to help change this?

A. Change. I guess just not changing things would be helpful but I think that’s just the way of the world.

People thinking I’m not on the spectrum because I’m not good at maths or science and I don’t have a breakdown every two minutes. Not assuming the stereotypes are true in everyone. My very black and white way of thinking. Sometimes this gets in the way of being able to think perceptively, as hard as I try, it can be very hard to understand why something is the way it is.

Interview 4

Interview with a lady who would like to stay anonymous. She has a very interesting story and in the past has done lots of work studying Aspergers in women.

Q. When were you diagnosed with Aspergers?

A. 2007

Q. Did you find it difficult to get the diagnosis?

(Quite often women with Aspergers are refused diagnosis as they don’t show what doctors perceive as “characteristics”)

A. I had anxiety n depression off n on for years. Worked as a advocate an had an abusive partner and it became worse. I went to a gp after reading about the condition and was dismissed by the gp. I took anti depressants n they made me feel so bad. Weight gain, hailing beginning to fall out n head felt like a racing feeling. Went back n was referred for cbt n refused to take meds as suicidal thoughts listed as side affect, which was happening. Went for cbt the lady had an autistic son. She picked up on traits n did n assessment n referred me to psychologist. I think I was quite lucky in my journey, in terms of a diagnosis. My mum said she always knew but she was always on meds. I’m not a fan on medication - personally

Q. Name 3 things positive about your Aspergers

(Eg, it makes me more creative)

A.1. I stopped hating or comparing myself to neuro typical people and what they do so easily.

2. It was ok to be different and I wasn’t stupid

3. I started to see myself and my traits and enjoy being me. If that makes sense

Q. Do you feel there is enough positive female autism Representation in the media? If no, how do you think we can improve? If yes, please provide an example?

A. I think when people are shown autism they are often shown the extreme. I watched a programme on the bbc about people with asperges and I couldn’t c myself in any of them. People always think of Chris Packham but we too are all v different as are NTs. The only other female I know of is Susan Boyle who was exploited in some way. But I believe she’s had support now and on the up bless her

Q. List 3 things you struggle with? What could nurotypical people do to help change this?

A. Too many people

Eating around strangers

Bright lights

In terms of how Nts could help is tough. I’m used to not having help so can be hard saying I’ve got a disability n then dealing with people’s preconceptions or struggling without help. Mentor ship in terms of study n maybe work place could be good.

Interview 5

This interview is another who would like to be kept anonymous, their family is very judgmental of their diagnosis therefor they don’t openly disclose their name.

Q.When were you diagnosed with Aspergers?

A. I was diagnosed in 2013, aged 36

Q. Did you find it difficult to get the diagnosis?

(Quite often women with Aspergers are refused diagnosis as they don’t show what doctors perceive as “characteristics”)

A. I was fortunate in that the clinical psychologist who diagnosed me was a specialist in the female autustic phenotype, which made the diagnostic process easier.

Q. Name 3 things positive about your Aspergers

A. Three positive things about Asperger's:

I stand in solidarity with my autistic kids, and understand them better

The way I think makes me good at writing essays

I think autistic people find greater joy in small things than neurotypicals.

Q. Do you feel there is enough positive female autism Representation in the media? If no, how do you think we can improve? If yes, please provide an example?

A. Autism in the media is usually male, which influences women's ability to get diagnosed and get help. There is a small but persistent push my autustic women to make autistic women and girls more visible, and we need to keep building on that

Q. List 3 things you struggle with? What could nurotypical people do to help change this?

A. I struggle with practical things, like maintaining a routine, using public transport, and following directions. Neurotypicals can help by recognising female autism, and simply being kind

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meta-shadowsong · 4 years

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On Change for the Jedi Order

Specifically in Relation to Nontraditional/Latecomer Students

So, there’s a commentary that’s been floating around lately, that examines whether the Jedi Order/culture should change purely because of Anakin’s issues integrating (and later issues as an adult, some of which are related). And if that were the question, then the answer is probably no--as these commentaries have pointed out, the vast majority of Jedi don’t have that kind of trouble and are, so far as we the audience can tell, happy/fulfilled. Or, if not, they’re willing and able to depart under peaceful circumstances. And, as has also been pointed out, if they did adapt to the changing galaxy in the ways that fandom, with its external viewpoint, would suggest, who’s to say Palpatine wouldn’t be thinking five steps ahead of them and have a contingency plan in place? (The man does love his contingency plans, I gotta say.)

These are valid points, particularly in terms of some of the doctrines/requirements placed on adults/full Jedi (i.e., no marriage, etc.) that tend to catch a lot of criticism, but I feel like there’s a piece missing from this conversation. And that’s a consideration of other nontraditional/latecomer students (and/or nonstudents who are rejected for being too old), aside from Anakin. Because, from where I’m standing, the evidence indicates that the traditionalist Jedi Order, as it is at the fall of the Republic, is not super great at helping them integrate.

Before I get into my actual examples/analysis, I want to say that I don’t think this is from a lack of compassion or effort on the part of the Order. I do believe that, once a nontraditional student is accepted, they are given support in terms of that integration. I just don’t think it’s very effective support, because I don’t think that the Order, as it stands at that point, is very well set up for it.

Second, I want to say that the reason why this matters is that there’s a not-insignificant implication that not all potential candidates are identified within the acceptable age range; and therefore some unknown, and possibly significant (in proportion to the size of the Order itself) number of people are actually affected by this policy. I’ve touched on this before, but the fact that Palpatine (who comes from a) a Republic sector capital, b) a culture that highly values children, and c) parents with means) is never identified indicates that there are some significant gaps in the search process; probably particularly for populations that are more likely to slip through the cracks in a society like the Republic (i.e., the deep underlevels of Coruscant; remote farming/mining communities that are essentially Space Appalachia; etc.)

I should also mention, as a caveat, that we unfortunately have very few examples of nontraditional students within canon, so it’s admittedly not the greatest sample size in the world--I came up with five, which I will discuss at some length. But the sample sizes for any discussion on this subject are pretty small (I think we have personal information/significant canon detail on maybe a hundred members (i.e., ~1%) of the Jedi Order of this period?), so assumptions have to be made regardless. The way I’m defining my five examples is that they are students who came to the Jedi Path later than the traditional Order would typically allow, and they were trained/raised by Jedi Masters who were themselves traditionally trained (so far as we know).

Okay. Moving on.

So, the five nontraditional students we see in any detail are Anakin, Rael Avaross, Luke, Ezra, and Ventress.

With Anakin and Rael, we see a failure to adapt to the culture. Again, this is despite a genuine effort given on the part of their teachers. Admittedly, I’m less familiar with Rael, since I haven’t gotten around to reading Dooku Lost myself, but I’ve read enough excerpts and analyses that I feel like I have a general idea of what’s going on. Basically, my understanding is that he has some of the same issues Anakin has, relating to the family he left behind, and wanting things that are out of step with Jedi values. And, yes, at least with Anakin, Palpatine’s manipulations play a role in that. But the fact that he’s not the only example indicates (to me, at least) that it’s not the only factor in play here.

Obviously, this disconnect does not in any way excuse what Anakin (or Rael) later does, when he comes to a crisis point. I’m not trying to say that.

What I am trying to say is that I think this is an issue of conflicting expectations, and a fundamental miscommunication/disconnect despite genuine effort, particularly in the early stages, that leaves nontraditional students with a shaky foundation even if/when they find workarounds to appear like things are on track. Because the fact is that the Jedi Order typically takes in very small children, who can absorb most of these cultural norms essentially by osmosis, through a combination of infant neuroplasticity and the Force. An older child needs a different approach, and I’m not sure that the Jedi Order actually has the tools it needs to adapt their teaching style effectively to those circumstances. Especially when trying to integrate someone into a close-knit, fairly isolated/insular culture, which is difficult for an outsider/newcomer under the best of circumstances, on top of the new modes of behavior/emotional processing/etc. And, given how few nontraditional students there are, this is definitely a factor.

So, then it becomes sort of a feedback loop--older/nontraditional students have trouble adapting, which means the Jedi Order is less likely to take them on in the future, which means any they do take in have further troubles, etc., etc. Legends sort of indicated how this cycle started; canon has not; but frankly it’s a chicken-and-egg situation as of the period we’re talking about. Once that cycle does start, it’s hard to break.

Which brings me to my next set of examples, and the reason I think this is at least in part an issue in the Jedi Order’s teaching style.

Luke and Ezra are also nontraditional students, who are taught by traditionally-trained masters. And they are both successful.

And maybe, in part, that comes down to some quirk in personality that they share that Anakin and Rael don’t. But there’s also the fact that (due to genuinely horrific circumstances; and I will interrupt myself here and now to say that, while I do advocate for change on this particular issue, I don’t think the catalyst for change had to be, let alone should have been, what it was; but in canon, it was a catalyst for a change in approach), their masters had to adapt traditional teachings and values into a somewhat nontraditional framework. One reason I lean more towards the second/change in approach as the stronger factor--and, granted, we don’t have many specific examples to cite; plus they don’t fit technically my established definition--is that Luke’s new Academy would pretty much have to be all nontraditional students, and, so far as I can tell, the vast majority of them seem to have been successful, or on their way there, until Kylo Ren happened.

So, that leads to the conclusion that there’s an issue in how traditional Jedi Order teachings/teaching styles work with nontraditional students. Meaning, the Jedi Order of the late Republic era has difficulty in adapting said styles to the needs of the few older candidates they do take in, though not for lack of trying.

At this point, I’ll interrupt myself again to say that adjusting these practices might have an impact on the children who are brought in at a more typical age, and there’s possibly a balance to be struck between the needs of those students and the needs of these others. The way the culture is structured now does seem to be beneficial for the majority of students brought in the usual way, and fixing this flaw might open another, which might be more detrimental in the long run. And if there were any viable alternatives for training and support, that would be the end of it, as far as I was concerned. But the fact is--there aren’t. Pretty much all other Force-adepts we see seem to be closed ethnoreligious groups (or Sith). So I think an increase in flexibility in the early-stage teaching style/age limit for adoption is actually of a net benefit. Whether or not any changes are made to the broader framework/culture past that period, which is a separate discussion.

And that brings me to Ventress, my final example, who is much more complicated and harder to discuss due to several key pieces of evidence that are missing.

Where does she fit into all of this?

The implication in her flashbacks seem to be that she does pretty well with Ky Narec, who--without the same awful circumstances pushing his choices--adapts and uses a non-traditional/one-on-one approach with her, rather than trying to bring her to the Temple and integrate her into the culture right away.

Of course, there are a couple of issues with this. One, Ventress falls apart when he dies, so his approach also clearly had some flaws. Two, her memories may not be the most reliable/she might not be a super reliable narrator. Three, we are missing so much information about how and in what order everything went down.

First, why did Ky Narec make the choices he did? One explanation is that he had no way off the planet/no long-range communications and couldn’t contact the rest of the Order. I find this hard to believe for two reasons: how did Ventress then get offplanet after he died; and how did she get onto the planet in the first place? Someone there has a connection with the wider galaxy, and if Ky Narec really wanted to make contact, I’m sure he could’ve found a way.

So, why didn’t he? Was it because he knew Ventress was too old, and he felt he lacked the standing/social or political capital to convince the Council to accept her anyway? Was that assessment accurate on his part? Alternatively, did he think he could get her accepted, but felt that some training on their own before trying to integrate her into the broader culture was the better approach; and then he died before he could complete that process? Was he already thinking about leaving (as did the Lost Twenty), and she was what pushed him to actually take that step? I’m sure there are other possible explanations, but those are the ones that jump to mind.

Second, what did he tell her? What were her expectations for if/when they finally made contact with the Order? Did he warn her that her training was unauthorized and the Order would not accept her (whether or not that was actually true)?

Third, what did she actually do when he died? Did she try to reach out to the Order? Did she assume that there was no point? Did she reach out to her sisters on Dathomir? (From what I recall, most likely not, but it’s been a while since I watched the relevant TCW episodes.) Did she go straight to Dooku?

Fourth, when she did finally contact Dooku, was she seeking him out as a former Jedi who might have some understanding and compassion for her situation, or was she seeking him out as a Sith Lord/Dark Side adept? (Unless that’s actually covered in her flashbacks as well; again, I might be misremembering/have forgotten.)

So…yeah. It’s really hard to evaluate this question fully without more information on how everything with Ventress went down. But all the other evidence does indicate a disconnect.

I guess my point in all of this was…no, it’s not right for an entire culture to have to change everything for one person. But on the other hand, there’s something to be said for a test case/case study that draws attention to an existing flaw in the structure. And Anakin, while the most visible, isn’t actually the only one here.

Also...on a more general note, cultures are dynamic. They do change over time. Sometimes very rapidly, when change is forced by external pressures, sometimes more organically, by gradual internal shifts. So, the implication that the culture of the Jedi Order should remain exactly as it is as of the late Republic because that’s the best possible way for it to be, no matter how much the broader culture of the galaxy and/or their role in it might shift, feels…a little off to me. Especially since the war itself was already an impetus for change. The postwar Jedi Order was almost certainly going to be somewhat different from the prewar Order; how drastic or subtle that change would be without Anakin making all the wrong choices is a little harder to determine. And--look, I know I’m citing Legends here, because canon has yet to provide deep (i.e., 100+ years pre-TPM) backstory, but some of these things already have shifted over time, in response to both internal and external pressures. The age limit for taking in initiates/apprentices being one of them.

...but I’ll admit that that last paragraph may be me misinterpreting/reading too much into some of the posts and my There Is No One True Way button getting pushed again whether or not it’s merited in this case XD

Anyway, tangent aside, I just wanted to highlight why I feel this particular issue should be addressed, even if the expected cultural norms/code of conduct for Jedi who have integrated into the culture remain the same. Because, yeah, those seem to work out for most members, and the option to leave is there for those who have issues.

But the problem of latecomers/nontraditional students, particularly when there aren’t really any other options available to them for training and support, and there are an unknown (but possibly significant, in proportion to the size of the Order itself) number out there, is still a Thing.

((Also, one last tangent re: why this matters/is a Thing…look, applying IRL issues/politics/history and so on to Star Wars can be a weird/hinky/YMMV thing, apart from certain direct/explicit/obviously intentional parallels, and in general I try to avoid doing it--and, like, earlier today, I had to stop myself from going off on a long tangent about the Constitutions of Clarendon and Thomas Becket on a semi-related post about Ahsoka; if I want to do it, I can--but given the issues older kids/teenagers have being adopted IRL, and given the idea that baby Jedi are essentially adoptees, the fact that older kids are excluded is a little…yeah.))

#fandom #star wars #originally posted february 2020

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 5 years

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The Beginning... Episode 1 Part 2

Okay, wow. People really want this series to be a thing. So, wish granted! I’m super pumped for this! thanks for all the positivity you sent my way. I’ll try to live up to your expectations.

Also, an important note. In this AU, there are no pre-existing romantic relationships between the Smashers. Trust me, there will be. But this way there will be more room for drama.

Enjoy!

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*The Smashers have assembled in the amphitheater at Camp Smashanakwa. The show is on, and the teams are about to be forged. Ganondorf stands on the stage in full on Host mode.*

Ganondorf: Welcome back to Total Drama Smash Bros, brought to you by Lon Lon Milk! The coldest and most refreshing milk in the Chosen Kingdom. 9 Nine out of 10 Hylians recommend it!

Link: It's true.

Zelda: We're addicted. *Chugs a bottle of 2%*

Ganondorf: Now, before we can divide up these poor suckers into their teams, we need to introduce the rest of the staff! First off, is chef Ridley, who will be bringing you all your tasty camp treats.

*Cut to Ridley in the kitchen with a chainsaw and a suspicious bulging bag slung over his shoulder, dripping with blood.*

Ridley: HOPE YOU LIKE PORK! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! Revs up the chainsaw

*Cut back to the amphitheater*

Ganondorf: Next is King K Rool, who will be managing our... forest friends.

*Cut to King K Rool in front of hundreds of giant cages all filled with monsters from various games*

K Rool: You just need to feed them properly.

*A couple of unpaid interns are dumped into a cage with a King Dodongo.*

Intern #1: Meh, still better than studying for finals.

Inter #2: THIS DOES NOT EXPAND DONG!

*Cut back to the amphitheater*

Ganondorf: After that is Bowser, our resident tinkerer!

*Cut to Bowser, working on a massive electrical bear trap.*

Bowser: My motto is, if it can be electrical, it should be! Buahahah!

*Cut back to amphitheater.*

Ganondorf: And finally, Wolf! Our handyman.

Wolf, off to the side smoking a cigarette: I fix your toilets. Piss me off at your own risk.

Marth: I'm beginning to suspect that Master Hand is angry with us, putting these lunatics in charge.

Erdrick: Ya don't say?!

Ganondorf: Anyway! Time to make our teams. *A bokoblin walks onstage wearing a pink glittery dress. It holds a bag full on envelopes.* Simply come up and choose an envelope. If the paper inside is green, then you're a Crying Goomba! If it's red, then you're an Ugly Koopa!

Red: Wow, you're not even trying to hide your pettiness.

Ganondorf: Nope!

*The victims- I mean contestants one by one took up envelopes from the pink dress clad bokoblin. In the end, the teams were as follows*

*Crying Goombas: Link, Daisy, Ike, Leaf, Red, Corrine, Joker, Rosalina, Marth, Bonny Janet.*

*Ugly Koopas: Samus, Zelda, Roy, Pit, Dark Pit, Robyn, Lucina, Captain Falcon, Peach, Erdrick*

Captain Falcon: Aw yeah! Let me hear ya my Koopas!

*Silence, crickets chirping.*

Captain Falcon: Come on guys! We're doing this anyway, least we could do is be pumped for it!

Zelda: Sorry Captain, but we're far more worried about what insanity Ganondorf is going to inflict on us.

Captain Falcon: True... but still! Twenty million big ones!

Peach: At least five of us are royalty. We've got more than enough money. We're just doing this because we want to remain Smashers.

Daisy: And being responsible monarchs means we can't use much of the royal treasury for ourselves. It'll be good to have some pocket change.

Marth: ...Well when it's said like that it seems kind of arrogant.

*Sure enough some of the less monetarily inclined Smashers are looking at the royals with a bit of resentment*

Ganondorf: Ha Ha! Finally some seeds of drama! But, for now, one final bit of exposition before we get the ball rolling!

*a screen descends and shows a picture of a shoddily constructed outhouse*

Ganondorf: This is the Den of Confession. It's a completely private place to air your dirty laundry and darkest secrets. I guarantee you that no one will probably won't not maybe possibly never not see it.

Everyone: …

Dark Pit: Do even you know where you went with that?

Ganondorf: Nope!

Inside the Confessional

Zelda: Darkest secrets huh... … … … … I'm... I'm not actually a blonde. My hair is bleached. … … *she suddenly jumps onto the camera* GIMME THAT TAPE!

*The smashers and new teams now find themselves on the beach where Ganondorf is standing with Bowser Both Ganondorf and Bowser are clad in the loudest Hawaiian swim trunks in history.*

Ganondorf: Welcome Smashers and viewing audience to your FIRST CHALLENGE!

Pit: Ooh! Ooh! Are we playing voleyball! I love volleyball!

Dark Pit: *smacks Pit upside the head*

Pit: Oww!

Dark Pit: Of course not you idiot!

Ganondorf: Actually, my emo feathered moron, we are playing volleyball!

Dark Pit: Wait- what?! That's it?!

Ganondorf, a shit-eating grin on his face: Weeeeeeeellllll.... not really. See we're going to be playing...

Samus: This is going exactly where I think it is isn't it?

Ganondorf, pulling out a Bomb-bomb with the fuse lit: VOLLEY-BOMB!

Samus: Yup.

*Ganondorf throws the bomb at the Smashers*

Ike: HIT THE DECK!

*The Smashers jump for cover as the bomb lands... and nothing happens. It's a dud.*

Ganondorf: HAH! Classic.

Bowser, producing a massive sack filled with bombs: These bombs were designed by yours truly! They're programmed to only explode when they hit the ground, so keep them flying! Cause if they touch down... well you get the idea.

Ganondorf: The rules are simple. The Goombas and the Koopas will each split into two teams of five. There will be two games of 5 v. 5. Whichever team wins both games wins invincibility... and a prize! The loser team will vote someone off the Island tonight.

Peach: Uh, excuse me! But what if both teams win a game?

Ganondorf: Oh. Well, in that case, we'd have to hole... … the tie-breaker. MUAHAHAHA! *Ominous lightning flash*

*Silence. Crickets chirping.*

Ganondorf: Well, hop to it!

Inside the Confessional

Bowser: I'm a little worried about Big G. He's... he's getting really into this whole reality TV deal. Way more than is probably healthy.

Inside the Confessional

Link: Hey, maybe Ganondorf has found his true calling an he'll leave Hyrule the fuck alone! But since when am I that lucky huh?

With the Goombas

Link: Okay team. I think we need to talk strategy.

Bonny Janet: We're all goon ta' die.

Link: No... we just need to be careful. I have the most experience with these types of bombs, so I should head the first Team 1. Daisy, you're the professional sportswoman so you'll head Team 2.

Daisy: You got it! If I can survive Mario Party then I can survive this.

Bonny Janet: Grate. Soo tha' sissy English Elf is goona ta leaad one tame and the talkin' floowers goon to lead the oother?

Link: You've got a problem with that?

Bonny Janet: Aye ah've goot a problem! Who made ye leader eh?! Ike's goot tha flammin' sword o' fire! E' should lead a team, not the flight fairy o'er dere!

Link: Daisy's got the most experience with games like these. She leads Team 2.

Joker: Uh, not to play Devil's Advocate, but Bonny has a point. Ike does seem pretty fireproof.

Marth: Call it same series bias, but Ike does seem like a good choice. I don't doubt Daisy's abilities, but this seems more like a “let's survive and outlast” situation than a “let's beat the other team into submission” type situation.

Ike: Look, Link, I don't want to be the asshole here, but if the group wants me I'll do it.

In the Confessional

Bonny Janet: Dun git ma wrong. Ah' got nothin' against Elfy personally. Boot e's a presumptuous prick if e's thinks e' can joost boss us around like that. We ain'r 'is lackeys!

In the Confessional

Link: And like that everyone's suddenly listening to the Scottish Imp of a Pokemon trainer! I mean, I know she's both adorable and hilarious, but you can't just throw strategy out the window.

In the Confessional

Daisy: I appreciated Link standing up for me, but frankly I think he was more offended than I was.

With the Koopas

Captain Falcon: Trust me guys! I got this one in the bag.

Samus: As much as I want to disagree with Falcon on principal, he's probably right. This does seem like his forte.

Lucina: Indeed. Finally, a use for the meathead.

Captain Falcon: Hey! My brain is made of pure brain stuff. And if it WERE meat it'd be delicious.

Erdrick: *pats Falcon on the head*

Roy: Okay, I say we keep Falcon back until round 2, sort of our ace in the hole okay? Samus, can you handle round 1?

Samus: No sweat.

Roy: Any arguments?

*There is silence for a moment but no one disagrees with him.*

Roy: Alright, move out!

*The Koopas move to leave, but Pit and Zelda are grabbed from behind and pulled behind a large rock by an unknown figure. It turns out to be Peach.*

Zelda: Peach, dear, could you tell me what's going on. I mean, if you want to be behind a rock... with me... I uh... can make some exceptions... but uh... should Pit really-

*Peach smacks Zelda upside the head*

Peach: No you useless lesbian! I'm with Mario remember.

Zelda: Oh. Yes. I see.

Pit: What's a lesbian?

Peach: You'll find out when you're older. But look. Zelda, you're only ride-or-die ally is one the other team right?

Zelda: Now that you mention it... I have been worrying about what to do without Link. I can handle myself but...

Peach: And Pit. It's only a matter of time before Dark Pit gets too annoyed with you and gets you voted off, right?

Pit: No! Pittoo and I are making great progress! This morning he only beaned me in the head with one gallon of milk.

Peach:

Zelda:

Pit: I'm screwed aren't I?

Peach: Not if we stick together! I propose an alliance between us. Together, we'll take each other to the final three!

In the Confessional

Peach: I can see that I'm in a bad boat. Both Daisy and Rosalina are on the opposing team, so I'm already out two allies. I know what people think of me, the “useless Princess”. If I don't act fast I'm going home. Zelda and Pit are both sweethearts, and they're bad asses to boot. They'll make good allies.

In the Confessional

Zelda: I want to go on the record as saying I do not need Link to survive this place. I already have an alliance of my own! Time to show that Princess Zelda is no damsel in distress!

Zelda: I'm on board.

Pit: I dunno... I don't feel right doing this behind my emo brother's back.

Peach: Well with an alliance we can watch out for him little guy.

Pit: You mean it?

Peach: One-hundred percent!

Pit: … Okay, I'm in.

Ganondorf, watching on one of his monitoring cameras: Ooh hoo! Looks like some drama is already kicking up! The Goombas in a power struggle and two princesses already teaming up with a gullible Angel! Will Link take true command of the Goombas? Will Peach survive with her new alliance? Find out, here on Total, Drama, SMASH BROS!

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And that’s a wrap on part 2! The actual challenge will be in the third and final part of this episode, which will include the voting off ceremony. Let me know what you think! Also, try and guess who will win and be voted off.

Be good people!

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geekprincess26 · 5 years

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Smarter than Robb

By now, the office scene from Episode 1 has been analyzed and discussed ad nauseum on the interwebs, and from almost every possible angle. So many brilliant Jonsa authors have posted so many brilliant metas that I found myself 1) in awe and 2) so proud all over again for the millionth time to be a part of this intelligent, thoughtful, productive fandom!

However, I noticed one angle that has not been discussed much as of yet, and it’s one that stood out to me because Jon and Sansa’s office scene reminded me so vividly of their argument on the battlements in the first episode of season 7, where Sansa implores Jon, “You have to be smarter than Father. You have to be smarter than Robb.”

Ah, yes, our dear, departed idiot Robb Stark. We all remember him for being such a bold and brilliant general that even the Lannisters with their great, sprawling army could not defeat him in battle. He defeated Jaime Lannister, the greatest swordsman and possibly the greatest general in Westeros, using an elementary distraction technique, and then captured him to boot. Jaime’s father Tywin’s efforts to regain his son and defeat the upstart boy who had so humiliated him proved so vain that Tywin had to resort to treachery and subterfuge to bring Robb down.

However, Robb Stark was more than just a great general, and more even than the first King in the North in three centuries. Sansa, both in the books and on the show, saw him as more than that. To Sansa, he represented both hope and humiliation. Humiliation, because this is what happened to her every time Robb won another battle but refused to send Jaime Lannister home to save her:

But for a time, Robb also represented Sansa’s best hope, because had he not helped to bring about his own undoing (more on that later), he may have been able to storm King’s Landing to rescue Sansa from the Lannisters - and, aside from that, he certainly had the power to negotiate a prisoners’ exchange for her release. Even after Joffrey had Ned killed and threatened to give Sansa Robb’s head on a platter, her faith in her brother remained steadfast:

But, of course, Robb refused to send Jaime Lannister home, and by the time Jaime did arrive in King’s Landing due to Catelyn Stark’s disobedience against her son’s orders, Robb had failed his sister for a second time: He renounced the marriage alliance that may just have given him the key to defeating Tywin Lannister and rescuing the little sister who awaited him, and chose to marry another woman (Jeyne Westerling in the books, Talisa Maegyr in the show; I’ll refer to Talisa for the rest of this post because I know much more about the show than I do about the books). Instead of marrying the woman who would bring his Northern countrymen the power to cow Tywin Lannister and win Northern independence for good – all elements he sorely needed in light of the debacle with Lord Karstark – he married a foreign woman who offered him and his men no additional warriors, no old Westerosi family name to tie to his crown, and no means to end the war swiftly and send his men home to a secure, independent North where they could live in peace with their families again.

It was a decision that gave Robb the love of his life in the short term, but cost him both of their lives and the lives of Catelyn Stark and most of the Northern army, as well as plunging the North into further bloodshed at the hands of the Boltons, in the long run. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were not exactly the best of men, and Robb may well have had problems with them down the road, but they were problems he could have handled from a secured and powerful throne had he not provoked them so badly that they would rather work with Tywin Lannister than continue to serve a king whose actions indicated that he cared more for his own gratification than he did for the peace, security, and independence of the North. Of course, we as viewers know that that viewpoint was not entirely accurate. We know that Robb meant well. He agonized later over the consequences of his actions, apologized personally to Walder Frey, and did all he could to make amends for breaking his promise. But for his frustrated allies his remedies were too little and too late. They saw only a king who had failed them.

And Sansa, who had by then spent years being beaten, humiliated, threatened, and forcibly married to a Lannister, didn’t know he meant well, either. She didn’t understand the reasoning behind his actions any more than the Northern lords did. All she knew was that Robb, her beloved big brother, had refused to help her when he could. He had failed her completely.

By the time Sansa reunited with Jon, her other “big brother,” she’d learned the hard way to trust no one, especially men, to protect her. If she wanted someone to advocate for her interests, to protect herself and the North (as she saw it) from the Boltons, she knew she would have to do it herself, as she informed Jon the day they got back together.

But Jon joined Sansa, albeit reluctantly. He did what Robb and all the other Northern lords had failed to do, first when she was trapped in King’s Landing with the Lannisters and then when Ramsay Bolton held her captive: he protected her in every way he could. He threw himself wholeheartedly into persuading the Wildlings and even a few of the Northern lords, who were understandably skeptical about House Stark’s ability to defeat Ramsay Bolton and to serve the North’s best interests before a foreigner’s, to join their cause. When Sansa reminded him just how little he knew about Ramsay Bolton, he listened to her in his own dense way. And when she told him she’d kill herself if Ramsay won the battle, he swore to protect her.

But by then, Sansa had seen far too many people, including Robb, fail to protect her. Paradoxically, she did for Jon what Robb never did for her: she made an enormous sacrifice to save him by going back into the debt of one of her most dangerous abusers, and she used that abuser’s army to save her “brother.” And he, in turn, showed her a level of respect to which she was entirely unaccustomed: he restrained himself from killing Ramsay Bolton so that Sansa could mete out the justice she (and Rickon) so richly deserved.

Fast-forward to season 7, which began with Jon keeping his promise to protect Sansa to the point where it appeared to annoy her, as she expressed during their argument on the battlements of Winterfell in the first episode. Sansa’s mannerisms, though, speak to her happiness at finally having the other big brother in her life do what her first big brother had failed to do. He stayed with her to co-rule the North, despite his reluctance at being named its king. He gave her the Lord’s chambers and a seat at the high table with him. He acknowledged her right to rule at his side, and he didn’t abuse her for expressing her opinions. He was the first man to treat her with true gentleness since Joffrey Baratheon murdered her father. She was safe with him, safe enough to express her opinions and disagreements and, yes, that annoyance at his overprotectiveness.

But then Jon left the North. He left despite the Stark family’s history in the South, despite his people’s protests, and despite the Northern lords’ unease over yet another King in the North leaving his people behind and marching off to fight a great military campaign in the South. This unease was particularly ominous because it was expressed through the mouth of Lord Glover, who in season 6 had refused to fight for Jon and Sansa because House Stark had proven itself untrustworthy: Robb Stark had wandered off to the South and allied himself through marriage to a foreign woman, which much of the North saw as a direct betrayal of their interests.

And Jon left despite the frantic pleas of his sister Sansa, who, despite the reasons he sprang on her at the last minute shared, must have been terrified at the prospect of another big brother leaving her and heading off to form an alliance with a completely unknown foreigner. He’d protected her, treated her gently, given her safety, given her plenty of opportunities to smack the concept of politics and negotiations through his thick head – and now he was about to leave her. Granted, she was in Winterfell with Brienne and her allies, not in King’s Landing with the Lannisters and their cronies, but when a sharp reminder brings a past trauma rushing to the forefront of one’s brain, that brain often reverts to panic mode, and that’s what Sansa’s mind clearly did here:

Watch it again. Listen to her voice shoot up by an octave. Look at that flinch, that widening of her eyes, those darting glances off to the side, that vulnerable stare she couldn’t quite contain.

You’re abandoning your people. You’re abandoning your home, she accused him aloud, trying to mask her sheer terror. You’re abandoning me, she was silently begging Jon to hear, but he didn’t. By his own admission, he was “consumed” with their enemies beyond the Wall – in fact, in his mind he was probably protecting Sansa better in the long run by going South and getting allies to defeat an enemy who would otherwise destroy her and all of Westeros to boot than he could by staying in Winterfell.

In other words, Jon meant well. But all Sansa saw was another “brother” leaving her. The only man who had consistently protected her, loved her, given her kindness and safety, and never left her side since her father’s death had decided to march South and risk throwing the North back into chaos and violence. That doesn’t mean she didn’t understand his reasons; she knew Jon was only doing what he felt was best for her and the North. But he’d still chosen to leave, reviving all of Sansa’s old demons of fear, loneliness, and abandonment.

But Sansa, with her skin of steel, waved Jon off dutifully and went about strengthening the North’s armies and food supplies. She ruled it brilliantly and, even when he’d been gone for months and the Northern lords grew impatient, she refused to take Jon’s crown for herself, despite the fact that she probably shared their worries over the possibility that he might not return.

Then Jon did return – only for Sansa to find that he’d done exactly, to all appearances, what Robb had. He’d made an alliance with a foreign woman – not yet a marriage alliance, but after her fateful conversation with Littlefinger in season 7, Sansa had every reason to believe Jon would arrange to marry Daenerys. Worse yet, this foreign woman was not an altruistic Volantene healer, as Robb’s wife had been, but, as Sansa probably suspected from her first conversation with Daenerys and certainly knew after their meeting in the great hall, a capricious, unpredictable war leader with a violent streak, two fully-grown dragons, and an utter disregard for the havoc they might wreak upon the North.

Jon may have meant well by bringing home the only ally who could give him a chance of saving Westeros, and, more importantly, his family from annihilation. His laser focus on serving his temperamental queen, which initially had me distraught and angry, shows just how committed he is to defeating the dead no matter the cost, and his increasing discomfort around Daenerys shows his awareness of just how high that cost is becoming.

But Sansa, like the Northern lords, didn’t see any of that. She only saw was Jon’s willingness to placate a potentially nuclear time bomb to the detriment of his family and his people. The little girl inside her who had waited and waited in vain for one big brother to show up and protect her, only to see him abandon her for his foreign interests, was now watching the other brother – her confidant, her protector, her co-ruler, her partner in crime, the only man with whom she could let her guard down and be Sansa rather than just the Lady of Winterfell – do the same. We, as the viewers, got to see a more complete picture (albeit still a murky one) of Jon’s motives, but Sansa did not.

All she could see what that her brother and best friend had betrayed her.

No wonder she snapped out the news about Lord Glover to Jon. No wonder she stalked across the room to get as far as she could from him when he finally sought her out. No wonder she didn’t bother concealing her disdain for Jon’s actions. His apparent betrayal brought all the old insecurities roaring back tenfold - the old fear and panic and hurt from before, when Robb had left Sansa to the not-so-tender mercies of the Lannisters, and Sansa, already bearing the heavy burdens of leadership and of worrying over what Daenerys or her dragons might do next, couldn’t quite mask her feelings as well as she had when Jon had first left Winterfell. She got snappy and sarcastic and cutting – and hurt. Jon had promised to protect her and keep her safe – he even had, for a time. She had been his beloved sister, the most important and cherished person in his world, someone with whom he could share all of his vulnerabilities and reassure her about hers, and now she had been abandoned in favor of a volatile tyrant who couldn’t feed her own army, much less refrain from threatening Sansa’s. Completely apart from any romantic feelings that may or may not be involved (I can see where others think Jon and even Sansa have those feelings, although I personally don’t believe either of them acknowledges those tendencies at this point, especially given the way they were raised), Sansa had just been betrayed by her best friend, one who until recently was the only family member she had left in the world. And despite her repeated warnings, he’d failed to be smarter than Robb. He’d been even less smart, if possible, and Sansa found herself once again holding the bag and paying the price. And if in the next few episodes Jon doesn’t get over himself and confide in her once again, the price could have deadly consequences – for Sansa, for the Starks, and for all the people Jon loves the most.

We know Jon is smarter than Robb. But Sansa needs to know, too. She deserves to know. Until she does, Jon is just another brother who betrayed her. She and Jon can’t rule the North, can’t play their roles in saving it and their family and Westeros, and can’t effectively rebuild the North together after the war is over by marrying each other to create the alliance Jon can never have with Daenerys and finally find the love they deserve with each other if Jon doesn’t clear the air and make it possible for them to trust each other, and, in the future, love each other the way Ned and Catelyn did.

#jon x sansa #game of thrones #jonsa meta #parallels #who wouldn't feel betrayed #poor sansa #her anger is understandable #political jon #he may be political but he's still dense #oh the angst

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medschoolash · 5 years

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Do you mind sharing more your road to medical school? Only if you’re comfortable of course?

yeah sure anon! I’ve actually never written my full story on here or anywhere so I’m glad I get the chance to do it now and hopefully this encourages someone else to keep pursuing their goals or dreams.

Warning this is a long story .

so I graduated with a degree is biology back in 2012, it took me 5 years to finish that degree. I was initially a biochemistry major and I changed halfway thru, which put me behind a semester. The semester I was supposed to graduate my depression, something I had struggled with since childhood but never quite acknowledged, had worsened to the point that I could barely function as a student, so I ended up failing every class I took that semester which meant I had to comeback for another semester.

My final semester in undergrad I prayed everyday for just Cs, that’s what I needed to graduate and that’s all I really wanted because I had zero energy to invest anymore. God heard my prayers and I finished the semester with straight Cs.

this is the face of a depressed girl who had finished an academic journey well below where she’s used to being but who is grateful she even got to finish at all.

It’s safe to sat that after my terrible academic performance my medical school chances were shot to hell and my confidence in my ability to actually be a doctor what almost zero. I was an amazing student in HS, won every award imaginable, was student of the year, etc but undergrad just didn’t go that way for me. I started off strong and gradually declined as my mental health problems became worse and worse. So to finish the next part of my academic journey at such a low place academically was a blow to me. After graduation I had to make a decision about what I would do next. I thought about doing a post bac program but I couldn’t mentally handle more school and I had zero desire to get a masters in biology when I was so miserable as a biology major.

I ended up deciding to take a year off after graduation. I have amazing parents who support me so they were okay with my decision. I didn’t work or attend school and at times I felt like I was just wasting my life but I did do a lot of soul searching and I discovered what I was really passionate about it life. That time off gave me a chance to mentally rest and recover from a very hard phase of my life. It gave me the freedom to get to know myself better without the pressures and responsibilities of life. I was always aware that this was a privilege that a lot of people don’t get which made me extremely grateful for it. During this time period I was introduced to the field of public health. My best friend had left some months before to pursue a Masters degree in public health and she mentioned she felt I would like it. During my break I looked into it and I learned that it was the perfect combination of all that things I was passionate about at that time: medicine, community, service, and advocacy. The more I explored the field and myself the more I became sure that this was the next step in my path, that this would be the place that I could fine fulfillment while also doing something that could potentially made me a better medical school candidate. while I researched school I started a community health initiative through my church, volunteered in my community, and did small things that made me feel like I had purpose and was making some sort of difference in the world.

One night when I was up at 3am binge watching the early seasons of game of thrones I saw an email about a school in California that offered a Masters of Public Health degree via their School of Community and Global health. I had always wanted to live in California and the school was perfect for what I was looking for so despite knowing that my grades technically weren’t what they needed to be for a graduate program (yes my undergrad GPA that THAT low) I applied to the school. I even took a huge risk and applied to ONLY that school because that’s how much faith I had about this being the next step for me. It was stressful waiting to hear back from the school and I had many moments of doubting if it was the right decision. I applied to the school in early 2013. The end of July early august approaches and I still haven’t heard anything back even though school starts the first week of September. All of my friends and family knew I would get in but I was seriously doubting. They believed in me so strongly they even gave me a surprise going away party before I even got accepted.

My dad later encourages me to call the school so I call, fully expecting to hear that I was rejected. At the end of that phone call I learn that I had gotten into the school but I never received my acceptance letter because there was a mix up in their office with the reporting of my GRE scores. I cried as soon as I was told I was granted a conditional acceptance so I barely even processed that it was conditional and not full right away. Either way I was just happy that my faith had paid off, I was going to be attending a school in my dream area and studying something I was passionate about.

I had less than 1 month to move halfway across the country which was hectic but my family was amazing and made the quick transition a breeze. In August 2013 I moved and once I got there I now had to finally force myself to deal with the fact that I had a conditional acceptance looming over my head and if I didn’t perform up to par I would be dismissed. This was also a very expensive private school that is a part of a very prestigious consortium of colleges that based on stats I shouldn’t have even been accepted into. So I couldn’t afford to fail at this. This was stressful at first because my confidence in myself academically still wasn’t great after my experience in undergrad. Long story short tho, I needed to maintain at-least a 3.3 my first semester in order to be granted full acceptance and continue in the program…. I ended up with a 4.0 that first semester. I shocked myself with my performance and doing that well really gave me a much needed boost of confidence. After this first semester I slowly started to allow myself to really dream of medical school again and believe it was possible.

My Graduate experience ended up being exactly what I needed. I met amazing people while in my program, got to experience an amazing city like Los Angeles, and I started to really understand what kind of physician I wanted to be going forward. It was during this program that I realized that there was more to medicine than the science and that It should take more than just perfect grades to call yourself an MD. I learned that I needed to be a doctor that their patients could trust, that could see the bigger picture outside of just their disease, that could advocate for them, that could treat them with respect and understand everything that affects their quality of life like income status, race, educational background, access to affordable transportation, food and healthcare, and health policy. This is where I decided that I wanted to be a primary care provider instead of a neurologist, where I finally found what my purpose truly was. It wasn’t to just be a doctor for the sake of being a doctor, it was to be a true servant of the people on a community level and global level.

Despite all this amazing growth and the amazing experience, during my final year my depression and anxiety started to rear it’s ugly head again. It was even more dejecting this time around because I was so happy, so content, living such an amazing life but no matter what I seemed like I couldn’t escape. At the end of 2014 I had health issues that made my mother fly out to California for a week to take care of me and I had huge mental breakdown in February of 2015 (I wrote about it on here before). I remember crying to my friend in the UK about how I was tired of the up and down and how I felt like it was just hopeless for me at this point. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t leave my house, couldn’t make myself eat. Even a small task like combing my hair, brushing my teeth, or putting on proper clothes felt like a chore that I couldn’t do. It was the worst I had ever been.

Once again my academic performance started to suffer again. The only thing that really saved me was the fact that I was pretty much done in the classroom at this point. I was mostly working on my internship with the exception of one elective class . That’s the only reason my GPA didn’t take a huge hit but my internship was threatened every week. I worked for an amazing organization in LA county that was dedicated to serving the health needs of the incarcerated population. My preceptor was so flexible and amazing that when I told him I had issues with anxiety that were preventing me from coming to the office he helped me arrange working from home. He did all he could to help me finish even when I missed deadlines, appointments, etc because I couldn’t leave my house. More than once he had to be firm and tell my that If I didn’t do better I wouldn’t be able to continue but he always managed to find some grace to extend to me. His final act of grace was granting me an extension on my internship year.

Basically what happened was by the time the beginning of May 2015 rolled around I did not have the hours to complete my internship. This was okay from a school perspective because it meant that I could still walk, but from an internship perspective I was very behind, well behind my initial contract and they didn’t have to extend it to allow me to finish. My preceptor sat me down and wrote out a plan that would require me to put in very strict hours until October of that year and if I finished by that deadline then they would sign my paperwork that would allow my degree to officially be conferred by the university. I was so grateful for the grace that I cried in his office.

I walked for graduation in the May 2015 ceremony got the summer off, then returned to california to complete my internship and my capstone.

this was me on graduation day, 3 months after a major mental breakdown

Nothing but the grace of God got me through those months after my breakdown and the next few months. I mustered up every piece of energy and courage I could find and finished my Internship by my deadline in October and my preceptor signed off. My final project was designing an in custody Hepatitis eduction program to add on to their existing HIV education program, something that I am extremely proud of doing since LA county has one of the largest prison populations in the entire world and the vast majority of those incarcerated are black people.

Immediately after my internship was done I went through a very trying family issue that once again sent me into a spiral. I had initially planned on staying in LA to work in public health until I decided to apply to medical school but after talking to my family I ended up deciding that moving back home near my family would be the better option so I left a city I loved and returned to my parents house. While home I decided that I was tired of not getting help for my mental health issues so I made the decision of finally get into therapy. I made the decision because I knew I could never be a doctor unless I got help. I also made the decision because I was tired of being held back in life because of it, because I was tired of having every good moment tainted my illness, because I knew I couldn’t keep living the way I was living.

The beginning of 2016 was so hard because therapy, though helpful, opened up so many old wounds. I was often drained after my session (I would walk around whole foods for an hour buying random stuff after each session just to get some of the weight off my shoulders before returning home) but the experience was so freeing that I kept going and I could see the improvement. I learned so much about myself and why certain things have repeated itself at every stage of my life. I learned so many valuable skills and unlearned so many harmful thought processes and behaviors.For the first time since I was a child I finally felt like a free person, not like a walking pit of achievements and expectations, not like a sick person, not like a person just going thru the motions. This helped me finally decide that I was ready to purse medicine again.

My initial plan was to apply to medical school while I was in my graduate program so that I could stark right after graduation but I was so paralyzed with depression and anxiety I would stare at my MCAT book and just cry for hours because I didn’t feel good enough, I didn’t feel smart enough, I didn’t feel worthy enough, and I didn’t feel strong enough to even take that exam let alone actually be a real doctor. So I put it off. I remember being in my therapist office crying because I wanted to be a doctor so badly but It felt out of reach with my grades and history. The day I finally found the courage to schedule my MCAT exam I actually cried as I pressed the process button. I remember sitting in my therapist’s office crying as she smiled and encouraged my for having the bravery to face something that brings me so much anxiety and for having the courage to keep going forward despite the uncertainty.

If this was a Disney movie I would have scored super high on my MCAT and then been accepted into my first choice school but life isn’t a Disney movie.

I was scored barely high enough to be competitive but not high enough to offset my academic history so I was rejected in my first round of medical school applications. Prior to therapy I would have completely crumbled and given up, but because I was so much better at that point, so much stronger and braver I cried my initial tears and sat down to restudy for the MCAT again two days later. I was determined to do better, to cope better, and manage my life better. I started yoga, kept going to therapy, and spent time with myself and my friends and family and really finally healed and grew as a person

During this time I prepared my second round of applications for medical school, I applied to over 16 schools with the full knowledge that my application wasn’t as competitive as it needed to be but knowing I had what it took to be a good doctor and somehow it would work out for me. I retook the MCAT and got literally the exact same score as before lol I took that as a sign that I didn’t need to put my faith in an arbitrary measure of intelligence that actually had no bearing on whether or not I would actually make a good doctor or do well on the boards (research backs this up) and instead that needed to put my faith in myself and In God.

During my previous round of applications I heard about IMG medical schools and I started an application for one school but never finished it because I remembered the stereotypes about IMG students and how they weren’t respected in the states or didn’t make it. During my second round of applications I ended up talking to an associate that was at a small Caribbean school. She told me about her experience and really made me open minded about pursing this alternative path. After doing lots of research I learned that the school I almost applied to at first is one of the most respected IMG schools out there and has given thousands of students the chance to be physicians.

I decided to apply just before my US medical school rejection letters started coming it. There were a few times that I started to feel like I would never get in or if I did I would be making a huge mistake by going. shortly after sending my application I started a job in a hospital emergency department and while there I learned that 2 of our main ED doctors were actually IMG graduates. I also learned that the hospital had two residents from the school I applied to. This was so encouraging to me because it showed my that I wasn’t wrong. IMG grads can make it, and they aren’t any different from any other grad. They have MD behind their names and perform their jobs just as well as anyone else. The IMG docs were getting the same respect and salary as the Stanford grad on staff. None of that truly mattered, what mattered was can you do your job and do it well.

What a lot of people don’t tell you about IMG schools is that yes a lot of people attend because they have a rocky academic history, but many attend because they were excellent students but US schools just didn’t have the space for them (google how much of a physical shortage US hospitals have because US schools can’t meet the demand with their low acceptance rates). Many attend because they decided to be doctors later in life and had huge gaps between degrees that US schools found unattractive. Many of them are good enough to be excellent doctors, they just needed the opportunity to do so, I was one of those students.

After getting rejected by all 16 schools I applied to I ended getting into my current medical program BUT it once again it wasn’t a complete acceptance. I was granted conditional acceptance into the school of medicine, the condition being I had to pass a strenuous hard sciences program with a 3.5 GPA (well above the GPA requirement actual first year medical students need to pass into the next term) AND I had to pass a comprehensive exam at the end of the program with at least a 75. This brought on so much anxiety because if I failed to meet this high standard I would not be allowed to continue and my medical journey would truly be over. Most of the students who get placed in this program don’t pass because it’s that hard. I had 6 different classes, the most credit hours I have ever taken at one time in my life, each with their own exams and class requirements. This was truly the test that would show how much I had grown because this was the most pressure I had ever faced. I was walking into a program thousands of miles away from my family and friends on a secluded island and being placed into a situation that could trigger every single one of my issues. Instead of quitting before I even started I decided I was going to do it, I was going to mass no matter what, I wasn’t gonna let anything stand in my way. I felt like this was what all my suffering had prepared me for, this was what all the delays was for. It was to get to a place where I felt strong enough to give this my all and perform as well as I knew I could.

My time in the first program was hard. I missed my family, I never felt like I could take breaks, I cried so many times because there was so much doubt and pressure at times. I cried before my first round of exams in the program thinking I would do terribly and I ended up getting As on every exam except one. This helped my confidence tremendously and I finally started to believe deep down inside that I could do this. By the time my program had ended I had lost friends because grades made them withdraw or because of petty reasons and I had a relapse with anxiety that sent me to the department of psychological services once a week for 2 months. But through it all I made it though a program where 150 people started, only 90 made it to finals, and only 50 of those 90 passed (many on appeals) with All As and 1 B and an A on the comprehensive exam.

I did that, I worked my ass off in a foreign place and I performed at a level that I didn’t think I was even capable of for a long time. I passed with flying colors, I passed with no doubt that I was capable, that I was strong enough to endure this process, that I could achieve every dream that felt our of reach for so long.

This is the face of a person who worked so hard for so long, who battled so much and finally got to wear the coat that she felt so unworthy of for a long time. This is the face of someone who earned her place at the table that no one can ever take from her.

and this is the face of the girl who based on undergraduate grades and probably every statistic out there shouldn’t have gotten into medical school but who just finished her first official term as a medical student with an A average and in the top 10% of her class. This is the face of a person who is as happy as she’s ever been and as whole as she’s ever been.

#answered #about me #black girl white coat #black women in medicine #IMG med #Anonymous

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eclecticsublimeparadise · 4 years

Text

We Must Protect This House.

Woooo! It has been a MINUTE. HUGE changes in both myself and the world around me this year. I don’t know about you guys, but I felt this coming. I felt SOMETHING coming. You may remember me from my spiral blogs/vlogs. One compliment I can give myself is that I was brave AF for speaking out on unpopular issues before it was socially acceptable to do so. I spoke out on a lot of ugly that was happening around me and challenged ideals on mental health. It is imperative that now more than ever, mental health becomes a conversation. In this fast paced world we have been given the BLESSING of slowing down and it is crucial we do not take this time for granted. Greed, envy, lust (pretty much all of the seven deadly sins) were thriving prior to COVID and are still lingering. A force greater than us is sending a very clear message. Someone is telling us to sit down and shut up because we definitely do not have it all figured out. In a society where arrogance and corruption reign, someone, something, stopped us dead in our tracks and said “now wait just a minute.”

Today I was blessed with a day off to reflect all that is happening within myself and the world around me. I see the pain and suffering and I am certain it is going to get way worse before it gets better. I fear for my brothers and sisters battling the silent killer that no one seems to really be addressing. Yes, COVID is horrific. But so are all of the domestic violence calls, child abuse, and overdoses that are correlated I am sure, to being confined to our homes. My dad has a scanner and I am connected enough with first responders to hear what actually is going on. And it is terrifying. I finally heard enough to say “alright carrie, its time to speak up. words are your power. your test is your testimony now.” I am basically the Slumdog Millionaire of surviving depression, anxiety, and a knapsack of other issues. Life has adequately prepared me to hopefully prepare you. I may be the advocate you never knew you needed.

It sounds so simple. Stay the f*ck at home. But it is not. It is not. When I was home alone, jobless, wondering where my next meal was coming from, waiting on an unemployment check..my anxiety and depression skyrocketed. When my mental health plummeted, I lost my sense. I acted out in deplorable, desperate ways. I used alcohol too early or too much. I went on medication that is dangerous and almost impossible to stop taking. I went numb at the wrong times. I got aggressive at the wrong times. I lost myself. Then I spiraled into this self pity of “I know this is not who i am but this is who the world thinks i am so why even try.” I would hide my struggles which, like infections, grow in the dark. Mental health issues swept under the rug are some of the most dangerous issues you could face. Face them head on. As uncomfortable as it is, face your shit, unedited, head on, and sober.

Speaking of sobriety, no matter what your viewpoint is on addiction, if you have friends or family that have ever struggled in this area..reach out. Addiction almost always stems from pain and poor mental health. If the addict has children, it is even more imperative for you to reach out and offer UNCONDITIONAL support. Being isolated, hungry, jobless, home with kids 24/7....ALL of the triggers are there for an addict to snap. So how do we help someone with substance use issues? You listen to their needs, without judgment. I would rather someone call me at four AM dopesick and needing help with their child than have that mom (who was stressed out and overextended and using to cope) snap and OD or have CPS take that baby. I am asking that all of you be kind, especially to mothers in addiction (to the moms that drank before noon some days, or popped that xanax to cope, I love you. I am here for you. I will never judge you. If you have done it, I have a name for it. ) We need a safe form of support and communication. I have spent the last ten years building coping skills. I am one of the most educated individuals about my illness but the illness still kicks my ass if I don’t pray. Prayer, education, honesty, courage and endurance (physical and emotional) will get you through these times. Even if you think you are dead alone and no one gives a rats ass...I promise that is not the truth. My story would have been over if it were meant to be over. I was that alone and dark. Anyone reading this, call me if you get dark thoughts. They arent embarrassing, they are dangerous.

I saw people hoarding toilet paper and that was my first sign that people were panicking and their sense of control is being lost. My second thought was omg I used to live off of government assistance/paycheck to paycheck and had i not have had the job I was blessed with this year, my kids would be absolutely fucked. We are fucking over the working poor that are desperate to care for their little ones as well. Please stop freaking out. Stop hoarding. If feels SO GOOD TO GIVE. I promise you, God gives you back what you let go of TEN FOLD. Not allowing others to purchase essential items due to our own anxieties is going to make the children pay. I cry every day, because all of this is making our children pay. Moms are too overwhelmed. Dads are out of work. We cant feed our children and they are hungry. They keep saying they are hungry. There is no schedule. There is no school as a safe haven for children with parents struggling with addiction or any other mental health issues. All of these stressors are the perfect storm for disaster, even bigger than COVID.

I revamped my blog because I am not a victim anymore. I have stories so strong they will make you believe. It is time to start telling those...pain shared is pain lessened.

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