#not to the extent that i think my contributions to the conversation online are useful

[bogunicorn]

i'm not a world politics expert by any means but it kinda feels like if you know that hamas' violence against civilians is unacceptable and horrific and needs to be stopped, it should be a quick mental jump from that to admitting that israel "fighting back" by doing worse to palestinian civilians is also unacceptable and horrific and needs to be stopped.

genocide is always wrong, violence against civilians is always wrong. but doing this "israel is fighting back against hamas, that's why it's okay that they're cracking down on gaza" song and dance is a disgusting reaction. if you can understand that american imperialism is wrong and often nurtures the very terrorists the US was supposedly there to stop by visiting horrors upon the civilians of the countries it invades and radicalizing them, then you also fundamentally understand why israel is responsible for hamas.

no reblogs and shit on this one, i'm not opening the floor for debate on whether or not it's proportional "retribution" to commit genocide, you can just block me. i have no delusions that this will meaningfully help anyone or anything, i just won't be considered a "safe" person for zionists.

[mariacallous]

It's even more grotesque because Mar Galcerán has been an activist and official working on inclusiveness and disability policy for a while now in Spain.

For decades she battled to ensure that people with intellectual disabilities were part of the conversation. The extent of the progress she had made, however, was laid bare recently when Mar Galcerán became Spain’s first parliamentarian with Down’s syndrome.

“It’s unprecedented,” the 45-year-old told the Guardian. “Society is starting to see that people with Down’s syndrome have a lot to contribute. But it’s a very long road.”

Her feat has been decades in the making. When Galcerán was 18 years old, she joined the conservative People’s party (PP) after being attracted to what she described as its embrace of tradition.

Slowly she worked her way up the party apparatus. Her commitment paid off last May when she was added as the 20th name on the list of candidates the PP was fielding in Valencia’s regional elections.

News that Galcerán had obtained a seat in the regional parliament came soon after. “Welcome Mar,” the region’s PP leader, Carlos Mazón, wrote on social media. “Great news for politics, overcoming barriers.”

The achievement catapults Galcerán to the top of the ranks of the handful of people with Down’s syndrome who have crashed through barriers to enter the world of politics. In 2020, Éléonore Laloux became the first person with the genetic disorder in France to be elected to public office, as a city council member in the northern town of Arras, while Ireland’s Fintan Bray was hailed for making history after he was elected to a political position in the country in 2022.

In Spain, Galcerán’s path into politics was blazed by Ángela Bachiller, who in 2013 became Spain’s first city councillor with Down’s syndrome in the northern city of Valladolid.

Galcerán may be the first in Europe, however, to join a regional or national parliament, according to Spain’s Down’s syndrome federation.

“We haven’t heard of anyone else,” said Agustín Matía Amor of Down España. “It’s a huge step forward and an example of real inclusion.”

He was quick to point out that the achievement was also a reflection of the decades Galcerán had spent working to advance the status of people with Down’s syndrome in Spain. For more than 20 years Galcerán had worked as a civil servant in Valencia, most recently helping to carve out inclusive policy, adding to the four years she spent at the helm of Asindown, a Valencian organisation dedicated to helping families with children that have Down’s syndrome.

“It’s both great news and a recognition of her work and the many initiatives she was involved in,” said Matía Amor. “It’s a good example of what is possible.”

While Galcerán’s September swearing in was hailed by Spanish media, she said the reaction online had been mixed. “You find all sorts on social media,” she said. “There are people who support me. But there are also others who think I’m not capable. But these are people who don’t know me or my background.”

As she gets acquainted with her new role, she described it as a tremendous responsibility. “I want to learn how to do it well, for Valencianos, and more importantly, for those of us who have different abilities.”

Ultimately she hoped her presence in the regional parliament would help to dismantle the many prejudices that continue to linger in society, particularly when it comes to people with Down’s syndrome. “I want people to see me as a person, not just for my disability.”

[congealedweapon]

I see a lot of artist complain about getting comments about how talented they are and how the commenter could never do art like that - which is understandable because the societal myth of innate talent especially with arts and other creative skills - and then say that anyone can get as skilled if they practice and work with enough time and effort. But this also just isn't true - not just under capitalism either.

There are so many different factors - internal and external - that all contribute to this. Most obviously, besides interest, not everyone has access to the time, energy and space to learn and practice. And, importantly, disabled people aren't a tiny fraction of the population even in the western world or whatever you call Europe, North America, Australia and New Zealand. Iirc pre pandemic the official statistics estimated 1/5-1/4 of various populations - which can only be an underestimate when society so severely discourages people from identifying as disabled and doesn't acknowledge that some disabilities even exist. And given that Covid is a mass disabling event, it can only be higher now (and increasing). So any claim that "of course I didn't mean disabled people" "disability is a different conversation/off topic" isnt valid, disabled people are a part of "anyone" and "everyone" and not an exception. Assuming and/or categorising us as an exception to the rule that goes without saying is in and of itself ableist.

That aside, I believe - although don't have exact data or anything - that there must be a common range of various basic skills and abilities outside of what is considered disability - things like fine and gross motor skills (and each of those skills individually), ability to perceive and process finer visual, audio or other sensory details (which would impact visual art and music skill acquisition respectively), various forms of coordination, flexibility etc.

There are also, although research is in its infancy, differences in how people think - i.e. whether or not and to what extent there are images, words and inner monologue, other sounds, etc - as well as differences - which can be affected by how people think, such as a lack of images aka aphantasia - in memory formation and recall, as well as working memory and muscle memory (at least in disability terms, but I don't think there is an actual line between "not disabled" and "disabled" so much as there is a point at which various things become disabling (which is subjective) (and seperate to disability as a political identity and marginalisation)

I've heard in passing that so called "learning styles" are a myth and I haven't looked into it (and don't feel like it at 9:30pm just for a little rant) but there are differences - and the same person can have different pretences for different things and in different circumstances - in what format of tutorials people find most useful, if not a combination of formats, such as video or detailed written instructions, with or without diagrams or still images, learning in a small in person group versus on your own via the internet or a book or DVD, etc. And I don't think it's that anyone has 1 innate "style" but that there are a lot of factors involved, in general and contextually and that the more quality, accessible and affordable options for learning are available the more people are going to have success at acquiring the skill - not to mention that those tutorials and other resources need to be in a language you can understand enough of, or are able to translate enough of with online and other tools, don't assume access to tools or other resources you don't have (e.g. software) and are for/work with the method you use/are most able to use - for example, the way I hold my crochet hook is different to the most common way, so video tutorials have always been more confusing (especially before I figured out that I'd unconsciously adapted how I hold my hook) and clear diagrams that just show the top of the hook and the yarn are much much easier. But also are harder to find, especially without buying a lot of expensive books.

Basic physical attributes can also play a part in how easily a skill can be learned. This is most easily seen with sports - there are plenty of resources that talk about, and show, how different body types can be an advantage in different sports. It also applies to singing and learning various instruments - some are easier with longer, more but not too flexible fingers. Others are easier with a greater lung capacity and a straighter back.

There are also differences in parenting, schooling, safe home environments, parental income, etc that play a part as well, which I think most left leaning people are at least somewhat aware of - the more access and encouragement you had in regards to starting a skill early on and continuing with it is a clear advantage in becoming skilled at something.

All of this is important, because interest in a thing and motivation do not exist, unchanging, in a vacuum. If you find something more challenging to you than it is for your peers, or what is expected of you, or to the point where it's actively discouraging, that makes it much harder to maintain interest. Sometimes interests starts because you got the chance to try and thing that was maybe easier to learn for you than others, or than other things you tried, that you were applauded for and otherwise encouraged to continue, and it met a minimal level of fun, and the interest grew from there. Maybe you had what could have been a passing interest, had you not had access, but you did so you were able to get more into it and become passionate.

I also want to say, that it's very true that not everything is a privilege, and sometimes people will claim something is a privilege either mistakenly or untruthfully to make a point or argue.

BUT some things can be a *sign* of or a result of privilege or only accessible if you either get very lucky or have a certain level of privilege. One of those things is being able to get to the level of proficiency in a skill - especially one that has a financial barrier - in order to become even semi professional or make a name on social media for it, or even just create often enough to post your work regularly *especially* with enough skill to obtain an audience for it. I'm sure there are exceptions, like there is for everything, but most people don't have the money, free time, free energy, free focus, lack of conflicting or obstructing ability circumstance or disability, etc to get to that point. And those that do aren't going to get there after the same amount of time, energy, and practice.

(also if you say "you don't need expensive equipment/supplies to do [your hobby/skill]" and don't at least provide a link to resources on how to figure out which inexpensive options are the best and most appropriate ones, or at least acknowledge that being familiar enough with the different options, brands, etc to know where and how to efficiently and effectively save money is in itself a sub skill of the hobby/profession/etc then, you know 🖕 - also not everyone can just use the cheapest stuff due to accessibility and other needs)

I feel like, even in more nuanced conversations about how our societal understandings of intelligence, talent, etc are entirely made up and harmful nonsense, it would do everyone good to normalise that it's okay to be bad at things. Not everyone is able to get professional level proficient in things they want to do. No one can become proficient in everything if they want to do a bunch of things. And not everyone wants to do the work required - whether because they want to do multiple things and there just isn't enough time or energy in one life, because they have no interest in being professional, or because it would require greater sacrifice or risk than it would for other people or than it's worth.

I think education and society at large would benefit from better understanding that not everyone starts from the same base level of ability when starting out at learning different things, or in life. Both in regards to disability, not having the same first or at-home language as the one being taught in, and with failings in society like poverty, racism, etc and capitalism in general. And also that there is a variety in every possible human trait within the population - just like there are differences in height, body shape, eye hair and skin colour, voice pitch, native language and culture and other fairly obvious things, we can there is so much micro and invisible variety too. My sister can draw in more visual detail than I generally perceive just looking at the world as a short sighted since childhood, and ADHD person with significant aphantasia. I crochet but I can't knit - and while video tutorials are an added level of confusion because I can't hold my crochet hook the same way most tutorial makers do, I found learning how to read charts almost instinctual, but many crocheters struggle with that. I've done micro crochet, something considered generally quite difficult in the crochet community, but Tunisian crochet absolutely boggles my brain to the point where I'm fairly incapable of doing it, have minimal skill in making clothing, and could absolutely never finish a blanket - while Tunisian crochet is a little bit niche, making garments and blankets are incredibly common in the crochet community (although blankets are also incredibly fucking expensive to make).

Point is, while I understand the lack of understanding of the time, effort, and energy involved in becoming proficient, leading to the undervaluing of the skill and at the same time, increasing the perceived inaccessibility of learning it, is incredibly annoying, especially online with a large enough audience that you hear it frequently, it's just not true that anyone could do what you are doing, as well as you are, with as much success, because there are so many things that have to go right, as well as simply having the time, money and space to not only learn the skill, but become proficient and then make a name for yourself and create regularly (and do all the social media stuff) - which honestly just isn't a thing many people in this capitalist hellscape have

And also any discussion of how the education fails people, and how our western understandings of talent and intelligence are not only nonsense but harmful, should also be done with the understanding that it's okay to not be good at things at do them anyway, and that there are just so many different factors that influence how easily someone finds a certain area of learning is, whether and when they might become proficient in something, and that there is natural human variety to every part of being human (and also that disability is natural and not uncommon and that disabled people are in fact included when generalising about all people unless of course you don't consider disabled people to be people)

Also, an afterthought: creativity as a whole is kinda a talent and a skill, and being able to become proficient at a skill does not automatically mean you can use that skill in a creative, and personally unique way. And that's okay! You are allowed to just have fun, or make things that are just practical, or just like someone else (with credit where it's due) etc. But I think it's worth acknowledging that most people in creative (or potentially but not always creative) fields especially with an even moderate audience online are successful in that way not just because of technical proficiency but because they have cultivated their own personal style, their own artistic voice, or *something* that people enjoy or resonate with

There are very skilled people that do professional, quality work without much widespread notice - those who make music, visual art, etc for advertisements and other corporate purposes for example. I feel like most people are familiar with "generic" art - the kind you can find in offices, or where the prints are mass produced for retail etc - all that requires skill, and in its own way a form of creativity that any act of creation takes, but it's not the same kind of creativity that inspires itself (i.e. isn't based on an outline the artist is payed to fulfill outside of being commissioned because of their personal established artistic voice/style), it doesn't have the same personality and sense of connection to the creator, if that makes sense.

And that's something that improves with practice but isn't really something that can be taught. And that's okay! But saying that there is absolutely no talent or anything special just a lot of time and practice involved in becoming a successful artist in our own name and voice is missing part of the story

[squadrah]

I have a question, I hope I don't sound rude. But why do people hc Melone has being sick (having a illness)? Is there something I missed in the Manga or is that something we've come as a collective to agree on?

No worries, you're not being rude I think!

It is the latter - there is no hard evidence of Melone having any particular condition in the manga or in the anime. However, there are some factors that invited speculation from fans:

1) He has a unique eye patch, but his clothing is already such an asymmetrical mess that it honestly doesn't stand out as much as it might on a less eccentric looking character, and there is nothing to indicate the reason one eye is covered (albeit with see-through material) while the other is unobstructed.

2) His Stand works remotely in a different way from other remote Stands we have seen so far. Usually remote Stands still end up doing the work, just further away from the User than your typical humanoid fighting Stand could, while Baby Face laptop's primary purpose seems to be to create a whole other secondary Stand that can travel even further than most remote Stands can, is fully autonomous despite online communication and guidance being a built-in feature, and Melone has to use someone to give life to this secondary Stand. Sure, he has to get close in a sense to get a DNA sample and to plant a homunculus, but he is otherwise so removed from any real fighting that had it not been for Giorno's bullshit ability, Melone might have never been found because he is just that level of unaffected. The secondary Stand doesn't seem to be consuming his stamina either because other Stand users will remark on exhausting themselves.

These two factors combined have led to speculations that a) he has at the very least some sort of eye condition, and b) he might not be in good enough health if he has to outsource his ability to this extent. He is the only character in Vento Aureo who needs someone else's contribution to activate his ability and then suffers no consequences for his "Stand" actually getting hurt destroyed (Carne is a unique case since he was dead by the time his Stand came online). It's something that sets him apart and for which there is no canon explanation, so it's a niche fans explored.

Also, this is just some additional, do what you will with type of information, but I've met Melone fans online who are chronically ill and to whom Melone was a comfort character in this regard - his unique set up lends him more easily to disability headcanons than most, so he is easier to project onto in this sense. I am not chronically ill, but I also find this a reasonable characterization after so many conversations with friends and fellow fans, and I enjoyed exploring it in my own way. To each their own of course, fans are allowed to headcanon him as a regular healthy dude, but from my own experience, the chronic illness or disability headcanons are their own very interesting and rich avenue to explore! I for one will never go back to headcanoning him as a regular healthy dude just because the picture I ended up painting with chronically ill Melone is so fascinating and fun to me - ER selfies and all!

[becomedog]

speaking to my experiences as a white american speaking to other white americans on palestine. NOT saying 'this is the right way' or anything by a long shot, just talking bc i know a lot of people are thinking on how they want to approach this and hearing other people's experiences has helped me.

i've had a couple conversations (always verbal, never online) w people in my life who don't consider themselves zionist, but aren't speaking up for ceasefire either.

the thing that comes up the most is 'it's so complicated'.

generally i don't react to this with 'it's not complicated' or 'it's simple actually' because

in this case and in most cases, yes, there is a long history there, "complicatedness" is inevitable to some extent and

what they are expressing is to some extent "i don't know a lot about this, this is confusing and i'm receiving contradictory information, this is scary, there's so much information and i don't know what is good information, i don't want to say the wrong thing" etc etc which like, yes! i get that! and

however wrong they are, however much their inaction aids oppressive forces, i think most people in the states are in this "stuck"/shut down place or fully in favor of ceasefire. most people do not want bombs and they do not want people to suffer and starve. and i have the privilege to be able to speak to people who are in that stuck spot and hear them and gently speak back. and call them to advocate for what they usually already believe: that people do not deserve to suffer like this.

i have tried to respond saying 'i used to think this way [that because i 'don't know enough' i shouldn't say anything], but now i think this way'.

i speak to what i do know and what i don't. 'i don't know everything there is to know, i am just some clueless white american. but i don't think being against genocide, against the siege of hundreds of thousands of people, takes a lot of expertise or knowledge.'

and if people are agreeable to that, then we can start talking more on 'when we see this level of suffering, especially when our country is contributing to it, i think we owe it to them to learn more and speak up with them'

[thinkpink212]

Things I am leaving behind in 2022 & Why

After a long and eventful year, I hope to take the many realizations I have had and shed all undesired habits, behaviors & people who no longer serve me.

☁️Anything that taints my energy; It has taken a long time realizing that sometimes what I consume, regardless of if it is people, media, products or habits, does not always contribute positively to my experience on this beautiful earth. So, my future self will know peace as I start to consume less media that fatigue, anger & distract me. Cut off those who drain me with each interaction. And lastly, I will no longer participate in activities (gossip, conversations & arguments) that adds nothing to my existence. If someone comes to me with subjects that go against me, I will set my boundary or remove myself. I am tired of constantly attempting to fill the void and time in my life with endless & meaningless interactions irl & online. But as I go about it all, I will have patience with myself because it is not always as easy said then done, but it will be done. My time and energy are valuable, so it is about time I acted like it.

☁️Reacting before thinking, assessing or reflecting; Speaking before truly sitting with what has been said or is happening, has never served me. It does not matter if it is a disrespectful comment, information that shocked or angered me, someone trying to provoke me, no matter what, I need to learn to take things in & sit with them before giving it a reply or reaction. I wish to further evolve my emotional maturity alongside my inner calmness, in hopes of nothing being able to truly rock me. And if I cannot always hold back, I hope that what I say is at least passed through my mind so that I speak without regret.

☁️Prolonged senses of doubts & overthinking; I have had to remind myself constantly that the doubt I hold onto is not one produced by me, so why am I holding onto it as if it belongs to me? Doubts have been placed onto me throughout my whole life & in 2023 I release it all in hopes of rebuilding a trusting relationship with myself. I am more then capable of making decisions, I am worth trusting & know what is best for myself. On top of that, I also know what I am doing, if not now I will know down the line (and that is okay) I want and will trust myself again to the fullest extent of the word. Just look back a few steps, I got us (me) here & I will do it again.

☁️Negative self talk & neglecting my health; I will no longer speak to myself how I have in the past. I have patience, kindness & nothing but love towards myself. How I treat me is how I would treat younger me & how I want to always be treated by me & the future tribe who choose to thrive besides me. I will no longer put aside my needs for convenience sake, If I need to have a break, I will take it. I may be stubborn but I will listen & take care of this beautiful vessel (body) my soul chose. I will no longer overindulge, neglect my needs or skip routines I know will help me in the long run. This is for you (me), no one else, so honor yourself.

☁️Not keeping my word & promises to myself; Lastly, but most important — being let down is one of the most triggering things I continue to experience. And in 2023 I am moving beyond disappointing myself & others. No promises I make will be made without intent of doing them. That goes for myself & the promises I make to those around me. I will not set goals I do not have intent to accomplish nor put things off only to never get them done — I will not be one to trust without seeing the walk that follows the talk, and I will no longer participate in disappointing myself. I (me) got you (me), always.

I have no true limitations, the world is here for me to experience it & experience myself, so I am ready to receive all my blessings & lessons. I am ready to meet the future me who is at peace & living our best life to the fullest. Period.

☁️ 2023, here I come ☁️

[tabby-shieldmaiden]

ASAW 2023

Prompt 4: Share with us a poem, song or short story or written piece about ASAW 

This will be my first time ever officially participating in an aromantic event. This will also be - though I’ve been out as aro online since 2021 - my first real ASAW. Last year, I feel like I was still trying to understand what the broader aro community was like. I was still trying to scope out what people were reading and writing about, what people talked about, what all the different concepts meant. To that extent, it was a time of educating myself.

Now though, I feel like I’m a little better equipped to write about it. So, I think I’ll try write a little something for this week. I do want to use my talents to contribute to queer community building in some way, after all.

I’m pretty excited for this upcoming week. In particular, I look forward to all the conversations that’ll happen this week, both with arospec folk I know offline and online. In my attempts to read and learn more about aromantism - the concept, the identity, the people - in the previous year, I feel like I’ve been introduced to so many new and interesting concepts and ideas. But I had simply been a spectator during that time, hearing about other people’s thoughts and experiences while rarely contributing my own views. Now, with what I know, I feel like I am much better equipped to take part in discussions. That’s something new to me, and I don’t think I’ll be bringing anything truly innovative to the table. But I think I will enjoy this feeling of actively being involved. Taking part in something, with other people, as opposed to merely watching and learning.

There’s so much that an aro perspective can bring to things. Everything from relationships to economics, from housing to stories. And I feel like, with how young the aro community is relative to a lot of other queer communities, there are still so many more avenues and areas of interest to explore, discuss, and think about through an aro lens. I would love to hear about the views and thoughts of aros from different cultures, different stages of life, different orientations, who lead different lifestyles, aros who fall on different parts of the spectrum. And though I may be pretty young, with so much more life to live and so many more experiences to have, I hope that I can contribute something interesting to someone somewhere this aro week.

This aro week, I shall participate as actively as I can. I’m looking forward to the experience, and to all arospecs, I hope you have a good one this year!

[fireflyjunkie]

FEEL SOMETHING

(A Sanders sides Angst one-shot fic)

Part 1

4,391 words

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️

Razor blades

Self harm

Gore

Numbness

Logan angst

Confrontation on self harm suspicions

Summary:

Logan is tired of being the cold, emotionless robot that everyone perceives him as. He’s repressed his emotions to such a great extent that he genuinely doesn’t feel anything major anymore. He does have his nightly break-downs sometimes, but he needs more than that.

However, this is where roads begin to cross. Logan feels that it would be nice and beneficial to experience strong emotions, but he doesn’t know if this feeling is stronger than his fear of expressing such things. Being viewed as a joke and not being taken seriously is his worst nightmare. Because of this, the logical side just keeps up his stone cold front to avoid being weak.

This dilemma Logan had found himself in really frustrated him. No matter how hard he tried to think of a solution, nothing ever satisfied both ends of the spectrum. The best he had come up with was to keep up the front when he was with the others and then let himself break down at night when no one was around, and even that didn’t help him nearly as much as he wished. This eventually led him to looking for answers online. One search led to another, and Logan has figured out something that might help him. It’s a bit risky, and he’ll have to hide it from the others, but he knows how to be safe with it, so he’ll give it a shot just to feel something.

•———————————————————————-•

Part 1

6:34pm

 Logan was sitting at the dinner table with his three friends as they ate their meal. Nothing unusual about the evening, they had their casual little chats and the occasional playful banter from Roman and Virgil, with Patton butting in every so often. Logan kept his focus all on the plate of food in front of him. The paternal figure had worked hard to make this, he wasn’t going to let it get cold. Plus even if he wanted to join the conversation, he wouldn’t even know what to say. Sure he was the logical side and he had a heap of facts to spit but when it comes to the jovial friendly conversations the others usually shared. He truly couldn’t find the words to contribute something meaningful into the atmosphere, so other than correcting a false statement, he kept silent.

“Now Virgil, I’m just saying that a kid would be much more excited to watch a movie like Alice in wonderland and we all know it!” Roman exclaimed to the emo sitting across the table from him. It’s not at all surprising that the current conversation taking place was one about Disney. Especially when it was Virgil and Roman who were the ones bickering. “I mean all the bright colors and such a classic story is bound to win a kid over!”

“Uhuh sure, like kids would want to watch a film about a bunch of mentally ill people on an acid trip. Plus, the queen of hearts is scary for them,” Virgil retorts, glaring at Roman before taking a bite of his food. “The princess and the frog is clearly a superior movie. It’s about an independent hard working woman who doesn’t need a man to help her achieve her goals, like are you kidding me? And she helps him out, that is a nice change for once.”

“Yea I cannot argue with that, we stan Tiana,” Roman admits, leaning back in his chair. Logan was about to question the prince about the term he just used, but decided against it, keeping quiet.

“But the shadow man is scary!” Roman continues.

“Uh, no. ’I’ve got friends on the other side’ is such a bop. But I am one of the friends on the other side,” Virgil pulls his signature 2000’s MySpace emo face. ‘Bop’. Logan remembers what that meant. He had to ask Roman about it later to make a vocabulary card.

“Oh my god can you get any edgier?” Roman asks the snickering Virgil across the table as he rolls his eyes and goes back to his food. The only thing Logan could think of at this time is how useless that conversation was. Their frivolous arguments had no solid points or evidence to back up their argument if they were trying to persuade the other. He chose not to say anything so as to not further encourage them. Instead he had just yet again kept quiet and his focus was on finishing his food so he could retire to his room.

“So Logan, are you almost finished with your work?” Logan’s head snapped up when the mention of his name came from Patton. ‘Work.. it was always work.’

“No, Patton. There are still a few tasks to be completed that need to be completed tonight,” Logan states, adding on that last bit so hopefully he isn’t bugged with having a ‘family night’ as Patton and the others like to call it. Which, it doesn’t make any sense considering the fact that none of us are actually related.

“Well, once you are done with that, do you wanna come watch a movie with us!?” The parental side excitedly asks. Logan internally cringed at Patton’s use of grammar, but more at his failed attempts at getting out of this without having to ask. It’s not that Logan didn’t like the others, it’s just that tonight specifically he wanted to be left alone. Sometimes spending time with them is considered a good thing to him because he knows that he needs to take breaks from his work sometimes and Patton gives him an excuse to do so. Also, knowing that Patton wants him there helps him feel less like a robot, but that feeling quickly returns when they don’t even care to ask him his opinions for the movie choice.

“Oh.. that’s ok! There’s always next time, right?” Patton sounded a little disappointed, but supportive nonetheless. “Well I wish you good luck with that, Logan!”

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan finishes the conversation while turning his attention back towards his almost empty plate.

The rest of the dinner went by as normal. They all took their dishes to the sink and Patton offered to help Roman complete the dishes and Virgil retired to his room for the night. Logan says his goodnights and follows suit to his own room.

After entering, Logan lightly shut his door and pressed his back against the cool wood. The lights were still off, so he sat in the inky black dark atmosphere staring at the ceiling in order to prevent the dark curtain draped over the contents of his room from playing tricks on his eyes. He didn’t bother finding the light switch; he felt it was unnecessary. It would only illuminate everything that reminded him of everything that burdens him. He hates not knowing.

The logical side leaned his head back against the door and squeezed his eyes shut, the blankness of the dark and the silence began to be too much for him; it made him feel too alone. With no senses available, you are left with nothing but your own thoughts to drown in. Nothing to do but to fall down that hole of endless thinking. Logan’s head swarmed with every emotion he was feeling at once. Every fact he wished wasn’t true danced behind his eyes and pounded on his skull demanding his attention.

Logan couldn’t help but let the tears run down his cheeks. They started rolling faster and he held his hand over his mouth, choking back a sob. He hated doing this, but he had to if he wanted to remain sane. He just felt so vulnerable and embarrassed. Logan felt his legs begin to shake so he slid down the door to sit on the floor. God he hopes no one comes to his room.

The logical side stayed on the floor like that for a while. He didn’t know how long, but he was surprised when he looked at his phone to find he had been there for almost thirty minutes. Once the crying had for the most part stopped and Logan realized that it didn’t really help at all, he decided to get up from his spot on the floor and turn on some lights. He had reached for the plug connected to fairy lights strung around his room and plugged it into the electrical socket, illuminating the whole space with a soft Caramel colored glow. The lights were a gift from Patton last Christmas, the parental figure had gotten some for everyone in the house. At first the logical side thought they were childish and impractical due to him already having a light in his room, but Patton persisted so he put them up and once he saw how they casted a honey coating to all the contents of his bedroom and how the atmosphere instantly shifted from sharp to calming and gentle, he decided that they weren’t that bad.

After his eyes had adjusted to the light, Logan walked into the bathroom that he has in his room and shut the door after turning on the light. The sudden contrast of the soft light of his room to the harsh light of the bathroom only worsened his growing headache so the first thing he did was retrieve the Ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet and swallow two. After that he took his glasses off and placed them on the side of the sink before proceeding to wash his face of tears with warm water from the faucet. After he patted his face dry with a towel, he took a minute to just look into the mirror. He took notice of his cold, dead eyes that were a navy blue, but despite being such a bright color, his eyes looked more dull and grey. ‘No wonder the others think I’m a metaphorical robot.” He thinks to himself. He decides not to stay there any longer or else Remus might hear him drowning in his thoughts and show up so he grabbed his glasses and started back towards his room.

Logan didn’t know what to do now. He’s already cried a bunch but that didn’t help. He just sat on the edge of his bed trying to figure things out. The laptop sitting closed and still in his desk caught his eye. ‘There may be an article on the internet explaining my situation.’ The logical side thought to himself before he got up and made his way towards his desk, pulling out the chair and sitting down. While he opened the device up and typed in his password, he thought about what he was going to type into the search bar. While the Google page displayed on his screen awaiting his questions, Logan’s fingers moved to type in the first one that came to mind; ‘How to feel when you are numb?’

Once he pressed enter, he proceeded to scroll for what he was looking for. He passed a bunch of articles about physical health and stuff like that. ‘Perhaps I worded it incorrectly?’ He thought to himself before seeing something that could potentially be what he was looking for. It was a link to a twitter post. It was titled ‘I don’t feel anything. I do this to feel something,’ and Logan thought that would suffice nicely to his needs. Though, the side wasn’t prepared for what he was going to see when he clicked it. Blood. Lots of blood. Cuts all up and down the poster’s forearm that could be recognized as dermis and epidermis level cuts. And finally, a bloodied double edge razor blade sitting calmly in a warm crimson pool on the counter top.

Logan gasped upon the image displayed in front of him. It wasn’t too intense but seeing a part of the human body all cut up didn’t make him feel too comfortable, but he was slightly intrigued. He was kind of confused why the gorey photo was related to what he was looking for so he decided to look into it further; only because the text part of the post seemed to relate a little to his state of mind.

The logical side scrolled down past a few more photos of the same cuts just at different angles. He kept observing the images while trying to think of where to go from here until he decided to use the tags the original poster had provided with the text to research further. He viewed 10 or so hashtags of random things to figure out what the point of this was. Some of them just confused the side, but one of the words he recognized from an article he read a few months ago when Roman fell into a deep depression and he tried to gather as much information as he could to help him because the others were worried and terrified for him. However, he never had to use much information because they had luckily gotten him out of that mental health decline before anything terrible happened. Well, at least to his knowledge. The tag in question reads as ‘self harm’. Now Logan felt a little stupid because he knew what this was before, but a little clarification never hurt anyone.

He had to admit, he was a little taken aback by the fact that what he was experiencing was linked and related to self harm but he decided to explore more under that subject to further understand it. When he clicked on the tag, he was exposed to pages and pages of self harm. He stopped at one particularly disturbing one. It was a video of a girl with a straight razor that resembled that of what a barber would use. In the video, she had pressed as hard as she could and with one clean swipe, the fat inside her arm was exposed. By this point, Logan was feeling a little sick to his stomach on account of what was displayed in front of him. The video however kept going. The girl dabbed the open wound with a white towel, so the amount of blood that was being soaked up was very visible. The girl picked the weapon up again and placed it in the center of the cut and proceeded to apply pressure while she dragged the blade along her arm at a painfully slow speed. When the pool of blood was soaked up, fascia was exposed and Logan really wanted to look away but he couldn’t. He vaguely understood the premise behind self harming, but witnessing it to this extent kind of confused and scared him.

Luckily the video stopped there and Logan closed it out and continued to scroll through the page. He did not find much there other than the pictures and videos of people cutting themselves and he was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable, almost like what he felt when he was under the effects of Virgil’s room; and for that reason he decided to close out this tab and search elsewhere. The logical side really didn’t know why he was so intrigued to this certain coping mechanism. He knew it was very unhealthy, but he couldn’t let it go.

After a few google searches about the topic of self harm and a few articles later, Logan found one specific body of text that piqued his interest. It was basically describing the effects self harming has on the brain and why so many people do it and says it helps. He read through it and the information he gathered was rather interesting to him. Basically, the context of the article was explaining the science behind why self harming was addictive and why some people do it in the first place.

‘So, cutting myself will release neurochemicals in my brain that mimics that of dopamine? Fascinating..’ Logan thinks to himself. The side takes a minute to think it through. Was he actually considering this? I mean, there is scientific evidence that proves that doing this will help him. Logan ponders a bit on that last point, basically pushing him to do it. He just resorts to searching for reasons not to go through with it at this point. Only two reasons came to his mind when he tried to think up reasons to push the thoughts out of his head. The first was the safety aspect of it. Of course when you are cutting yourself there are things that can go wrong; however Logan felt confident enough that he knew how to do this safely. He knew where the vital points were on the human body so he knew where it was safe to cut as well as how deep to go. He also knew how to properly dress the wounds and how to take care of them so they didn’t get infected so the logical side could figuratively throw that worry out the window.

The only factor that was left in play affecting Logan’s decision in going through with this is the guilt he would have to face if the others found out. With Patton having gone through a situation similar to this when Roman was having severe mental health issues and when Virgil ducked out, Logan would figuratively (and almost literally) have the blood on his hands just adding it to the list. He knows that Patton always tries his hardest to do things that make everyone as happy as they can be, and oh the lengths he would go to do that. Let’s just say that the parental side has had many sleepless nights on account of helping someone else. But surely if Patton had ever found out about all the things Logan hasn’t told him, it would make him feel like he hasn’t been enough for people even more than he already does, even and who knows what could happen to him when that happens and he lives knowing that three of his friends have been struggling.

Logan had to ponder on this one for a minute. But with him being logic and all, he brought up the point that the way Patton was thinking about things is untrue and if he had to, Logan with a little of Virgil’s help could sit down with him and possibly explain things in order to pull him from that mindset.

He quietly hummed to himself, feeling accomplished at finding a solution. This satisfied feeling quickly deteriorated as confusion began to spill. Why was he feeling this way about something so grim? Why was he so compelled to stand up to get that spare razor that lay waiting in the bathroom cupboard? He thought it was even irrational to consider doing such things but it just felt like something that could actually help him, and he needed it.

He didn’t know what made him do it, but something in him made him push himself out of his desk chair to shut his laptop without powering it off and making his way to the bathroom. Once inside, he quietly closed the bathroom door. He opened the door of the shadow box, but for some reason it felt super slow like in a dramatic movie. He didn’t know why his hands were shaky when he spotted the razor and went to gently pick it up.

Just then as he examined the weapon in his grip, he felt the adrenaline pumping. It all just set in. Oh my god he was actually going to do this. He was just moments away from his destination. He gulped down a nervous lump in his throat as he examined the perfectly new blade for any rust. The side didn’t understand why he was so nervous; he knew how to do this safely so why was he so scared? Maybe he’s afraid of the pain

Logan however quickly dismissed this thought so that it doesn’t chase him out of a decision. I mean he would only seem MORE weak if he pulled such a pansy move. It shouldn’t be too bad.

He started by washing the blade and his forearm with warm water just as a precaution. He shakily held the blade horizontally over his wrist. Deep breath in and-

Slice

He ran the blade across his skin and then exhaled the breath he was holding. He sort of relaxed when he realized that it wasn’t that bad and that he was ok. Still, he checked the damage. It was a cut on the epidermis layer of the skin so nothing bad. Even so, he watches the blood bead along the clean line in fascination. It started to drip a little but that was caught with the towel that Logan pulled off the towel rack. He gently pressed the cloth to the cut and when he pulled it back, he closely watched as blood refilled the small wound. He was satisfied with his work and for some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at it. He wanted more.

So that’s what he did; the side made a few more clean lines parallel to the first one he made. He would stop to just watch the blood, then soak it up before watching how it refills again. Logan found himself admiring his arm from all angles, wearing these cuts like some sort of sick and twisted accessory. Logan continued to leave a few more little cuts, holding his arm over the sink to not make so much mess with blood (and to not ruin his favorite button up shirt).

The logical side went for one more and pressed a bit harder this time. When he swiped the blade, white was exposed before blood started to seep out from the edges of this deeper and wider cut. Actually being able to see the inside of his arm like that kind of scared him. He recognized this as the dermis level of skin. It made him a bit uneasy how he could turn his arm sideways and see the cut gape a bit, but he couldn’t stop looking at it. He thought if Remus was here, he would have said it looked like a mouth.

After that tiny scare of going deeper, he decided he was done with this for the night, afraid of going farther than he already has. As he started cleaning the blood from his arm and his sink, he was thinking over his success rates with this exercise. He had come to the conclusion that this had done what he wanted it to for him. He smiled to himself as he looked at the fresh cuts. The smaller and thin ones have already dried and scabbed over, but the deeper one he had just done was still filling with blood after each time he soaked it up, but it was slowing down. He doesn't know if he smiled because the treatment worked or if he was just proud of what he had done, but to him it just matters that he got a smile out of it. Once all the blood was cleaned up, he opened the shadow box again to retrieve the bandages. Carefully, he wrapped his arm in a secure bandage and put the rest away. The pressure of the cloth being wrapped tightly around his arm felt oddly nice and contrasted with the burning sensation on his skin from the contact.

The side stops moving and stands perfectly still when he feels a presence in his room. His heart dropped out of fear in realizing that this is the worst time to be here for obvious reasons. He slowly reaches for the doorknob of the bathroom and turns it, trying to prepare himself for whatever is about to happen. When the door was opened, it revealed Remus sitting on Logan’s bed just looking around.

“R-Remus, what are you doing here?” His voice was shakier than he wanted it to be. He wasn’t sure if the cause was from what he just did in the bathroom or the fear he had from another side possibly knowing.

Remus’s gaze shifted towards the nerd and the bandage on his arm. “Well, as I am Thomas’s own intrusive thot,” he stopped for a second to giggle at his play on words, “I can sense unwanted thoughts from any other part of Thomas,” he got up from his spot on Logan’s bed to walk towards him.

“I was picking up something from you, not like the normal. I had some suspicions and came to investigate but it seems as if I was right,”

“I.. I’m not sure I know what you are referring to,” he lied. Logan thought it was eerie to hear Remus talk in this more serious manner.

“Yea, no we both know that is a big lie,” Remus slightly smirked at Logan for the fact that he was right and gestured to Logan’s bandaged arm. Logan just avoided the other side’s eyes and held his arm behind his back. This and Logan’s uncomfortable silence confirmed it to Remus and he was no longer smiling, he had a look of empathy and slight hurt on his face. He was also sort of mad at the others because he feels and sees what Logan goes through with them and he thinks he can understand why Logan would resort to self harm.

“Logan, do you need to talk about it?” He asked. Logan has talked to Remus about his situation before, but he didn’t want to talk about this. He just brushed past Remus to go lay his pajamas out on the bed to get changed for the night. “No, I do not wish to speak of this and I ask you to kindly not mention this to anyone else, but thank you for your concern,” he never turned around to look at the other once. Remus just stood there with a slight frown. He then got an idea on what to do and he sunk out without saying anything else.

Logan could feel when the intrusive side left the room and released the breath he was holding in relief. He felt guilt wash over him in the moment. He really disliked lying to one of his closest friends but it was for the best. It was way too early for him to be able to tell anybody- scratch that. He didn’t want to tell anyone at all. He just hoped that Remus would listen and not tell anybody. The logical side thought of what he would do if that were to happen as he changed his clothes to something more comfortable.

He stopped before getting into bed to ponder if he should leave his fairy lights on while he slept. They were left on as he climbed under the cover to keep the atmosphere soft.

The logical side found himself holding his bandaged arm up above his face to admire it. He didn’t know what it was, but knowing what he'd done gave him tiny butterflies of adrenaline in his stomach which led him to a small smile. Logan was never an artist of any medium, but those crimson lines that stain his forearm felt like an art piece to him. It made him feel accomplished and.. happy. And with that, the side brought his arm back under the covers and closed his eyes to be consumed by sleep with a smile on his face.

•———————————————————————-•

Hope you enjoyed this first part :)

Yea a little background, sanders sides is such a comfort series for me, so I started writing this back when I was struggling a lot and I decided to keep writing this now so I hope you enjoy this bucket of angst haha

Part 2 will be linked here when it is up!

[themalhambird]

Growing Up Broken: I Talk About My (A)sexuality For 4 ¼ Pages.

I am asexual.

No, this doesn’t mean that I’m some form of plant budding off copies of myself if I get enough water and sunlight. It’s a shame. I could do a lot with multiple copies of myself- get someone else to do the dishes, the cleaning, my schoolwork…

I am asexual.

Asexuality is the absence of sexual desires or feelings for other people. I say absence deliberately: sexual attraction is not something that I lack or am missing. I am not going without. I’m just a 23 year old who has never once felt the desire to have sex with another person, who couldn’t describe how it feels to “fancy” someone if there was a gun to their head, who thinks women and men and anyone in between can sometimes be stunningly beautiful, would possibly be nice to cuddle- but kissing on the mouth seems like it would be a really weird thing to do.

I am asexual, and it’s almost Pride Month, and so I want to untangle some of the thoughts in my head and spin them out on to paper, to try and lay out my feelings about my sexuality, or lack thereof, and what it’s like growing up when no one bothers to tell you that not experiencing sexual desire like, ever, is a thing. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

It’s 2014. Puberty has doing stuff to me for the last two years or so: periods (urgh), breasts (neat!), underarm hair (why do I have to shave this? no one’s gonna see it), growth spurts (I’m getting taller than my older sister. I want to keep going till I’m taller than mum). The only thing not happening is wanting to have sex, something the nurse who came to Talk To Us All About Growing Up back in 2009 assured us Year Sixes would definitely happen as soon as puberty hit.

Still. It’ll happen soon, probably. Sixteen is still a bit too young to be having sexual feelings, right? The boys…really not interesting at all, but the other girls are pretty. I like their hair. I like the shape of their bodies. I just don’t fancy any of them. When we’re told to imagine our future husbands or wives in class (don’t ask my why, I’ve long forgotten the point of the exercise, I just remember that) I picture a wife.

(Lesbian is the first label I apply to myself. I stick it on tentatively- keep peeling it off my shirt and putting it back somewhere different like I’m not quite sure where it fits. It’s not wrong, necessarily. I’m just not certain it’s right. I like girls a whole lot better but I’m not saying I could never love a guy. I’m just not attracted to them. I’m not attracted to women, either- but I feel like I will be. When I’m old enough to feel that kind of thing. )

Sex Ed lessons are mortifying. We’re asked to list all the sexual terms we know on an A3 sheet of paper. I don’t know what half the things other people say mean- blowjob, 69, masturbate, porn . I don’t know how other people know these things either. We’re sixteen. It’s too young.

That summer I play Sebastian in an abridged version of Twelfth Night and it convinces me to take Drama at A-level, although I didn’t at GCSE. The drama classes teach me two things. First of all, I don’t like acting women. I prefer breeches rolls. I don’t know why. We’re talking about my asexuality, not my gender confusion, so let’s put a pin in that and move on to point two. My drama class teaches me that everyone my age is having sex, or wants to have sex, or is planning on having sex soon; sex is a constant, every class, every conversation. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. So apparently sixteen (seventeen) isn’t too young after all.

It’s like this. One day you wake up and you realise that everyone else is speaking a language you don’t understand. Suddenly, sexual feelings aren’t something that no one your age is having but you’ll all develop soon- it’s that sexual feelings are something that everybody your age is having apart from you. People your age are dating, kissing, fucking, and it’s not something you’re interested in doing, necessarily, but you still feel so horribly left out. Like you’re missing some kind of major milestone. You try not to let it bother you- you watch Buffy every Monday you get to see your dad. (You watch loss of virginity be portrayed as growing up). You read. (The books you pick up all involve love and love always seems to at least imply sex). You- google things. You google the words you didn’t understand in that sex ed class. You google “how to tell if you’re attracted to someone” in case there’s some secret signal your body sent you that you missed. You feel like you should know if you’ve ever felt sexual attraction but then maybe you’re just really, really dumb. Maybe there’s something wrong with you. The NHS website reckons that if you’ve got a low sex drive you ought to see a doctor. The girls in your drama class keep talking about boys and sex and sex and boys and you aren’t really interested in either of those things. You cling to the thought, lesbian and hope that when you get to university, you’ll stop being so repressed. Girls are pretty- but the ones at school are either your friends or kind of mean. Of course you don’t fancy anyone there. University. University will save you. (Boys are sometimes pretty too. There are boys at school whose personalities are nice enough- who are the type of man you wouldn’t mind dating one day maybe- but you can’t ever picture yourself having sex with one. Dicks seem weird and really not the kind of thing you’d want inside you. I mean for fuck’s sake- why? You can’t even get a tampon in.)

I don’t like looking back on this. Sixteen, seventeen year old me was starting to get pretty freaked out. I like looking back at the first year of uni even less, because if seventeen year old me was freaking out, eighteen year old me was buying alcohol. That’s how it goes, right? Sex and alcohol. You see it all the time on T.V. Fictional people get fictional drunk and fictional cheat while they’re on fictional breaks with their fictional partners. David Tennant is pretty. A man at work is handsome and more importantly intelligent, into Shakespeare, into good conversation. The label switches from lesbian to ‘bisexual but heavily skewed toward women’ and I cling to that as tightly as possible because after that, I’m out of options. It is impossible that I’m not feeling sexual attraction: the whole world screams about sexual fucking attraction all the fucking time, I’m obviously just too uptight, I obviously just need to relax-

I once drank a whole bottle of wine in what was essentially one go. I paused for breath, but that was about it- I don’t think I even bothered with a glass. My goal was to get myself drunk enough that I could feel sexual attraction. I thought that the best way to go about things- to finally ‘grow up’- would be to get super drunk, and then leave the flat and find someone who would screw me. I reasoned that I would enjoy it once I was doing it- after all, the whole world pushes sex as this wholly desirable thing for any normal adult to want, even need- so I would like it once I was doing it and then I would be fixed. Fortunately, drinking a whole bottle of wine when you’ve never had more than a single glass of champagne or a couple of glasses of rum and apple juice before in your life gets you past “lowered inhibitions” to “can’t walk straight or upright” very quickly. I got as far as the bathroom, threw up, a lot, and staggered back to my room. I woke up at 3 pm the next afternoon feeling stupid for drinking, and mad at myself for still being a virgin.

I had a lot of problems in my first year of university and not all of them were about my sexuality crisis. I was isolated, fairly friendless, and not really cut out for socialising with my housemates who were probably all lovely people, but I find new people painfully difficult and hiding away seemed easier. But the feeling that there was something broken inside me because I wasn’t experiencing what everything seemed to be telling me was one of the most vital parts of the human experience- sexual attraction to other people- contributed to my general feelings of self-loathing and disgust. I attempted to induce sexual desire in myself by drinking on several further occasions, although never quite to the same extent as the first time. I’m not sure whether this counts as self-harm, but it certainly wasn’t healthy.

I didn’t know asexuality was a thing.

I knew I wasn’t straight- I’d known that for a while. I learnt that I enjoyed reading, talking, even writing about sex, as long as it was sex between people who weren’t real, but fantasising about fictional characters having sex and fantasying about myself having sex are two very different things. The former happened fairly frequently. The latter didn’t happen once, and still never has. My second year at university was better than my first: I was living with friends, I was further away from campus which meant I had to walk more, which probably helped, I had also started to make several friends online with whom I could happily chat even when I wasn’t in the mood for ‘actual’ people. I used bisexual to describe myself because on the rare occasions I thought about romance, I couldn’t really see myself ruling out anyone who was willing to put up with me.

I’m not quite clear when I first heard the term ‘asexuality’. I became aware of it gradually. Someone I followed on Tumblr identified as ‘grey-ace’. Characters from my favourite fantasy series were being headcanoned as ‘asexual’. At some point I must have learnt properly what that meant.

It sometimes feels like there ought to have been a lightbulb moment- like I should have seen the word, seen the definition, and instantly seen myself. But it is very, very hard to delete the message- ‘sex is important- sex is what grown-ups do- sex is what you should want to do’ – that the world constantly sends to us: in advertising, in entertainment, in the conversations of a drama class that always circled back to that topic, to the detriment of the sole seventeen year old who wasn’t really bothered. To embrace asexuality seemed like I was giving up on trying to fix myself, on waiting for the right person to come and make everything better. On the potential of their being a right person. I can wrap my head around people having casual sex very easily. It’s romantic love without sexual desire that I’m scared won’t work- how am I supposed to know if it’s love without there also being physical attraction? No romance arc that I had ever seen was without an element of sexual tension. So, no lightbulb moment for me. No switch going off- “aha, at last, that’s what I am!”. Just a gradual thought washing across my mind every now and then, like the tide rushing up a patch of sand and drawing straight back, leaving only dampness to show where there had been a good half-inch of water only a moment ago.

I might be asexual?

And ‘I might’ becomes ‘I think I am’, and the tide starts coming in. ‘I think I am’ became ‘I am’ at some point or other.

I am asexual.

I find reassurance in knowing that there’s a word for what I am, for how I (do not) feel. I am asexual. Not broken, or damaged, or too uptight to properly feel, or too dumb to recognise what I do feel. I am asexual- I have an absence of any sexual desire for others and that’s perfectly okay. I might fall in love one day. I might not. I don’t know how you’re supposed to know if you have the capacity to fall in love before you find yourself doing it. It might be nice to have a wife. It would also be nice to have a cat. I could cope with it just being me, a cat, and good friends for the rest of my life. If I fall in love- if I am capable of falling in love- it will just mean I am asexual, but romantic, and I will have learnt something new about myself. The point is-

The point is, I am incredibly lucky that I stumbled across Asexuality before I got myself hurt trying to force something that wasn’t there. The point is, this world assumes that sexual desires are the norm, and maybe they are, but that just makes it all the more important that people know that they aren’t abnormal for not experiencing sexual desire. To all the people who need to hear it: You are not broken. You are not alone.

I’m not sure how to wrap this up. I feel like I should say something profound or something. But I think I’m just gonna leave it like this:

I am asexual. Asexuality is the absence of sexual desires or feelings for other people. I say absence deliberately: sexual attraction is not something that I lack or am missing. I am not going without. I’m just a 23 year old who has never once felt the desire to have sex with another person, who couldn’t describe how it feels to “fancy” someone if there was a gun to their head, who thinks women and men and anyone in between can sometimes be stunningly beautiful, and possibly be nice to cuddle- but kissing on the mouth seems like it would be a really weird thing to do. I am not broken. I am not ‘going through a phase’ or ‘looking for attention’ or ‘trying to be special’. Everyone’s special, fuck you. Knowing that I am not the only person to feel how I feel makes me feel like I’m standing on solid ground. May all people experiencing the same confusion and distress over their sexual orientation that I felt growing up find their way safely to the same solid ground: you are not broken. We’re not broken.

[dxmedstudent]

Hi Dx, I hope you're well! I would like to ask if you could express your thoughts/opinions on the effect of medical influencers (medical students/doctors who create social media profiles to promote products/services for for-profit companies) on the public perception of medical professionals? I personally can't help feel that there's something unethical about it but I am very keen to heed your opinion because you are one of the most conscientious and introspective professionals I have encountered

I find this tricky, and I've been thinking about this. To be honest, I find having a public persona on social media under your name, tricky full stop. I find medtwitter mildly anxiety inducing, and it feels like it's very easy to reply to something quickly with not the best phrasing and for conversation to miss a lot of nuances. I don't know who decided that a microblogging platform was where everyone is going to discuss deep and in depth issues that you can't bloody summarise in 140 characters, but somehow everyone is rolling with it despite the fact that being forced to sum things up pithily actively contributes to a lot of the confusion and hostility and side-picking that goes on.

Plus it can be hard to mantain a social media presence that others find acceptable, and taking advertising out of the equation, I feel we need to do more to humanise people's online presences. I have friends of friends that I'm not sure whether they are just cautious or possibly the most boring people on the planet because their social media is dry AF. It's worse with non doctors because whilst doctors are dry about medicine, but there are people out there who act like highway maintenance or sewage are the only thing they are even slightly interested in. Now, I'm not sure if they are just very cautious about being professional (or maybe they really are just...boring), but I know that if I was engaging socially under my real name and qualifications I might be very anxious to post anything too personal. But I think we need to normalise professionals revealing a little of themselves and their personality, because that's what makes people human and engaging and likeable. No, I don't' think professionals need to be posting weekly recipes or mommy blogs on their social media, but the odd thing that reminds us they have interests or a life isn't a terrible thing. To me, if our social media could literally be repaced by a bot that churns out bland platitudes, then what's the point in having a public social media presence at all? Now, on to advertising. I've seen plenty of professionals on social media, and it's not uncommon for people to advertise things/be sponsored. If I'm going to say that a lawyer or author or other content creator can have a sponsor, it'd feel unfair for me to say a doctor can't. But I do think there would have to be provisos for me to say it was ethical. I do think that social media still does a rubbish job of people making clear that they are advertising - so often it seems that influencers are covertly being paid a lot of money to speak positively about brands, and this is not always being acknowledged. I find the extent that things are being sponsored now disconcerting, mainly because the extent is often not clear. I find this difficult partly because I'm in the UK. I'm paid by the government (essentially) rather than by patients or my hospital specifically, and having a customer or sponsor relationship with medical companies just isn't how we work - i get paid the same whatever drugs I recommend, and what I recommend will be based on whatever NICE says (usually) and what my local trust has decided. I have a belief that if I professionally endorse something, it should be something I believe in or have used enough to feel it's worth recommending. And I think being doctors, it'd make sense for us to hold our online representatives to this standard. Would I advertise anything? Probably not - I can imagine that I may have occasionally recommended art equipment or tools that I've used, but I can't see myself ever recommending or advertising anything that I wouldn't recommend freely of my own volition. Now, in practice if a doctor advertises a scrubs supplier or something innocuous then I probably won't be too mad, because that is not something that their qualification has any bearing on, and I can buy that they might have a favourite brand of scrubs or pencil or whatever. i.e. I'd be disappointed to find out that they'd never used what they are advertising and are only doing it for the money. But I'd hope that they wouldn't be desperate enough financially to advertise something that they didn't think was good. But personally, if it's something medical, then I feel they'd have to follow what the usual rules are for advertising medical services in their country. I'd expect them not to advertise something unless they make it explicitly clear whether they are receiving funding from the company, and I'd expect them to bring lots of data to back up their assertions - rather like a drug rep brings a power point presentation and takes you over their research when trying to persuade you to prescribe their branded whatever. I also think this is different because drug reps advertise to

scientifically literate people, whereas a doctor on a youtube channel is potentially advertising to anyone, including patients. I think there are also ways you can potentially do this without being unethical. For example, I follow a dermatologist. They do have a social media presence that educates patients on simple conditions. They both discuss products that don't deliver (based on research and experience) and products that make a bigger difference (again according to research, or example like retinols for acne). When asked about specific brands, they might describe some brands that they personally use and they tend to give a range of commonly found examples rather than suggesting that any one brand is the 'right' treatment. They discuss lots of different treatments and AFAIK they aren't sponsored by brands or otherwise receiving freebies from them or making money off them, but if they were I would 100% expect them to make that clear. I don't hate what they do, but I can see ways in which a doctor could go wrong - for example if they didn't declare sponsorships. I also think that over the counter dermatological treatments and cosmetics fall under different licensing than medications, which can blur the lines. In the UK we don't have any advertisement of prescription drugs on TV or in our papers etc. So for me it's wild to imagine that in places like the US people are being bombarded with "ask your doctor if flurgibibbin is right for you!" when most drugs are only useful in relatively specific circumstances - and the right drug for the patient may not be the one that advertises the hardest. To sum up: 1. I'd hope that they don't advertise medical equipment or drugs. 2. If they do, I would want them to make clear the extent of their sponsorship/funding and back it up with data. 3. I'd also want it to follow the laws of that land regarding advertising for those kinds of services. 4. This is in general a bit of a grey area which makes me personally feel uncomfortable and personally I wouldn't accept money from a company to advertise it unless i was 100% going to rave about how great their products were anyway. Even then, I'm not sure I could do it. 5. there are a lot of ways for this to go wrong, and it's a potential ethical minefield.

6. so is social media in general TBH.

7. I believe we need to modernise how we present ourselves on social media because the public need to appreciate that we are people and not bots putting ou the blandest content ever.

[k-s-morgan]

Hannigram One-Shot from ‘Ravage’

It just occured to me that I’ve never shared my ‘Ravage’ contribution online! Big thanks to @lovecrimebooks for organizing it and letting me be a part of it.

The story is a short Hannigram AU that takes place in the world of Dante’s hell. My circle was Lust. Hannibal is a literal Devil here; Will is a supernatural being that represents Desire. A story of two deadly forces, obsession, and intricate manipulation.

    Black for Death, Purple for Lust: Colors to Capture the Devil

“To this torment are condemned the carnal damned. Those for whom desire conquered reason.” — Virgil

The flickers of darkness were tightly entwined with splashes of gold, red, and white. All dominant colors seeking to represent every being that had chosen to participate in this mockery of a meeting.

The Ball of Highest Powers was an event that Hannibal had always found appallingly primitive. And yet, being the Master, the Devil, he was forced to attend each one. To watch the emergence and the disappearance of his old and new acquaintances. To reinforce his inevitable presence. 

To instill fear. Because he was no longer a Lucifer, God’s fallen angel, trapped for all eternity. He was a Hannibal, the name he had chosen himself, a rightful owner of Hell; the Devil reborn, reclaiming his agency.

Recently, God began to avoid Earth more and more, and Hannibal was only too happy to take control over it.

They knew it — these beings proudly calling themselves the Highest Powers. They knew that if they displeased him, they would be gone. Anteros, or Anthony as he preferred to call himself these days, his oldest source of annoyance, the only surviving representation of Love. Margot, a recently emerged Goddess of Grace. Mason, his supposed ally, reflecting Perversion. And many, many more.

Not everyone attended the Ball, but it was the only opportunity to become aware of how many of them continued their existence, what new reflections had come to life.   

“Will you be putting a crown on anyone today?” Anthony asked him, holding a glass of crystal liquid and watching the masses swirling in a dance. Hannibal measured him with a disinterested gaze. 

As one of the most ancient beings, Anthony was the only one who dared to engage him at least in some way, despite knowing the extent of Hannibal’s contempt to him and to what he represented.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Hannibal replied mildly. The crowns. The tradition that all of them followed faithfully. Every color had its own meaning. Anthony tended to put a red crown on one of these poor souls every year, expressing his fleeting affection. 

The only crowns Hannibal used were black ones, symbolizing instant elimination and oblivion. He had the power to destroy those who no longer amused him, which made Anthony’s boldness all the more surprising. 

“Don’t look at me,” Anthony said half-jokingly, and Hannibal’s lips twitched in distaste. 

Before he could answer, though, a strange hush fell over the hall. More and more beings went silent, staring somewhere, and involuntarily, Hannibal felt a weak pang of curiosity. 

Some creature emerged from the crowd, moving at a leisurely pace, staring at him. 

Moving to him. Or perhaps to Anthony, which was far more likely?  

But no. The blue eyes were fixed on him, and Hannibal blinked incredulously. His bewilderment changed into disbelief and then stupor when he finally noticed what this newcomer was holding. 

A crown. A purple crown. 

A crown of lust. 

Lust. Everyone knew Hannibal’s feelings toward it, the dark satisfaction he received in keeping lovers apart, separated by vast, rocky chasm in their special circle of Hell.

There was no misstep that Hannibal despised more. Other sins were delicious, deserving the most exquisite torment, poisoning even the most strong-willed people. Lust, though, this bleak, faded semblance of emotion was shared only by crippled weaklings. Hannibal readily engaged in other sins, but not in lust — never in lust. 

And this new… creature was carrying a purple crown? Heading toward him? He was. One step closer to him, then another. Then he broke into his personal space, and Hannibal remained frozen, paralyzed by a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

He had never seen this creature before. 

He would remember him. 

Blue eyes were studying him intently, framed by dark lashes. Pale face, chocolate curls, pink mouth. A classical beauty.

The being smiled at him and Hannibal’s lips parted. His breath caught in his chest, his hands grew horrifyingly clammy, and he distinctly felt his pupils getting wide, his eyes glazing over.

The scent hit him then — strange, enticing. The scent of innocence and death. Hannibal shuddered, inhaling it deeply, his nostrils flaring in attempt to get more of it. 

And then the smiling creature reached forward and put the purple crown on his head, and he still did nothing. The silence stretched, both of them staring at one another, Hannibal’s fingers twitching, aching to touch, to feel. 

The strange creature tilted his head, watching him, let out a thoughtful sound, and then turned his back to him and disappeared within the crowd.

The silence was deafening, and Hannibal was still rooted to his spot, unable to move, utterly confused by what had happened and by the fact that he was now wearing a purple crown, with no instinct to take it off. 

Conversations resumed eventually, and Anthony, who was still standing nearby, chuckled. 

“Well, that was unexpected,” he said, amused. “Did you honestly like Will, or are you already plotting his demise?”

“Will?” Hannibal echoed. 

“Will. Desire,” Anthony’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You didn’t recognize him? He’s not exactly new. It’s just that he has never visited the Ball before. Few of us know him personally, but I thought that you, for sure—”

Hannibal stopped listening. Because while the name Will was new, he was indeed aware of Desire. The cunning, ubiquitous being that found entrance everywhere, slipping equally into the most romantic souls, enhancing their desire for affection, and into the violent ones, feeding their desire for war and destruction.

And now he seemed to slip into the Hell itself. Into Hannibal’s domain, into his very mind. Leaving him humiliated, with that purple embarrassment on his head. 

Suddenly infuriated, Hannibal tore the crown from himself and clenched it in his hand, wishing only to crush it. 

Foolish Will — to challenge the Devil himself. 

Hannibal would put an end to it, and to him.

***

The cold darkness of Hell was soothing. The shadows were whispering to him, the souls were moaning, begging, but for some reason, it brought no pleasure to him.

Restless, Hannibal moved along the line of entrapped lovers within his circle of Lust, staring into their glassy faces, the longing and thirst reflected there as they kept looking over the chasm, trying to get a glimpse of their partners. He wasn’t some weak-minded creature like them. And he certainly didn’t experience lust. Such thing was beneath him.

But the image of blue eyes and lips curled up in a smile kept haunting him, his mind greedily recalling every bit, savoring it, filling his body with strange, buzzing sensation.   

A purple lighting storm swirled around the chasm — the soul of Alana rising to see what was happening. 

Alana was one of his human lovers, one Hannibal had seduced out of amusement, one he had been driving mad with lust until she killed a man in attempt to protect him, falsely thinking that Hannibal was about to be attacked. She had died in that confrontation as well, and since there was no lover Hannibal could position her against in the circle of Lust, he had chosen to turn her into a lighting storm here, trapped between two sides of the chasm. 

Hannibal paid her no mind, but Alana whispered something, trembled, and suddenly, an image of Will appeared, huge and stretched through the entire chasm — shocking and ethereally beautiful.

Hannibal stared, a sharp rebuke freezing on his lips. 

Will, Desire, was moving slowly through some forest, his eyes focused and curious, alight with intelligence and intensity that Hannibal found breathtaking. He made a strange movement, his eyebrows rising, and then he smiled, and Hannibal was lost. 

Before he could stop himself, he materialized in a flash of smoke in the same forest, in the same place, several inches from Will.

Will stopped and strengthened slowly. Then he said without turning, “Now *this* is not the moment when I expected to encounter you.” 

“I am faintly disturbed that you expected to encounter me at all,” Hannibal replied, watching his back, his eyes narrowed. 

Finally, Will turned, and Hannibal’s breath hitched uncontrollably. His mind swam, his limbs went shaky. Desire crashed into him, enveloped every part of him, and he nearly snarled in frustration.

“Stop this,” he hissed, and Will blinked.

“Stop what?” he asked, as if genuinely confused. Clarifying would require more than he was ready to sacrifice, so Hannibal gritted his teeth and said nothing. Will tilted his head, an amused look crossing his features. 

“Did you come here for me or are you interested in artful death as much as I am?”

“Artful death,” Hannibal echoed. Now, for the first time, he sensed a familiar smell of approaching decay, and he glanced at the ground, at an arched wrist that was protruding from it. 

“Someone is killing people and burying them alive to feed the mushrooms,” Will said, also watching the ground. Hannibal would be taken aback — humanity still had the power to surprise him with the things they did, crazy as they were, but currently, he was much more interested in other matters. Specifically, in one standing before him.

“Do you get the souls quicker when they are buried alive?” Will asked, and Hannibal considered his question, surprised at the novelty of it. 

“Yes,” he said eventually. “But the difference is slight, barely worth mentioning. Why are you here? Do you entertain yourself by helping those who can be saved?” 

“No,” a frown marred Will’s forehead but somehow, it made him even more beautiful, and all thoughts left Hannibal’s head once again. “I told you. I’m not interested in life — only death captivates me. Well… now, at least.”

“This person is not dead yet.”

“But he will be,” Will shrugged. “I existed long enough to understand the beauty of it. Death is comforting. Pity not all of us have the privilege of experiencing it.”

“You will,” Hannibal told him, trying to sound calm, to hide the breathless notes in his voice. “If you keep provoking me.”

Some dark shadow flickered across Will’s face before it smoothed out, an amusing glint returning to his eyes. 

“How am I provoking you?” he wondered. 

“The only way you know how… Will. Or do you prefer to be called Desire?”

“Not in the least,” Will told him. “And I cannot deliberately affect you, no matter how hard I would try. I affect people only, slipping into their minds, evoking and enhancing their desires — for various things. Desire for love. Desire for destruction. Desire for revenge. What do you desire, Hannibal? To the extent where you would hope to blame it on me?”

Confusion and rage and something else, something heavier and much more intoxicating, swirled within him, and Hannibal crossed the distance between them in several short steps, crushing their mouths together, clenching Will’s hair in his fist and pulling at it violently. 

Will let out a surprised sound — as if he had the right to be surprised after everything he had done, after his purple crown at that ball. Then his mouth opened wider, accepting him, and Hannibal kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, breathing faster and faster, until he felt dizzy, until the air he didn’t even need started to be lacking, until his consciousness darkened and faded. He craved him. He needed him, desperately. 

Everything happened in a mist — him tearing Will’s clothes off, pushing him against the tree, taking his fill of him, Will’s soft moans breaking the silence, his compliance sweet and maddening. However, it all changed quite suddenly. Hannibal paused, regaining his strength, ready to take him again, but Will turned quickly and before he could say anything, he found himself pushed against the tree in return, Will’s nails piercing his skin to hold him in place, painful and sharp. 

It was madness — everything that was happening. Hannibal didn’t understand it, couldn’t understand what was running through his veins, so hot and powerful, so intoxicating that he felt drunk on it. On Will. Later, when they both fell in a boneless heap right onto the ground, in the middle of the graveyard of those still living, Hannibal continued to touch him, to breathe in his smell, to stare at him in greed and never-ending confusion. He wanted him. He wanted him still. 

Will reached out, his nails and the tips of his fingers red with Hannibal’s blood, and drew something on his arm — a small stag. 

“To remember me until you want to forget me,” he said. Hannibal stroked his neck, thoughtfully, almost kindly. 

“I am going to kill you,” he said, and Will nuzzled into his shoulder, a blissful smile touching his lips.

“I’m counting on it,” he murmured. “After all, this is why I have given you that purple crown. I expected to get a black one in return.”

Hannibal pulled away sharply, surprised and wishing to hide it. 

Who could want a black crown? Highest Powers feared death more than humans. The idea of not existing terrified them, shrank their vanity and drowned their feeling of superiority. 

Hannibal was the only one who had nothing to fear in this regard, and yet for some reason, Will’s dark words made him uneasy. He’d seen suicidal humans, held their souls, but those of the Highest Powers?

He couldn’t bear the burn of this confusion any longer. In an instant, Hannibal melted in smoke, with his last glimpse being Will, watching him with all-knowing, mysterious eyes. 

He found himself back in his least favorite circle, under rebuking and hating stares of those trapped here for the very sin he was now wearing as a coat around himself. 

Lust. Was that what it felt like? Why now, when Hannibal had given up hope on understanding and relating to it? He knew how to use lust, how to evoke it, but he had never been its target before. It was humbling — and infuriating. But still, not as bewildering as Will’s desire for a black crown.

The next days passed in brooding. Hannibal knew every corner of his domain, had his most and least favorite places, yet now, he felt restless wherever he went. The urge to see Will again, to have him, to listen to the troubling things he said was growing within him like a living being, coiling and hissing as he refused to succumb to it. 

The stag drawn with blood was still sitting on his shoulder, with Hannibal wanting to erase it but finding himself unable to. 

Maybe later. 

When his resolve finally broke and he sought Will out, he was once again sent into stupor. 

Will was in Lithuania. Near a painfully familiar grave. And he was busy arranging the bodies of some men around it.

Absolutely confounded, Hannibal found himself reaching for him, materializing just a step away, unable to believe his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “How do you know about this place? About her? No one does. No one was ever supposed to know.”

“Know that you have a weakness?” Will adjusted his hair, which seemed longer today, looking at Hannibal from under his lashes. The already familiar shock of desire ran through him but Hannibal was too stunned to act on it. 

Something else was stopping him, too.

Despite his flirting gestures, Will looked sad. Full of that strange, ancient sadness that was all too familiar to Hannibal, but which he had never seen on anyone else before. 

“How do you know?” Hannibal asked again, and this time, Will smiled mirthlessly. He touched the bodies he had arranged almost lovingly, moving them a little, so a grave would be directly in the center. 

“This is where the only source of light in your life has died,” he said quietly. “This is where Mischa was buried. This is where I was born.” 

When Hannibal just stared at him blankly, Will sighed. 

“You have existed for the amount of time that no other being can comprehend,” he murmured. “I shudder when I try to imagine it. Endlessness. Emptiness. Boredom. But four centuries ago, something happened. Something changed. You were playing human again, as you do whenever boredom strikes you, and you got attached to a little girl. By accident, I’m sure, because you would never willingly let yourself feel. Perhaps the whole experience was amusing to you at first, but then you started to actually feel something. Everyone would think that a human girl protected by the Devil would be coddled to death, as safe as she could possibly be. But you got distracted — another unruly soul that had to be handled, another instance of unrest. You were gone and during this time, she was murdered — and whatever light that had started to grow within you was extinguished. You found her body here and decided to bury her in this same place… and you summoned me.” 

Hannibal’s lips refused to obey. He licked them, strangely nervous, staring at Will and having no idea what to feel. 

“Summoned you?” he clarified carefully.  

“Yes,” Will looked away, glancing at Mischa’s grave again. “All Highest Beings appear to reflect emotions of large clusters of people. Some of them die by your hand and new, synonymous ones appear in their stead. They are all proud to represent the Highest Powers but they forget that they were created by humans. When similar emotions are experienced by a big number of people at once, a representative of this emotion is born — and this process is endless. In my case, though… my creator is you.”

“This is a lie,” Hannibal snapped. “I destroy. I do not create.”

Will’s lips curled in something too frightening to be called a smile. 

“Maybe,” he said. “Therefore, I am your mistake. Your single lapse of judgment. After you found Mischa’s body, you held her. And you willed the time to reverse. You willed it to return you to the past, so you could save her. You willed it to return you to the moment of your first encounter, so you could never approach her again. Of course, your wishes weren’t granted. They never are, not even when the Devil himself is asking for it. Instead, I was born here. Yet another variation of Desire… only this time, your desire. Summoned by the strength of your pleas.”  

“You are lying. I have never even seen you before that last ball!” Hannibal snarled, but the chill in his bones told him everything he needed to know. Will wasn’t lying. Will had witnessed his embarrassing descend into the most human emotions. Will had seen what Hannibal had spent centuries on trying to forget.  

“You deny my very existence,” Will tilted his head, and despite vehement words, he didn’t sound angry. There was just that same sadness in his voice, one that he carried around himself at all times, which was wrapped around him like a cloud. “I am used to it by now. Since the moment of my appearance in this graveyard, with you burying Mischa, I saw only you. But you never even glanced at me. Not once. At first, I thought I was too weak to materialize properly. That is how I tried to explain your blindness. I tried to approach you many times after that — years after years. For centuries. But no matter how hard I tried, you never saw me. And it was killing me as the connection I feel to you is overwhelming — it reduces me to a ball of clingy, desperate emotions, all of which you despise.”

Hannibal stepped away before he could stop himself, disturbed by the genuineness and warmth he could feel emanating from Will.

He didn’t know if he liked it. He had never felt… this, directed at him. Will noticed his instinctive retreat, but instead of acting hurt, he dared to laugh.  

“I live for you,” he said easily, and Hannibal stared at him, unable to comprehend how anyone could be so open, how anyone could say this to him.

Despite sugary words, Will didn’t act as if he was swooning in his presence. He hadn’t acted like that in the forest as well — he positioned himself as his equal. He had more grace than the majority of Highest Beings. 

It was impossible to understand him.

“I’ve spent all my life in the hope that you will finally see me, learning everything I could about you, becoming your shadow,” Will continued. “Others don’t touch me — it is you whom I crave, whose attention I seek, whose company I desire. But recently… I realized that I could no longer pretend. I was a mistake that you’ve made once — that’s all there is to it. Knowing that my goal was futile, I chose against continuing my existence. At that ball, for the first time, I approached you not with love and desire, but with death and lust. And you saw me. After all this time. Because even though you loved that little girl, even though your love and your desire to change the past created me, these are not the feelings that you can recognize. Mischa was an anomaly. What you do recognize is death, which you sow, and lust, the circle of which you control. Lust is the closest you can feel to affection… I think. So this was the only time when you could see me.”

“I can see you now,” words escaped by themselves, before Hannibal could stop them. A flash of surprise crossed Will’s face before he chuckled.

“Of course you can,” he said almost gently. “Because I still intend to die. You can feel it on me. And that is why I hope that you will gift me with oblivion. You are the only one who can do that — not to mention that it will be as overly dramatic as you like. Symbolic. Dying from the hand of someone who made me.” 

Hannibal’s thoughts were uncharacteristically jumbled. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, confused, at a loss, bewildered. Will was confounding. When he looked at him, even now, Hannibal could feel the dryness of his own mouth, the fevered hotness of his skin — lust, thick and powerful, mindlessly pushing him forward, his fingers trembling with the urge to touch, to caress, to bruise. Even this alarming revelation hadn’t changed it — he still wanted Will.

But he was also scared of him. Another new feeling, the flavor of which Hannibal tasted with interest, wondering if this was what others felt in his presence.

There was something else that bothered him, so, licking his dry lips, Hannibal asked, “You said you approached me with death and lust. Does it mean that your previous feelings no longer exist?”

“Nothing and no one can change them,” Will replied, still serene, still smiling. “You’ve made me. I will be always attracted to you — even I can’t fight it. But I am not a mindless bundle of desire. Before, having you see me, talk to me, was a dream. My most cherished fantasy. Once I decided to disappear, death became my biggest wish. When I managed to subdue my brighter feelings for you and pushed death and something as primal as lust to the front, you saw me — but even then, you refused to give me what I want. I didn’t get my black crown. Even after the forest, you still haven’t granted my wish. I don’t understand why — you have executed others for much, much less. Coming to Mischa was my last idea. Everything started here — it would be prudent if everything came to an end in this same place. Don’t you agree?”

Hannibal touched him, then, tracing the contour of his face, moving to his lips. Will closed his eyes, shuddering, tilting his head in such a sensual way that for a second, Hannibal’s vision went black with absurd, maddening desire. 

“Wasting centuries over me,” he whispered. “How foolish.”

Will opened his eyes, frowning, but when he wanted to move away, Hannibal tightened his grip on him.

“I will grant your wish,” he promised. “But not now.” 

Will looked at him expressionlessly. Hannibal was the one to step away, and his eyes lingered on Will for quite a while before he dissipated in the darkness.

He spent the next days lost in thoughts. He would kill Will — that was undeniable. He couldn’t tolerate the existence of someone who knew him from such a side, someone who dared to feel emotions to him that Hannibal despised. 

But something was stopping him, making him delay that inevitable moment. There was something irresistible in realization that he was the one to create Will, that he had his very own Highest Being — unique, not like the others. Beautiful and tragic and deadly. Will had quite a list of souls he had been playing with. He wasn’t simply seducing people’s minds — he was driving them insane, whispering and poisoning them once they were sleeping, making them want things they would never dare to want. Hannibal checked, and in all his time, he had never seen such a vicious and cunning version of Desire. 

Secretly, he wondered if Desire was even the right name for Will. Considering how tightly it was interconnected with lust, it formed a deadly combination that affected even him. 

Because he wanted him. Was aching for him. His madness was intensifying, urging him to locate Will and to have him again, whether he wanted it or not. Hannibal prepared a black crown — stunning and regal, fitting for his creation, but he still struggled with making a decision. He continued to think. To wonder. His thoughts came to a halt when he suddenly felt a strange, vague whisper of alarm. Hannibal narrowed his eyes, listening attentively, frowning when the stag Will had drawn on him, one that Hannibal couldn’t force himself to remove, heated abruptly, as if coming to life. 

‘At this point, nothing would actually surprise me,’ Hannibal thought, but before he could look at the picture on his arm, another pang of alarm pierced him — this one much stronger. Hannibal tensed for a second, and his lips curled in a snarl when he realized that someone had entered Hell — someone who had no place here. 

His kingdom was being… invaded? Who could possibly be as foolish as to…

The wall glimmered under his glare, its shape softening to a well of images. Hannibal quickly found the circle where the intruder was — Lust, and he wanted to scoff — but stopped as he saw the whole picture. 

That same rocky chasm. And Will, standing on its edge, with his back to it, looking directly at Hannibal — as if he knew where he was, as if he knew where to look. His lips began to move and Hannibal stared at them, reading the words they formed.

‘Thank you for not removing the stag. I wasn’t sure you would keep it. My entrance to Hell… the last piece of my plan. It’s true, only you have the power to kill the Highest Beings, but the place where you reign has the same ability. I know you well — too well, perhaps. Such a curious creature like you wouldn’t be able to make a decision, torn between wanting to keep me and wanting to destroy me — wanting to toy with me. So, I will make that choice for you. Good-bye… Hannibal.’

Hannibal’s eyes widened when he saw Will take that last, small step — and disappear within the chasm.    

“No!” he cried before he could stop himself, suddenly, unexpectedly terrified. He wasn’t thinking as he threw himself into the pile of smoke, disappearing and reappearing in the middle of the chasm, thinking in forgotten, suffocating despair, ‘It’s not too late, it can’t be too late, it can’t…’   

It seemed like even in his unexplainable panic, he had managed to calculate the distance correctly — a second later Will landed right into his waiting arms, looking calm, as if he hadn’t been one step from death.  

Hannibal clutched him with awful, bewildering tenderness, burying his face in his dark, curly hair, inhaling its scent deeply. 

“You are mine,” he murmured, not fully understand his own words. “I created you, so you belong to me.” 

He was drowning in this — this confusing affection, these warmth and greediness and possessiveness he had never felt before, didn’t know what to do with. 

Now that he was seeing Will, he wasn’t sure he could stop. 

Mindlessly, he kissed Will’s temple, then his face, his neck, still holding him, trembling with desire to tear into him, to leave him a shaking, bleeding mess — and then to tend to his wounds, to lick them clean and start everything over again. 

One who had witnessed his emotional downfall. One who existed solely for him. Who wasn’t scared of him. One who… understood him?

“You are mine,” he said again, leaned back and froze, seeing a victorious, malicious smile on Will’s face. However, it disappeared quickly, and Hannibal was back to cradling him, feeling strangely, unexplainably complete. 

The violet lighting storm swirled around them — Alana making her presence known, but Hannibal didn’t pay her any mind. His eyes were glued to one specific being in his arms, one that he didn’t intend to let go, even if he had no idea what to do with him.

Hannibal kissed him again, following a foreign, heated impulse. As he continued to shower Will’s flawless skin with kisses, he heard a soft whisper, “What about my crown, Hannibal?” 

“You cannot rule Hell with me. Why would I give you a crown? Even I don’t wear one,” Hannibal retorted, too distracted to look up.

He heard a satisfied chuckle, and then the violet storm ensnared them both, carrying them back to the surface.   

“Mine,” Will said, his voice frightening in its triumphant deadliness. Hannibal didn’t understand what he meant, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

He would think about it later, when this haze was over.

If it would ever be over.        

[arcticdementor]

I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

…

In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production  and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

And on.

And on.

And on.

What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

…

This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

…

Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

…

You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

[illfoandillfie]

ok sorry but how many people do yall think rog has ever slept with cos i’m guessing four figures no lie

okay, i don’t normally respond to messages like this because, frankly, i dont really feel like its my place to speculate on roger’s sex life. Theres a difference between writing a fiction story with a character named after and inspired by him and discussing his actual personal life which i have no real knowledge about. What he gets up to in his free time is between him and the women he does it with. but i didn’t really feel able to ignore this one. please don’t take this as me telling you off or shutting you down or anything like that. If you want to speculate about roger’s body count thats up to you, go nuts with it. and i love when you guys message me and I don’t want to discourage you from feeling like you can talk to me or just send me your random thoughts or whatever about any subject. But I feel like I need to address why I disagree with this sentiment. Also so I can ask ya’ll to please stop asking me questions like this. 

So firstly, just to get this out of the way. 1000 is a lot. even 100 is a lot. I think if rog had slept with 1000+ people he’d have a least a few illegitimate kids and probably would have been checked into rehab for sex addiction (not to mention STIs and such because lbr people in the 70s specifically probs werent the most careful especially if drugs were involved). I mean even if we were going to say Rog got lucky with a different woman after every show we wouldn’t reach 1000. According to google, Queen played around 700 shows in their entire career. If we add shows played by The Cross thats only another 67 odd shows (according to wikipedia). 

now, i think there are 3 things that contribute to this idea of roger as especially promiscuous. 1. His attitude/demeanour/general way he sells himself. 2. the generally held conceptions about rock stars and rock star behaviour. and 3. what i’m going to call fandom dumbassery (but i mean that with a lot of love) 

So lets start with the man himself. Roger Taylor is loud and opinionated and not particularly humble. He knows he’s talented and attractive though for at least some time he was a little self-conscious about how feminine he looked. He’s always up for a laugh, likes to party and has admitted to enjoying his drink and his women. He’s had kids with two different women, who’s relationships “overlapped”, and is currently married to a third. At least that’s the perception we can gleam from his interviews, behind the scenes videos, and other public appearances. 

It’s easy to see how that image leads to accusations of being a womaniser and a cheater and basically a bit of a slut lmao. But here’s the thing. I think Roger, in part, markets himself that way. The thing is, if you look at his solo songs and the relationships he currently has with his kids and their mothers, and things other people have said about him/his relationships over the years, I think it’s fair to say he also has a bit of a romantic streak maybe? idk if thats the best way of describing it...he’s self confessed to not being a fan of marriage and the like but he’s not opposed to writing and singing love songs and seems to believe in ~love~ as a concept/power. He certainly cares deeply for those closest to him. Whether or not that translates to an agreement with monogamy I can’t say for certain. It’s hard to draw conclusions here because a lot of what we know of his personal life was fed to us through magazines and news paper gossip column articles and they were never looking for the truth, they were looking for scandal and sensationalism. 

For instance the whole thing with the overlapping relationships. I think most people who have read anything about roger and dom and debbie realise that it’s not as cut and dry as “he was cheating with debbie and left dom for her” even though that was the story being sold by the press at the time. The reality (or at least the version closer to reality since obviously no one outside of them and whoever they were closest with knows all the nitty gritty details) is that rog and dom had already split when they got married. it was a marriage of convenience to make sure her and the kids would be looked after financially etc even after he’d moved out. So while it looked to the public like he married one chick and 30 odd days later was spotted with another, there really wasn’t anything untoward happening.  I’m not saying he never had casual hookups or one night stands and i’m not saying he never cheated, but I do think some of it’s been exaggerated, whether by him to encourage the rock star perception or by newspaper/magazine articles.

Now, obviously, we have stories of rog, particularly in the late 60s and into the 70s, being with multiple women. There’s that bit in the Interview with a Queen “Groupie” (which is a fantastic read and i defs recommend checking it out if you havent already) where she talks about roger being a chick magnet and says that, at the time, it was pretty common to sleep about. But, she also says she didnt notice him doing it more or less than anyone else and seemed to mostly be with Jo (his girlfriend at the time). This is the same Jo that got a mention in the Queen in 3D book (”i think we all had the feeling that these two were together for life, but it was not to be”). Conversely, we have that quote (which i cannot find rn but i’ll link it when i do) about roger sometimes having one girl upstairs while another waited in the garage for them to be finished. I think it was about Rog in the mid-late 60s in Truro but whatever. Obviously he wasn’t anywhere near celibate and it’s likely was sleeping with people outside of his relationship(s). But one has to assume that as he got older those kinds of antics stopped happening, at least as frequently.

There is one potential story that I remember reading somewhere along the way about Roger cheating on Debbie while she was pregnant. But, take that with a grain of salt because I can’t find the article again and also I think it was from like The Sun or something equally as rubbish. The press was notoriously always printing mean shit about the boys and that might have been another thing they published to create scandal. Even so, if we assume it’s legit that is still only 1 story. Not to throw him under the bus but Brian is the one with multiple confirmed affairs, who literally wrote songs about it all. So why is Roger the one with sleazy reputation? 

This is where my second and third points come in. There is a pervasive idea about what it means to be a rock star. The whole trashing hotel rooms, sleeping with groupies, passing out drunk every night thing. And I’m sure that Queen was like that to an extent. I think it’s pretty common knowledge that all of them got up to shit on the road. Between innuendo laden interviews and songs, videos and accounts of their parties, stories CT has put online, and other stories like the one of Roger bringing out lines of coke as dessert when he was having dinner with motley crue. They definitely embraced the rock and roll lifestyle. And I think with Roger’s personality being what it is, it’s easy to link him to those traditional rock star tropes and say it was all true all the time. I also think Roger has done nothing to counter those beliefs. He’s been open about how he wanted to be a rock star since the minute he picked up a guitar, he’s labelled himself as a great lay in magazines, he’s joked about girls pulling their tits out over dinner in interviews (though he said he didnt take her home), he’s written songs like One Night Stand and Dirty Mind and Airheads which explicitly mention his preference for women and alcohol. I think it’s fair to say he’s kind of encouraged that view of himself. Whether it was just a side effect of being part of such a well known band and having such a boisterous demeanour/personality, or whether it was intentional as a version of promotion i don’t know. maybe a mix of them? I mean I’m sure it didn’t hurt sales and stuff. it’s the whole guys want to be him, girls want to be with him thing, right? Maybe that’s just me being cynical though lmao. 

Anyway, the fandom brain has taken all of that and compressed it into memes and jokes about rog being the band slut. Which i’m not complaining about, lord knows i’ve made the same jokes and reblogged the same posts and used those tropes in my fics. They’re funny and lend themselves to interesting fic concepts. Plus, i think roger is the sort of person who would probably laugh about most of it. But it’s an idea that keeps feeding into itself through fandom, perpetuating what is probably a misguided view of his personal life.

Again, I am sure he’s had his fair share of fun and I’m not trying to make out that he was always perfect or whatever, but I don’t think he’s been with as many women as the popular discourse would imply and I certainly don’t think he’s in the 4 digit numbers. 

[princip1914]

Princip -- you're the only other person I know who is a bit iffy on participating in zines. What are your reasons? I feel like we probably agree on some of them.

Hey RF! This is a great question, and a timely one. I have seen a lot of zine apps floating around Good Omens fandom recently. I imagine that those of us who, like me, love the fandom but aren't interested in participating in a zine might be feeling a bit left out. So I am answering this ask in part as a way to say: if zines aren't your thing, that's fine! It also goes without saying that if zines ARE your thing, that's fine too. I love that there are a wide variety of ways to participate in fandom, and I don’t mean to say one way is better than another. My goal here is just to articulate why I don’t feel comfortable participating in zines. So, here goes. It’s a long one, so my answer is under the cut.

1) Inclusivity: One of my favorite things about fan culture is how radically inclusive it is. Anyone can post something to AO3. It’s so easy! All you need is an email address and a story to tell. I love that. I LOVE that. What’s more, anyone can read anything on AO3. All you need is an account for works that are archive-locked and then the internet is your oyster. There are so few spaces in life that are like this. Almost everything--from where we live, where we go to school, where we eat and drink, who we know, what media we consume--has an element of exclusivity to it. Even other online platforms, like facebook or instagram, have algorithms to steer how content is experienced. Zines--which on the writing end have applications and mod teams, and on the reading end make content available only to paid subscribers for a period of time after publication--are exclusive spaces within the vast inclusive world of fandom. For me, the benefit of having something printed out, edited, thoughtfully formatted, etc. is not worth the exclusivity of the process.

I want to add here that I think there are many important conversations going on about how to make AO3 and other fan spaces even more inclusive (especially for creators of color and survivors of trauma). I think there’s still a ways to go, but that the ideal of what these sorts of spaces are supposed to be, is radically inclusive and that ideal matters.

2) Costs: I mentioned this above in my point about exclusivity, and I can already sense the notes piling up to remind me that many zines have a “pay what you can” option and make no profit and/or have the profit donated to a charity. I think those approaches to pricing are admirable. For many people, the act of raising money for a charity through zine publication may feel like an important and cherished part of fan culture. For me, however, it is important that my participation in fandom remain radically anti-capitalist. I never want money to gate access to my writing, which I do for free and for fun. This is also why I will never have a patreon or ko-fi account.

I recognize that this attitude comes from a place of relative privilege--I am financially secure and able to donate a portion of my income to charity each year. I have time to participate in service work outside of fandom. I understand that not everyone may be in this position and that zine work may feel important to some as a way to raise money for worthy causes.

3) Competitiveness: The world is a competitive place. I constantly feel pressure in my IRL life to perform better than others to advance my career. To some extent, I have internalized this drive and I wish I hadn’t. For me, fandom is a wonderful place where I am relearning the importance of doing something just for the joy of it, rather than to be the “best” at it. By not applying for zines, I am consciously choosing to keep my experience of fandom free of any comparisons with others (I would banish the AO3 stats page from existence if I could, but that’s another story).

4) IRL/Fandom Intersection: Unfortunately, I am not able to be open about my participation in fandom in IRL spaces. I know I will never buy a zine because I will never feel comfortable attaching a credit card with my IRL name to a fandom purchase, or revealing my IRL address for shipping. This sharp separation between my IRL life and my fandom life means that I (and others who maintain the same boundaries) will always be limited in our consumption of paid content and physically printed content.  I would rather not contribute to a product that a portion of the fandom (including myself) is unable to access.

With all the zine applications coming out these days, I wanted to provide a voice saying that it is possible to have a great fandom experience without participating in zines. If you’re worried about missing out on the social aspect of participating in a zine, there are a myriad of ways to make friends in fandom--participating in an event, joining a discord server, messaging writers you like on tumblr (yes, even if you’ve never DM’d them before, most of us love meeting new people and starting conversations!), reading and commenting on others’ fics, replying to comments on your own fics, etc. 

While these are my top personal reasons why I have never chosen to apply for a zine, I know that many people do enjoy them and I’m happy that the fandom is big enough for many different kinds of content!

At the risk of inviting ~discourse~ I would love to hear others’ (respectful!) thoughts on why they like or don’t like being a part of zines!

[eliteprepsat]

In my 10+ years of teaching at the college level, I’ve met a lot of students.

Recently, a colleague and I shared how professors we’ve both known have often referred to the “top 1%” of students they’ve taught in their careers. I quickly did a bit of rough math in my head, and it turns out that I have likely taught at least 1,500 students in my own career. This excludes the many students I’ve taught in test prep programs, after school programs, and summer programs. Add those, and I could probably at least double the total number of students I’ve taught to 3,000.

Using the “top 1%” metaphor, this means that a teacher who has taught for 10 years has about 15-30 students that come to mind when they think of “the best” students they’ve worked with.

The question, then, becomes: How do you, as a student, make it into that top 1%?

Making it into a teacher’s top 1% isn’t just for the sake of playing teacher’s pet. It’s practical. As a student, it benefits you to not simply “go through the motions” of school, being just another name or number on a roll sheet. Of course, having a good relationship with your teachers benefits you in that you will have better communication with them, which enhances your ability to learn while in their classes.

But, it can also benefit you long after their classes are over. If you’ve had great relationships with your teachers—even perhaps making it into their top 1%—they will be more likely to write you excellent letters of recommendation, which are vital to your success in the college admissions process.

So, with this in mind, below is a list of 6 great ways to stand out as a student so that teachers will give you strong recommendation letters.

1. Be reliable

Many of the best teachers admire students who don’t necessarily follow the rules. But, it’s important to clarify that this only applies to being an intellectual rule-breaker and thinking outside of the box. What teachers don’t appreciate are students who deliberately disobey rules that are established for the sake of helping their classes run smoothly.

This may seem like it goes without saying. But one of the simplest ways to be a great student is just to be reliable. You can do this by always completing your work, arriving to class on time, and showing up every day prepared and ready to participate.

It’s not so much that students stand out for being reliable; it’s that students stand out for being unreliable—in other words, for all the wrong reasons. So, take the first best step toward securing a strong recommendation letter this way.

2. Be a team player

Most of the best classrooms (virtual or otherwise) function like a sports team, where the teacher leads or guides (like a coach) and all of the students also have a role (like players). This stands in contrast to traditional (and largely outdated) classroom models where the teacher takes the only active role and the students are merely passive observers.

Good teachers relish students who are excellent team players—who listen actively, participate by making meaningful contributions to discussions, and generally exude a positive energy.

In my own experience, I’ve found that classes tend to function like the organic and often unpredictable flow of a basketball game. Some of the best moments in my classes have occurred when my game plan suddenly (and wonderfully) shifted because a student raised a compelling idea in discussion that we then pursued. I think of such students as my best teammates, giving me assists as I try to make a play.

But being a great team player in class doesn’t just involve your interactions with your teacher. It also involves how you interact with your other teammates, or classmates. Some of the strongest students I’ve worked with stand out in my memory not just because of how they treated their classmates, but also because of how their classmates responded to them.

Just as the best team players know when to lead and when not to hog the ball so as to let others on the team shine, so too do the best students know when to speak up and step in when their classmates need help, but also when not to dominate the conversation, actively listening instead so as to let their classmates also shine.

3. Demonstrate curiosity

Students often believe—incorrectly—that the best way to be a team player is simply to be the most “intelligent” student in the room. In reality, raw intelligence is typically not the attribute that good teachers appreciate most in their students. Instead, this attribute is curiosity.

What does it mean to “demonstrate curiosity” as a student? Generally speaking, it means having an open mind. If you encounter course material that is initially off-putting because it seems too difficult, for instance, don’t run the other way out of frustration. Instead, ask yourself: Why might this material be of interest? Why have people devoted their entire lives to its study? What could I learn from it?

With that said, another component of demonstrating curiosity is the ability (or at least the attempt) to draw connections between course material and your own interests or life. So, even if you are taking a class in a seemingly “foreign” subject (e.g. if you are in the sciences but taking a world literature course), again ask yourself what you might have to learn from this material. Perhaps you see parallels between the formal structures of storytelling and what you have been learning in one of your engineering classes. Bring this up in discussion! Not only will you find that the course is far more worth your time because it is applicable to something you care about, but your teachers will also appreciate your curiosity.

4. Visit office hours

The best letters of recommendation are written by teachers who really know the student in question. Although there are exceptions to this rule, it’s typically not ideal, then, to request a letter from a teacher who you only studied with for a brief summer session, or who you never actually spoke to in person (say, from an online course).

In my own experience, the recommendation letters I write are better the more I know a student. So, if there is a teacher with whom you feel comfortable, don’t be afraid to open up to them a bit.

Why is this helpful for recommendation letters, exactly? If you are taking several AP courses while also juggling a heavy load of extracurriculars, a resume or transcript will show this at a glance. But if you are taking night classes while also raising a child or taking care of your ailing parents, for instance, the extent of your hard work will not likely appear anywhere on paper.

If you take the time to open up about the particulars of your life to a teacher, however, they can speak to your perseverance and grit in a meaningful recommendation letter to an admissions committee. That added understanding could very well mean the difference between a college acceptance or none.

You may or may not have opportunities to open up to your teachers during class. And you may or may not feel comfortable doing so. So, take advantage of your teachers’ office hours, when you can speak with them one-on-one.

5. Turn in an impressive assignment

When writing recommendation letters, the best teachers will not write generally about the student in question. Rather, they will look for specifics to discuss. After all, specific examples are what help readers visualize and relate to what a writer is describing, ultimately becoming convinced of their claims.

In order to do this, teachers need to be supplied with specifics to write about you. So, if you’ve written an especially impressive paper, completed a particularly dynamic presentation, or organized a uniquely inspiring event, bring this to your teacher’s attention. It will give them something to focus portions of their recommendation letter around, and they can point to these specific examples as evidence of your mastery of a subject, your hard work, your passion, or any of your other exceptional traits.

Ultimately, your teacher’s reflections on these detailed examples will give admissions committees something to remember about you as a candidate, which is crucial considering how many applications colleges receive each year.

6. Stay in touch

Typically, students don’t require recommendation letters immediately upon completing a course. So, it can be difficult having to reach out to former teachers semesters—or even years—down the road. In this case, it can feel awkward asking them for the favor of writing a letter since you haven’t spoken in some time. You may wonder if they even remember you!

To avoid this, I suggest emailing your teachers not long after a course has ended just to say a friendly hello, to share that you enjoyed their class, and to ask if they might be open to writing you a recommendation letter in the future. Although you might not require the letter immediately, asking in advance in this way is a good idea for a few reasons. It demonstrates that you are taking initiative by being so forward thinking about your future success. It also helps to plant a seed in your teacher’s mind; they will be more likely to remember you when you reach out to officially request a letter one day.

Beyond this initial email, it is a good idea to simply stay in touch with your former teachers, especially if you believe you will request a recommendation letter from them eventually. Most teachers love to hear from their former students and get caught up on all of their wonderful achievements. So, don’t be shy about sharing yours. Again, if you do so, your teachers will be more eager to help when you contact them for recommendation letters.

Some final advice for requesting letters of recommendation

When requesting a letter of recommendation, it’s always best to ask your teachers well in advance of the deadline so that they have plenty of time to complete the work. This means that you should usually aim for giving them at least 4 weeks and never less than 2 weeks. Remember that while they typically understand that writing such letters comes with the job and are happy to help out their students in this way, teachers are very busy people. So, do what you can to make the task as simple as possible for them.

Beyond giving them ample time to complete their letters, you can also simplify the task for your teachers by giving them a copy of your resume/accomplishments and a few of your strongest assignments as references. Finally, be sure to always ask at least one more individual than is required as a backup in case your original letter writer doesn’t come through or fails to get their letter in on time.

Stacy G. is a writer and teacher who has taught composition, literature, and creative writing courses at a number of public and private universities across the U.S. She has also taught SAT, AP English, and Literature SAT Subject Test courses at Elite Prep. She likes poetry, dogs, and poetry about dogs.

[thejustmaiden]

I am pro-Sessrin and appreciate your analyses because you have valid points and convey them in a respectful way. I'm sorry that some of my fellow pro's aren't able to reciprocate, it really just makes us ALL look bad. Unfortunately, a lot of people in the fandom aren't capable of maturity - part of why I feel the need to be on anon as I don't want to get flamed. Sessrin IS problematic and shouldn't be condoned IRL, but ship what makes you happy and don't be an ass to strangers online.

Hey there, nonnie! If you're the same person who sent me that DM, then yes, we actually have crossed paths on one (maybe two?) occasions. I'm not sure if we've spoken directly with each other before, per se, but I do remember you all the same. Btw, you aren't taking messages which is why I couldn't reply. If you're not the person in my DM then my mistake! haha Regardless of who you are, I want to thank you for reaching out to me. 😊

I really appreciated your kind words. It means a lot coming from a sessrin shipper. After all, the goal of my blogs isn't to create more division than already exists between us but rather the opposite. If they're only meant for other antis, then what would be the point?

Plus, why would I want anything I post to add fuel to the already blazing fire? I'd prefer not to see this fandom continue to go up in flames over this ship if I can help it. Anyway, it's always a relief to hear I'm not the only one who feels this way!

A lot of us on both sides are clearly very invested in this, but we need to remember that spewing hateful remarks gets us nowhere. By no means am I perfect, but this is why I work even harder to make sure my blogs are as informative and objective as possible while refraining from name-calling. Otherwise, fans are way less likely to take anything I write seriously, which means everything I hoped to achieve goes right out the window.

There's just not enough good and healthy discourse taking place. I've seen and been a part of some, but it's too few and far between. We ought to do better, and I have no doubt more of us are capable of it, too. 😌

I agree, we all should have a right to ship whatever makes us happy. I think Sessrin shippers believe antis don't want that for them but that's NOT TRUE. It may not seem like it at times but please believe me when I say this:

ANTIS ACTUALLY DO ACCEPT YOUR CHOICE TO SHIP SESSRIN

We may not like it, but who are we to say you can't? What we don't accept however is how those shippers try to pass it off as some sort of pure and healthy relationship. Portraying a pairing that has very harmful grooming implications in a positive light is a big no-no. That's what so many of us- and not just victims of child abuse or Westerners- have been trying to tell you all along.

It's just like you said, Sessrin IS problematic and wouldn't be condoned in real life. So it should be represented as such, because sending the message that romance is a completely normal progression from the adult-child bond they established is plain wrong.

We need to keep in mind that there are many young viewers watching this show. And by young, I mean under 18. Although a lot them of them aren't technically Rin's age but older, that does not take away from the fact that they still lack the ability to fully think critically for themselves as they're still learning how. This makes them much more susceptible to the influence of predatory behavior. So if ever in a similar situation in real life, why wouldn't they be okay with it? If mainstream media keeps showing them it can be an acceptable and beautiful thing, then why shouldn't they believe the same? We're the adults putting this content out there in the first place, and it's our example they follow.

I totally get why some of you don't want to think too deeply about any of this since it can really start messing with your head. These fictional worlds are supposed to be an escape from our real world problems, right? Well yes, but only to a certain extent. It is still of the utmost importance we closely consider and properly address the major effects and correlations of fiction and real life, as well as the profound impact they can have on each other. They're significantly more linked than many of us realize. What else could explain why Antis react the way they do? We take it personally, because simply put, it is personal.

I'm known to be quite the rambler lol, so I think it's best for all of us if I stop myself here. Thanks again for this ask and also the DM (unless that wasn't you). You're more than welcome to read my other blogs on this topic if you haven't already- and that goes for all of you reading this. I'm interested to know if you have anything more you'd like to contribute to the conversation. Feel free to get back to me in DM, nonnie, if that's more convenient for you. No pressure, this is of course only if you want and feel comfortable in doing so. Alright, bye for now. Hope this finds you well!! 🖖