#i did get an exercise bike and i have actually been using it

[aviul]

scent

[drdemonprince]

Early in Geller’s career, she developed a Community Outreach Partnership Program for ED patients who hadn’t responded to, or weren’t interested in, traditional methods (cognitive behavioral therapy; keeping a food diary; aiming for three meals and two snacks a day). These patients had been landing in the emergency department with heart problems or blood abnormalities—mainly from typically presenting AN [anorexia nervosa]. Her first patient was Linda*, a woman with AN known as a “revolving-door” admission; she ended up there about once a month, year after year. “She was really upset and unhappy with the care system,” Geller said, “because she did not want a full recovery.”  Each time Linda was admitted, she’d be pushed to gain more weight than she was comfortable with. So rather than recovery, Geller focused on meeting her where she was at. Linda loved to ride her bike. She loved to ski. She was a runner. A huge proportion of her joy, and her identity, came from doing these activities and being good at them.  “It was only after she heard me reflect that I understood the importance of those things in her life that she was willing to talk about how hard it was when, after a giant ride, she couldn’t get out of bed,” Geller said. “And how much she disliked having to come into hospital.” They developed a harm reduction plan with a shared goal: Linda being able to eat restrictively, and still ski and bike, without ending up in the hospital. “And she never came back to hospital,” Geller said. “She actually never returned to what would be considered a ‘normal’ weight, but she continued doing the things that she liked, and she was able to work, and she was able to have many of the things in her life that she wished for. And it wasn’t using a full-recovery model.” Linda was in her 40s at the time.

There's some triggering stuff in here obviously (weight talk, food talk, ED talk, acknowledgement of some people with EDs not wanting to gain weight and lots of physicians' flawed understandings of both ED and weight), so please be advised and expect that, but this was a great read! traditional ED recovery plans move way too fucking fast for some people to ever be comfortable with, are entirely too focused on raw numbers, have a ton of fatphobic assumptions deeply buried within them, and ignore the fact that for a huge subset of ED patients (such as neurodivergent people), eating frequently and refeeding symptoms can be so physically unpleasant as to be undesirable, and being denied ANY opportunity to burn off anxiety via exercise can be a no-go. A harm reductionist, flexible approach to EDs that focuses on what the person with the ED wants and needs is a far better way to go than the abstinence model.

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

MeMe and Control over One's Own Destiny

Alright I've been holding off on talking about Mikoto until Double releases, but I saw he was on a train and my brain went Silly. Don't you understand how crazy the symbolism is?! (<- Mentally unwell)

So now I have to talk about how MeMe handles the concept of destiny and the control the alters have on the system's future, because it's honestly so interesting to me.

CW Murder

Disclaimer: I'm not an expert on DID, feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong

The first big connection between MeMe and the idea of destiny is obviously the recurring theme of tarot cards. These are used for divination, meaning the practice of trying to learn about the future through supernatural means. In other words, they're deeply tied to the concept of destiny, of future events that will come to affect us, and the ways we may influence it. What's important to take away here is that, regardless of whether or not you believe in it, reading tarot cards is a way for people to try to understand their future so they can take try to take control of it.

Once you make this little connection, a lot of the imagery in MeMe starts to get interesting. To give you an example, one of the opening shots is of a bunch of tarot cards all scattered in water.

So, their future is scattered, it's uncertain, it's messy, etc. You get the idea, I don't think I need to elaborate on why Mikoto's life is a bit of a mess.

However, I think there are two scenes which are particularly interesting in this regard. When Aokoto (host) draws a blank card in the first chorus, and when he gathers the cards in the deck at the start of the third chorus.

So first, we can be sure this is Aokoto because the lyrics not only use 'boku', but also express confusion at the situation, which only really fits the host.

Why am I [boku] here? It must be a mistake? Take a good look at me [boku], until you find me The truth will come to reveal itself I won't forgive you if this is happening to me even though I'm right

Why am I [boku] here? It must be a mistake? Take a good look at me [boku], until you find me

(Note: If there is no clarification on which pronoun is used when I put lyrics here, it's because the Japanese doesn't actually use any pronouns)

What's happening here? As stated, the tarot cards are a representation of destiny and their future. By drawing a tarot card, Aokoto is trying to understand his situation and destiny better. And by stacking the deck up neatly, he's trying to take control of his destiny, of his future. The desire to be free and be able to control his life is a very important part of Aokoto's character:

(T1) Q14: What will you be doing in 10 years? M (Ao): I'd like to work independently and make my own design company. That way I'm free to do what I want.

(T1) Q8: What are your reasons for wanting to work for your current job? M (Ao): I work at an advertising company that's at the top of the business world, you know? Just being able to get to that position is something to be proud of. I worked really hard to get hired there, too.

Aokoto places high value on the work he's done, because that shows how committed he is to having control over his life and his job.

(T1) Q12: How do you get to work? M (Ao): I ride a road bike. It's a hobby of mine, and it's good to exercise too. I don't need to worry about missing the train, but that can either be a good or bad thing.

I've seen this answer interpreted a few different ways, but personally I believe what Aokoto's implying is that the freedom of not having to rely on the train is both good and bad. Essentially, he doesn't have to stress about missing it, but there's also no guarantee that he'll get to work in time without the reliability of the train. However, he still prefers the bike, because it gives him more freedom.

... Foreshadowing is a narrative device-

There's also the matter of the tarot spreads which appear in that "blank card" scene. There are two distinct ones:

Now, the whole mess is too complicated to get into here (and I actually am holding off from analysis until we get extra context from Double for that reason), but I believe one of these spreads belongs to Aokoto, and the other belongs to Midokoto (Secret Third gatekeeper alter). Which is which doesn't matter, because the card I want to focus on is the card in the "Hopes and Fears" position (EXTREMELY long story), which is I - The Magician (upright) in both of them. The Magician represents (among a fuckton of other things because tarot cards are frustratingly ambiguous by design) power, potential, basically the ability to achieve your goals. Thus, in the "Hopes and Fears" position, it would mean Aokoto wants to be able to control his life and fulfill his potential, and is afraid he might not be able to.

There is also the "Present" or "Self" card being the reversed XII - The Hanged Man. The Hanged Man upright represents (among other things) patience, the hope that as long as everything continues the same, things will turn out okay. Thus, reversed, it could be read as implying the querent is trying their best to change their situation, but are failing at it.

And this is where we get to the second part of the scenes I pointed out before. Because when Aokoto draws a card by itself, it's a blank card. In other words, no matter how much he wants to, Aokoto doesn't have full control of his future. I mean, obviously, right? He himself can't control his destiny when the other alters are also doing pretty impactful stuff. Depending on what theories you subscribe to, he may have ended up in Milgram without even murdering anyone, which is what I believe.

The same can be seen when he tries to put the deck back together. You might notice the deck there is actually thinner than the other time we see it.

He tries to "fix" or "arrange" his future, but he's "playing with half a deck", he's only half in control of his future. In this metaphor, the other alter(s) would have the rest of the deck, would control the rest of the system's destiny. Does that make sense?

Which gets us to the other alter who does tarot reading.

Notice the red mannequin there? The way 0 - The Fool's pouch of food is now a skull? And you can see this alter, heavily implied to be Orekoto, reads a Celtic cross spread with the Fool in the "querent" or "present" position.

Thus, The Fool represents Orekoto, and he too desires control over their future. That's why he's reading the spread, the same way Aokoto previously tried to draw a card to check his future. And I think it's pretty safe to say Orekoto must have killed or attacked at least one person, which is his way of trying to secure a better future for the system. Protector alter and all that.

[Timelines] Mikoto (Ao): Can you hear me talking like this? If you can hear me, then answer me. Why are you doing such horrible things? Hey. It's your fault things have become like this. ……Answer me!! Mikoto (Ore): Ah, ahhh!! Because, I did it for my/your (Boku's) sake…! Because I/you (Boku-ga) would break apart!!

(Translation by Maristelina)

Plus all the other reasons to believe that.

That spread is a bit odd for many reasons, but one thing we can pretty much be sure of is Orekoto's "Hopes and Fears" are represented by VII - The Chariot.

The Chariot (among other things) represents strength of will and control, basically think of it as a more forceful version of The Magician. Thus, Orekoto also hopes he can take control of their life, though he does it through force, and he fears he might be getting too forceful.

If I could laugh, if I could go back I'd play dead even though I'm alive right? If I could end, if I could stop How long would this dream go on?

Assuming it is Orekoto singing here (no pronouns so), it seems he doesn't want to kill, but sees himself cornered, like he has to kill. If he could stop, he'd "go back and play dead even while alive", he wouldn't kill anymore. But when he feels "boku will fall apart", he tries to save him through any means he can, which is likely murder. The exact reasons are as of yet unknown (someone stalking them, stress, could be a lot of things), but that's the idea.

However, you tarot enthusiast might notice a few interesting differences between this Chariot card and the actual Chariot card. This is important, because the meaning of these cards comes from the images, so when the image differs (apart from stylistic choices obvs), the meaning differs with it.

First important difference: the real Chariot has lions, MeMe's Chariot has bikes. This again relates bikes to the idea of freedom and one's own will.

Foreshadowing is-

Second; MeMe's Chariot has the protagonist swinging around a mace, which the real Chariot just has a wand. I frankly don't think this means anything other than MeMe's Chariot explicitly references murder rather than other, non-physical forms of strength and force.

Third, an important part of the real Chariot is that the man doesn't hold a leash on the lions, he controls them through force of will, apparently. Meanwhile, the mannequin in MeMe's version does hold chains to control the bikes, which again I believe simply implies a more forceful and direct version of the meaning. Orekoto doesn't trust his destiny to guide the system in the right direction as long as they're strong enough, he feels he needs to have more direct control.

And finally, the lions in the real Chariot are fine, but in MeMe's version, one of the bikes is fucking exploding.

So what the hell is up with that? Well, let's keep in mind what I said before. Aokoto also wants control of his life. So I believe in a way these bikes represent Aokoto and Orekoto's actions. One of them Orekoto has direct control over (he controls his own actions, after all), while the other is getting hurt by Orekoto's control. Orekoto may want nothing more than to protect the system, but the way he does it is harmful to Aokoto and destroys the control he wants to have over their life. I mean, it landed them in Milgram (according to some interpretations), and it's not like Aokoto likes the murder.

(T1) Q6: Tell us what you hate. M (Ao): Staying up all night working / reptiles / violence

[Double Preview] Hey now, I [ore] saved you right? So why in the hell are you crying?

(I will use the preview as evidence, watch me)

Temporary CW for abusive relationships and rape (Mono Poisoner)

This idea of "love" that hurts the other is also implied by Mono Poisoner, their Trial 1 cover. Though to be clear, Orekoto is not anywhere near as awful as the protagonist of Mono Poisoner, since he isn't intentionally hurting the rest of the system, and obviously isn't actually abusing the other alter(s).

“She belongs completely, entirely to me!” Kissing, sleeping together, everything beyond that too No one can hope to cut this connection between us

After brandishing that poisonous desire to monopolize and having erased YOU completely, It seems like it can be easily embraced, the entirety of that heart “YOU best not get carried away!”

Taking out the really violent and abusive elements out, this does vaguely fit the idea I'm trying to get across.

Temporary CW over

Anyways, the point is that Orekoto wants control over their life, but is accidentally harming Aokoto by taking away his agency.

There is more symbolism of this ‘drive to control destiny’ in the moon which consistently appears throughout MeMe.

As you can see, it’s in the first quarter phase. This is halfway between the New Moon which represents the beginning of a journey and the Full Moon which represents the end or rebirth, and because of that, it can represent a difficult time where decisions must be made, a point where strength of will is necessary. This again fits both of Aokoto and Orekoto, since they’re both making important decisions for their future. Hence also why the moon is half and half, the future is being decided half by Aokoto, half by Orekoto.

Alternatively, you could read it as only Orekoto making decisions, with the other 'half' being "left in the dark" because Aokoto doesn't know what Ore's doing. That would explain why the moon only shows up in relation to Orekoto in the internal world and the murder scenes.

Heavy speculation incoming (more than before anyways)

But hold on a second. I said before the upright Hanged Man, the card on Mikoto's shirt through most of MeMe, is about patience and not doing anything to change their situation. This is somewhat contradictory to The Fool, which is all about new opportunities and taking new risks (long story), and is obviously contradictory to the reversed Hanged Man because that's how tarot cards work. Because of that, and everything else I've been saying, it feels like the upright Hanged Man doesn't really fit either Aokoto or Orekoto.

Which is why it's so convenient we have a third (plot-relevant, there may be more) alter who does want their life to continue as is, isn't it?

The minus energy that I swallowed Hugged me [boku] Maybe it's okay to try to keep on living Split in half, Make that heart beat

This scene is very clearly connected to the aftermath of a murder, and shows an alter that has accepted the "negative (minus) energy" of violence. However, the use of 'boku' rules out Orekoto as the singer. Thus, we have ourselves our favorite Secret Third Alter, Midokoto. And Midokoto says, filling in the blanks, that ‘maybe it’s okay to keep living [like this]’, as long as they ‘split in half’ to ‘make that heart beat.’

Before we continue, I have to address that yes, I believe Midokoto is represented by the upright Hanged Man, even though he’s the only alter who’s never seen wearing the shirt. Either his back is turned, he’s shirtless, or straight up has a completely different shirt. However, I actually think this makes perfect sense.

It’s widely accepted that if Midokoto exists, he’s likely a gatekeeper alter who co-fronts most of the time, meaning he’s still aware of everything that’s happening even while he isn’t controlling the body (<- simplified version, read more if you’re interested [alter roles] [co-fronting]). Therefore, he’s a constant in Mikoto’s life, and it makes sense for him to always be present in some way as long as any alter is on screen. He’s on the shirt when the other two are there, so when the shirt isn’t there, it’s because the ‘upright Hanged Man’ is the one controlling the body. Does that make sense?

I should note, Mikoto’s version of The Hanged Man includes a bunch of eyes on the background.

Which fits the idea of Midokoto overseeing everything in the others’ lives, and for the inverse in Aokoto’s case could also be interpreted as societal pressure, long story.

Yes, Midokoto's celtic cross spread has the reversed Hanged Man in the middle of The Wheel, but let’s just say that means ‘present’ rather than ‘querent.’ Yes, there’s a Fool portrait in the background of that one scene, I swear there’s an explanation but it’s too long to get into here.

Point is, he’s the one who wants their life to continue as is, and thus the one who fits the idea of ‘patience’ that The Hanged Man (upright) embodies.

But make no mistake. He still has The Magician as his “Hopes and Fears” in the spread which represents him, meaning he does yearn for some control and fears not having the means to achieve it.

However, I believe the type of control he’s looking for is different from the other two. See, while Aokoto wants freedom and control over his life in a more conventional way (good job, free movement, independence), and Orekoto wants control in a ‘no one will stop “I/you” from achieving what “I/you” want’ kinda way (aka safety), Midokoto wants control over the system, not the rest of their life. He wants to keep Aokoto and Orekoto ‘split in half’ because that’s how they can both live as they please, it ‘makes their heart beat.’

That’s why the moon that represents decision-making is split in half. That’s why there’s only two bikes in The Chariot card. That’s why Midokoto never bothers to read a single tarot card. Because the ones deciding where their life moves are Aokoto and Orekoto, all Midokoto does is keep things running smoothly. Though of course, this is all just my interpretation.

In fact, you can even tell based on what we believe each alter to do. Aokoto does the day-to-day work, making sure he has the opportunity to achieve his dream of working independently in the future. Orekoto deals with threats until the system as a whole is safe, which includes throwing away evidence so they don't get arrested. He does a dogshit job at it, yeah, but he's trying.

However, once they get into the apartment, when the external threats have been dealt with, the one who bathes to make sure Aokoto doesn't learn of Orekoto's actions, the one who keeps their lives metaphorically 'split in half', is Midokoto.

Heavy speculation kinda over

So, where were we? I said this was inspired by the Double thumbnail, didn’t I? Well, yes, even if I have very little to say about it in relation to this post. You could say I kinda, uh, went off the rails a bit (<- I am immensely unfunny)

As I said, he’s on a train. And with all the stuff I mentioned before about how bikes are associated with freedom for him and stuff, it makes the imagery of being stuck on a train with the victims (I assume that’s what the mannequins represent, I’ve seen other interpretations) a lot more interesting.

Think about it. When you get on a train, you made the decision to enter it, but you don’t have control over where it goes. And that’s what’s happening here: the alter on screen is in for the ride, and he feels there’s nothing he can do to alter the course. It’s like a railroad.

Aokoto didn’t get on this train. Obviously the scene is metaphorical (otherwise who left their mannequins in the goddamn public train), but we know Aokoto doesn’t use the train. However, he’s on it now, alongside Orekoto who is probably the one fronting here? I assume, given the red light in the background. In my mind it would make sense for the thumbnails to be Aokoto T1 -> Orekoto T2 -> Midokoto T3, but that doesn’t have to be the case.

What I’m trying to convey is the symbolism of the system being stuck in a set path, a set destiny, caused by a decision not made by Aokoto. And if Orekoto is really the one fronting or being represented here, he’s miserable because of the path his actions have landed him on.

If I could break it, if I could change Can I do it, I wonder from when I started to give up

He’s ‘given up’ because he’s accepted he’s ‘on the train’, his path is already set and he can’t change it (“if I could change”). Yes, give me that Orekoto angst!

Anyways, please keep in mind this is all my interpretation of the symbolism and all of this is extremely subjective, especially with how confusing Mikoto's entire story is. I hope you forgive my brainrot at seeing a guy take a train. Take care!

[sleeping-academic]

august 5th, 2024

first post!! this week is probably going to be pretty low-key, since i’ve still got 2 weeks before the actual semester starts, but i’m just trying to get into the routine of actually posting on here :)

today, i:

🫧 made some good progress on a new dnd character i’m working on (just need to add the spells, which is tripping me up)

🫧 read up until page 153 of a little life. i’m really enjoying it so far, the author’s writing style is keeping my attention and i like all the characters

🫧 ran some errands that i’d been putting off for a few days. i had to go pick up my adhd meds so that i can get back to actually regularly taking said adhd meds, and then i ran by the grocery store (i needed peach tea and better green eyeliner)

🫧 cooked dinner!! it wasn’t anything fancy (just some chicken and couscous) but that’s something i’m working on, so i’m proud of myself :D

🫧 did some more tarot journaling. i’m trying to research all of the cards before i actually start using them, and i managed to get through the 4 of Wands tonight

goals for the week:

🫧 finish the pages for the 5 and 6 of Wands in my tarot journal

🫧 order or download my textbooks for the upcoming semester (of which there are a LOT. gotta love being an english major)

🫧 register my bike!! i’m planning on that being one of my main methods of exercise this semester, especially since my bus stop isn’t all that close to my job/my first classes of the day

🫧 road trip to tulsa to see hozier w/ my best friend <3 i’m SO excited for our little weekend trip

photo dump:

1. pretty sky picture while driving home from work

2. did some tarot journaling while drinking tea

3. new bookshelf setup!! my friend came over and helped me put all the little guys on the shelves

4. the first batch of bagels that i made in my new place <3 they turned out pretty well!!

media:

🎧: “a quick one before the eternal worm devours connecticut” - have a nice life

📖: a little life - hanya yanagihara

📺: i’m on season 6 of criminal minds right now, haven’t watched any in a few days tho

[ysa-s]

My Person

Part 6

< Part 5

The door creaked shut, signaling Wooin's departure to grab food. Ever since moving in, takeout had become my crutch, a poor choice for a bodyguard. Exercise was out of the question too, the fear of aggravating my injured arm and extending recovery gnawed at me. So, my days were spent sprawled on the bed, couch, or even the floor, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Needless to say, my fitness goals were gathering dust.

A knock on the door snagged my attention. It was too soon for Wooin. With a hesitant approach, I used the intercom to identify the visitor. A man stood there, his light, powder blue hair and facial tattoo a stark contrast to his surprised expression when he heard my voice. "Uh, Wooin isn't here right now. Who is it?" I asked.

"I'm a friend of Wooin's," he replied. Recognition dawned. He was one of the figures I'd seen around Wooin at the race, his imposing presence etched in my memory.

I opened the door just enough for a greeting. "Hi," I said meekly, mirroring his response. "As I mentioned, Wooin isn't here, but he should be back soon. You're welcome to wait inside." I opened the door wider, a surprised squeak escaping my lips as I noticed a small puppy nestled in his arms, initially hidden by his large frame. "I hope you don't mind," he gestured to the puppy as he stepped inside. I shook my head with a small smile. "Not at all, in fact—" My words were cut off by a bark from behind me. "I have one of my own," I finished with a chuckle.

His puppy was immediately greeted by Dozer, their playful sniffs and tail wags filling the room. "I'm Elara, by the way," I introduced myself. He hesitated, then corrected himself, "I'm Jo- Hajun." His eyes darted away, momentarily lingering on another name that almost escaped his lips. Looking at him, I couldn't help but wonder about the company Wooin kept. This man was tall, muscular, and heavily tattooed, similar to Wooin, but the most striking features were the numerous scars and bruises etched into his skin.

Shaking off the urge to judge based on appearances, I reminded myself to get to know them better. "I saw you at the bike race with Wooin," I mentioned as we sat on the couch, watching our dogs play. "Yeah, I saw you too. So, you're Wooin's...?" he began, his voice trailing off.

"Friend," I clarified, quickly dismissing any assumptions. "Actually, we're childhood friends," I added with a smile. Despite his intimidating appearance, Hajun was surprisingly soft-spoken, his gentle demeanor clashing with the harshness of his scars.

"So, do you race too?" I asked. "Yeah, what about you?"

"No, I work as a personal guard," I answered. "Is that where you got that?" he pointed at my injured arm.

"Oh, this? Yeah. It's only a graze, though," I explained. "What about yours? Where did you get those bruises and scars?" I asked, knowing it was a personal question, but mirroring his earlier one.

He hesitated, then mumbled, "Race." Lie. As someone who'd seen similar marks, I knew riding wouldn't inflict such wounds. But I simply nodded, the silence hanging heavy in the air.

The doorknob jiggled, followed by the familiar patter of paws. Dozer, sensing Wooin's arrival, raced to the door, Hajun’s puppy trailing behind. "What the..." Wooin muttered, surprised by the unexpected canine guest. His gaze shifted between me and Hajun. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

"You said to meet you here," Hajun replied calmly.

"Yeah, I did. But you're way early."

Wooin went to prepare the takeout food, and I joined him at the table. "Have you eaten yet, Hajun?" I asked, trying to ease the tension.

"I have," he answered.

Wooin's sharp gaze flickered between us. "How long have you been here for you two to be so casual with each other?"

"Like a couple of minutes," Hajun replied nonchalantly.

"Are you guys racing today? Would it be possible for me to watch?" I asked, my voice filled with anticipation.

Wooin's reply was a firm "No," but the added, "Not until your arm heals," brought a flicker of warmth to my chest.

He took my chicken meal, expertly slicing it into bite-sized pieces with a practiced hand. "Thanks, Winnie," I smiled, the familiar nickname tugging at my heartstrings. A cough from the couch drew our attention. Hajun was staring at Wooin, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, but then the atmosphere in the apartment changed.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. My gaze darted between the two men, my stomach churning with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Finally, I couldn't bear it any longer. "What's going on between you two?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Wooin and Hajun exchanged a tense look. Then, Wooin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's nothing for you to worry about, Elara," he said, his voice gruff.

But I wasn't convinced. The way they looked at each other, the unspoken words hanging in the air – it all screamed otherwise. I knew Wooin, knew his guarded exterior and his tendency to push people away. But there was something different in his eyes now, a vulnerability that surprised me.

"I'm not a child, Wooin," I said, my voice firm despite the tremor in my heart. "If there's something I need to know, something that affects me, then I deserve to hear it."

Wooin hesitated, then nodded curtly. "Fine," he muttered. "But it's not a pretty story."

He launched into a tale of past mistakes, of unspoken rivalries, and of a bond forged in competition that had somehow become twisted. As he spoke, I saw a different side of Wooin, a side that was vulnerable, haunted by regrets. It wasn't the cold, calculating leader I'd known, but a man burdened by the weight of his choices.

When he finished, the room was silent except for the soft snores of the sleeping puppies. I looked at Wooin, my heart heavy with empathy. The story he'd shared painted a complex picture, one that challenged my understanding of him and the choices he'd made.

But amidst the confusion, one thing was clear: my feelings for Wooin hadn't wavered. They had only grown, intertwined with a newfound understanding and a desire to help him heal the wounds, both physical and emotional.

Taking a deep breath, I met his gaze. "I understand," I said, my voice soft but resolute. "It's not an easy story to tell."

He looked surprised, then a flicker of hope danced in his eyes. "Do you?"

"Yes," I said, reaching out and taking his hand. It was warm, calloused, and spoke of a life lived intensely. "And I'm here for you, Wooin. Not just as a friend, but as someone who cares."

His fingers tightened around mine.

The End >

[foxyarchive]

Glass in the Ocean[P2]

You reconcile about your near-death encounter and spend some quality time with those in your life-- New and old.

- I'm so happy that some of y'all are liking the story so far!! Any comments or general likes really help to boost my confidence for this and mood! I'm excited to bring you all the next chapter in a little over a week! Cross-Posted on AO3!

Warnings: None

Words: ~5.3k

Tags in the comments! Ask to be added to the taglist!

P1 | P2 | P3

When you had gotten back to the house, nobody was home still, thankfully. It was clear that some had come by to drop off a couple of things, or even pick some up, but besides that it was blissfully quiet. That was perfect for you. It gave you time to shut yourself in your room, sitting there on the chair at your desk as you tried to calm the erratic breaths. It felt like there just wasn't enough air, and you felt the presence of more hot tears slide down your face. A shuddering sob left your body as your mortality finally sank in; You had almost died. You could have died. That certainly could've been the end of your story, once and for all, and all because of your own stupidity. 

It made you sob even harder, putting your head in your hands as you curled in on yourself. Your ankle was stinging, and so were your eyes, but nothing hurt as bad as the ache in your chest at the staunch realization of how close you’d come to facing your own doom. With all the crying that tears from your mouth and throat, it’s a miracle you’re able to hear your alarm on your phone go off. It gives you a pause, your sniffling and weeps coming to a halt as you look over and spy what it’s for. Fuck. Dinner. That’s right. 

“Shit.” You whisper out, hastily wiping the tears off of your face. You need to be at the restaurant in an hour. There’s no way you’re going to make it on time. You shoot off a group text to your family, letting them know you were going to be late, and hastily tried to pull yourself together. You headed into the bathroom, splashing your face with water and taking the time to clean it, before you readied yourself. 

It was getting late, now, and cool air was finally gracing the beach. It gave you an excuse to pull on a pair of leggings, taking time beforehand to dress your ankle and wrap it in gauze. Examining the injury, you noticed that the claw marks actually weren’t too deep. They were little scratches more than anything, although where they had dug in did bleed. You also discovered that you didn’t feel woozy, or tired, or on the verge of passing out at any moment. You felt… Normal. He really hadn’t injected any venom into you. 

You can still hear his words echoing around your mind as you wrap the gauze after cleaning. I was just messing around. Your lips curl down, scowling as you bite back more tears. Well, if he was being honest about that, it was fucked up. It made you feel more angry than anything else. What kind of sick joke was that? Pretending like he was going to kill you? You began to tremble again as you finished and dressed yourself, but it wasn’t in fear this time. It was anger. Mers were sick and twisted. You could see why it was easy for someone to fall victim to them, though. After all… You almost had. 

Once you were finished getting yourself ready, you headed out, hopping on the electronic bike that you were going to be using for your stay here. Your grandmother had a car, of course, which you’d probably use on occasion. The bike was sturdy, though, faster than normal due to being electric. And with the maneuverability of an ocean town, even if it was a bit far from the home, biking would be better. It’d get you some exercise, too– Hard to do that when you’re stuck behind a computer screen all day, working. 

You head into the town, trying to shake off the earlier encounter. It was extremely difficult, though, as every little push of your leg downward on the bike petal, you were reminded of it. You couldn’t get the face of the mers out of your head, either– Twins! How sorry that other mer looked when he asked to explain, and how you’d just fled instead. You didn’t regret it, of course, you weren’t keen on being tricked again, but… To see the concern and guilt on his face. Almost like he was the one who did it instead of his brother. 

You give a shake of your head, trying to dismiss that notion. It was all just a game to them. Not even a game– Survival. After all, they wanted to kill you so they could eat. There were plenty of fish in the sea, but you were sure that humans probably had some very enticing nutrients compared to them, which is likely why they were hunted. After today’s encounter though… You were suddenly uncertain. Maybe they really were just cruel and hunted for sport. To think, the only reason you’re alive is because one of them had been kind enough to stop another. For what, though? Was it to lure you into a false sense of security so you’d be back? Hah. Fat chance. You weren’t going anywhere near those waters again. 

You took a moment to wonder if you should alert the local authorities of mer sightings. That would probably take care of them real quick, or at least spook them away. Then again… They were just trying to live their life. You had no reason to really go into the ocean again; You didn’t like swimming that much, after all. Other people could be endangered, though.

Your mind was a storm as you arrived at the restaurant, parking outside and locking the bike before you headed in. It was right on the boardwalk as well, and you enjoyed the cooling atmosphere and the breeze on your face as you sat outside with your family. Your grandmother had finally finished tying up loose ends for the day and joined you all. You got to enjoy some delicious food, sipping on your favorite drink as you enjoyed the evening with your family. They were staying at a local hotel, but you knew they’d leave early morning. You were going to have another day of rest and exploration around the town tomorrow, but then after that? It’d be time for work– Only for the glass shop, though. You still had another vacation day from your actual job. 

Full of good food and tired from today’s events, you suddenly wished that you hadn’t biked all the way out here. Thankfully, your grandmother offered to give you a ride back, and you hooked the bike onto the back of your car. You still had some time to digest, though, walking around the little beach city with your family for another hour, window shopping and sifting through any shops that were currently open. You bought yourself a cute little trinket, and finally parted ways with your family after some hugs, kisses and well wishes. 

You were grateful to finally be back at your home away from home, though. It was dark now, and although it was still relatively early, you figured you’d just go to bed and start the day early. Miraculously, when you’d been out, you’d managed to push all thoughts of the mers out of your mind. Getting out of the car, though, you glanced towards the ocean after you’d shut the door. In the gleaming moonlight above, you could’ve sworn that you spotted the flick of scales and a tail curl back down into the water. It was enough to make your heart speed faintly, which made you quickly take your bike down from the back of the car and hurry inside. 

“Is there anything else you need for your room, dearest?” Your grandmother’s voice draws you out of your thoughts, and you desperately try to lower your pounding heart rate. You know your grandmother is perceptive, but she doesn’t seem to catch on, thankfully, also appearing quite tired after the long day. 

“No, I’m– It’s perfect. Thank you.” You finally respond, forcing a small smile to creep across your face. You want to disappear into your room and sleep, but there’s this forlorn look on the elder woman’s face as she gazes towards the living room sofa. Your grandfather had died two weeks ago, cremated and ashes spread to sea today. Although this wouldn’t be her first night without him, you were certain everything felt more real, now. “Do you want to watch a show? I hear that a new baking one premiered tonight.” You offer a suggestion, quietly, coming forward to place a hand on her shoulder. It’s one of her favorite things to watch, and you’re quite partial to it, too. She startles a bit, as if not expecting you, but turns her head towards you and offers you a small smile. Her soft, cold hand comes to rest upon your own. 

“I… That would be lovely. Let me get us a drink while you set up.” She suggests, and the smile you offer this time is more relaxed as you nod. You settle on the couch, turning on the television and flick to the appropriate channel. She comes back with two wine glasses and a bottle of rose she had stocked away, and you pour each of you a glass after you’ve opened it. The show begins, and you take the time to watch with her. It’s a fairly typical baking competition program, but you still find yourself enjoying it, especially as your grandmother pipes up with various comments. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t bake that with such little time.” Was one remark, along with, “My, my, her technique is so strange… There’s a much simpler way of doing that.” There was even a bold comment from her, saying, “I could easily do that.” That brings a laugh and reassuring agreement from yourself. Two episodes air in a row, and you watch both of them together, the bottle a little over half gone. By the time it’s over, you’re both exhausted, and after a hug and kisses on the cheek, you put everything away and get some rest. You sink down into your bed after changing into nightclothes, shuffling around for your earbuds to listen to some music before heading to sleep. 

It’s with a grumble and start, though, that you realize they must’ve fallen earlier when you grabbed your towel. A groan leaves you at the thought, and you rub your eyes, looking out the window. You eye the moonlit sky, listening to the calming sound of waves from the opening in your window. Too lazy and tired to shut the blinds, you turn over, finally managing to fall asleep. 

It’s dreamless until the very end. You feel like you’re suspended in water, floating through a viscous liquid more closely resembling amber. Your movements are slow, and each push of your limbs are tedious. There’s clicking all around you. Unseen voices whispering with hints of laughter. Something brushes your ankle. You flinch, scarcely. There’s a tug at your hair. A nip at your thigh. You try to move, but the water is thick and suffocating. Hands grip your hips, and a head comes up, pressing sharp, tender kisses to the front of your neck. You try to move your head to view the culprit, but you’re just too slow, and they’re too fast. 

A tongue runs along the front of your throat, before there’s a searing, all encompassing pain as it bites down. It’s not a lovebite, either. You can feel your flesh tearing, skin breaking, and blood begins to billow around you as you scream out. Nothing comes out, though, and nobody is here to save you this time. 

You wake with a start, heart hammering so hard in your chest you think you’re going to pass right back out again. You sit up, drenched in sweat, and try to take slow, deep, calming breaths. You clutch at your shirt, closing your eyes to try and ground yourself with the sensations around you. The fabric of your shirt. The sound of mourning doves and the sea. The faint smell that comes from the kitchen, something cooking. Your mouth is clammy, the faint residual taste of rose left on it. You finally pry your eyes open, peering at your covers and the sunlight filtering through. You can see specks of dust floating in the air, and you take the time to follow various ones until they float to the ground. 

At some point, you’ve finally calmed down enough. Your heart isn’t pounding anymore, and your breathing isn’t erratic. A shaky sigh leaves you as you flop back down in bed, pushing hair out of your face. Yeah. You were probably never swimming again. Not in the ocean, at least. For a moment, you lay there, listening to the doves croon and the waves lap at the shore. It’s only when your stomach lets out a mighty growl do you finally decide to get up. After a lovely stretch, you’re on your feet, shuffling into the kitchen with a yawn. “Good morning, dear.” Your grandmother greets, pulling out a delicious looking waffle from the waffle maker. She’s also made some other sides, which you eye eagerly, especially the fruit salad. All of the fruit looks so fresh and vibrant. 

“Good morning. Thank you for breakfast!” You smile, sitting down as some comes to sit with you after bringing over the plate of waffles and syrup. 

“Of course. You’re going to have a long day today, out and about in the town. I hope it’s relaxing, and maybe you’ll even meet some new people you can befriend while you’re there.” She insists, causing you to chuckle at the thought. 

“Maybe. It’d be difficult to leave, though, if I made any good friends.” You muse, piling your plate on with various breakfast items. She just smiles, tutting and giving a small shake of her head. 

“With how the internet is nowadays, I’m certain you can keep in contact. You could always move here as well, if you were interested. I wouldn’t mind having a permanent roommate.” She suggests, and you hum contemplatively at the offer as you begin to stuff your face full. It’s certainly a thought… Plus, it may even be cheaper than your current place of residence. Even so, you like being around more city or suburban areas. It’s what you grew up with, and you couldn’t imagine anything else right now. 

“I’ll think about it. Quite the kind offer.” You reply after swallowing. The rest of breakfast goes by quietly, and after you’re finished eating as well as helping to clean dishes, you decide to head out. Your first order of business is going to get your earbuds. Although the thought of being anywhere down near that shore again makes an array of goosebumps flush over your skin, you decide that if your earbuds dropped anywhere, it would be far away enough from the shore. You’d be safe. Part of you wishes you could take someone with you, but that was a fruitless thought. Your grandmother couldn’t make that trip down there, so you had to put on the big pants and do it yourself. 

It was shaping up to be another warm day, so you decided to put on a flowy shirt and some shorts. You showered, re-dressed your wound, and got yourself ready. After pulling on another pair of flipflops, you were almost out of the house before you heard a gasp. Looking over, you saw your grandmother peer down at your ankle, and that’s when you remembered the gauze there. You’d forgotten about it, even if you had rewrapped it not even five minutes ago. “What happened to your ankle?” She fretted, walking over to you. You hesitated, taking a half step back, shifting from foot to foot. 

“I… Went down to the beach yesterday and… Accidentally scraped my foot against a rock.” You lied, and why did you lie? Were you embarrassed about it? Surely not, but… Well… Okay, perhaps a bit. After all, the only reason you almost did die was because you were dumb enough to waltz forward up to a mer. You realized that you were still keeping quiet about it, though, when you’d thought about reporting it to the authorities. You should just tell her the truth. Maybe she knew who to talk to about it. This could save lives. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Can I take a look at it? I have some cream that could help.” She offers, holding out a hand. Although this is the perfect opportunity, you find yourself stepping back again. Why aren’t you being honest?

“N-No, that’s fine! I’ve already cleaned it and dressed it for now. It will be okay. Thank you, though.” You smile, meekly, grabbing the bike key. She offers you another worried look, but doesn’t press. 

“If you’re certain. Have fun today, and call me if you need anything.” She says, and you thank her before taking your leave. You’re still trying to fathom why exactly you hadn’t been honest as you make your way back down the stairs, hesitating as you near the bottom. All you can see in the water right now is… Well, nothing. Just vast blue as far as the eye can see. Your steps are still hesitant as you touch down on the sand, and you decide to take your sandals off for easier walking. It’s still early out, the sand retaining the cool morning air, but it feels nice to squish between your toes as you head back down to where you were yesterday. 

In the distance, you can spy the alcove you had settled near, as well as your flipflops. Your sunhat is nowhere to be seen, though. Probably blew away again. Well, whatever… Probably for the best. You’re not sure you’d ever wear that thing again anyways. Now comes the fun task: Finding your earbuds. You grab your other shoes and set your current ones aside, settling on your knees as you sift through the sand. You manage to find one easily, but the other is giving you trouble. Focused in your task, you don’t see something rise out of the ocean in your peripheral vision. 

“Hey!” A voice calls out, and you gasp, nearly dropping your one bud. You look over, and it’s that same mer from yesterday. You instantly begin to feel your heart drum faster, and you get to your feet, ready to flee again despite him being over fifteen feet away and only half on the shore. “Don’t leave, please! I’d like to talk to you.” You notice that he sounds awfully more polite today, and when you take in the sight of what you can see from his tail, that’s when you realize; This isn’t the same mer. His blue is brighter. A little more vibrant, with seafoam green patterns that shimmer in the soft sunlight filtering through the clouds. 

Upon further inspection, you notice that he even seems a little nervous himself. He’s smiling, but it’s tepid; Uncertain. Where he holds himself up, you can see a finger tapping anxiously into the sand. He looks ready to dart, but not at you. Away from you. There’s a tension to his muscles that screams he’s not sure if he wants to be here, but more that, perhaps, he’s forcing himself to be. It doesn’t completely lower your guard, but it does give you a pause from immediately fleeing. Your own muscles are tense, though, and you slowly turn fully back towards him. You crouch once more, near where you had been. His muscles don’t relax, but you see his face soften more. Less concerned, now. 

He takes a moment, then, as if he’s suddenly unsure about what to say. You most certainly don’t speak up, wringing your hands together anxiously as you wait for something to happen. Anything. “I, um…” He starts, now suddenly seeming a lot more nervous as he takes you in. “My name is Connor. What’s yours?” He finally introduces himself. You just peer at him, wondering how a mer has such a common human name. It’s awfully strange. 

You finally offer your own name, quiet, but loud enough to carry over the breeze. He repeats it, smiling just a bit wider, and you find your heart picking up speed again for an entirely different reason this time. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize for my brother’s actions yesterday. It’s… Not often at all we get to interact with humans, and I think he just got a bit too excited.” The smile falls from his face, more into a grimness. “That doesn’t excuse what he did, of course, but I just want you to know that he truly didn’t mean any harm.” You’re not quite sure you believe him, and clearly that thought reflects on your face, because Connor’s face falls just a bit more. 

“We don’t kill humans. I swear on my life. We really, barely interact with any.” He promises, face serious, head bowed a bit, although his gaze still holds yours. There’s a lot of questions on your tongue that you have, but you’re trying to choose the most important one right now. After all, time may be limited. This could be a trap. What if one flew out of the ocean and dragged you in? 

It’s a glaringly preposterous thought, but there have been rumors that mer were able to shift and form legs. If that was true, one of them could creep up on you in the sand without you knowing. 

…What a silly idea. There’s no way. Right? 

If you’re feeling unnerved, so is Connor by the look you see on his face. He is apologizing… Mers will trick you. It comes floating back to your mind. Your hand grips your shorts. You finally ask at least one of the questions on your mind. 

“How do you know coast tongue so well?” You ask, and you can see his shoulders droop a bit in relief that you actually are talking to him. 

“We have a good human friend. He took care of us after we were… Left our home.” He looks like he’s choosing his words carefully, at the end. You squint. Was he lying? “He lives nearby. Has a home on the coast like yourself.” He glances over yonder, and you look that way also, up the cliff, but don’t spot anything. Must be more secluded and further out, then. Your eyes are drawn back to the water as you hear a hiss, and the telltale sound of clicking. You feel your blood pressure spike up as another figure emerges from the water, and boy is he imposing. 

You notice immediately that he looks also very similar to Connor, except his complexion is paler. He’s broader, with darker hair and cold, distrustful stormy blue eyes. His jaw is sharper, and the scales on his cheeks are darker as well, but you can’t see any of his tail as only his shoulders and above are not submerged. He doesn’t look mad, but he certainly doesn’t look friendly. You’re still a decent distance away, but even you can feel the icy glower he’s giving you. Connor looks down at him, looking a bit exasperated, and the figure disappears back into the water with a silent ripple. “...That’s my other brother.” He explains, and suddenly you’re on edge. How many more were they?

“...Are there more than just the three of you?” You ask, worried, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s just us. Other mers don’t like to come around here. Awhile back, sealife population was scarce, which meant for more difficult hunts. It’s repopulated since, but others still stay away.” He explains. Well, that would explain a few things… You could only hope that distant pods wouldn’t catch wind of it and come swarming back over. Three mers was enough, even if some of them seemed… Well tempered. You’re surprised to find that you’re a little more relaxed, now. Your heart has calmed since the other mer swam away, and ponder about what he had said to Connor. He seemed upset. What were you talking about? Oh, right. The human. You wonder if that had anything to do with it. 

“What’s the human’s name?” You ask, curious if he was known around town, or even if your grandmother knew him. “The one that takes– Or, took– Care of you.” Ah, that must have been it. You can see uncertainty crawl back onto the mer’s features, and he shifts a bit in the sand, curling his tail a little further up to reseat himself. Part of you wants to back off. You don’t want to pressure him if he doesn’t want to talk about it… Then again, the other part of you is petty with how you were scared half to death the other day. That, and you still don’t completely trust him. 

“How’s your injury?” He deflects, and you’re certain you see a deep blue fin crest just behind him before slinking back down into the water. That other mer is still around, then. “It’s not too bad, is it?”

“It’s fine.” You reply, a bit stiffly, glancing behind you where you kneel. You decide to adjust yourself as well, moving to sit on your bottom, now with your legs in front. His eyes catch onto the wrapped appendage, brow creasing a bit. “He… Didn’t inject me with any venom.” You admit, brushing the sand off of your knees and calves. 

“No. We only do that to prey.” He explains, as if trying to further convince you of his insistence that you weren’t going to be food. You can see a bit of color come to his cheeks. “And, um… For… Other things.” He admits, a little quietly, and you tilt your head to the side. 

“Like what?” You ask, curiosity piqued at how he seems to look a little squeamish now. You see his tail flick up out of the water, softly slapping back down in contemplation. 

“Well… I’m not entirely sure how to say it in coast tongue, but it’s… Potent for other mers, too. It also can be in humans, if injected in lower doses, and not the normal doses we would inflict for… Prey.” He grimaces a bit at the thought, but that doesn’t answer anything. You just stare at him, a little blankly, and he squirms again. “It can be used for, ah… Mating.” He finally decides on, and it takes you a moment to realize what he’s implying. 

“Like an aphrodisiac.” You conclude, and he looks a bit confused. 

“A what?” He asks. You try to put it eloquently, but instead it just comes out a little more blunt than you’d like it to be. 

“It’s something that makes you horny.” Your own cheeks heat up as you say this, but Connor is still looking bewildered. God, you’re putting your foot in your mouth. “It– That’s the feeling you get when you want to mate with someone. When you’re in heat. Kinda.” You explain, hoping he understands, and he seems to. Semblance of knowledge flashes across his face, and he nods his head. 

“Yes. Exactly like that.” Well, that would explain why humans always felt so drugged and tired when they were dosed ‘lethally’. You’d never experienced an aphrodisiac, but the descriptors felt similar. Before you could mull on it anymore, though, it suddenly occurred to you how strange this was. You were sitting here, talking with a mer about how their toxins could apparently be used for sex not even a full day after you’d nearly been drowned by one. Or, at least, caught by one… 

For a moment, you both just sat there in silence, unsure of what else to say. You weren’t keen on getting to know the mers, really, not after your encounter. It seems that Connor’s brother– The one who had harassed you– Must’ve felt the same, as he wasn’t here today. It was just the mer in front of you, and the other one skulking about in the water. You listened to the distant sounds of birds, faintly tickling your ears, and that’s when you remembered the whole reason you came down here. You looked over, beginning to sift through the sand once again for your missing technology. “What are you doing?” He spoke up, resting on his stomach now. He crossed his arms, chin coming to rest on them, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had anything better to do than lay here and watch you. 

“Looking for my earbud.” You explained, and his head tilted to the side. It reminded you of his brother, with the way that curl drooped down his face. Gosh, he really was handsome… That thought certainly didn’t leave you. 

“What’s that?” His eyes flash in curiosity, and you turn your body a bit to look in a different area. 

“It’s something I use to listen to music.” You pause, glancing at him. “Do you know what that is?”

“I… Do.” He replies, perking up at first, before something seems to cross his mind that stops him from saying anything else. You search more in silence, before he breaks it again. “Do you have a favorite music?”

“Favorite song.” You correct, quietly, brows furrowing in frustration as you can’t find anything still. “I have a few favorites. I can’t choose just one.” You admit. You move your hand more, digging deep until finally you manage to grab hold of it. Must’ve gotten buried from your haste yesterday. 

“Can I listen to one of them?” He asks, lifting his head up, watching you brush and blow the sand out of the bud, trying to clean it out as best as you can. You glance over at him, unable to keep your face away from the curious look in his eyes. Genuine curiosity. It doesn’t look like something that could be faked. If you thought his brother had some boyish charm to him, Connor certainly blew him out of the water with his. 

“...Why me?” You suddenly find yourself asking, frowning as you turn your attention back to him. The look on his face instantly begins to melt away, and you keep firm from trying to backpedal and give in. Now he was certainly a sad, wet puppy. “It seems like… You all try to keep yourselves secret. Secluded. I understand why, but… If that’s the case, why would your brother risk it all by talking to me?” Connor seems to shrink down a bit from the question, curling in on himself a bit, a soft grimace overtaking his features. 

“I… Don’t know. You’d have to ask him.” He says, so quiet that it’s almost carried away by the ocean waves. “He wants to talk to you again, though. Maybe you could talk to him later.” He suggests, perking up a bit, only to flatten some as he sees the unenthusiastic look on your face. You’d have to see if curiosity would get the better of you. 

“...I should go.” You finally declare, getting to your feet. You brush the rest of the sand off, grabbing your two pairs of shoes, and tuck your earbuds away. 

“Will you come back?” Connor asks, and you can’t help but to feel a flare in your chest at the hopeful sound of his voice. You pause after you take a step, sparing a small glance back at him. He looks as hopeful as he sounds, and it makes you hesitate. Uncertainty prickles under your skin. 

“Maybe.” You finally reply, turning and plodding down the beach. You don’t get a response from him, but you can hear shuffling as he drags himself back into the water, disappearing from sight. You spare a glance back as the spot he was once in washes away, hiding any evidence of him.

[batsplat]

continuing with rgu/motogp and casey&vale thought exercise. during Casey’s ducati days the team (and also some tracks) were sponsored by Alice and they literally had an eye as a part of their logo design. it’s just too good not to use it and one could go in a pretty surrealist direction with it even.

right! yes! agreed anon! absolutely!

the way my ask-answering process currently works is that this genre of asks get a sort of instant prioritisation (the other asks are lovely but I need more active brain cells than I currently have at my disposal for a lot of them), which means I actually did start answering this like... immediately when I got it. then I got side tracked answering this ask about the similarities between casey/valentino, which I kinda feel like has ended up forming a lot of the spiritual foundation for the stuff here. now, quick look behind the curtain - where I'm at right now with life is that most of my ask answering happens a) when I'm commuting, b) when I'm eating, or c) when I'm about to fall asleep. except this past week, this process (and much of my life in general) has fallen apart as I have been ravaged by first a malfunctioning smoke alarm, then the combination of a malfunctioning smoke alarm and fever, and now just the illness. anyway basically this is my lengthy way of putting a disclaimer at the top that everything in this post was written in a state of mild sleep deprivation OR severe sleep deprivation fuelled by a smoke alarm in my bedroom beeping loudly once a minute for six days straight OR illness-induced fatigue. like my brain is empty at this point, there is nothing left, I just sort of long for oblivion. luckily at most three people will read this ask, so it's all good. let's roll <3

you're so rightttttt anon, yes!! that logo!! I had not clocked the surreal possibilities at allllll but obviously. they are there. here's the logo on the bike!

man that was such a nice looking bike. like 800cc was an awful era of racing but you can't argue with the aesthetics

here it is with the ad board backdrop

it's actually quite a nice logo.... here's a clean version of it:

I don't think this company exists anymore in this form, some italian tech thing idk, so no concerns over being a capitalist shill here. also it was still a fair bit less crowded back then, it's one of five logos on the bike rather than one of fifty. I like the idea you have these eyes sitting all around the track, very panopticon-y. as you zip by them and they watch you go round and round. both on the circuit, on the bike itself, on the leathers... in an early 2008 race, in estoril I believe, casey had some kind of issue with a camera dorna was making him test that ended up swinging around during the race. he talks about it in his autobiography in the context of his rough start to 2008 and all his various frustrations, but somehow entirely fails to miss the irony of a literal camera tormenting him. like come on casey, that's the thing you're always complaining about, don't you think that's kinda funny? how it's now not just like, abstractly making your life hell but also literally doing so? come on casey

AND ofc it's there when he's fighting valentino

this will be some time in 2007, I like how it looks like the eye is kinda peaking out at valentino from the side of the bike

you can kind of go in a few different directions with this eye thing, right. in a way, the obvious one is to position casey as the object of observation, of how he was constantly being watched and judged, of how he would have preferred to be riding out on his own without any of this other stuff but he was constantly forced to be part of the world of the paddock. the media was waiting for him to slip up, he was always being assessed, even his bike has sometimes faulty cameras attached to it. that's sports as entertainment - the aspect of his occupation casey was always least comfortable with, which made him so very different from valentino. you can even tap into the uneasy relationship with ducati, how they were watching him and judging him and all of it... blaming him for their troubles, not giving him enough credit for their successes. judging his diet! such a major theme of the 2009 saga, right, how they just refused to give him adequate support.... there's really something to like,, specifically the element of them judging his body, I think, this sort of 'oh, if only he ate and trained directly, if only he wasn't eating so many sweets' (a real bit of rhetoric they used btw!!) that has such a pernicious and controlling and nasty vibe to it that it really fits with having the eye on the bike itself. staring back at casey and demanding perfection from him and not even paying him his dues when he is actually perfect. big brother may be watching you, but he will never love you. creepy. awful

I've been thinking a lot about casey lately (yes yes, I'm sure this'll come as a shock) and what I find so compelling about him. and there's a version of him that I... look, not to judge anyone, do whatever, but there's an interpretation I do 'sometimes' see that I just personally find both slightly off base and also boring as shit. like, you can make casey into this very one dimensional 'always right about everything' opinionated hater who went in, beat valentino a bunch of times, showed everyone how talented and amazing he was but he was the victim of valentino's malevolence and then he left again, and now he keeps dropping correct hot takes about how awful everything is about current motogp. to me, this is all very flat. if casey were just very talented and a great guy and simply a bit introverted, I would find him boring as shit. so I was thinking about like.... how talented he is, how he's kinda the talent in the sport, and how usually the phrase 'the greatest talent this sport has seen' has to be the biggest turn-off imaginable in sports for me. but for him specifically, the sheer extent of that talent I think is a really key storytelling detail. I actually find it an interesting starting point to say that he really might just be as good as it gets on that specific metric. like, I don't care about measuring talent as a literal metric because... idk man, I just don't care, but it is narratively compelling to allow him to have the most raw potential of literally anyone. it's all there. he was born to ride, he was raised in a way that allowed him to become a truly unique rider - the kind you'll never see before or since. it's very primal, isn't it, taps into that early stage of the development curve: you have all this promise as a young child, where there are no other complicating factors, just an expression of raw ability, of a sort of purity... and at that stage, everything is possible. the talent is there to win twenty world titles. the talent will never, ever be the stumbling block

but of course, winning twenty titles isn't as easy as just having a lot of raw talent. I think there's something very nicely bildungsroman-y of casey setting off away from australia to european soils, where it's... you know, every step of the way up the ladder in the australian system, then through the british ranks on a whole different continent, then through spanish where he doesn't speak the language... it's obviously quite radically expanding his horizons, step by step, and it's also this horrifying process where he's slowly being subjected more and more to the world's gaze. you know that thing where casey had thought mat oxley was the guy doing him dirty when riding in the british championships - beyond being a funny story, I think it's actually kinda noteworthy that casey is already so hyper aware of how he is being perceived when he's a fifteen year old riding in a national championship. obviously, casey was making through his ranks with a real lack of security... the hypersensitivity always has to be attached to the context that for so many of his formative years, what people thought about him really, really mattered. he wasn't always the best at distinguishing between what was just, y'know, a journalist doing their job and the sort of unfair criticism that was actually fucking with his chances at career progression - but obviously that's pretty understandable. it's a real vulnerability that stems from... being beholden to that world's gaze. that constant pressure of young athletes, where they simply have to impress whoever happens to be watching. the talent spotter, some management agency representative, some team member who could open a door one day, a random journalist.... it all matters

and of course in that context, it's key how uncomfortable casey always has been with being watched. from his autobiography (in this post, which is about the gnarly topic of how the dream of being a rider was forced onto him by his parents - not irrelevant to this conversation):

well, y'know. that's all right then! if he's just crying because he finds the attention of others so distressing, it's not a problem! it'd only be a problem if he was crying because he doesn't want to ride! I'm sure this is something that casey will just magically deal with by the time he's grown up! nothing to address here if you're his parents, just a normal part of the process of becoming a professional motorcycle racer!

there's a romantic ideal to casey that I do have mixed feelings towards. both fascination and wariness, certainly. I think you can really lean into it with this pure, natural talent business, this sickly child becoming this fragile adult who has this sort of fast burning genius that is very bright very soon but inevitably consumes itself. the mystery illness, the early retirement, all the questions of 'what if'... people really love that angle, the tortured genius of it all, how there was always more possible if their bodies and minds hadn't conspired against them. I have many issues with this, from my distaste towards treating talent as the ultimate metric of worthiness in sports (you don't deserve to win more if you're more talented lol), to my dislike for how casey's mental health ends up being framed in these conversations, and just a general bleh feeling about injecting too much of a tragic note into the discussion of this type of career. you get the sense people pay less attention to casey's actual career than they do to a theoretical idea of the career that exists in their heads, and even then a lot of the time it's to push some kind of an agenda about a non-casey rider. still, listen, we're talking surrealism here - and sometimes you can lean into a trope to critique it, right. like, the trope is clearly there, might as well acknowledge it. and the exact manner of his 'downfall' really does come through the weight of the world's gaze, doesn't it, where he's constantly being exposed and picked apart and taunted. he hated it even when he became a child, and he just was in no way prepared for how big a role that constant attention would play throughout his racing career. it's just this fundamental incompatibility... the way this raw talent ends up running into the brick wall that is the reality of what modern professional sports looks like. again, this isn't a framing I'm a massive fan of - but that kind of prodigious talent does kinda get given a sort of... ethereal dimension, where it's not really suited to the true nature of the world and inevitably gets ground down by the cruelties and injustices. that tension between the elevated, the otherworldly, and the material realities it is subjected to. now, if casey had responded to this by being some sort of suffering shrinking violet poor martyred lamb, he wouldn't be anywhere close to as fun. he might be a prodigy, but he's also a whiny little shit who wasn't always doing himself any favours with how he was dealing with all those material realities. the general point still stands, though - and there's something kinda fun to giving The Gaze itself a corrosive power, the ability to eat away at casey through its mere existence

time to bring valentino back into the picture. I also think the talent element is really key with the valentino rivalry. like, to be clear here, I do not give a shit which one of casey and valentino was literally more talented, in large part because I just don't really believe in talent as a valid construct. everything about this is a boring debate to me when there's so much interesting stuff going on with these two that nobody ever seems to want to discuss :(((( so let's do that discussion here. and let's just say for a minute that valentino does look at casey and at the very least believes he might be as talented as valentino is, if not more so. from the similarities post:

like, we can quibble with phrasing here, but I think if you are saying that someone's 'pure talent' is 'unbeatable', then you might kinda be calling him the most talented guy to ever do it? does kinda live rent free in my head! valentino also said casey was "one of the greatest talents ever in motogp" which, while phrased a little less extremely, does give us a baseline to operate from with regards to how valentino perceived casey's abilities. when we're talking about 'gaze', in my mind there's something fun when you lean into the interpretation that valentino's gaze was not only very much on casey, but on casey quite early. the paddock was all over the place with regards to casey in his early years - where obviously people did spot the talent but didn't clock HOW good he was and also tended to dismiss him for various reasons, including his actual performance (often it really was his bikes that were more to blame) and, well, his personality. the rumour goes that casey was blocked not once but twice from joining yamaha, first in 2005 for the 2006 season with a satellite contract and agreement to join the factory team in 2007, and then in 2006 for the 2007 season. with the second one, casey does kinda imply in a very *wink wink nudge nudge* way that he enjoys deploying that valentino was the one to block him, and this is also something his father has said in interviews (yeah I've watched interviews his father has given, that's the rare level of fan dedication I've reached with this bloke). now, I'm a teensy bit unconvinced by the evidence here because by late 2006 yamaha clearly were leaning quite heavily towards jorge as their future. they also seemed to think valentino might be off to do f1 - or at least that's how lin jarvis more recently sold the decision to sign jorge, as a situation where they never actually intended those two nutcases to be teammates. more recently, casey has also suggested that yamaha were deliberately stringing him along as a way of pushing down the price of the guy they actually wanted to sign, which to me sounds fairly plausible. I'm not saying valentino wasn't badmouthing casey within yamaha - it's entirely possible that this is a thing that was separately happening - I just am way less sure whether it actually achieved anything. which leads us back to the 2005 contract cycle... in all honesty, I do kinda want valentino to have blocked casey here, for the reasons I was talking about above: I think it's fun and narratively spicey for valentino's Gaze to have been on casey early and have already had this malicious quality, where he's actively hurting casey's career prospects. I do feel this would be like... a little bit of a stretch, just in terms of how much long-term thinking and planning and behind the scenes malice and also power we're ascribing to valentino here - to make him block a satellite signing that only maybe possibly could become uncomfortable for him a year down the line. still, by the same token... that's exactly what would make it fun. I'm not going to take a stance on whether it happened or not, but I would like the possibility that it might have happened to bleed into the narrative at all times

and then we've got casey's autobiography line about how valentino was hazing him in his rookie season, putting questionable moves on him in practises and during races. I love this so so so so much. look, casey had a strong start to his rookie season, and he DID fight valentino in his very second race which was very cute. but let's be real, valentino had limited opportunities to fight casey in races that season (I'm still struggling to actually think of a non-qatar race.... and having rewatched that fight a few times, it's one of those things I kinda want casey to talk me through, explain what his issues with valentino were) and really should have had bigger things to worry about. like, the man has four championship rivals and none of them are satellite honda rookie casey stoner. if valentino really was bullying that child in practise, then, y'know, what was the vision there. so obviously I really need this to be true... valentino might be a bit of a dick in general on-track but there's just something so charming about the idea that he had a bit of a special treatment for casey from day one. like, yes, that's my favourite talent spotter!! he knew there was something about that surly, stubborn crash prone kid. I want that malicious gaze directed on casey nice and early. obviously, casey has this entire thing where he doesn't believe valentino rated him until he'd basically already lost the title in 2007 and even then wasn't giving him proper credit, which doesn't entirely stand up when checking the historical record... but crucially, let's just accept casey's stance for a minute and say that valentino wasn't being sufficiently complimentary - for all intents and purposes, valentino did understand exactly how good casey was! going back to those autobiography sections I included in the similarities post, with valentino's whole thing about how he knew exactly why he won and lost every single race... I think it's really key that valentino did recognise just how good casey was, that he had quite a clear-sighted understanding of the level of prodigious talent he was dealing with here. that's why the gaze needs to be turned malicious, right. casey's stance here is the 'well the victory doesn't mean as much if you play dirty' approach, but valentino doesn't care. even if he was open to the idea that casey might be 'more talented' than him, obviously that doesn't mean he's going to roll over and die. because at the end of the day, raw talent really is only one of many tools in an athlete's locker. if the only way you can beat the kid is in the head, then so be it

one thing that does go under the radar a bit with casey is just how young he was during the heyday of the valentino rivalry. like, everyone's always on about how marc was only 22 during sepang 2015 - but for what it's worth, casey was 22 during laguna 2008. casey already experienced crowds booing him when he was 21, no honeymoon period there. maybe it's the lack of such a big age gap with valentino (they clock in at six and three quarter years), maybe it's the perceived lesser severity of valentino's crimes in this relationship, the lack of an active betrayal of hero worship, maybe it's how casey is a bit less baby faced and a bit more ill-tempered, maybe it's just lack of interest in casey in general... (to be clear, I do not want any discourse about this rivalry. like casey, I also do not need The Gaze to be directed at him too much.) but y'know, it is important to remember. laguna 2008 as a formative experience for casey is at its most coherent when we treat it first and foremost as one of humiliation. I talked about humiliation in that black rose arc post and then also did address that a bit in the similarities post:

this is what the gaze does to you, right. nobody is humiliated in private - that's not how humiliation works. you can be embarrassed in private without anyone else knowing what you did to embarrass yourself, even though you can argue about how there's an element there of judging yourself against an imagined external observer. still, though... with humiliation, it's far more direct. humiliation requires an audience. and humiliation has so much potential as a formative experience. the crash itself is really key here imo - it's not a scary crash, it's not a dangerous crash, it's a comically slow one as the bike goes into the gravel and then goes into the slightly deeper gravel and then tips over. it's one the commentators treat as a little bit silly, because it is. it feels like such an anticlimactic end to the battle, but it works perfectly because of it. casey is even denied any real pathos in the moment of his downfall... it's his own mistake, it's one that has so slender, seemingly harmless consequences. and then he has to ride to second place, he has to sit with the sting of that mistake, of knowing everyone watched it.... the entire show valentino puts on in parc fermé, perfect for the cameras, interrupting casey's tv interview and all of it... they both know they're being watched. valentino leans into his triumphalism in a way he never has in quite the same way before or since. casey cannot hide his bitterness and must eventually worsen his own humiliation by apologising to valentino. that's the kind of thing that sticks with you, yeah

and it's predicated on all the watching and studying and learning valentino has been doing throughout the course of the rivalry... valentino has come to understand casey and come to understand just how unbeatable his adversary can be. when you're fighting a god, after all, you kinda need to pull out all the stops. valentino reinvents himself in that laguna race, he's willing to take a massive risk on several counts, and it's all because he knows just how good casey is. it's the coldness of the whole thing, the violence, the radical steps valentino has taken, that make the whole thing so compelling. a series of calculations based on valentino watching casey, assessing not only his talent but also his character. and in that race comes the moment of revelation, where their characters are tested to such an extent that you inevitably expose a lot of said characters. valentino is inviting the audience in on the show... it's a spectacle - that's why it works

so, let's flip it and make casey the observer. after all, it's casey who's got the eyes plastered all over him

including in pressers where it's a backdrop! got it nicely displayed on his chest too as casey watches valentino talk. I did already give a lot of my thoughts on this dynamic in the similarities post - it's such a key theme to me of that entire rivalry that casey is so... actively engaged in the process of learning from valentino. jorge and marc used valentino as a 'reference' before they entered the class; casey felt first hand what happens when valentino focuses in on a rival and knew he needed to learn some of those tricks. luckily, he's talented enough to be a quick study. I really like the angle of this photo because it does kinda make it look like all the eyes are on valentino... which they obviously are. a man who is always aware of where the cameras are! sometimes for better and sometimes for worse

kinda have to bring it in when we're talking eyeballs, right? valentino really is the master of bringing in his own surrealist imagery. as all the best bits of valentino symbolism, you can interpret this in several ways... it's him paying extra attention to where he's riding a year after the leg break, but also him deeply, deeply aware of the eyes of the world on him after his ill-fated switch to ducati. the world gazes - and he shows his awareness of that gaze by gazing right back at it. acknowledging the camera, making his own humiliation into a bit of a show

anyhow... see that overly long post of casey and vale photos WAS good for something because the ask made me take a closer look at some of those photos. check this one out lol

you're right, anon!! this slaps! perfect gaze from casey, perfect placement of the eye right next to him. it kind of functions in two different ways, right, because you've got the element of casey studying valentino and learning from him - but also the gaze of judgement. again, you've got laguna as this decisive moment of revelation... "valentino showed who he really was", after all. casey's gaze is one of moral consideration, of condemnation. it's that duality that's really fun with them, where casey is on the one hand so fundamentally disgusted by valentino and his entire deal, but on the other hand is also learning to become more like him. leaning into his 'worse' impulses to fight him - the spite, the grudges, the determination to hold his own against his enemies that will supersede morals or self-preservation. if you look too long into the darkness, the darkness may end up looking back

it's that kind of vibe where... y'know, there's such a disparity between how the pair of them experience the rivalry, but also just how it functions narratively for them... part of the point I was making in that post is that it's like. valentino is obviously capable of these ultra heartfelt emotionally thorny rivalries. this was not that, but it was for casey - and so in some ways casey ended up taking on the valentino role. spite, grudges, delayed retribution... it's all a lot more straightforward from valentino's end, especially during the time period where they're actually competing for titles, where there isn't any real interpersonal animosity and valentino is just sort of willing to do whatever it takes... it's not like he even massively wanted to make an enemy out of casey; he just had a far more liberal understanding of acceptable tactics than casey did. and then casey's got so much going on... which means these two rivalries just end up operating on completely different levels, where valentino's dealing with this tricky and kinda fun challenge and casey's confronting demons... casey judges valentino, casey learns from valentino, casey never entirely understood valentino. this lingering awareness that he never really knew valentino as a person - that's catnip for this discussion. he can look all he likes, but all he sees is a shell

speaking of... well, valentino having these two natures, valentino's perceived fickleness, valentino being so slippery and tricky to pin down for casey... you can kinda bring in another symbol already featured in one of these posts, right

sun and moon on one rider vs an eye on the other. now, remember, valentino liked using this as a way of distinguishing between two sides of his character:

lovely stuff. not a million miles away with the internal distinction casey sometimes seems to draw between valentino the person and valentino the character. and that's what the eye is supposed to do, right - perceive the truth. see valentino for what he really is. positioning casey as the heretic who won't shy away from seeing valentino's true nature... the callousness casey has been exposed to, an awareness of everything valentino would do to win a race, to win a title. to beat casey

another link I was thinking of going through my lil collection of photos - this pair of photos which I think are both from qatar 2007:

while I generally prefer my sun and moon logos a bit less minimalist, valentino does have a nice helmet design here with the sun on one side and moon on the other. I mean this is just fantastic stuff, isn't it, like it really writes itself. two photos from different pov's, one where you see casey's face and one where you see valentino's. one where you see the sun and one where you see the moon. you can play around with the interpretation a little depending on what you want the sun and moon to symbolise respectively, but it's all in there lol. casey sees the moment one way, valentino quite the other. casey sees one side of valentino, but valentino's other side is already lurking, biding its time. valentino wearing a helmet at all is of course also quite a nice touch - see casey hiding in his helmet as a teenager, embarrassed by how good he was, see valentino deciding against taking off his helmet when he goes to confront casey after jerez 2011. it's a literal mask, a way of maintaining distance. works very nicely, doesn't it

here's a photo of them on-track, where you can just about see both sides of the helmet:

so you get a bunch of nice photos that year where depending on the perspective it's being photographed from, you get a different side of the helmet visible. casey spends so much time in front that season, he really doesn't need to be studying valentino's helmet all too closely. and sitting behind someone is overrated, as laguna 2008 showed so nicely

valentino also has a more intricate version of this design at phillip island 2007

which I'm mainly including because I think the whole thing looks kinda snazzy

but that's!! not!! all!! because there is one last 'casey and eyes' theorem that absolutely needs to be included here. like, this whole thing of casey watching valentino, having all these eyes around him doing the watching, perceiving valentino's true nature... it's all a bit third eye, isn't it, of having another eye open and being able to perceive truths your two regular ones can't. and, well, eyes... if we're talking about eyes and symbolism, then there's one symbolic link you just need to bring in: conspiracy theories. plastering a bunch of eyes on things, it's all a bit illuminati innit, a bit eye of providence, a bit freemason. one of my favourite things like,, narratively with casey is to really lean into the paranoia and the conspiratorial leanings; it's fun and juicy and adds so much to his character. he's just the type of guy who ends up being very attuned to a certain type of pattern! a certain type of colour, even - the bloody luminous yellow thing really is just such a perfect little detail that is so unintentionally revealing. casey noticing it, casey exaggerating it in his mind, casey including it in his autobiography.... he's got such a particular way of seeing the world, such a specific and slightly odd viewpoint that just makes you want to prod at him... and he does have a little bit of the flair of the traditional conspiracy theorist

that built-in wariness, disillusionment from systems and the establishment and all the rest of it, the alienation, the suspicion of malice... the whiff of paranoia! all absolutely perfect to make use of all the eye imagery. I think it's so so telling that casey thinks valentino might have been a victim of a plot like that, like it almost feels a bit counterintuitive the first time you think about it... casey's whole thing with valentino was about how valentino was always being favoured, always being given preferential treatment - casey complains about it several times in that same book! but, like, at the end of the day he really does view the system as the main villain. valentino is almost like an unwitting, unsuspecting, undeserving beneficiary of the whole thing, who doesn't even know what's Really Going On.... it's not valentino's malice behind these neverending injustices - though he might be representative of all of them. apparently, it is possible for valentino to be stitched up too. it is kinda a little bit that classic conspiracy theorist dynamic of gaining satisfaction from being one of the few who actually know the truth... like on the one hand it's frustrating in the isolation it causes, but on the other hand it's also extremely rewarding because it makes you special. 'welcome to my world, mate' - you almost get the sense casey wants to yank valentino behind the curtain and explain to him how the world really works. casey wants valentino to understand him, remember. maybe at the end of the day casey wants valentino's gaze to be a little more finely attuned. oh, please let me moderate a dinner between the pair of them, pretty please

still, for balance, let's chuck in some casey paranoia actually aimed directly at valentino:

10/10, no notes. watching someone closely isn't always a good thing

anyway this is probably the place to wrap up this post lol. basically I agree, anon, the eyes are great. I do not have the energy to edit this, so hope it is at least vaguely coherent. everyone's always watching each other and it's all fun and kinda creepy and unsettling and long live paranoia

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being Archie Andrews brother and casually admitting to Hiram Lodge that you like watching him work out at the gym.

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead while continuing to work on the bike, pedals rotating with high tension. The bike wasn’t your favorite bit of equipment in this gym, it did afford you the best view of Hiram Lodge.

The older man was definitely the most fit person inside of this gym. Your brother was here, working on the weights, putting in the long hours to be the best football player that Riverdale had ever seen, but that wasn’t the kind of strength that Hiram had. No, Hiram had a real man’s sort of strength, the kind that came from years of fine-tuning, of real work, not just a set of weights.

“Shit,” You muttered, realizing that you weren’t able to concentrate like this. Hiram was just making you feel too damn hot, you might actually overheat on this thing.

He was just over there - doing push ups, watching himself in the mirror. Watching his own figure as he moved up and down with ease in a way that a military cadet could only dream of.

Slowing your roll to a stop, you patted your forehead with the towel around your neck and decided fuck it, you were just going to get closer. Try to see the muscle strain, if there was any, to help fuel your fantasies later that night. As casually as you could muster, you walked in that direction and pretended to be looking at one of the machines.

“Mr. Andrews,” Hiram said, launching up into a burmpee, jumping from the ground as the final exercise of his routine. You’d seen it end often enough.

“Mr. Lodge,” You greeted in return with a nod and a smile. Though your brother had problems with the Lodge, you avoided all of those issues, figuring you were too old to get messed up in all of that teenage dating petty bullshit. No, your smile yowards Hiram was a hundred percent real, as was the way that your eyes wandered down his shirtless body to the gym shorts and then back up.

“Thinking of using the chest press?” Hiram asked, picking up his water bottle and taking a drink. Oh, to be the droplets that were dripping from his lips. You never felt so thirsty.

“Hmm?” You questioned, nd then realized that’s what you were pretending to look at. “No, no, mostly just came around to watch you,” You admitted, feeling bold. He didn’t look surprised at your admission. He looked like he had been expecting it. Had you really been so obvious? That wasn’t really a question worth asking at this point.

“I see,” He said, offering you his water bottle. You took it, pleased to be able to drink from the same place that he had. “You should come to my private gym sometime. The equipment is better. And there’s a lot more mirrors. You can watch every angle.”

“Maybe I will,” You shot back, quickly, not missing the chance. “Why do you come out here if you have a private gym?”

“I like to watch too.”

Requested by: Anonymous

[kogo-dogo]

My fiance and I are trying to start an exercise routine to get into better shape now that (after eleven years) I finally have answers to What Makes Everything Hurt and How To Make It Not Do That, and it got me thinking about what could have been if I had just had any doctor listen to me when I was in my twenties.

I have never been stick thin--even at my healthiest, I was built like an ox--but I used to bike six miles a day, five days a week. I went to a pilates class M/T/F. I swam laps twice a week if I could manage to fit in the time. I worked a job that was very physically demanding. But I wasn't stick thin, so when I suddenly started having such severe pain I couldn't do anything, it was always blamed on my weight. ALWAYS blamed on my weight. I had a doctor trick me into taking phentermine when I complained about my fatigue, and I only found out what it really was when I came back and he lamented that I hadn't lost weight.

I was literally in so much pain that I had my brother bring a futon mattress down to the living room because I didn't have the wherewithal to make it up the stairs to my room to go to bed. That sudden of a change after being extremely physically active. And they still blamed my fucking weight.

It wasn't until I was in my thirties and started having heart issues that anyone told me anything aside from "lose some weight" and "take an anxiety pill." I found one doctor who didn't immediately blame everything on my weight, and they slapped me with a Zio monitor after the fifteenth time I ended up in the ER for almost blacking out while changing clothes or what-the-fuck-ever, and that led to blood tests and specialists and wow, did you know that I actually have a laundry list of health problems?

Like my thyroid doesn't work right? I have PCOS and a condition that fucks up my hormones and makes me more at-risk for uterine cancer? Did you know that I have an irregular heartbeat because my thyroid was ignored for so long? And that I inherited my dad's fucking psoriatic arthritis that I have been telling doctors about for years but they said I was too young to have it and I just needed to lose weight?

And I got really emotional in the shower earlier because all I could think of is all the years of pain that would have been missed and how much more capable I'd be and how much permanent damage could have been avoided if the very first doctor I went to didn't blame everything on my weight and ignore every fucking thing I said. Because now I can finally wear my favorite shoes again because my ankles aren't swollen so big that I can't zip my boots up (the arthritis did that!) and I am trying to get back into shape (carefully, because the heart thing!) and I'm just very, very mad thinking about all the things I haven't done just because I hurt so bad, for legitimate I Am Fucking Sick reasons, and everyone just said, "You're fat. That's why."

If anyone ever tries to tell you that all your problems are because of your weight, you should fucking kick them in the face.

[darkbluekies]

As for the last response, I do see moobs as a shortcut for man boobs. It's something I've stuck with for years, I find the name rather silly!

That's completely understandable, you seem to be a person who's passionate not only in writing but also running, I personally think that's actually really cool. I just hope you're safe while running! And I definitely agree when doing a form of exercise, it helps you clear your mind ^^ whenever I bike, I feel refreshed, it's an amazing feeling!

Ohh! That sounds quite cool! I usually wear shorts and a tank top here, I live somewhere around SEA.

Just know I don't mind listening about your emotions! And yes, I am too! Yesterday hit like a truck since I've been actually doing good this month apart from me being busy than usual 😅 I hope I can also find affordable phones too! I may get a Xiaomi one since there's a few good ones just under 10k pesos. I'll be stuck relying on my tablet, I own a laptop but I'm not really keen on using it for social media purposes. (I hate the layout.)

I'm excited to try it out! Also relatable 😭 I had to go to the hospital once due to a caffeine overdose and was stuck with a bunch of heart problems for about two years, I am usually wary now on how much caffeine I should take.

—🌊

Oh, bicycling sounds fun too!! you must see a lot of nice views! I am safe when I'm running, I have a vest where I keep a security alarm and a pepperspray of some sort! I ran last summer and then I had a tank top and shorts too, but I absolutely DESPISE sweating (which is why i love to run in the winter) so it doesn't matter much that i can't run this summer. I supposed that being in the SEA doesn't give you a very cold winter break ... :/

I've heard good about Xiaomi, I'm sure that you will be pleased with one! I've heard good about their phone cameras in particular, so take some pretty pictures with it!!

YOU DID WHAT HOW MUCH DID YOU TAKE

[rosiesramblings]

Like Riding a Bike

Fandom: Ted Lasso

WC: 1.4k

A/N: Hello!! It's been a minute!! Sorry about that. Turns out my new job is actually insane. On the plus side, I am getting a ton of overtime lol. ANYWAY, thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this fic, prompted by anon :) Can be read as platonic or pre-relationship.

“For grandad!”

Jamie’s shout echoed across the shadows of the park, and before he knew it Jamie had Roy balanced carefully on a perfectly-legal, not-at-all-stolen, authentic Amsterdam bike.

“Alright, now head up, hips square, aaaaand… pedal!” To his credit, Jamie did not laugh when Roy seemed to fall to the side in slow motion. He didn’t. Okay, maybe his lips twitched a little bit, but Jamie could easily blame that on a muscle spasm after all the exercise he’d done that day.

“It’s alright, good lad, good lad, right back on,” Jamie cheered, channeling his Mummy when she taught him to ride a bike as a sexy little baby. Roy did not seem to appreciate the encouragement the same way baby Jamie had, pushing grown-up Jamie back with a growl as he swung his leg back over the seat.

Clearly, Roy needed some extra help. This time, Jamie planted one hand on the back of Roy’s neck, and the other steady on Roy’s waist. Roy was tense underneath his fingers, but, Jamie figured, he was entitled to a little tension when he’s facing shit from his past. Losing his Grandad really fucked him up, and Jamie wasn’t going to begrudge the man his feelings, no matter how Roy tried to choke them into submission.

“Don’t need my fucking hand held,” Roy growled, undercutting his statement when Jamie let go and Roy immediately toppled sideways. “Fuck!”

“Alright, keep your trousers on, old man,” Jamie put his hands up in the universal ‘do no harm’ gesture. “Let’s try again, come on.” 

Roy gave a long suffering sigh, rolled his eyes so far back that Jamie was pretty sure he got a good look at his own brain, and swung his leg back over.

Jamie, trying to be a good friend, lightened his touch since Roy clearly wasn’t a fan of Jamie touching him in the first place. 

If possible, Roy got even more tense. “Oi!” He barked at Jamie. “I said don’t fucking need you for balance!” He claimed, scrunching his shoulders like Jamie always did when Sam wiggled his fingers under Jamie’s chin.

Now, Jamie wasn’t what anyone would call a genius. He wasn’t really book smart; the letters moved around too much for him to want to unscramble them. Because of this, people were constantly underestimating him, at least in the brains department. Look, Jamie might not be winning the Know Bell Prize or some shit any time soon, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. He knew what it looked like when a poor sod was ticklish and doing his damned best to hide it.

Jamie bit down on his tongue to hide a mischievous smile. “Look, mate, you don’t have to like it, but you need me until you can at least get a few meters on your own, yeah? C’mon, let’s do this, old man.”

Roy grumbled what Jamie figured was an assent, and Jamie placed his hands just firm enough that it could reasonably be interpreted as keeping Roy balanced, and not as a quest to get Roy Kent to laugh. Holy shit, did Roy giggle? This was going to be so damn fun.

Under Jamie’s light touch, Roy instantly tensed back up. Jamie risked a tease. “C’mon, mate, you’re never gonna keep your balance when you’re this stiff. You gotta loosen up a little,” Jamie squeezed Roy’s neck, and was rewarded with a growl that Jamie would bet his entire trainer closet was covering up a chuckle.

“You can fuck right off if you’re gonna keep talking instead of teaching,” Roy bit out.

“Right-o, Roy-o,” Jamie said cheerfully. “Look straight ahead, not at your toes, just like football, yeah? Otherwise the only place you’re going is down.” Jamie subtly moved his hand a little higher so that it was resting on Roy’s ribs. Roy made a sound like all the air had been punched out of him.

Jamie took his hand from Roy’s neck and used it to cover his smile. God, this made all the four am training sessions more than worth it. 

Instead of putting his hand back on Roy’s neck, Jamie decided to up the ante, and wormed his fingers under Roy’s armpit.

This seemed to be the last straw for Roy, who gave a shout and buckled to the side. Jamie went down with him, figuring the jig was up, and started playing Roy’s ribs like a goddamn piano.

“Shit - fuck - you shihihiitfucker - dahahahahahammit Tahahartt!” Roy broke, low, growly giggles (giggles! This was the best day of Jamie’s life.) and tried to curl away from Jamie’s fingers.

“Awww, what’s the matter, mate? Could it be the the big, bad, Roy fucking Kent is as ticklish as a little lad?” Jamie goaded, sneaking a hand underneath Roy’s hoodie and scribbling at his stomach.

Roy tossed his head back, a forced grin on his lips. Jamie was sure if his eyes were open there would be murder in them.  “Ihihihi’m gonna fuhuhucking KIHIHILL YOU!” Roy roared, his back arching.

“Roy, mate, this is fucking golden,” Jamie crowed, his smile splitting his face. Roy thrashed hard, harder than Jame was expecting. 

Jamie knew he was on borrowed time, so he wormed both of his hands into Roy’s underarms, and he was not disappointed.

Roy Kent. Fucking. Howled.

Jamie couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Oh my god, this is worse than I thought - mate, this is a fucking liability! How are you supposed to be ‘here, there, and every-fucking - woah!”

Quicker than Jamie could blink, Roy flipped their positions, and was looming about Jamie like a fucking werewolf. And looking at Jamie like he was a fucking steak.

“Roy, mate, it’s all in good fun, yeah? We don’t really have to -”

“Oh no, we abso-fucking-lutely have to,” Roy growled, a smile still in his voice despite the eyebrows he was giving Jamie.

That was all the warning Jamie got before Roy wrecked his shit. 

One hand went to Jamie’s hips, kneading like he was baking fucking bread or some shit. The other hand spidered over Jamie’s tummy, which was arguably worse.

“ROHOHOHOHOHOHOY,” Jamie screeched, tossing his head back, a smile splitting his face.

“Fucking what?”

“TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES.”

“I’d fucking well hope so,” Roy said, ruching up Jamie’s shirt in one smooth motion and scribbling across bare skin. “You’d better get used to this, cause we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“SHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT,” Jamie cursed, shaking his head back and forth.

“No? No, we’re not going to be here for a while? Or no, you can’t handle any more tickles? Cause I’m about to prove you wrong on both accounts,” Roy said as the hand squeezing Jamie’s hip moved down to torture his thigh instead.

Somehow, Roy’s growly voice saying ‘tickles’ made it tickle infinitely more. Jamie was no stranger to being tickled - since it was no longer ok to hit him, his teammates had to find other ways to get him to shut his mouth. But Roy was on another fucking level. And Jamie was losing his goddamn mind.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE,” Jamie was not above begging.

“You want to see something that always gets Phoebe?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

“Too bad,” Roy said, and leaned down to blow a fucking raspberry above Jamie’s belly button.

In the tiny part of his brain that wasn’t going insane from the tortuous sensations, Jamie imagined telling his 10 year old self that one day he’d be lying down in a park in fucking Amsterdam, getting the absolute shit tickled out of him by his childhood hero. If Jamie could have laughed any harder, he would have.

“ROHOHOHOHOY,” Jamie wailed.

“You ever gonna try that shit again?”

“PROHOHOHOBABLY,” Jamie answered.

“Yeah, knew that was probably too much to ask,” Roy grumbled. “You gonna try that shit in front of anybody else?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO,” Jamie promised.

“Fucking sure?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES! PLEHEHEHEASE ROHOHOY!” Jamie begged, on the verge of insanity.

“Alright,” Roy said, and finally ceased his tickling.

Jamie curled up in a ball, tugging his shirt back down. He wiped the tears from his face, still giggling.

Roy ruffled Jamie’s hair. “Come on. I’m going to ride a bike tonight even if I blow out my other fucking knee.”

All Jamie could do was groan through his giggles.

[honeysuckle-venom]

So. I actually started a lot of lifestyle changes about a month ago, shortly after getting my MRI results and checking in with my therapist a bit. I felt 95% sure the hepatologist would tell me I needed to lose weight, and I knew that if I hadn't started at least a little bit on that path before seeing her I would be even more triggered by being told that. Once I did, unsurprisingly, get told that on Monday I further cemented some of those changes and got a bit stricter about certain things, but in general this has been in the works for a little over a month.

I'm basically dieting, I guess, except I'm trying to be healthy about it and make "lifestyle changes" instead of like going on paleo or whatever. The thing is, I don't believe in dieting. I detest diet culture, I hate moralizing about food and fatphobia and all of that bullshit. I love the anti-diet and fat liberation movements, and while I never fully recovered from my eating disorder, that lense helped me more than any other form of treatment ever has. I am, generally speaking, morally opposed to a lot of what I'm doing right now. But I also need to do it, because I don't want to risk tumor growth and complications or surgery. And I know going into it with this specific motivation and attitude is different than just deciding to diet because I think I need to be skinny to be pretty or whatever, that I'm doing something medically necessary and not actually betraying my values, but it doesn't always feel that way, and that struggle is very hard.

I also don't know how to talk about what I'm doing without using diet culture terms and concepts at times. But I need to be able to talk about this whole experience on my blog, because it's kind of taking over my life atm. So I will do my best to warn for things and I will ALWAYS at the very least use the tag "weight loss cw" on all posts related to this, because I don't want to be irresponsible or trigger people, but I also need to be able to talk about my life.

So. Below this is where I really start talking about what I'm doing and how it feels. Warning for some diet culture language, discussion of restricting certain foods, exercise, food journaling, nutritionists, intentional weight loss, and other related topics. No numbers, but this is potentially more triggering than posts related to my food issues have been in the past because I do discuss specific behaviors.

So. For the past month I've been attempting to lose weight. The current strategies I've employed include: exercising every day, keeping track of what I eat in a food journal, and cutting out a lot of "unhealthy" foods. I hate even saying that, I believe that all foods have a place in a healthy diet (and also that health isn't a moral obligation but that's a separate though related issue). But! I am doing a specific thing and don't have better language to talk about it! Saying "less nutritionally dense foods" just sounds stupid so, whatever. "Unhealthy" or "less healthy" it is for now. The biggest change is I'm not eating refined carbs 90% of the time. There's room for a little bit of them but not much. I'm trying to get a lot of protein, fiber, and healthy fats. Lots of vegetables and legumes and whole grains and whatnot. The good news for me is that I actually already really like a lot of those foods. Lentils are one of my favorite foods of all time, I like all beans, I like most vegetables, I like farro and brown rice, I like carrots and hummus, I like all fruits except grapefruits, etc. I enjoy the foods I do get to eat. So that's nice. But even though I ate all of those things before, these days it's all I eat pretty much. I used to also eat potato chips and m&m's and things like that. But I got rid of all of that stuff and haven't had it in over a month.

I'm also exercising every day. So far it's been primarily on my exercise bike that I have at home, because it has a desk attached and I can distract myself on my computer while I bike, because I HATE exercise. I just hate it. I hate being gross and sweaty and feeling like my heart's pounding and I can't breathe, but that's the fucking point lol. My muscles hurt and sweat drips down my face and it's just miserable. But as of today my dad and I have joined the local community center, which has a pool. Swimming is the one form of exercise I like. You don't feel how sweaty you are because you're in the water, your joints don't hurt, you can pretend to be a mermaid. It's so much better. So that's really good news. Hopefully I'll swim a few times a week and use the bike on the other days, and that will make everything more pleasant and also use more muscles than just my legs on the bike.

The thing is, it's actually not that hard to eat this way? My brain is obsessed with food rules, and has been since I was literally in preschool. I have always had various rules around food. Adjusting those rules to be more permissive is incredibly difficult, but adjusting them to be stricter? Not hard. I'm not tempted to "fall off the wagon" or whatever, because those foods have entered a space in my brain called "forbidden" and so I can't even imagine eating them without an alarm blaring in my head. And that's dangerous. The thing that is hard about what I'm doing is I know I'm in relapse zone, but I don't know how to not fucking be there when I'm trying to lose weight. I'm spending hours and hours each day obsessing about food and exercise, planning what to eat next, researching nutrition information and vegan recipes, etc etc etc. It sucks. I get trapped in these awful spirals and it's just all-encompassing. I've managed to avoid the worst behaviors: I haven't looked up fitspo even though I've had strong urges to do so, I mostly manage to avoid counting calories, and I don't let myself look at the scale. My therapist takes my weight once a week but I don't look. I'm trying to keep things on the healthier side, to not just full on relapse. But it's really, really fucking difficult to do both at the same time. I don't know how to find the balance yet.

The good news is that I found a nutritionist who I think shares a lot of my values and is willing to support me with weight loss, which I was worried wouldn't be possible. Bc all the anti-diet folks don't do weight loss at all, and all the weight loss people are...evil? Yeah, evil. But I really feel the need for professional support, even more than just my therapist, and so I didn't know what to do. But I think I found someone. I haven't met with her yet, but I've gotten in touch and hopefully we'll find a time for next week and I'll be able to update with how she is. Because this is really hard, and trying to balance the physical and mental without falling off a cliff is proving impossible without a lot of help. I have good help from my therapist, but if I could have some additional support it would be a good thing. So fingers crossed for that.

[kdramacrybaby]

Hidden Love (2023)

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Youth

Synopsis: As a young girl, Sang Zhi falls in love with her older brother’s best friend Duan JiaXu. Oblivious to her feelings, he treats her as nothing more than a sister, and eventually, Sang Zhi realizes she has to give up on her feelings after getting hurt too many times. Years later, Sang Zhi now a legal adult, the two meet again, and old feelings start to resurface for Sang Zhi, who desperately tries (and fails) to push them back. This time, though, she might not be the only one catching feelings.  

Episode info: 25 episodes / Runtime around 45 minutes

Lead cast: Zhao Lu Si (Sang Zhi), Chen Zhe Yuan (Duan JiaXu), Victor Ma (Sang Yan)

Link to watch: You can watch on Netflix for Dramacool

Drama rec masterlist | Drama rant thread (beware of spoilers)

(I watched this while on my exercise bike, so that’s why there’s no drama rant for this drama (but I would have been absolutely freaking out if there was one)).

The first thing I want to address is the age gap between the characters, something I was very wary about when first starting out the drama - I think using a younger actress in the first few episodes while still using the same male lead made it a lot worse than it actually was too - but it still took a little convincing to root for this couple. Which is also why I didn’t really take the drama that seriously at first, it was just something Netflix had recommended and a drama that could be sort of cute to watch while I got some exercise.

I want to refer to this post by teaandsojupod, because I think they really made a great point. Yes there is an age difference that might make some people raise an eyebrow, but that is the point and the drama is well aware of this fact. It is addressed multiple times throughout the drama - both the lead characters have their own thoughts and worries about the age gap, and they discuss this with their friends and family. Nothing is done without thought and care, and they both take their time to reflect on their feelings for the other before making a move.

What I love the most about their relationship, is how they always take the time to communicate their thoughts and feelings to the other, so there is no room for misunderstandings. They never hide their worries from each other - and even if they try to because they don’t want to worry the other, they know each other so well that they notice immediately and support each other through it. They protect each other in their own way and I love to see it. This is everything I want to see in a healthy romance and more. And the actors have amazing chemistry.

Other than the fantastic romance, I want to list a couple of points that only made the drama even better:

The sibling energy between Sang Zhi and her big brother is everything

The friendships in this drama are everything 

The actors are all phenomenal 

The writing / story is actually good and feels natural

I really did not expect to like this drama as much as I did, but it just made me smile so much, and I even ended up binging the last couple of episodes off the bike because I couldn’t wait to see how it ended.   

This is a drama that I will definitely be comparing future romance dramas to in terms of how much I like the couple. We don’t need every male lead to be a rich prince on a white horse, sometimes they can be just a normal dude with normal real-life struggles.

Yes, there are some things they maybe gloss over a little bit (some b-plot with Sang Zhi’s friends, how the whole thing with Jiaxu’s past got resolved, Sang-zhi’s parents), but I really don’t think it takes away that much from the central story.

Highly recommended watch! 

[nicistrying]

Monday 31st July

Dropped my car at the garage this morning for its MOT. Had to get the bus home which was really anxiety inducing, not sure why? Like I've had bad experiences on buses but they were all years ago and never made me actually physically anxious getting back on one. Idk anyway I was already v nervous and on edge worrying about the car after Matt's failed its MOT a few weeks ago and we had to get rid of it 😅 I was just so scared of having no car between 2 of us who kinda really need cars lol. So I lost most of the day to just solidly worrying about that but I did get some stuff done while I was at home - ordered some gifts for people, did some bits around the house, got my work stuff ready and lunch prepped for tomorrow. Had pasta w broccoli and cheese for lunch which was such nice comfort food.

The garage called and said my car is fine, needs a few bits done asap but they don't have the parts to do it now and it passed its MOT so I went straight down to get it and felt much much better once I was driving myself back home in my own car lol. Now to get 3 new tyres and new brakes 😅😅

Had a little stretch and did a nice leg workout when I got home - had been wanting to work out all day but was too on edge waiting for the phone to ring. So felt great to let all the tension and stress out. I did some glute exercises first - 3x16 each of hip thrusts, deadlifts and reverse lunges with my kettlebell, followed by 25 mins on the indoor bike. I worked up a good sweat and listened to the Barbie soundtrack for most of it bc I'm absolutely obsessed. Like I cannot get enough of I'm Just Ken

Anyway it was a good workout. Maggie just chilled outside in the rain the whole time like a weirdo.

Showered, had veggie curry for dinner, and now we're cuddling watching TV until it's time to pick Matt up from work.

[self-shipper-snowdrop]

wouldnt P.E need to like... accommodate a disability like asthma

It's status as a disability around here is... debatable. I'll admit, I'm not sure if I feel comfortable calling my asthma a disability. It does impede my life, yeah, but it's one of those things that's a weird area. My asthma has been labelled "moderate" and it's not really considered one unless it's labelled "severe" around here. Basically, I don't feel like I have a right to use that label for myself, and critically it also means that legally they don't have to give a fuck.

Long blurb ahead about shitty HS experience lmfao

I got diagnosed around age 12-13, although I had been showing symptoms as early as age 10. It just got brushed off by the clinic as allergies at the time [dude literally said 'it acts exactly like asthma, looks exactly like asthma and we're giving you an asthma inhaler, but it's just allergies.' Like okay dude. Even 10 year old me felt that was weird] but my then family doctor was finally able to take a look and he gave me the diagnosis. Also he took me seriously right away, since he's known me since I was born. Literally, he delivered me as a baby.

The first year of gym was only not an issue because my ankle was broken for 75% of it. It was that long because it ended up re-injured thanks to a shitty teacher. [My mom was VERY close to bloody strangling that woman. Only reason they didn't charge in was me insisting they not and that I was fine. Also mom had a busy job but ngl she would have blown off the Prime Minister at that point;;;;] I also got diagnosed near the end of it so I didn't know until later.

Second year was where things got. Dicey. Originally was assigned to a male teacher; don't remember his name because we barely saw him. When I asked him if he could hold on to my inhaler or if I had a safe place to put it down, since I wanted to participate without holding it getting in the way [girl's pants not having pockets, I had to hold it in my hand] and the dumbass told me to put it in my gym locker. I, then 13-14 years old, had to explain to this fucking clown in a greasy wig why that was stupid. I told him by the time they recognized I was having an asthma attack, found the locker room key, figured out which locker was mine, either unlocked it or broke it open, found my inhaler and came back to me, I would be LONG dead. I just held it from then on. Thankfully, someone threw a dodgeball at his head and he got a scratched cornea, so he was out for the rest of the semester recovering. Ngl I like to pretend that kid did that intentionally, lmao. Unsung hero, that kid 🫡

Third year, the main issue wasn't the inhaler itself, but expectations to push myself WAY harder than was safe. I was kinda chubby then, still am, and they believed I was lazy. Truthfully;;; I just didn't like the activities they did, so I wasn't invested. On the mechanical bikes [which I actually didn't mind] the teacher there would come up and turn the tension WAY up, trying to force me to work harder. I'd get shouted at to "do better" and "put in more effort". I was putting in effort- I was trying, despite hating it- but like I said in that post's tags;;; it's a tightrope. I need to put in enough effort to actually get the benefit of exercise, but not SO hard that I ran myself into an asthma attack. My main triggers for an attack are allergies [which is basically outdoors, so it's dangerous as fuck in allergy season], illness [thus the special inhaler for when I'm sick], and heavy exertion.

I've run myself into an asthma attack several times- but only once when not in school. It's very scary, but it wasn't scary enough for the teachers for them to care. Also, it was autumn, so whenever we were outside it was even harder for me because of the cold, dry air. I really struggled, and became timid, because asthma attacks happened so often it was starting to hurt. I wouldn't be surprised if my asthma actually got worse in that time, because it was really, really rough. But them pushing me to "work harder" was a problem through everything, even if that last year of gym was much worse for it. There was a constant mantra of me being "lazy" and "not trying" even when I was. But they expected you to run until you puked your guts out. I was so, so lucky my parents told me "as long as you do your best, we don't care what grade you get" and made sure I didn't even try that. My brother had done that before me and that was devastating enough, my parents and brother didn't want me doing that too. Especially with asthma.

And really? Those teachers didn't care about any of us. One even told us all not to rough house [directed this at the boys but said it to everyone] because "I could get sued if someone gets hurt". The attitude was so bad that even kids who didn't like me- or even who didn't think I could speak because I was so quiet- would make sure I was okay after asthma attacks. The teachers never did. It was kind of wild, because the same people who pulled out your hair, grabbed your chest, called your slurs and slammed your face into lockers would also be the only ones on your side during a health emergency.

They didn't like me. I wasn't one of them, but they didn't want me to die. They did tone things down after that [not stop mind you] but still. It kinda brought people together. Alongside the whole "pedo teacher" thing; the mean girls may spread rumours about you but they still protected you from Mr. Pedo.

Basically, it was a weird experience. The teachers didn't care at all, and weirdly, it unified the kids. Even the ones who really did awful shit to the others. They still wouldn't watch as other kids got hurt. A dysfunctional kinship, really. But I find it sad how kids that literally yanked my hair out were also bigger defenders of me in gym than any teacher ever was.

[anonymusbosch]

way too long ankle thoughts

I have had fairly weak ankles for a pretty long time - I sprained one pretty badly in my senior year of high school and then kept respraining it for... at least a year after? Then I sprained my other ankle in college and made a hobby of respraining it, then I - a couple years(?) later want on one run that I went on often and ended up with acute tendinitis that became long-lasting-mystery-ankle-affliction, which lasted me more or less from 2021 to 2024 in ebbs and flows of "I think it's getting better this time" / "agh one slightly-too-long-hike set me back months again". And it's more or less much better now! Not 100%, but measurably improved (the last "I think it might be better this time!" I was topping out at 6 miles on flat ground, and I did 12 with a little elevation a few weekends ago).

Throughout these, the doctor's appointments were of middling use. I'd say a 30/30/40 mix of "making it better", "making it actively worse", and "mystifying and useless". I tried physical therapy - this did seem to help lead to improvement, but I attribute this largely to (1) having done quite a bit of research before my first visit and arriving with "The doctor said I have X, so I tried all these different exercises and stretches and I'm still getting pain" and (2) a physical therapist can be seen for an hour at a time for several weeks in a row and this makes them more vulnerable to interrogation than the average US MD, who will see you for 15 minutes of a 30-minute appointment a month from now if you're lucky. The physical therapist was also about a 70% useless woo/30% useful mix, but the duration meant that 30% was pretty impactful.

As far as I can tell, the things that worked for me were

Strengthening the ankle with various exercises like calf raises, resistance band thingamabobs, etc. A lot of these felt really easy when I looked up "exercises for ankle strength" - there are ways to modify them to make them more challenging. My understanding is that a healing ligament can't heal tightly and a sprained ankle benefits from having stronger muscles to help hold it more in place.

Balance exercises - not just standing on one foot, but doing one-foot calf raises, using a balance board/bosu ball, doing one-leg squats and such that require balance through the range of motion, etc. Messing around with my sister's slackline. Roller blading. This has to do with the proprioception thing, as far as I know.

Strengthening and stretching the muscles of the foot itself. This - I think - was the breakthrough for my particular situation. With all the staying-off-my-ankle, there were a bunch of foot muscles that help with stabilization that got very weak with disuse.

Strength stuff for hips and knees as well.

(for all the exercises, I really can't give a recommendation. Absolutely not a doctor. What I can say is that I got frustrated early about things being too easy or too hard - but almost anything can be modified to add or subtract difficulty, and I do have a decent mental catalog of the variations that I've done.)

Using hiking poles. What would have been a minor rolled ankle pre-sprain would become a re-sprain - poles helped me head off several re-sprains.

Wearing a lace-up ankle brace (from the pharmacy, like $20, nothing fancy) that helped prevent re-sprains in situations where poles wouldn't cut it or didn't apply.

Actually doing the boring exercises and shit. This was a very difficult thing even with a burning desire to banish ankle problems entirely. I had a lot more success tacking them on to the end of other exercise; dedicating solely ankle time was (is) anathema to my attention span. Small things that helped: Finding things which target some weak areas (balance, ankles, knees, hips) that aren't boring as fuck (stand up paddle board [when available], roller blades, biking, climbing, even regular gym exercises that use balance, etc). Having a buddy for accountability. Taking 20 min to get outside and do things before work. being unemployed for a couple months. leaving resistance bands out in view so I remember they exist. going on hikes and walking on my toes. walking weirdly around town (on heels, on toes, with funky stride). doing the exercises between routes at the climbing gym. standing on one foot while working. etc etc etc.

but yeah, part of what spurred my photography hobby was needing to sit down while other people hiked. might as well appreciate the beauty and look at bugs while you're waitin'