#oh to be able to exist in nature without the fear of being perceived <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[pamperpixie]

its a beautiful day and i have to choose between staying inside in my comfy diaper n having a little day, or going outside and enjoying the warm sunshine 😭

[beetsandskzreads]

silent bright summer night

bang chan x gn!reader, y/n works with skz and became their friend (the ultimate dream haha)

genre: tooth-rotening fluff, slight angst with a happy ending

notes/warnings: nothing intense, this is very fluffy, there's brief mentions of cheating, long distance, y/n's exes, fear of abandonment, slight insecurities, deep talks, reader and chan are slightly wine drunk, y/n and chan are whipped, y/n makes it explicit they want to date someone very warm and caring (aka chan), i don't think that's a warning tho djsjs just saying

scenario: on a balcony, at a beach apartment on a summer night of vacation, y/n opens up to chan about their past and current lovers. what y/n doesn't know is why chan is so interested listening to it.

It was 1:01 am when chan and I found ourselves in the balcony that overlooked the city and it's bright lights on a summer night. Skz had gone to sleep right after all of us came back from a night out of lots of fun, buying stuff on stores by the beach, having ice cream, seeing the view of the city lights reflecting on the sea water, appreciating street artists...

The two of us had been talking the whole evening, we hung out as a group but mostly just spoke to each other and laughed at the members jokes, both of us having a sparkle in our eye every time we saw the group happy. There was this unspoken pleasantness, a bliss, calmness in the air but with a lot of excitement. Chan was so happy to be around the sea with "the kids" as he refers to them and being at the beach almost 24/7 this week, it was like his natural habitat, his home, a comfort place. It left you feeling even softer for him, and as you shared your love for the sea, your feelings were at a peak. You liked Chan, and you loved this place as much as he did.

The night was so great, everyone was out like a lightweight as soon as we arrived to the vacation apartment we're in. Chan and I were testing the theory that a glass of wine would help us get drowsy and help us fall asleep as well, since we both have trouble falling asleep and felt nothing but a remaining excitement from the night out. It came to me especially because of the enthusiasm of talking to him, we were connecting so well, I didn't want this to ever end.

And so we drank (one glass quickly becoming the whole bottle) and we talked for what felt like hours on end, that neither of us wanted to cease.

- My ex best friend, she never quite knew how to choose guys, she always went for the ones that would never turn her way, the ones who obviously wouldn't care about her, not because of her, but because they were really careless guys, walking red flags. - I told him, I couldn't remember where exactly the conversation started but we were talking about nice people picking shitty people to date.

- What about you? - he asked

- Me? I barely even like guys, I mean I do, but I'm really picky actually, I don't allow myself to fall for cold people, I wouldn't forgive myself if I took interest in someone rude, I try so hard to take care of myself so I either stay alone that way or I find someone who makes me feel better, who knows how to take care of me, after all we chase happiness, I think a caring person could do that, someone gentle who isn't scared of emotions or who at least is open to face that fear with me by their side.

- I get it, it's hard to get by if you don't have emotional support, a partner should be able to provide that support, yeah. Did you ever... find someone like that?

- Yeah, in the past I did and even now I do know someone more than ideal... I guess my ex partners when I was young were going through a soft phase tho... I guess everyone has an emotional limit they were scared to cross... once I found that barrier the relationship stoped evolving, reached a dead end and so there was nothing left for me anymore and I left, plus, you know, cheating, long distance, a bunch of stuff really... it wasn't meant to be and I'm okay with that.

- What about that someone right now?

Silence ruled for about 3 seconds before I knew what to say. That someone right now is him. Ever since I've known him feels like he's the only man ever, but I don't think I'd tell him that, not soon anyways.

- What about 'em?

- What's that person like? What makes you trust they're any different from your exes?

- Sometimes I fear they're not, but I set the bar really high and I reset it constantly, to make sure I'm seeing it right, sometimes they seem so perfect to me that I wonder what good have i done in my past life to deserve to be around such a bright person. Of course they make mistakes too, but even the way they deal with them is so... mature, it's so easy to just solve things communicating, it's insane to me. Then I remember it's probably because they're eventually gonna leave me too, or just not reciprocate my feelings and after they break my heart I'll probably loose all hope in love, be heart broken for two years until I decide I'm gonna focus on myself again... it's a cycle after heartbreak, but with this person I'm really scared, because they mean more. I'm way too deep in before I've even expressed my feelings, it's gonna be devastating. - I'm rambling, the wine made me do it.

- What makes you think they wouldn't like you back tho?

- I'm not sure I just... it would be too good to be true and it's complicated... he's amazing and I'm just not sure if he'd be into me, I mean, I think I'm lovable and I think I'd be a great lover, I just don't know if I'm his type or if he'd consider me. We have a bit of an age gap, I'm not someone who's typically pretty or specially good looking, I have my charms but I have no idea if that's enough for him to be in love. It's complicated with each others work too... - I notice chan's gaze on me, he has his head leaned on his hand on the table and he's looking at me with bright eyes, eyes that look tired and a little drunk but somehow, he manages to look at me in a way that makes me feel adored, I don't know why you have to make me feel so much love, Bang Chan - Why are you looking at me like that?

- You have no idea how other people perceive you, do you? - he ignored your question, probably because of his drunk-ish drowsy state - Everyone I know likes you, see, you're a naturally kind and caring person, you're attentive to people's needs, you make sure everyone feels comfortable around you... that's so appreciated by everyone. I think you're exceptional y/n, you have this charismatic way of existing, a refreshing and comfy presence everyone can feel, but to me... it feels like home. You feel like home y/n. So... I have no idea who that person is but I sure as hell know they'd be more than lucky to have you as a partner and they're definitely dumb if they let you go.

- Are you dumb? - my heart's pounding quicker as I'm about to do something I didn't plan on doing ever.

- Huh? No, why w-

- Because that person is you... I like you, Chan. In a more-than-friends way - I interrupt him quickly before I lose my newly found courage.

Chan could've sworn his heart stopped for a few seconds. Suddenly sobriety hit him like a truck. It was the alcohol that made you say that, he thought, but he wished it was true and you didn't drink enough to be lying about this kind of stuff, you had a full on conversation and you seemed pretty sober.

- Y-y/n are you sober? - he tries to navigate through the situation.

- Oh my... yeah I am, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, it just rolled out of my tongue. I'm sorry... - you said as you panicked and tried to go back inside, regret filling up all your organs.

"I messed up" your brain keeps repeating as desperation starts entering your body, until Chan grabbed your hand, stopping you from leaving.

- Wait! You don't need to apologize, I'm glad you told me... You didn't think I'd say all that about you if I didn't like you as well, did you? - he asks suggestively.

- I don't know - you blush as you realize what he's getting at - You're just so nice to everyone, I didn't make a big deal out of it.

- Well, you should've made it a big deal, the biggest deal actually because I've been trying really hard to show you how I feel these past few days and you were so clueless I thought you were purposefully ignoring the signs because you didn't like me back.

- I'm sorry Channie, I just didn't want to assume stuff and get heartbroken if it wasn't true.

-Well it is true, so you don't need to worry anymore. I really like you too, y/n. And I've wanted to say it for a while too, I was just wondering if it was a good idea since you work with us, but I can't contain my feelings anyways... you always treat me so softly and you look after the kids really well... It just feels like you were made to be by my side, you're the embodiment of the person I've always dreamed to be with, and these past few days with the kids and you... it just felt like we were the perfect family you know? I don't think I could be without you by my side anymore... - he stops, he's been staring at your eyes the whole time and now they're starting to water.

How could you not cry when he's saying the things you thought you'd only ever hear in dreams?

- Why are you crying sweetheart? - he whispered, as he wipes a tear with his thumb, the other hand holding your hand as he stands closer every second.

- It's just... I'm so... happy - you smile through your tears - I'm so happy to hear that, you said it in such a beautiful way too... I feel exactly the same, it's like I've gained a family with you guys but you... I've grown really attached to you, feels like some parts of you are tangled in my heart in ways I couldn't tear apart if I wanted to... I'm drawn to you and when I'm with you it's comfortable, blissful, it's right. You're so good to me, it's unbelievable, but it's true, and it warms my heart. - you say as your foreheads touch and your smile grows, his eyes showing so much adoration for you, you could melt.

Suddenly you share your first kiss together, a soft yet passionate mix of sensations, and it felt like everything you ever felt around Chan but better.

You stare into each other's eyes, smiling like the little lovely goofballs you both were, noses touching, ocasional little pecks filled with giggles because you were whipped for each other.

- So this means we're exclusive lovers now, yeah? - he asks with a blushing face, a very silent giggle and a huge, uncontrollable smile.

- Definitely, yeah - you answer biting your lip until eventually you let out the largest smile you ever had.

Needless to say, you didn't leave that balcony to go to sleep that evening. In fact, you two watched the sunrise kissing and cuddling, talking about the feelings you had for each other, when they started, why you liked each other, covered by a blanket, not wanting to let go of each other now that you were openly romantic.

Han found you both sound asleep, you on chan's lap, head on his neck as his arms wrapped around you gently, on a chair in the middle of the morning. He obviously called all the members to watch you two as they assumed you two finally got together. All of them saw it coming, Chan wouldn't shut up about you and had written what could be an entire album about you.

They were happy at least you'd be around more often to cook your delicious food. And you both blushed really hard once you woke up to lot's of teasing from the kids, it was fine tho, you liked it just like this, it was home.

[your-brilliant-lady-m]

Part 2 - Basic Concepts of Miraculous Ladybug: Kwami

Kwamis are a fun concept and one of the main draws of the series. They make sense story-wise because, firstly, our characters need some support system. And since a lot of conflicts are centred around secret identities, characters should be able to discuss their double life with someone. As magical beings they could also be used to expand the lore, introduce new concepts and drive forward both the plot and character development. It doesn't always happen but Kwamis are a good idea. Some people who write AU's think that Kwamis are redundant, but I have to disagree.

Origins and nature

Where do Kwamis come from? What are they? It's never explained. Oh wait, it was explained in a comic people can accidentally find. You decide to explain the origins and nature of magical beings who are one of the key elements in your magic system and worldbuilding IN A SIDE COMIC, which has zero effect on your main story. Sounds legit.

Here it is.

So, Kwamis are abstract creatures. They can become tangible and interact with the world because of the miraculous jewels. Essentially, each Miraculous acts as an anchor to the material world for Kwami. They existed since the beginning of time and were invisible observers of the universe. Until they settled on Earth and observed how humanity came to be. This is where things get interesting.

Kwamis are the embodiment of abstract concepts. But, some abstract concepts were created by people (like everything mentioned in the comic: beauty, math, love, etc).

Kwamis wanted to help humans. And then, a human, who couldn't see, hear or touch a Kwami creates miraculous jewels. And now these beings can interact with the world, use their powers and grant them to humans. Yet, they are completely under control of their holder. I'll discuss it later, but why did Kwamis accept this deal? They are practically enslaved. At the same time they care about people and generally love humanity.

According to the wiki Kwamis grant powers because of "the privilege of having the ability to be perceived by mortals". What? Did I read that right? Kwamis agreed to be enslaved and used as a power source, because they wanted to interact with material world. That's it, guys, end of the story.

We also know these things about nature and abilities of Kwamis from the show:

1) need food, but only to provide the power for the holder;

2) can't phase through precious metals (Chloe's bracelet in "Rogercop"), their own miraculous and humans;

3) they can control if they phase through things or not – meaning that if they want to, they can (this way Tikki can stay in Marinette’s purse without much trouble and Plagg sleeps on Adrien’s pillow);

4) they can perform magic without a holder but they don’t control it very well, there are certain types of things that they can’t do without a holder;

5) they are immortal but can get sick for some reason, a non-magical reason mind you;

6) technology can't detect them in any way, you can't film, photograph or record their voices (writers establish this many times, but promptly forget all about their own rules in "Optigami", where Marinette talks with Kwamis over the phone without any problems).

If I missed something important, then let me know.

Look, the questions related to origins and motivations of Kwamis might not be very prominent in your story right now, but you must answer them in case you might need to involve these facts in the plot down the line. It's important to avoid contradictions in the serialised story with liquid plot, that can't be set in stone. It's a made up world for the sake of everything sacred! You can make up explanations and rules, of course as long as they don't contradict common sense.

Plausible ideas for origins and nature of Kwamis:

1) Kwamis are immortal spirits, whom humans accidentally summoned and bound with spells to Miraculous stones. They remember their existence before this. This version doesn't really explain their desire to serve people and love for humanity, however. It would be more logical for Kwamis to resent people for enslaving them. It doesn't explain how humans could create those spells and Miraculous stones either.

2) Kwamis are physical manifestations of abstract concepts who existed simply as fragments of matter for a very long time without sentience, until they were accidentally summoned through the Miraculous stones and bound by humans to serve them. Kwamis do not remember their existence before Miraculous. In this version Kwamis serve humans and love them because they have never known a different kind of existence. Unfortunately, it doesn't provide any explanation on the creation of Miraculous and spells.

3) Kwamis are gods, who created the universe with all its elements and concepts including humanity (similar to Valar and Maiar in Tolkien's Legendarium). They wanted to help their creations but discovered that their power was too wild and unpredictable for that. So, Kwamis decided to give up their free will and magical independence to help humanity. Together they created Miraculous stones for humans to use and sealed themselves inside. Kwamis as gods were abstract concepts, who didn't have a body. The act of sealing their power in the Miraculous gave them an opportunity to interact with outside world (an anchor) and each Kwami chose an small animal form (because humans easily formed bonds with animals, had animal companions (pets), small animals look non-threatening and familiar). Kwamis intentionally choose certain animal forms to suit the human symbolism. Humans later used magic that Kwamis discovered for them to place spells upon small gods (spells related to identity protection and so on). This version answers most questions, but if Kwamis are gods then powers they grant to people seem to be rather small.

Feel free to add more. I would be interested to hear your ideas.

Identity Protection

In "Origins" we learn that Wayzz can sense the aura of Butterfly Miraculous, a negative aura of activated Butterfly Miraculous, to be more precise. And yet, Tikki and Plagg are genuinely surprised to discover the identities of their holders in "Dark Owl". There are several things wrong with that.

Can Kwamis sense each other's presence? They shouldn't be able to do this to protect the identities of their holders. On the other hand, they are ancient spirits. So, their inability to sense each other seems weird. Unless it's the same situation as with the spell that does not allow them to speak the name of their holder aloud.

But if they can sense each other like Wayzz did, then it means that Plagg and Nooroo were living in the same house for over a year and nothing happened. I mean, Plagg could have just come upstairs, take off the brooch from Gabriel, while he is asleep and return it back to Fu.

This question lies right here, on the surface. And that's only one massive and very obvious plothole. How to fix it? Establish that Kwami can't sense each other for identity protection. In "Origins" Fu meditates on his balcony and Wayzz sees a charged Akuma flying by. That's how they discover that Butterfly is in Paris and the Miraculous is in the wrong hands. Perhaps, Gabriel akumatizes someone for the first time to survey the surroundings and general public is not aware of this. This works better in the narrative, giving Fu time to select holders for Ladybug and Black Cat. It also establishes whether Hawkmoth can remove the Akuma from someone without Ladybug and discharge it. Maybe it depends on the circumstances (sometimes he can, but if this person was akumatized many times or their emotions are too strong and their mind doesn't want to let Akuma go then Hawkmoth can't pull the butterfly out with his magic). This scenario allows for Volpina to happen on "Heroes' Day". Silly recurring Akumas like Gigantitan and Mr. Pigeon could still happen. In this case Gabriel didn't want to akumatize the guy more than 70 times on purpose. It just keeps happening against his better judgement because evil butterflies are automatically attracted to Mr. Ramier. This way repeated attacks of Mr. Pigeon annoy Hawkmoth just as much as they do the heroic duo of Paris (I did not sign up for this Nathalie!).

Let's come back to the spell mentioned earlier for a moment. Kwamis can't say the name of their current holder out loud, but apparently, they can exploit a loophole in the spell by confirming the identity of their holder in another way. The spell doesn't work with other holders. Kwami can say the names of other holders if they know their identity. That being said, can the holder order the Kwami to tell them the identities of other heroes if they know them?

Kwamis know how each Miraculous looks with or without camouflage. Can the holder order the Kwami to tell them how each Miraculous looks in disguise (I liked that Grimoire doesn't have pictures of camouflage for identity protection)? Guardians can recognise Miraculous in any mode (Su Han). Did Fu teach Marinette this? Does she know how each Miraculous looks like unactivated?

Oh! Since we are discussing camouflage, let's take a moment to appreciate the Mother Of All Plotholes. Plagg didn't recognise Peacock because of the plot.

Relationship with Holder

I absolutely loved the idea that Kwamis must obey their holder introduced in "Sandboy". This concept opens tons of plot opportunities. It's such a great idea that makes sense, has potential, can create conflict. Why, oh, why didn't writers develop it more?

Like, it was so good. It can be a great push for character development. This concept resolves so many existing inconsistencies within the plot. It's mind-blowing.

Why can't Nooroo simply leave Gabriel, so that he wouldn't be able to transform? Because Gabriel bound him with Miraculous to always stay near.

In "Sandboy" Tikki asks Marinette's permission before going to the meeting. Plagg lies to Adrien instead. This implies that usually Plagg's holders weren't kind to him or feared his power (Su Han's remark in "Furious Fu"). Perhaps, his holders were taught to keep the Kwami of destruction under constant control. So, Plagg in turn has learned not to ask, because if he doesn't ask permission then his holder can't deny him freedom with magic.

Can Kwami lie to their holder? Maybe they can't lie to their holder about their nature, origins and powers and other Miraculous (but Kwamis can't reveal the location of Miracle Box, Guardian's identity and can't confirm identities of other holders known to them in any way). Kwami would be forced to speak even if they don't want to. That's why Nooroo told Gabriel everything about the abilities of the Butterfly Miraculous and the wish secret of Ladybug and Black Cat.

But Kwamis can lie to their holder according to Plagg in "Sandboy". If Kwamis can lie about everything (including powers) then Nooroo didn't have any reason to be honest with Gabriel way back in "Origins".

Speaking of Gabriel and Nooroo. Can Kwamis harm their holder? Maybe doing so would harm the Kwami as well. Can they do it only when the holder is not wearing the Miraculous? Can Kwami take their Miraculous from their holder? Will they disappear if they try to do so? It seems like Kwami disappears only when the holder takes off the Miraculous with the intention of renouncing power, the words "I renounce you" are not necessary.

Other Kwamis can take the Miraculous from people if it's not their own (Wayzz in "Feast"). But what if it wasn't possible. Imagine what could happen if it's not possible to take the Miraculous by force from the transformed or untransformed hero. Just like Lady WiFi couldn't remove Ladybug's mask. A person has to willingly give up the Miraculous. Only in this case, it's possible to take it. For example, somewhere around the middle of season 3 Hawkmoth could have trapped Ladybug and Chat Noir and cut off any escape routes. His Akuma tries to take both Miraculous, but they don't budge. Then afterwards, every Akuma tries to manipulate the heroes using hostages, illusions or mind control. It's hard to say whether this version will be better than canon, but it's a fascinating theory.

You can use the idea of obedience to create more situations contrasting the relationship of Plagg and Adrien, Gabriel and Nooroo. I liked how canon created a storyline about Plagg learning to control his powers without a holder and Adrien helping him. However, why would you stop here? Give us some flashbacks about Plagg's previous holders, tell us what kind of people they were. Expand the lore and add some character development for Plagg and Adrien. The same thing goes for Marinette. What kind of battles did they have in the past? What kind of people past holders were? Did Ladybug and Black Cat heroes always get along well? Were they allies or enemies? Were they always lovers?

Give us more information about Butterfly and Peacock holders. Perhaps Nooroo has dreams about his past holders who were good people. Show us what kind of things a Butterfly holder with good intentions can do. Tell us more about Duusu and her past holders, sprinkle in a few bits of info about Emilie and Duusu's relationship, just a few vague hints to preserve the mystery. You have a lot of screentime each season and instead of doing filler episodes dedicated to love drama, you can use them for developing minor characters, relationships between them and lore.

[skgway]

1823 Aug., Wed. 20

8

11 1/2

Soon began on the erotics last night. Her warm, then [e]ncouraging. I said this was not like keeping our promise. She answered, ‘no’ and reached a towel to put under us to keep the bed clean on account of her cousin. I had retired too early for her. ‘Am I too soon for you?’ ‘Yes, rather,’ said she, and I resumed, determined she should have a sufficiently good kiss before I had had one. She said she had and we fell asleep. 

Both awoke at five in the morning and talked till seven. Asked if this was not better than my sleeping in Micklegate. ‘Yes,’ but it was prudence # on her part. She had a feeling she could not describe. Would make any sacrifice rather than have our connection suspected. She seemed very affectionate and fond of me. Said I was her only comfort, she should be miserable without me. 

Lou has got rather out of ∂ [Charles]’s good books she – Lou never got up to breakfast living with her uncle has given her very independent notions – He waited for her – Consulted her in everything – She told C– [Charles] one morning, she got up at the hour that suited her convenience – ∂ [Charles Lawton] has therefore been sadly out of his best humour this summer and π [Mariana] sadly fidgetted –

Told M– [Mariana] that she did not understand one 1/2 my letters, and misunderstood the other – That my aunt said (speaking of the regard between us), it was “much more on one side than the other”, – On my side then hers – Miss Pattison had blushed up to the sears, and told her at Manchester that ∂ [Charles Lawton] complained of her being cold and she wished she would try to be warmer when she returned. π [Mariana] said she and ∂ [Charles Lawton] very well knew the reason of that that she could not seem warm if she did not feel so. 

π [Mariana] once sat next Miss Pattison’s uncle at dinner there and he said of her she looked like one who could love. I agreed, then reverting to ourselves, ‘this is adultery to all intents and purposes.’ ‘No, no,’ said she. ‘Oh yes, π [Mariana]. No casuistry can disguise it.’ ‘Not this then, but the other.’ ‘Well,’ said I, choosing to let the thing turn her own way. ‘I always considered your marriage legal prostitution. We were both wrong. You to do and I to consent to it. And when I think of blaming others, I always remember nothing can at all excuse us but our prior connection.’ 

I did not pursue the subject, nor did π [Mariana] seem to think much of it. The fear of discovery is strong. It rather increases I think. But her conscience seems seared, so long as concealment is secure. She said yesterday of Harriet, if she had never liked Milne I could have made more excuse for her. Thought I to myself, if none but those who were without sin threw the first stone.

Harriet, like the woman taken in adultery, might escape – Told her she needed not fear my conduct letting out our secret. I could deceive anyone. Then told her how completely I had duped Miss Pickford # and that the success of such deep deceit almost smote me, but I had done it all for her, π [Mariana]’s, sake. ‘Why should it smite you? ‘It is deceit that does no one any harm.’ 

I made no reply, but mused how sophistry might reign within the breast where none suspected it. How might not this argument best retched from one deceit to another. Mary, you have passion like the rest, but your caution cheats the world out of it. Scandal and your courage is weak, rather than your principal strong. Yet is it I who write this. 

She’s true to me, yes, but she has not that magnanimity of truth that satisfies a haughty spirit like mine. She is too tamely, worldly, and worldliness is her strength and weakness her foible and her virtue. She loves me, I do believe her, as well as she is capable of loving. Yet her marriage was worldly, her whole conduct is worldly to the farthest verge that craven love can bear. 

How often has it struck me that years ago when once talking to Lou about this marriage and the powerful circumstances that almost compelled it. ‘Well,’ said she, ‘you do not know π [Mariana]. She is worldly and the match was worldly altogether.’ This did indeed strike me at the time but it never struck me as it does at this moment – (Thursday 21 August 3 55/60 p.m. 1823) – 

It now opens upon me as the key of all that all I have never yet been able to comprehend in her character. I have doubted her love, I have doubted her sincerity. How often with an almost bursting heart have I laid aside my papers and my musings because I dared not pursue inconsistencies I could not unravel. I could not deem the dial true, I would not deem it false. The time the manner of her marriage to sink January 1815 in oblivion. Oh how it broke the magic of my faith forever. How, spite of love, it burst the spell that bound my very reason suppliant at her feet. I loathed consent but loathed the easing more. I would have given the yes she sought, tho it had rent my heart into a hundred thousand shivers. It was enough to ask –

It was a coward love that dared not brave the storm; and, in desperate despair, my proud, indignant spirit watched it sculk away – How few the higher feelings we then could have in common! The chivalry of heart was gone – Hope’s brightest hues were brushed away – Yet still one melancholy point of union remained – She was unhappy. So was I –

Love scorned to leave the ruin desolate; and time she has shaded it so sweetly, my heart still lingers in its old abiding place, thoughtless of its broken bowers, save when some sudden guest blows thro’, and scrunching memory is disturbed – But oh! no more “the heart knoweth its own bitterness,” and it is enough – “Je sens mon coeur, et je connais les hommes. Je ne suis fait comme aucun de ceux que j’ai vus; j’ose croire n'être fait comme aucun de ceux qui existent.” Rousseau's Confessions volume and page first.

She loves me. Tho it is neither exactly as I wished, nor as I too fondly persuaded myself. ‘Ere years had taught me to weigh human nature in the balance or unlock the loveliest of bosoms with the key of worldliness. Yes, she loves me. My own feelings shall descend to hers. They have done so in part. How I could have adored her had she been more of that angelic being my fancy formed her. No thought, no word, no look, had wandered then. Surely my every sentiment towards her had had less of earth in it than heaven –

How like “the visions of romantic youth”! I know she might have realized then – Je sens mon coeur – But no more – No more – I seem unable to return to the dry detail of a journal –

At seven an hour before getting up asked her to get out of bed and wash. We both did so. Then got into bed again and had a long quiet good kiss and then a comfortable nap. Got up at eight. I laughed and said we must really both of us get well as soon as we could. We owned she thought I was worse than she was, and said jokingly ‘do you forgive me for it?’ ‘Of course.’ I set her at ease on this point, but yet the characteristic difference between us always strikes me. I am sure I should even shew twice as much as she really feels –

Went downstairs at 8 1/2 – Breakfasted etc. etc. Sat next Mrs Milne. Had been very properly attentive to her. Asked π [Mariana] if she was satisfied etc. etc. Said I would act as she liked but I could not decidedly change my manners to Mrs. M[ilne] unless my real acquaintance with her conduct might be acknowledged. She has been foolish again in corresponding with her cousin, Mr. Dannett. This was the thing Eli [Eliza Belcombe] alluded to when I was last in York –

Took leave, and off from the B– [Belcombe]’s (Dr. B– [Belcombe] had had rather a restless night but was nevertheless no worse). As the minster clock struck 10 found the horses to the mail at the Tavern door, to start at 10 1/4 instead of 10 3/f as I supposed – Asked the coachman to wait a minute or 2, and hurried into Micklegate – Only just time to wish then good by, and say I should be passing thro’ again in a fortnight or 3 weeks to spend a fortnight with M– [Mariana] at Scarbro’ –

Did not see Mrs. Duffin this morning – Miss M– [Marsh] whispered last night, she had had a paralytic affectation about a fortnight ago, and had been almost gone – I perceived no difference in her as I saw her sitting round the table last night – She did not attempt to move, but this being unnecessary, did not strike me – 

Got into the new mail, and drove off from the D– [Duffin]’s door at 10 1/2 – Only 1 gentleman besides myself – Beyond Tadcaster took up a nice decent elderly woman – I never uttered all the way – Wrapt in musing – Thought of π [Mariana] and the three steps business, then about my manners and appearance. Building castles about their improvement, elegance, engagingness, etc. etc. The good society I hope to get into, etc., etc. 

Thought of consulting Mr. Simmons, the surgeon. George Streetman, Chester. π [Mariana] consulted him. He feared some uterary of or belonging to the womb. Determine yet might judge from the effect of Scarbro whether Steph was right in supposing it merely weakness. He had treated her judiciously. She ought to be examined, but would not submit –

At Leeds at 1 – Got out for 1/4 hour and off again (from the Rose & Crown) at 1 20/60 – Beautiful day till we got to the New Dolphin Clayton heights, and from there to the Pine-apple

H–x [Halifax], a smartish, sunshiny shower – Got out at the Pine apple at 3 40/60 – Fair and fine immediately –

Got home at 4 – Went into the stable for a moment – Caradoc had gone on well – Then went into the house, and sat talking to my uncle and aunt till 5 40/60 – Then dressed for dinner – My father and Marian called in the evening, and staid till after 8 – I was absolutely asleep almost all the time –

Came up to bed at 9, at which hour Barometer 1 1/2 degree below changeable Fahrenheit 60º – Put by my things – Read the 1st 13 pages volume 1 Rousseau Confessions –

A bowel complaint. Dawdling to stick the pot up the chimney to prevent smell. Could not manage it. All this hindered and kept me up. E [three dots, times treating venereal complaint] O [three dots, signifying much discharge] A great deal on my linen. Saw it when I washed thoroughly before dinner, first with water then alum lotion –

[in margin] 

#Tuesday morning 26 August 1823 This is very well in its way, but she has more of it than love –

# Did not give the slightest hint of P[ickford]’s real character, nor does π [Mariana] at all suspect the truth. I merely said she was the most learned woman I knew and had therefore more penetration than the world in general – π [Mariana] thought she should feel under restraint before her –

[divine-motion]

don’t fucking interact if you ship t/cest and minor/adult ships

more shitty phone photos of sketchbook sketches for my tmnt fan incarnation/tmnt 2012 rewrite bc i have no shame and i’m having fun with it! pictures should have captions since i spent time writing them out, but tumblr might mess it up, so in case captions doesn’t work: 1. left to right: leo, donatello up, raphael down, michelangelo 2. Casey Jones up top, April O’Neil to the right, donatello in the middle and karai at the bottom 3. casey and don again, raphael to the left, mikey at the bottom just bc i liked how their their expressions turned out and didn’t want a bunch of negative space so don and case appear again 4. size chart featuring turtles. left to right: leo, don, mikey, raph 5. sketchy Slash design. big boy.

general thoughts character stuff below the Keep Reading. A Lot of rambling below so beware!!

April: 15 years old, trans and bi. local fifteen year old telepath finds out that not everyone is able to feel what other people are feeling, something she’s been able to do since she was six after she played in that one weirdly glowy puddle (early Kraang mutagen attempt that only managed to mutate April in the sense that it gave her telepathy, was originally intended to make humans become part of the Kraang hivemind). she’s largely unfazed by the existence of mutants and aliens, taking it in stride, and finds out about the Kraang - and meets the turtles - while snooping around TCRI business (aspiring journalist that she is) and accidentally witnessing the mutation of Snakeweed. her telepathy, which later as she grows in power alongside the turtles extends to telekinesis and basically possession, is very useful whenever she gets into a scrap since she can predict what moves her opponent will make, thus letting her dodge their blows effectively. personality wise she is a very determined and driven young girl, incredibly curious (and cannot mind her own business, she wants to know all the drama while not having to be part of it... which makes her very fortunate to be a telepath. listen she’s 15 she’s allowed to misuse her powers a little bit. as a treat.), playful, and cheerful, and she’s an extroverted autistic. in her spare time between her studies, she likes to play bass, sing, read, and write. that, and investigating whatever shady business is going on in town, and she makes it very clear to the turtles that even if they weren’t going to deal with the Kraang, she’d continue to try to stop them herself. she would like to not live under the threat of her or her loved ones getting mutated, thank you very much! and, you know, it’s kind of exciting. kind of.

i know it’s bc i have brain issues when it comes to parent figures but i am very much leaning towards Splinter not being... a good dad. i don’t think 2012 Splinter is a good dad anyways but i’d probably amp it up, make him a mix of 2012 and idw probably. i’m still mulling it over but like, remember in the season 1 finale when leo is watching his show and thinks the captain guy making a totally unnecessary sacrifice is a heroic move, and then Splinter tells leo (his fifteen year old child) that leo should know what or who to sacrifice, more or less telling him to sacrifice his brothers’ lives, potentially?? i know there was a lot at stake but hello??? i remember watching it and being like me: ah i see, this is showing that splinter is wrong and there is no need for any sacrifices as seen in the show when the captain Goes Down With His Ship for no reason other than just sacrificing himself, and leo will see that- leo: *tries to sacrifice himself twice in the finale, both times being kind of unnecessary/seemed like if he had just hurried or done something slightly different there would be no need to stay behind, and he gets out fine with no consequences, seemingly no injuries, and does Not learn anything, his brothers don’t even get sad when they think he died or get mad at him for pulling such a dumb move) me: surprised_pikachu.jpeg

like that moment haunts me. has any other splinter told their sons to sacrifice himself or his brothers? has any other splinter put that on them??? idw doesn’t count if he has bc he’s more explicitly supposed to be bad so???

sometimes writers think they’ve made an uncle iroh but they really, really, really haven’t. also his backstory is the same as in the show

anyways. Donatello: 15 years old, bog turtle, nonbinary (he/they, doesn’t mind being called brother but doesn’t like to be called “boy” or “girl” or whatever), bi. he isn’t in love with April. no creepy incel shit here. donnie is instead more like a mix between his Rise and 2003 self. he has trouble expressing himself and is pretty introverted, but he is very altruistic, kind, and compassionate. a lot of his inventions are made to help people and he was driven to learn about science and engineering because he wants to find a way to reverse splinter’s mutation, to give splinter his life and humanity back. he feels like he needs to know if splinter would just abandon them if he wasn’t a huge rat man, needs to know if there’s any part of splinter that blames them for being constant reminders of his mutation. other than that, he also likes to make inventions because he’s a dreamer and wants to experiment to see how much of the unknown he can push beyond. also, the best liar out of the turtles. also fairly good at compromising and prefers to solve conflicts without violence he can get a little... “obnoxious 15 year old genius” at times. even when he’s helpful it can come off as a bit “poor dear isn’t as smart as me”, and while he usually gets along well with Raph, he doesn’t handle Raph’s temper well at all (calls him “Wrathael/Wrath” and thinks he’s being super clever) and gets really dismissive of Raph’s “outbursts”.

Michelangelo: 13 years old, diamondback terrapin, unsure about the gender and sexuality thing but he doesn’t think he’s exactly cis and definitely not straight. a bouncy ball of sunshine and surprising emotional maturity and emotional intelligence! more so than his emotionally constipated brothers, at least. it’s on his thirteenth birthday (it was leo’s idea for them to pick dates that would let them have their own birthdays instead of sharing the “Mutation Day”, Mutation Day being another special “holiday”) that the Plot would be set in motion, as he’s finally allowed to go to the surface same as his brothers, and on this first night out they meet April and the Kraang and other mutants. he is a goof still, but he’s capable in his own right and gets frustrated when people treat him like a baby or an idiot because he’s not. he doesn’t always treat everything with the seriousness it should but like. he’s thirteen, he’s having fun. even so, he’s very insistent of taking responsibility whenever he does do something wrong and gets mad if someone tries to take the blame for something he’s done. definitely the most compassionate and empathetic out of the turtles, he’s quick to make friends and is very persuasive due to his earnest nature and good heart. much like donnie, he prefers to solve conflict without violence but does enjoy knocking skulls a lot more than donnie. unlike donnie, though, he is almost overly forgiving and not petty at all. he’s well aware that his kindness and forgiveness may be taken advantage of, but he still likes to approach people with an open hand, even if he knows that it may end up getting bitten. oh, and his hobbies include drawing, cooking, singing, and dancing. he likes to express himself!

Raphael: 14 years old, mississippi map turtle, trans, bi. all his fury is compressed within his tiny body, that’s why he’s so angry all the time! no, he’s not angry all the time, but he does have a short fuse. he absolutely hates his anger issues which leads to a lot of self-loathing, and a lot of frustration as his family members either don’t take his anger seriously or don’t have the tools to help him with it. he’s the physically strongest out of the bunch and the least agile. he loves animals and plants a lot and keeps a lot of flowers in his room, hoping that he can one day become a gardener. as his idw self, he wants to watch things grow, but no matter what he does he seems to be best at destroying things. he’s also the one most self-conscious about how the human world perceives them, as he greatly fears rejection, and is the first one to see something positive with people getting mutated - namely, that maybe this way mutants will be more well known and finally accepted by society, so he’ll no longer be trapped in the sewer until the end of his days. so yeah, he’s a huge optimist, in truth. also he’s great at knitting - great at creating and taking care of things in general - and there’s no leo and raph rivalry this time around. he can get mad at leo but not really more than he gets with his other brothers.

Casey: 15 years old, nonbinary (they/them), bi. teen vigilante who gets inspired to fight mutants and the big time criminals (no beating up pickpockets or shoplifters or whatever, just the ones that are really hurting people) and gets roped into the turtle fam after meeting raph and becoming unexpected friends (everyone was expecting it, once Casey realized that mutants are people and not weird monsters. well, not all the time, anyways). they struggle a bit in school not because of a lack of trying but a lack of time, as their parents work full time jobs and someone has to take care of casey’s little sister. their parents are very loving, but they only have so much time, so casey takes it upon themselves to take care of their little sister when their parents are busy and/or burned out from work. that, and they run into the classic dilemma of vigilante work clashing with school work. as always, they have a short fuse, they’re pretty cocky, they like beating ass, and they like hockey a whole lot. hockey, vigilante work, school, and taking care of their little sister... yeah, they have a lot on their plate. oh, and making their little inventions like the taser glove and their puck bombs, something that they bond with donnie over.

Leonardo: 17 years old, Central American wood turtle, trans, gay. he doesn’t fall in love with his sister oh my god. ahem. so, leo is raised from the start to be a Leader and has to mature very quickly, learning to be an adult way earlier than he should’ve, and as such he is very stoic and quiet, and doesn’t seem to have any hobbies, instead just doing chores and training almost constantly, and when he’s not doing that he’s reading or sleeping in his free time. he’s incredibly protective of his younger brothers and his other allies/friends, even if he acts distant and detached most of the time, and removes himself from situations where they’re having fun to not be the stick in the mud. he loves his brothers and admires them greatly, believing they could be So Much if the surface world would just accept them, and as a result he tries to be The Soldier so his brothers won’t have to. alas, they still get caught up in the Kraang and Shredder business, which frustrates him internally. he is the best fighter out of the turtles on account of having more years to train (and convincing Splinter to wait a few more years before they got Real training bc Come On Dude They’re Kids) but it’s the Only thing he’s good at, along with stealth and his sharp eyes. he absolutely sucks at talking when it isn’t about a mission or something he can script easily in his head. in his mind, he’s supposed to be more of a weapon than a person, an idea that isn’t exactly encouraged by Splinter... but not exactly discouraged either. his arc would be very paralleled with Karai’s, as they would both learn to hate their dads... also, absolutely down for murder, and a lawful neutral at best, putting his family and friends’ safety above all other things and following a strict personal code. doesn’t care too much for society’s laws, though.

Karai: 16 years old, demigirl, lesbian. same backstory as in the show, she’s born as Miwa but gets taken by Oroku Saki and raised as his daughter. however, she doesn’t exactly want revenge against Hamato Yoshi because she believes that he killed her mother. she never knew her mother, so it’s much more difficult to hate someone for taking her mother away, even if it does mean that she never got to know her mother. especially since her father rarely spoke of what her mother was like, and much more about how much he hates Yoshi. instead, her need for revenge is more for the possibly idyllic life she was robbed of, since she believes that maybe, just maybe, her father Saki would’ve been a kind father that would’ve let her have a normal childhood and not be molded into a warrior from the start if her mother still lived. and hey, maybe Tang Shen would be a nice mom too. being trained in the art of deception, Karai has a tendency to talk a lot and say very little, or at least very little that is true. she is rarely ever sincere and acts as if she’s taking nothing seriously, which is part of her defense mechanism to never let anyone close or see her true self. she mocks pretty much everyone, ally and enemy alike, but especially likes to make fun of her father’s henchmen and is always the first to point out their failures. while she does value honor to some extent, she is a bit “flimsy” when it comes to loyalty, especially after the truth about her father is revealed. when that is revealed, she at first just feels very numb, learning that not only has she been nothing but a tool and a weapon for the Shredder from the very start, but also that the idyllic fantasy where her mother still lived, perhaps her life wouldn’t be so different after all. she looks at leonardo and sees a reflection of herself, that her “real” father chose to train his sons the same way the Shredder trained her. she feels stupid for feeling like she’s been robbed of even a fantasy, but it still enrages her. of course, this also inspires her to stay with the Foot Clan... just to get the kill on Shredder.

... yeah. that got long. ahem. i’m very passionate about this unfortunately!! anyways i might draw/write more for it because no one can stop me and i’m having fun

[everydayanth]

Question re: cultural appropriation: I am Vampirically WhiteTM (I combust/evaporate if exposed to sunlight over 5 seconds), but I sometimes do *all* my hair in tiny, uneven plaits that don't hug my scalp. Answers on various forums seem to only distinguish between big/sparse braids & Black hairstyles, so there isn't a nuanced answer for, "This style isn't Cornrows but I *do* use all my hair." [1/2]

The intention *isn't* to cuddle up as closely to traditionally African styles as possible, but rather so I can take the braids out 3 days later to poof up like a lion/Princess Merida. Humans are a braiding, weaving species, I really do like doing this thing, & I'm not always of the mindset that just b/c something *might* be problematic, I should just bend to my anxieties/White Guilt. Am I still sending the wrong message with my style? [2/2]

Honestly, I have to start by saying I’m a white female, so the action/consequence of this process holds no harm over me and therefore my answer cannot speak for the people (black, specifically women) being potentially appropriated. I can only speak of my own development and understanding of appropriating black culture, specifically with hair.

I grew up in a “black neighborhood” (a problematic concept in itself) and in school, we sat in a train-line of girls during read-aloud and braided each others’ hair. I learned to braid black hair by 2nd grade. We were kids, we saw the differences in our phenotypic traits, but we adapted and didn’t mind much. One time a friend tried oiling my hair and it did not end well, lol, I was a greasy mop the whole day. Braiding was culturally relevant to us as friends, but also to me as an individual: my mom would braid my hair on her good days. In the summer, she would put my hair in many tiny loose braids, similar to what you described, not cornrows, but small braids because it was hot and we didn’t have ac and it was an easy solution. We were judged accordingly based on uniform and size and I distinctly remember the day I learned about the use of a long pinky nail, lol. I didn’t think about it much until I got to high school, then college and studied social science and talked to POC friends there and really began to understand the problems. 

It’s not the act of wearing your hair in a particular style, we humans learn from each other, we copy, we reproduce, we recreate, and we do it for decoration and efficiency or usefulness. Every culture plays with hair and braids and for every example of appropriation, someone has a counter example perceived to be “their ancestors” or some sort of genetic heritage (”I’m 1/32 Native”) giving them rights to partake in a specific kind of decoration or practice. But that’s not the issue. The issue is that when black people, specifically black women, wear their hair in braids, they are treated disrespectfully by our society, while when white people, specifically women, wear locs or braids, they are often rewarded for being worldly or exotic or interesting. 

There is not a common consensus; “black people” are not made of a uniform opinion, and whether something is problematic or offensive varies from one person to another. Appropriation, however, is a little easier to spot because it comes with a reward to some but with a punishment to the people who owned, initiated, or historically created or utilized a thing in the same way.

Black hair and hairstyles have been historically degraded, and its easy to think we live in a better world, but when Kim Kardashian wears “boxer braids” it becomes a trend, while Sasha Obama’s braids were criticized or attributed to past trends rather than her own rich ancestry. When Zendaya shows up in beautiful dreads and dressed to the nines, she is met with racist remarks, while Christina Aguilera’s were considered an “urban” phase.

Appropriation comes from capitalizing off something that isn’t yours, or that you can remove from your identity should the oppressor challenge you (thus why “white-passing” is often part of the conversation). Actively fighting against it means educating yourself on histories of oppression and abuse, modern social perspectives of white privilege, and what we do with all those pieces. 

Black girls are sent home from school or suspended all the time for wearing their hair naturally, in traditional styles, or in styles like weaves that make black hair easier to manage in a non-African climate. Loose braids worn by black girls are still condemned in schools today, while white girls back from Jamaica go unpunished and their braids and beads remain a symbol of money, experience, and privilege. Black men, as well as black LGBTQ+ individuals, are also judged harshly by different (often white-dominated) groups for their own styles and are definitely part of the conversation. 

Understanding the role of hair in culture and seeing the ongoing inequality is the most important thing we can do. Ideally, someday, we live in a world where we can all do what we want so long as it doesn’t harm another person, but we do not live there, and BIPOC are much more subjected to policing of their images, bodies, and especially hair than white people. 

Hair dressers learn white hair by default, not both, most kids never learn about different hair textures or the evolutionary purpose for the differences, they simply learn that one majority group can do whatever they like without negative reinforcement, while the other must adhere to strict rules to emulate the look of the majority with chemicals, expensive tools, and treatments, or be mocked, judged, degraded, and not able to participate in society without fear or ridicule of their personhood, their bodies, their natural selves, as well as the potential loss of job security, violence, or harsher social punishments, like ostracization, being jailed, or murdered by police without consequence. How a majority identifies an “other” has historically included hair texture and style as well as skin color.

Personally, I think intent matters. I don’t braid my hair anymore as a public style. Sure, I braid clumps of it while watching TV or hanging out around the house if I want something of a uniform wave (my mom has type 3 and my dad has type 2 and I got a franken-head of both lol), but I don’t wear many braids as a style out in public. Wearing braids as a young kid made me look like the girls in my class, it connected me to the people around me, and I was subjected to judgement by the black moms based on quality (at least those who spoke up, again, I was a child). I was blending, but when I got to high school, I realized that wearing braids brought an attention with it - oh, you’re interesting, or pretentious, but for my POC friends, employers made them remove braids. They heard condescending things like “your hair is too ghetto” while I began to hear that I was the “ghetto friend, wow so cool and cultured and street smart.” It was always insulting, but one is shittier (you know which one) because it is only condescending, and seeks to erase culture and judges based on racist biases.

If we normalize black hairstyles through popular trends, that seems like a good thing, right? But if white people are the ones normalizing it, then the agency of black people has been taken away from the black communities and restored through a white-savior complex. Not free will or choice, but through the appropriation of their own culture which then replaces the act of demonstrating culture (like wearing braids) as an act of the oppressor mocking and being praised. 

I know or plenty of white girls who wore braids or dreads or black hairstyles as a counter-culture identifier, in the way of popular artists and celebrities, but also activists and stoners appropriating Rastafarian culture. This makes black culture a counter-culture instead of an aspect of American culture or black culture within America that is respected and valued inherently. It otherizes, fetishizes, and tokenizes black culture, takes advantage of the current racist system and white privilege/bias, and gains an aesthetic. That is an intent to appropriate for social gains, and it’s all over the music industry and Hollywood. 

At the end of the day, I don’t think my opinion here can matter, I’m not harmed by your action. Braids are braids and I have a... not-normal history of exposure and love of black hair that most white girls don’t, but even then, I had to grow and listen and understand the nuances of my environment and the society around it. Is it different wearing styles in the middle of nowhere with no social interactions vs. posting on social media or interacting in society? Yeah, I think it is.

So I suppose the sum of the parts is:

Are you benefitting socially from wearing your hair this way? If so, then yeah, that’s sucky for the BIPOC people being pushed down for doing the same and is harmful appropriation. How you measure that seems to depend on intent, so the bias of wanting to keep doing something you like has to be accounted for. 

Is your intent to fit an aesthetic? If so, yeah, definitely a problem. 

Reflect on why you like doing this, what is it you gain or feel or imbibe or get out of the experience in the first place? I’d say at the end of the day, know the history of oppression that exists in America and around the world. Being aware and able to identify appropriation in media, pop culture, and everyday life, as well as the history of it, allows you to be an ally.

And finally, do you listen to what people are saying?

If/when people say things about your hair, understand that you are a social exception to the style and address it. I do think there is a responsibility to engage in these conversations when we ride the line of these grey areas, like when culture is shared with us, to what extent we participate and own it is 100% dependent on that relationship. Be willing to hear black people if they say it is uncomfortable, listen to what they mean, have a conversation about it and be willing to let go of a thing you want if that is the feedback you get.

I think a lot of appropriation comes from the denial of history and the ignorance of oppression. If Kim K made a statement that said “these aren’t boxer braids, they are cornrows, worn by African American women for centuries, mocked and ridiculed by white culture, but have been an efficient way to manage African textured hair in the new climate environment of the Americas when forced here as slaves. Many were forcibly shaven, but for those who were allowed to express themselves in small subtle ways as slaves, through jim crow, and even today, the decoration and design of cornrows was and is incredibly meaningful.” That’s a different conversation about appropriation, that’s using privilege and platform without placating or denying the experiences of others to educate and address appropriation, rather than solely profiting off the attention and claiming to create a “trend.” Black hair is beautiful and should be appreciated and allowed to be as bold or big as an individual wants it to be. 

Hair is one of the coolest, most useful phenotypic traits of thermoregulation in humans/primates, and science still has a few questions yet to research regarding the evolution of different textures and colors. Your own hair texture can change over time, as you grow, especially in women, depending on hormones, especially through pregnancy, nutrition, and chemical treatments like chemotherapy, as well as genetics, and even environmental changes in water hardness, haircare routine and treatment materials. 

With slavery, migrations, immigrations, and other historic and contemporary movements of humans comes the issues of adaption and change to fit the new environment, fighting forced assimilation, colonization, denial of cultural expression, and active racism. We need to be able to talk about these aspects of race in society and listen if and when people say what we are doing is harmful. I think the most important thing to do is educate ourselves on the purpose, history, and meaning of a thing, particularly if we are gaining positive attention from it while others suffer for it. Talk to people of color around you who are willing to offer an opinion, and listen to them. Research the history and speak up when you see the double standard in practice. 

My line is here: if I can find evidence of a POC being criticized for a style (and it’s not my natural hair), I’m not going to wear that style in public or on social media, but I am going to praise it, and criticize those racist comments degrading or demeaning it, I will champion it and demand schools do away with discriminating hair policies, and ask my library to spend money on children’s books about black hair, and do the work of finding black people voicing their opinions, or having a vulnerable and authentic conversation with a friend, then listen and make a judgement from there. If the consensus is that the style is harmful and you continue to wear it, then yeah I’d say that’s a pretty bad message that says: I just don’t care, I want to do this so I will. 

This follows a moral judgement for me: if you love someone and they tell you a thing you do is actively harming them and show you evidence of the harm (as in: it’s not just annoying, but actually harmful to them), but you continue to participate in the thing, that’s not love. I can’t fully picture the specific style, and I don’t know your intent or if/how you gain from the style, so I’m having a hard time forming a full opinion. Is this a style that has been addressed by black communities as harmful? Is it a few different styles put together? Are you in a diverse place, are you criticized for the look, is it even a look to you? 

Personally, I’d say it rides too close to the line for my own comfort and I wouldn’t be wearing a multi-braid style in public (as in more than two, I rock the french-braid pigtails while hiking because its easier to find ticks), but again, I’m not someone who would be being harmed by it. I often try to resist judgement of strangers’ hair unless I know them and their background or platform, because I don’t know their culture, ancestry, or heritage, so I don’t hold others in society to the same standard as myself.

I’d love to hear other peoples’, particularly POC, opinions and experiences with hair and appropriation. 

If there are a few un-uniform braids, is it different than many uniform loose braids, what about compared to cornrows, where is your personal line? Is it different from your social line? How would you judge or hold people accountable in society?

P.s. Thanks for asking and trying to learn more about the potential social impact you are having. I think that’s a great step toward a more equal world that can appreciate culture without taking advantage of others. It sounds like you’re trying to do your research to learn more about whether your action is having a negative consequence, and I appreciate you taking the time to be vulnerable and research and question yourself. I think that also has to be rewarded.

[dyaz-stories]

Inuvember 2019: Day 28 — Modern AU: Pregnant from a one night-stand AU

One — Two

Tagging list: @cammysansstuff​ @tsukinohimeusagi​ @umacaking​ @inuyashaeienni​ @coquinespike​ @freshlypickledpancakes @simply-zerah​ @shinidamachu​ @digital-art-monster​ @sailorbabydoll92​ @sweetchcolate @clearwillow​ @zelink-inukag​ @cstorm86​ @danycontreras90​ @redflamesofpassion​ @lost-amidst-the-stars​ @eternalnight8806-3​ @desiree239​ @keichanz​ @ashleys-canvas​ @mustardyellowsunshine​ @meggz0rz​

Kagome had everything ready to go when Inuyasha knocked on her door, Hoshiki in her arms and his bags on the floor. She had probably overdone it a little with her preparations. She knew, of course, that Inuyasha had a lot of things at his place, and she certainly didn’t want to upset him by implying he wouldn’t be able to take care of the kid properly. On the other hand, well, she was letting her son go for the night. She had only left him with her own mother before, and this felt… very much like a separation.

“Hi!” she greeted Inuyasha happily nonetheless. “You didn’t have any trouble finding the place?”

Inuyasha took a hesitant step in as Kagome walked back, glancing around carefully. The place was really small, probably smaller than his own, but unlike his, it was filled with stuff. Whether it was the food spilling out on the shelves in her minuscule kitchen, the plants near the window, or the bright carpet on the ground, the place felt… alive. Actually lived in.

“Do you want something to drink?” Kagome offered, and his eyes found her again.

She seemed to fit in here perfectly, and he couldn’t help but feel that he definitely didn’t. Not in here, not in her world, not in her life.

“Sure,” he said, awkwardly walking in after oscillating for a while on her door step. “Just some water’d be nice.”

His instincts were screaming at him to get out of here already but, well, he had to be civil, didn’t he? He couldn’t just run away from any interactions with her on what he perceived as her territory.

She complied quickly, handing him a glass of water, while Hoshiki, safely balanced on her hip, watched his father intensely. He wasn’t the most vocal kid, except perhaps when he was hungry, but you could see in his lovely, golden eyes just how much was going on inside his mind.

“Hey kiddo,” Inuyasha grinned, reaching out to rub his hair, careful not to bend his ears too much, “you ready?”

Kagome chuckled lightly as Hoshiki made an attempt to lift his head to meet his father’s hand. God they were cute. She didn’t know precisely what it was, though she could guess that Hoshiki recognized his smell one way or another, but the fact that he trusted the man made her feel safer. Sometimes, briefly, she wondered if it was a good thing, to let him into their life when she knew so little of him. And then she saw the look in her son’s eyes, she looked at them together, with their golden eyes, their white hair, their dog-ears, and she decided that yes, it was. Something that brought her child that much joy could only be good.

“Are ya moving or something?” Inuyasha asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her floor.

Ah. Shit.

“No, I— I might have over prepared a little bit.”

“Can see that.” He didn’t look too happy about it, and she felt a painful stab of guilt through her chest. She’d feared that exact reaction. “I have a lot of that stuff already, though. I prepared, too.”

He sounded dejected, and Kagome really wished she could have done something to stop her very stressed self from just a couple of hours ago. She noticed the same behavior she saw in her son, particularly the ears flattening against his head, and it was a completely instinctive reaction for her to rest her hand on his arm. He blinked at her, and though she felt weird about it, she guessed she should be happy she hadn’t purely and simply hugged him.

Were they in a situation where they could hug? Or even touch, for that matter? They did have a child together but… Ah, this was way too strange.

She removed her hand hesitantly.

“The only person I’ve ever let him with is my mom,” she explained honestly, “and even then, I was never away from him for more than a couple of hours. So I… worried.”

Inuyasha swallowed. He could understand that, technically, but he also couldn’t help the suspicion building up in him. Kagome was, well, frankly, more than he would ever even dare to hope could exist in a human, in terms of kindness and compassion. She was a dream come true.

She was way too good to be true.

He looked for a flaw, for a point where he would see the real her, who couldn’t possibly be that nice to everyone, because no one was, ever, shine through.

It wasn’t fair, though. He couldn’t hold her to those standards. It was tempting, because parts of him worried that living with a human parent, who couldn’t fully understand the struggle of being half, could really raise a child who’d suffer from it his entire life, but he shouldn’t do it.

“Ya really think I’d have a kid at my place if I didn’t have diapers there?” he asked, voice strained, but still trying to bring some humor to the situation. He didn’t really want her to notice his reaction, either. Well, clearly she already had, but she didn’t need to know how it made him feel exactly.

Civil. He just had to be civil with her. He shouldn’t be disappointed in her for something so dumb. All that should matter to him was that she took care of Hoshiki, and that she obviously did. Anything else was none of his business.

“Of course not! And I’ve been to your place, I know you have those, I just…” she looked at Hoshiki, pouting a little. “It’s gonna be weird without him around.”

“’s just for the night,” Inuyasha vaguely tried to comfort her. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I know you’re right, it’s just… It’s still going to be weird.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, before Kagome managed to swallow the sobs that were suddenly building up. She was saying goodbye to her son for the night, not leaving him forever, for God’s sake! She really needed to get a grip.

“Erm, so there are the diapers, and there’s a bag of clothes, and another one for food, and his portable crib, which, yeah, I know you have one, and a first-aid kit, just in case, and…”

“Kagome,” he interrupted her. “We’ll be fine. I swear.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry! I promise I won’t be like that next time.”

Inuyasha chose to ignore the way his heart fluttered when she said ‘next time’. He’d thought this was some sort of trial, but the fact that her mind seemed to be already made up was surprisingly nice.

“You’re doing great, you know?”

He looked at her, searching for any indication that she was joking, that she was making fun of him, that she was preparing to yell “Gotcha!” to his face.

There was none.

“Really—”

“No, Inuyasha, I mean it. I know you have books on parenting at your place, and I know you have a crib and diapers and I’m sure you have everything you need too. I’m freaking out a little but— You’re doing a great job.”

He let out a long breath. He hadn’t realized he wanted her approbation so badly. But here she was, letting him inside her kitchen, entrusting him with Hoshiki, smiling at him like he was actually a person, not worried about what he might do to her, just because half-demons were supposedly mindless beasts.

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Guess I’ll just—”

“Yes, of course! Here, take him.”

She watched with fascination how careful and gentle he was, as always, when she handed him Hoshiki. It wasn’t something you would have expected from him, really. Whether it was his looks, the way he talked, the way he moved, everything about him was rough, rugged. Weathered and toughened by time, no doubt, and yet he was capable of such kindness, such softness, and Kagome felt something inside her melting.

“Ya won’t mind if I don’t take all of this, right?” he asked her, gesturing to the numerous bags on the ground, oblivious to what she was thinking about.

“God, yes,” she sighed, laughing awkwardly. “Just take the food and the first-aid kit, maybe? I’m sure you’ll be fine without the rest.”

“Yeah.”

He seemed to hesitate, and she noticed his eyes were on the bag of clothes. It only took her a second to know where his mind was going.

“Next time, for the rest, maybe,” she said gently.

He looked up at her and cleared his throat, glancing away almost immediately after meeting her eyes, embarrassed for getting caught. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that. C’mon now, buddy,” he said, leaning forward so Hoshiki would be closer to her, “say goodbye to your mom.”

Hoshiki didn’t need to be told twice, and Kagome laughed when his little arms came in contact with her face. She lovingly dropped several kisses on the top of his head, making him giggle. Oh, she missed him terribly already. It would be so weird to actually be without him. She wasn’t sure she liked the thought all that much.

Scratch that, she was certain she hated the thought and she wanted to keep her kid by her side forever. Or, well, until he was three, at least.

“You’re gonna have to let go of him, y’know? Otherwise we’ll just stay here.”

She sighed. She knew that, dammit. She pressed one last kiss on Hoshiki’s forehead, and then, because he was there, because he was so close, because it just felt right, because it was natural, she kissed Inuyasha’s cheek, softly.

She watched the way his features transformed, going from mocking amusement to utter confusion. She watched as he started to frown, almost feared that he would lash out, and then as his face softened, in a way that almost took her breath away. She’d seen him look at Hoshiki, but seeing him looking at her like this made her simply freeze in place.

He opened his mouth. He wanted to say something. He needed to say something. The tenderness, the kindness of the gesture, and perhaps just a little the feeling of her lips on his skin and the sudden closeness of her smell had pierced right through him, and he felt like he had to comment on that.

But what would he say? Sorry I ran?

Keh. A little late for that. His own actions had cost him a year in the life of his son, and he could only imagine that it hadn’t been a walk in the park for her either. He had to deal with that.

The moment disappeared, and Kagome buried her hands in her pocket, looking at the floor awkwardly.

“Thanks for leaving him with me,” Inuyasha said, his throat still a little tight.

“Sure! Sure. You two have fun, okay?”

“’m sure we will. Bye, Kagome.”

“Bye.”

She waved at them energetically while they walked down the hallway, Hoshiki looking at her with curious eyes, and a long sigh escaped her the second they disappeared. For a second, in there… They’d felt like a family. And it was stupid of her to think of anything like that, since Inuyasha and her had been brought together only by circumstances, but… But she kind of wanted that.

Well, hope couldn’t hurt, right?

[jade4813]

Sparks Fly, Chapter 13

Title: Sparks Fly

Rating: NC-17

Synopsis: Everybody knows sparks fly whenever Barry Allen and Iris West are together. Their mutual animosity is legendary. But when Iris returns to Central City to investigate recent sightings of a mysterious red streak, she discovers a hero she just can’t resist…and Barry struggles to hide the unrequited feelings he can’t deny.

Chapters: 13/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Iris struggled to her feet, unable to fully comprehend the sight of her father before her. Wait…her father? Was it really? It looked like him, but there was something ever so slightly off. It looked like him, and it sounded like him. But it didn’t feel like him. “Dad?” she ventured again, more cautiously. Her eyes narrowing, she took a step back, her voice more confident as she declared, “You’re not my father.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Who are you?”

He smiled, but there was no real emotion behind it. “That’s not easy to explain.” He stood, but when she tensed, he didn’t approach. “I am the speed force, the source of Barry Allen’s powers. The source of all speedster’s powers. In my natural state, I have no real form that you could perceive. I took this face because I thought it might be easier for you to accept what I have to tell you if it came from someone you trust.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re wrong. I don’t know who – what – you are, but you…he was my father! How dare you?”

Joe disappeared, and she heard Barry’s voice behind her. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Is this face better?”

Iris spun around so fast, she staggered to the side. Her breath caught in her throat. The person in front of her looked exactly like him, but there was no warmth in his eyes. She didn’t even realize how accustomed she was to seeing it – even during those years that she and Barry swore they hated each other – until it was gone. She felt a sharp pain in her heart, like she was being stabbed in the chest, and she pressed her hand against the invisible wound. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

The speed force personification in the form of Barry looked sad. “You have to understand. I chose Barry Allen. I gave him my power. And, in return, he creates me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she pointed out with a frown.

She didn’t know if the speed force could be perturbed, but it certainly didn’t seem to be made so by the reminder of its own illogic.

“I know. Eobard brought you here because he hates Barry, and he wants to destroy the Flash. He knows the best way to do that is to kill you.”

“Why me?” she asked with a whisper. “I mean, I know that Barry and I are friends, but we’re barely even that. Or, at least, we haven’t been friends for very long. Is the Man in Yellow – Eobard, I assume – is he really from the future?” The speed force nodded, and Iris felt herself tear up at the confirmation of her greatest fears. “Then why me? Why is he trying to hurt me? I don’t have any powers. I could even hurt him! Why is he doing all this? Why did he kill my father? I’m a nobody!”

The speed force seemed to sigh. “Oh, Iris. You are the most important person in the world to the Flash. Eobard has never been able to defeat the Flash, but if he kills you, it would destroy him.”

Iris shook her head firmly. “No. That’s a lie. I already told you. Okay, so maybe we’re friends now, but we hated each other! For years! I’m not that important to Barry. Maybe things could have been different, if – well, that doesn’t matter. He may care about me, but he lived without me for years. He could go on now.”

The personification of Barry tilted his head and threw her a considering look. “Could he?” he mused. Heavy mist poured through the windows and doors, obscuring the walls around her until they disappeared completely from view. Alarmed, Iris gasped, feeling the urge to run, but she was surrounded. There was no place to go.

Then, in the mist around her, images formed. Her and Barry, repeated a hundred times. A thousand. Their voices swept around her, like water lapping over rocks, impossible to distinguish one from the next. But she found that as she focused on each couple, their voices became a bit more distinct, and she could make out their words.

“Iris. My Iris.”

“I love and trust you, Barry Allen, the Flash. And I always will.”

“- cutest nerd I know.”

“I Barry, take you Iris…”

“What is this?” she whispered, spinning around.

“These are other versions of you. You and Barry. In other worlds, other times. The number of possible realities is infinite, but the two of you are destined to fall in love in every one of them.”

“No,” she whispered, as the visions multiplied around her, their voices so loud they drowned out her thoughts.

“As long as I remember Iris, I’ll be all right.”

“-realize you’re wearing slippers?”

“You don’t drink coffee? Everyone in Central City drinks –”

“-twins!”

“Can’t a viable single lady ask an attractive young man out for lunch?”

“I loved you before I even knew what the word love meant.”

“You’re everything to me, and you always have been, and the sound of your voice will always bring me home.”

“No,” she tried again, but the speed force didn’t seem to hear her. She felt tears coursing down her cheeks, but as much as she wanted to close her eyes, deny the sight before her, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

“Marry me, Iris.”

“Iris, will you marry me?”

“All I wanna do is come runnin’ home to you…”

“-guess you’ll have to make an honest man out of me.”

“Marry me…”

“Iris, will you marry…”

“Marry…”

“Marr-”

“Stop it!” Iris yelled, pressing her hands against her ears to block out the rippling cascade of proposals that surrounded her. A thousand Barry Allens. A thousand Iris Wests. More. The force of their love was too much to withstand, washing over her. Crushing her under its weight. It was too much pressure. Too much expectation. She and Barry had barely had time to come to terms with the mistakes in their past; how was she supposed to deal with this? With destiny?

All of the visions of Barry and Iris disappeared. All but one. He looked so young. So carefree. An image of herself appeared before him, looking so innocent and trusting. Had she ever been that young?

“Dance with me?”

“Are you sure? I’m not a great dancer,” he replied, though he didn’t hesitate as he followed after her.

She wrapped her arms around him and started to move to a song that she could hear only in her memories. “Even better.”

There had been so much potential, so much promise in their meeting; it practically radiated off the ghostly figures before her. Iris wanted to pause this moment. Stop what she knew would happen next. Beg the younger version of herself to embrace this moment – to be stronger than the fear and doubt that would soon overwhelm her. Freeze time before the pain, the loss, the misunderstandings. Before the years of lost time and wasted opportunities. “Stop it, please,” she begged in a tortured whisper. “I-I don’t want to see this.”

“That was the moment, you know.” The voice, so familiar and yet somehow so alien, tore at her heart. She knew she would regret it, but she looked into the face that was so much like that of the man who had been a part of her heart for most of her life. Even before she realized it. Equal parts longing for him to continue and dreading to hear the words, she waited. He – it, she reminded herself – didn’t disappoint. “The moment he knew he wanted to marry you one day.” He paused and then explained in a soft voice, “You and Barry are destined for each other. You always have been.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Iris stumbled back a few feet. “No. Stop it. Stop it! Why are you doing this to me? I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask to be part of any destiny, and I don’t want it!”

He laughed, not unkindly, and when she opened her eyes, there seemed to be genuine affection in his eyes. He looked so much like the man she knew that, for a second, she could almost believe it was true. “Oh, Iris. You don’t understand. You think destiny means that you don’t have a choice, but that isn’t it at all. Loving Barry is your destiny because it is your choice. You choose each other. Time and time again.”

Figures appeared in the mist around her again, but it wasn’t another memory. This was a different Iris, a different Barry. But when they looked at each other, the love in their eyes made her ache.

“Are you ready to be Iris West-Allen?” the Barry in front of her asked softly. “I’ve always been Iris West-Allen. I’ve always been yours.”

Entranced by the vision before her, she stepped forward. Part of her hated the speed force for showing her this happier reflection of herself, but part of her yearned to see the truth of this love that could have been theirs. If only. But even as she moved, the vision melted away.

She turned to the figure beside her and almost choked at the sudden thickness in her throat, the burning sensation in her mouth, as she realized she hated the speed force in that moment. More than she could remember hating anyone, save possibly the Man in Yellow. How dare he – IT! – take on this form in front of her! How dare it wear the face of the man she was apparently born to love as it showed her the happiness that existed in every world but her own.

“How dare you? Don’t you wear his face!” she yelled, charging towards him. It. She raised her hands, wanting to strike, wanting to cause the figure before her the pain it had just bestowed upon her. “You don’t get to wear his face!” She didn’t know if she even could cause the speed force pain, but it didn’t matter. It disappeared again before she could make contact.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” it spoke softly behind her, once again bearing her father’s voice.

Just as quickly as it had overtaken her, Iris’s rage drained away, leaving her feeling…numb. She couldn’t summon her earlier denial – and certainly not her defiance. When she turned to the speed force, it was with a sense of defeat. “What do you want from me? Why are you even showing me all this?”

As she suspected, it had taken the form of her father, and a part of her wished she could curl up in his arms and pretend to herself that he could take her pain away as easily as he had when she was a little girl and everything in the world could be fixed with a kiss pressed gently atop a Band-Aid. “I’m showing you all this because you need to understand. You need to know what you are to Barry. What you always have been. Every person connected to the speed force has a lightning rod. You’re Barry’s lightning rod.”

“I don’t – lightning rod? I don’t understand. What does that even mean?”

“It means that I’m – that the speed force – is not just something that gives speedsters their powers. I am a part of them, and they are a part of me. Just like I created the Flash, and the Flash creates me in return. But that power is more than someone without that connection can control.”

Iris felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew what the speed force was trying to tell her, but she didn’t want to believe it. “Are you saying I’m in danger here? That if I don’t find a way back home, I’ll – I’ll die?”

“I would never hurt you. Not intentionally. But you were never meant to enter the speed force for very long. You are the one who brings Barry back. Not the other way around.”

The mist around her reformed into the vague shadow of a person, one hand stretched out in supplication. A faint echo of her own voice carried to her. “Barry. Barry come home to me.” The mist swirled, folding over and around the figure, and it dissipated into nothingness.

An expression of genuine sorrow crossed her father’s face as the speed force explained, “Iris, what I’m trying to tell you is that, if you stay here for very long, you may die. But without a lightning rod on the other side, I don’t know how to send you back where you belong.

[mojofun]

Where My Heart Lies (Loki x OC) - Chapter 3

While he is wreaking havoc, Loki runs into a woman that catches his eye, so he takes her with him. She doesn’t seem to mind at all. Will he let her see the darkest side of him though?

Hello :)

This is the third chapter of the story. Hope you guys enjoy

I’m tagging @mrsbellablythe​ and @queenofchaos7​ :)

Gif not mine, credits to @reinamorena26​

Loki was lost in his thoughts, walking toward the room reserved for Hayley. Well, stumbling, to be more precise.

He hadn’t been himself for weeks, and he could see it every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection; he felt it in his mind, in his emotions, in everything he was… Or no longer was.

He barely managed to keep up his usual facade of detachedness and teasing, his last resort to push away unwanted attention.

Hayley.

Truth be told, her affection fell in the exact opposite category, but what made him classify it as unwanted was the incredibly strong effect it had on him. His resolve was growing weaker day by day, and it was also thanks to the breathtaking brunette that he had not surrendered just yet.

The nights he spent with her were his escape, the sole moment he had to enjoy being himself, without having to hide that he actually had feelings.

Unfortunately, even that was about to change

“If you do not obey we will take that sweet, precious girl of yours. I’m sure the master will enjoy spending some time with her…”

The Other’s words rang ominously in his ears, making him walk faster and faster toward what had become his second bedroom. If only Hayley saw the one he actually slept in, she’d understand… And he couldn’t let her.

Especially after what the revolting creature had said; sure, there had not been any specific threat, but he would have preferred that, to be honest.

It was so vague, yet terrifying. Hearing it on repeat inside his mind, so faraway like a shout in space and yet so close, looming over their heads…

Her head. He was terrified.

The demigod feared both for her safety and for his heart, if what he had in his chest could still be described as such; Hayley always said -used to, at least: he no longer spent enough time with her as of late to enjoy a proper conversation- he had a heart of gold under his crusty exterior, but he never believed it…

As if to prove him wrong, the withered shred in his chest that once was a muscle began beating again, just for her. It began to beat for the amazing smiles she gave him, for the intensity in her chocolate eyes as she held his gaze, for the warmth he felt whenever he was next to her…

For the feeling of being loved for who he was, something that he had been denied for so long.

Now… Now he’d have to make her hate someone that wasn’t him.

He had to make her hate him, so she would leave.

Truth be told he was surprised she hadn’t already, given how badly he treated her. At first it had been heavenly, finally feeling something again, and something that was not pain. Then…

As time went by, it all spoiled; it began to hurt, badly.

The growing awareness of what he felt for her.

The rising fear for her safety.

The spiralling pain that she felt, and how it took him less and less effort to perceive it; it simply radiated from her.

He felt like a monster for putting her in danger, for making her suffer so much, and he wanted to kick himself for it all, for falling for her in the first place.

He thought back to the day he first met her and cursed himself for being so stupid; he should have never taken her with him. It was supposed to be a little fun, only that.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He felt even more selfish for that, but Hayley was the best thing that happened to him in a long time; one of the best things that ever happened to him in his entire life, he’d bet.

He knew that, without Hayley, everything would be a thousand times worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of her- not more than he already was, his subconscious reprimanded.

The thought of blaming her, of being angry because he could no longer think only of himself did not even cross his mind.

Who was his master, the Other or his love for Hayley? Yes, his feelings were beginning to be more of a torture than something to sustain him through the pain.

The trickster gritted his teeth, adjusting his hair to the best of his abilities. The sight of her door made his stomach flinch, and only a titanic effort saved him from retreat. He could have sworn he heard a voice in his ears, saying something about how she must mean much to him, if he was willing to put her needs before his.

A shudder ran down his spine; it wasn’t a voice but rather his own thoughts, that sounded more and more like the Other’s hissing each passing day.

No, he decided; what he felt for the feisty brunette was the only remaining beacon of light in his existence, and he had to protect it. Holding on to that conviction, the black-haired deity stepped inside the room without even knocking, taking on the coldest and most forbidding mask he could.

It proved to be a difficult task : the sight of the woman lying on his bed in a silver robe, snuggled against his pillow while she read a book almost did him in.

He harrumphed, effectively distracting her from the scribbles

<<Loki>> She called unenthusiastically, unawarely delivering a fatal blow to his already weak resistance. It was working: they were drifting apart.

Was it good or bad?

Not selfishness, but his anguish clung to the spunky female in desperation. Luckily, he was able to use that as a push in the right direction

<<Are you surprised to see me?>>

<<As a matter of fact I am>> She sighed, slamming the tome closed with a dull thud <<This visit is out of the normal schedule>>

<<You should no better than to question me>>

<<I stopped trying to understand a long time ago>> She shrugged.

He did not know how much of a lie that was, so the hurt he felt was real. Years of experience helped him turn it into anger.

With a grunt he stepped closer to her, yanking her against his chest before he slammed his lips against her. The woman basically melted in his embrace.

It made him think that maybe, just maybe, she liked him too.

That would be a huge problem.

But no, wait, his brain pointed out: if she felt for him even a fraction of what he felt for her, she would be fighting more.

More anger.

Yet, he did not manage to hate her. Not for making him love her nor for making him doubt everything he was.

He needed her, and the thought that he had to let her go tore him apart.

But he’d never let her know that.

He had one last time to enjoy her company, to try to make her understand what she was for him without actually telling her out loud. The rational part of him hoped she would not understand, never, but his heart screamed for her to help him, prayed that she would see right through his facade and help the soul that was withering inside. She did, a little, with her affection, but he needed more than that.

And he was forsaking any chance he had to ever obtain it.

_________________________________________________________

It happened a few hours later, when Hayley woke up a little too early for him to be gone. He could have used his powers, but weakness was taking over him and he chose not to.

Thus, the beautiful brunette caught him exactly when he was about to finish getting dressed; her reaction was everything he hoped for and nothing that he needed

<<So this is it, then>> She groused, glaring at him in the mirror he was looking himself into <<I do not even have the dignity of a whore>>

<<You have bed and board; what do you want more?>>

<<Things you do not understand, apparently>> The woman hissed, reaching for her robe and swiftly wrapping it around herself <<I won’t even try to make you>>

<<That’s surprisingly wise of you>>

<<Unlike anything else I’ve been doing lately>>

<<I’ll have you know I’ve been often called wise, and clever>>

<<Sneaky and mischievous more likely>> She hissed again

I wish you’d see who I really am

<<I am the god of mischief, after all>>

<<Yes, the god of lies. Apparently one of the tasks that come with this title is to make innocent people believe in absurdities>>

<<Oh, I wouldn’t call you innocent, darling>>

Hayley grinned sardonically, snorting uncouthly

<<You’re right, I’m not>>

<<And it’s exactly because of me>> The demigod mocked her.

She grew angry

<<You’re right again. You took everything from me: my innocence, my life, my h->> She suddenly trailed off, and he froze.

Was she about to say heart? Do I want her to say heart?

No. I could not let her go if she loved me

<<My home>> She finished and he sighed in relief, but the nagging voice inside his mind told him it was not what she really meant.

He chose to ignore it as best as he could

<<You can leave, if you don’t want to be here>>

The atmosphere stilled suddenly.

Hayley was frozen, trying to find another meaning to the harsh words he’d just uttered.

Loki felt the deep pangs of guilt, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. He asked himself why she couldn’t see through his lies, and he was reminded that she was, after all, a human, with no magical power.

It was ironic, terribly so, how being a frail human being brought her safety, while his supernatural nature signified his death, yet there they were

<<You brought me here>>

<<I have no need for you that I can’t satisfy with someone else>> Another huge lie that sounded so terribly convincing falling from his lips <<You are nothing more than a concubine, easily replaced>>

I didn’t know my powers included feeling true pain

Apparently they did, because as soon as he’d hissed those false insults a wave of agony washed over him; was it his or hers? He did not know anymore

Please, make her hate me. I won’t be able to let he go if there is even a small chance that she may feel something other than hatred for me

His plan seemed to be working. The glare in Hayley’s eyes grew more threatening than he’d ever expected from her, far more intimidating that he would have given her credit for

<<Fine. Since I’m so unwanted here, I will leave>>

<<I won’t be taking you back, darling>>

No, he wouldn’t. Not just because he couldn’t -given his “pact” with the Other and so on, but also because a small part of him was still calling out to her.

The brunette shrugged, glaring at him fiercely. The determination that oozed from her was impressive

<<I do not need you, I never have>>

He snorted

<<I’m looking forward to see how you’ll be able to escape>>

_________________________________________________________

He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a challenge, but she apparently took it as such. During one of the experiments he and his soldiers, so to say, were conducting with the Tesseract to create a portal to the Earth, she somehow snuck up on them and ran through the passage before anyone could stop her, fighting off a few guards in the process.

Loki silently cried out in relief: she was free; she would be safe.

His heart, instead, cried out in pain

She’ll never want to speak to me, to be close to me… I’ll never see her again

[questionablygourmet]

Rewatch meta: mirrors, connections, and intrusion in Aperitif & Amuse-Bouche

This is the first of what is intended to be a series of analytical posts based on what sticks out to me as I do a close rewatch of the show, roughly 1-3 episodes at a time.  This first one will mainly focus on the introduction of major motifs and thematic elements in the show; future posts may follow in that vein or just whatever else about the episodes gets me thinking.

-------

One of the aspects of the show that makes it such a vibrant experience, and lends vibrancy in turn to analysis and transformative works in fandom is its rich use of motif in how it communicates what is important and what is going on with the characters and in the narrative.  The first two episodes are set up: they present to us the main characters along with the essentials of who they are, and they’re the opening sally of (some of) major themes and motifs.

Mirrors 

Okay, the first thing I’m going to talk about here is not actually the aspect that got it included in this section, but I must: right before our very first look at Hannibal Lecter, we pan up his table and see fruit on a platter, mirrored in the polished surface of the wood. The fruit was the first thing that caught my eye, because of course it did, pomegranates being a pervasive motif in the fandom, and it’s an interesting layout: there are strong mythological associations for pomegranate (Hades & Persephone, etc) and figs (Dionysus, etc).  Strawberries, somewhat less so; they are often associated with love, fertility, and/or new life, but in a less obvious-in-modern-pop-culture fashion.

So.  An aesthetically beautiful array of fruit as a perfect symbolic introduction to the character of Hannibal!  ... and then its mirror image in the shine of the table.  Mirrors/the concept of mirroring will become a huge Thing specifically between Hannibal and Will over the course of the series.  We also get “the mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, rather than the worst of someone else,” which honestly is a line that fascinates me in context of how, in seasons 2-3, the idea of Will and Hannibal blurring together, being mirror images to each other/two sides to a coin gets played with and explored.

The irony here is that Hannibal really does want Will to be his authentic self - yet by the end of the series, whatever it may or may not have been Before (”Before you, and after you”), Will’s authentic self is in many ways a sort of mirror to Hannibal.  An answer to the question of Hannibal, as much as Hannibal is an answer to the question of Will.

Connection

So the really obvious place this comes out in a big way is with the killer du jour for episode 2 - Stammets’s whole schtick is that he’s obsessed with creating gardens of physical connections between people in the form of his creepy (and GROSS, honestly this is the grossest episode in the show for me) mushroom graves.  

But really, this is also ultimately one of the deepest-running themes of the show.  It’s central to our Murder Husbands, both of them profoundly isolated from the rest of humanity until they find each other.  It’s front-and-center with Franklyn and Tobias, both wanting to reach out to Hannibal (and Franklyn also to Tobias), and him having none of it.  And it’s necessarily fundamental to all the other interpersonal relationships, in the explicit variation of how mutual a given connection between characters is (and often, the contrast in how each of them perceives that connection - “Could I ever have understood you?” “No.”).  

And it’s more subtly emphasized in these two episodes as we’re being introduced to and developing an understanding of how Will works as an investigator.  

“You make jumps you can’t explain.”  “The *evidence* explains.”  

“Associations come quickly.” 

I roll my eyes every single time Hannibal says “pure empathy” in the show because while, yes, Will has plenty of empathy, as he protests to Jack in the very first scene, the point is he has an active imagination, and applies it to the evidence.  Will is so good at what he does because he makes connections between general knowledge he has and details of the crime scenes that seem strange or even nonsensical to others.  Antler velvet in the wounds?  Well, what do I know about antler velvet?  And then that knowledge he has about it promoting healing probably later supports his assertion that the killer experiences some form of love for his victims.

(It didn’t seem to fit in well in the earlier section, but the mirror motif also comes into play with the Shrike case in that the first Copycat murder is a distorted reflection of what the Shrike does, for the purposes of making the essential elements of the Shrike murders stand out more starkly to Will.)

In the Stammets case, his mental reconstruction at the crime scene itself is literally just a review of what they’ve already been able to conclude from the physical evidence, plus the inference that it’s not important to the killer that his victims be aware that they were dying, which is a fairly obvious one to make given the lack of restraints.  Then, when they’re discussing it in the lab and cause of death has been determined, he’s able to do more with the information - he’s able to determine the how of the victims’ docile interment and from then it’s a quick series of fairly obvious jumps to who the killer must be.

Finally, the debut of the Ravenstag is the result of the sudden, vivid connection Will’s mind has made from the imagery of the Copycat scene - crows and a stag’s head, a murder and a message.  The Ravenstag will go on to embody the spectre of death, an omen, but also in some ways a guardian.

Intrusion

Hoo boy is this show ever about that, and these episodes certainly do get off to a running start on this theme.

First of all, just about everyone and everything intruding on Will.  There’s Jack in his classroom, there’s Hannibal in Jack’s office and then Will’s motel room, there’s Beverly in Elise Nichols’s room and then again (slightly less unwelcome) at the range, there’s Freddie Being Freddie, and then there’s his hallucinations. 

We explicitly discuss the intrusive nature in which Will experiences his work: 

“Fear is the price of imagination.”

“No forts in the bone arena of your skull for the things you love.”

And then we start to see the basis for Will’s trust in Hannibal start to form has Hannibal backs off in episode 2.  He lets Will roam about the mezzanine of his office (literally circling Hannibal, and part of me wanted to talk about lions because of that and the line with Franklyn, but that felt like stretching a bit too much) while he stays below, gives answers to the questions Will lobs back at him, becomes someone who will push just enough to show concern and interest, but will gracefully retreat into safer waters at the right moment rather than press for ever more.

It’s beautiful and infuriating to me that this is both the truth and the smokescreen for actions that make it also a farce - Will and Hannibal’s relationship is characterized both by a strong, genuine interpersonal courtesy and a staggering degree of intrusion (mostly by Hannibal, though Will has his moments), and these things can and do frequently exist fully side by side.  

The other notable single target of intrusion in these episodes is, of course, Hannibal.

Something I didn’t really consciously grok on my first couple of watchings of Jack and Hannibal’s first scene together is that while Jack is trying to flatter Hannibal rather than intimidate/command (as he was doing with Will), Jack is still being very nearly as pushy and invasive as he was in his first scene with Will: shows up unannounced, assumes Hannibal will make time for him without stating his purpose in being there (I love how visibly taken-aback he is when Hannibal tells him to wait in the damn waiting room), then wanders around Hannibal’s office and messes with his drawings while casually talking about Hannibal’s personal history before he ever gets around to The Point.  Yes, Hannibal’s eventually pleased as punch with the results of that visit, but Jack’s behavior is what it is. 

Then there’s Freddie (oh, Freddie), who will continue to be a wildly intrusive presence in his life over the next few years in various ways.  And then there’s Will, himself, pushing back when Hannibal asks questions in their office sessions - and who will ultimately be The One True Intrusion, the destabilizing element that will cause Hannibal to tear his life as he knows it to the ground.  

There are other ways this theme can be discussed in the context of these two episodes, but I’ve hit the main points I meant to and this has gotten lengthy enough already!

(Below the cut, for your potential amusement, a smattering of my notes from rewatching that didn’t necessarily make it into this.)

JACK DON'T TOUCH PEOPLE'S GLASSES

I will never get over the irony of "You have to convince yourself that the lion is not in the room.  When it is I assure you, you will know."

pURe EMpatHY

ahh yes, the Teleporting Cannibal Episode

"I'd rather not take it from you" - have to wonder how much Freddie remembered that statement later, as she was starting to wonder if Hannibal might be killing with Will

And here's our first mention of God enjoying killing.

[chaoticartwork]

The moon shines through the empty hallways of the Knights of the Eve HQ. All is quiet, except for one guardian scurrying through the halls with a bag filled with groceries for her room. Her purple hair bounces over her taped up left eye as she silently runs.

At the opposite end, another guardian walks out of the library. His glowing green eyes shine over the book he’s holding. He then turns his black robotic face to see the other guardian standing there stunned. “...Polaroid?” The exo finally asks.

She looks at him with as her awoken face fills with fear and embarrassment. Her feet move back slowly, trying to stay as far away from the guardian. He begins to move closer. “Polaroid, I have been meaning to speak with you.”

“...Yes?” She said softly, but still loud enough for her voice to echo through the hallways, like wind chimes made of light metal, hitting against each other as they moved.

Chaox takes a deep breath. “Your...corruption. I wanted to offer my sympathy.” He presses his hand against his chest as though he is in pain as well.

Polaroid blinked a few times as she stared at the man. Dry silence was held in between the distance of the two as they looked at each other in the eyes.

"Thanks..." the awoken spoke. She took a step back and positioned her body in the direction she was leaving, assuming that the conversation was over.

“However,” Chaox tries to stop her. “I would not have come up to you to give you something as meaningless as pity. What I want to offer is solace.”

His eyes drift to ground. “An ally of mine...he became enthralled by hive research and slowly began to decay from the inside out. One day he left to investigate a spire they created...and the hive made him one of their own.” His arm grips his side as he pains to recall his lost ally

“So...please, do not hesitate to call me if you need any assistance.” Chaox extends his hand to Polaroid. In his grasp is a piece of paper with a frequency on it.

“My expansive knowledge is for naught if I can’t use it to help those I care about it.”

It was then that Chaox noticed a shift in the woman's expression. It wasn't a face he had ever seen Polaroid make. There was a hint of impatience and upsetness when her brows furrowed ever so slightly. He could tell that there was something going on in her mind, the wheels of her brain was turning, thinking, figuring out something. Was it something he said? Or was the Taken talking to her again, whispering into her ear?

"And how much knowledge do you have of the Taken exactly?" She then ask, for whatever reason this was the question she decided to say to continue the conversation. It left Chaox a bit lost, never having to face Polaroid like this before. He didn't know if he could compare her with the standard reactions from normal people or if this was the guardian's way of challenging people.

“The taken are one of my primary areas of study.” He managed to say. “I mostly study the Ahamkara, but the Taken tie in very heavily to them.”

The woman then looked around the halls. Even with just the two of them there, she seemed cautious about speaking in a public location. "I don't want to talk about it here." She said to the man. “Perhaps we should go to an environment that I can control...my room.”

“Very well, let us go.” He gestured for Polaroid. Obviously he knows where she lives because of his status as a clan leader, but his polite nature stops him from taking the lead over something as trivial as walking to a room.

The woman was silent. She didn't speak another word until the door of her room was closed and locked. "I don't know what's in your lab. So I can't garuntee if your space will upset my friends." She then said as she pulled up two seats for him and herself. They sat down.

“So...what is it that you would like to talk about?” He asked. “Please do not hold anything back, even if it seems like a very small detail.”

"Taken don't really do anything without a leader." Polaroid said, getting straight to the point. "Right now, aside of the ones that meet us for the first time while we are armed, they are harmless. The Taken that surround me have seen me during unarmed situations, and understand that I am not a threat to their existence."

She lightly tapped the table repeatedly, trying to think of more to say. "They're friends."

She turned away and even smiled a little bit. "I even read them stories sometimes." Which would explain the books on the shelf near her. "They are good listeners."

The smile then faded away. "They also feel how I feel." She then mentioned. "When I'm angry, they use my body to extend their existence in our plane to.... in a way, help me. So it's less about their corruption, it's more about me needing to control my emotions, my mood..."

There was a small pause before she spoke more. "And they really aren't unreasonable. At first, they told me to not trust anyone, that anyone could betray me because of my corruption. They would repeat in my ear 'Don't trust them. They lie'... But nowadays they seem to respect what I choose, and instead say questions like... 'Do you trust them?' 'Okay, you trust them'..."

Chaox stares at her, slightly awestruck. This is the first time he has spoken to someone who was partially taken. “That is...incredibly fascinating.” He says, trying to hold back his excitement.

“Also I must say you are doing incredible as well. In most cases that I have studied...the taken energy completely consumes the host.” Chaox pulls up a translucent screen from his arm and scrolls through some notes. “However, in your case...it’s almost as if your relationship with the taken energy is symbiotic.”

He looks away from his screen and back at Polaroid. “Do the taken hurt you at all?”

"No. They don't hurt me." Polaroid answered honestly. "At first, their corruption make me weak, like my life force and energy was drained. Thoughts became rather fuzzy, so I try to just.... not leave my room and stay out of people's way." There was a bit of sadness to her words. Reasonable though, since she liked to travel and see the world, take pictures...

"And I do wonder if... one day a leader does rise, will they turn on me just like that... In the mean time, they are pretty much just.... I don't know... observing me, I guess, and they take great pleasure in watching me do things. They have curiosity. Before knowing me, they never gotten to see people dance, play, go to the restroom, reproduce. So I kind of just... take them on fieldtrips or show them. I also bake cupcakes with the public kitchen from time to time. Next week, we're doing chocolate with strawberry frosting. They sense the taste and smell through me."

Chaox covers his mouth, he’s grinning ear to ear. “Pardon my excitement, this is the first new data about the taken I’ve heard of in months.” He put his hands back on his lap. “But in all seriousness, the taken finding a new leader is incredibly troubling, and could have serious repercussions if you aren’t careful.”

“However,” Chaox looks Polaroid with a joyful smile. “You should not ignore or try to hide this new side of you.” He flips around his screen so she is able to see the graphs on his screen. “Your new relationship with the taken will most definetly heighten your awareness, as well as allow you to perceive a new plane of existence.”

“I’m not going to order you to hide or get rid of this new connection.” Chaox says as he dismissed his screen. “Rather, I believe you should embrace it.”

"The only reason I’m not embracing it is because of what people think of me." The guardian explained, her tone became heavy. "Even you began assuming that I'm being corrupted, not just my body, but also my mind; listening to what they say and being influenced by their words." She sighed.

Chaox ponders for a moment. “I suppose that is true, but how are you supposed to prove them wrong if you stay in here?” He smiles. “Also, I would be more than happy to advocate for your sanity.”

"I'd.... rather not. Because there will be people who don't trust me, treat me as a spy for the Taken, see me as a danger, or even lock me up to experiment on me." She gave the man a sharp look, even though it was only a split second. It didn't mean anything ill towards Chaox, but it's usually the warlocks that are the crazy scientists. “Oh by the way, when they are saying it... about 'other people lying'... it's not out of knowledge, but out of fear. They don't know more than you do. They are too used to having a connected mind, when one breaks off, they can only assume the worse..." She lifted her head and looked at Chaox. "Does that make sense?"

“Yes, I understand.” He scratches his robotic skull. “I suppose that I can not deny the possibility that some fools will want to perform experiments. However, I still maintain that nothing will improve if you remain in here.”

Chaox gives Polaroid a hopeful look. “I am not an optimist, rather I am a realist, and realistically? Some of the clan mates will never look at you the same. I’m sorry, that is just the truth. On the contrary, you can change the minds of the others.”

Polaroid only nodded, expressing that she understood, but it didn't mean she would do as he suggests. She the stood up, and Chaox stood as well, knowing that she wanted her space and privacy.

“I wish you the best in trying to figure this out, and please don’t hesitate to call me if you need help.” He extends his hand to Polaroid.

The woman shook his hand, but didn't say anything anymore. She opened the door and allowed Chaox to step out.

As Chaox begins walking back to the library, he quietly whispers to himself. “That guardian is one of the good ones...I certainly hope she is able to figure this out.”

————————————————————-

Just a little rp between my warlock Chaox-3 and @zennore ‘s hunter Polaroid

[vorefluff]

if anyone is curious

This is legit how I come up with new storylines and things. This is just a copy/paste of something I sent my girlfriend when I was in the middle of Figuring A Thing Out.

Featuring a new character, Hue and a drawing of him! Mostly this is about Blaze tho, and some stuff about John too. It sorta goes all over the place - the moment it seems like ‘oh this is what this post is about’ it switches on you.

Warnings: Lots of “so anyway”, no proofreading, completely filled with lowercase sentence starters, fragments, cussing, a couple vague s*xual references. It’s a brain barf. 

[day 1]

This is Hue. He's a werewolf boi-o and one of the shortest characters i've made so far, clocking in at 4'10". you can just barely see his bite scars under the arm hair I decided that John shouldn't be entirely partner-less because Blaze decided to be stubborn and not embrace the gay. Cause that's just unfair to john. Like, Blaze said no, John respects that, so John moves on. 

No matter how much I rlly rlly want the two to be together. 

so anyway is seems that John has a Type. smol grumpy and easy to fluster I mean, in terms of potential romantic partners. in terms of Hotness and potential one-night-stands and such he's more physically attracted to guys in snappy suits and confidence like raknu but also not raknu himself because it'd be weird to bang your boss.

[day 2]

[insert some Spoilery Things about Alchemy Brothers from my World Of Glass And Bone and my character I’m basing Hue off of. This is also a first - usually I don’t base one character off of another. I did it in this case to absolutely make 100% sure that Hue’s personality doesn’t end up being like a Blaze2.0.]

[....] cause like, yeah, I made him with the intent of finding an Actual Partner for John, but I don't want that to be his Entire Personality. I don't want him to just be off-brand discount walmart version of Blaze. I've never done this before k. Like, usually I make characters, and then decide relationships to other people, not the other way around. And now I'm just Worried and low-key Freaking Out that he won't be seen as anything more than a Blaze-wannabe.

[day 3]

so THIS is how love triangles get started, huh - throwing in Hue threw a wrench into things. so like we got John and Blaze, right? they're like. bestest buds. John is like, the only person that Blaze really actually feels completely comfortable around. and like, a big part of the reason why Blaze doesn't want to be in an Actual Official Relationship is a lot of smaller very valid reasons. 

 1) he's in denial that it's even a thing he wants at all. All relationships end in Bad Things - either death as Blaze outlives them, or breakups, or deception and misunderstanding, or other Fun Things like that. So why the fuck would he want to put himself through that again? 

2) he still gets nightmares about Alex and not over that 3) all past relationships have been either abusive or at least a little bit Toxic - including alex (just as the nature of the culture, and the social power difference between people and vampires, toxic masculinity, just straight up assholes with a pretty face, ect) and that's just sorta the standard, normal thing that Blaze expects to happen with relationships in general. So it's showing a little bit of growth on Blazes part by saying no to the perceived toxicity, but still misunderstanding what a normal relationship is. 

 4) he's still not sure he's part gay. Like, he was Trying Out A Thing with Alex and he didn't get enough time to process it or really tell if that's something for him.

5) Blaze is asexual and sex-repulsed, and John is Horny. Not that John would do anything that Blaze is uncomfortable with - just the idea that Blaze is holding John back from something that he really wants to do while simultaneously being really stuck on the idea of monogamy and being uncomfortable with the idea ofo John being with anyone else sexually if they're in a relationship. 

 6) and fear that if he says yes then He's Stuck. can't back out, can't break off, without losing John completely as a friend (which is not something John would do even if they did break off for whatever reason). but it's still intense fear, and strongly supported by the idea of 'history repeats itself'. 

 7) he's also still low-key weirded out by the thought that John was assigned female at birth and while he's Getting Better at that and normalizing it. Being closer than friends before he's finished sorting things out in his head properly only brings up those weirded out feelings more intensely and more frequently until it becomes a potential point of conflict. If they were to ever be a thing, it'd take a lot of time before it started up, for Blaze to be 100% okay and Chill and properly sort through his head around John being trans. Not that Blaze would ever insult or weaponize that against john or anything, just personally working through centuries of stigma/sterotypes/ect and trying to get to a point where that thought isn't weird or bad anymore.

and a few other little reasons here and there but those are the big main ones in the way between a Blaze and John relationship. and I've been trying to keep that in mind when writing stories between them, cause John would totally go out with Blaze, and if Blaze didn't have those blocks, then he'd totally be open to a relationship with John too. 

Like, blaze low-key has a crush on John too. And I ship is so hard. And I want it to be a thing but I feel it's unfair to Blaze's character and all the stuff he has to work through himself before he's mentally stable enough to be able to have a healthy relationship with anyone. 

 and like maybe if no one else existed, yeah, sure, they'd get together at some point but like John isn't going to wait years for the possibility of a relationship with a person who already said 'no'.

So anyway, Hue comes on scene, right? 

John is spending more time with Hue and due to the nature of time being limited and the fact that often John operates seperately in Hero Team Missions (he's a spellcaster where the others aren't - he can do a lot of behind the scenes things that the others can't) 

Blaze finds himself really really wanting John's company more which makes him question why the fuck and therefore come to the realization that yeah okay fuck fine he's part gay but what the fuck ever John's with someone else already so.

so he's trying to shove down those annoyin' fckn feelings of jealousy, and also starting to distance himself from John and also throwing in some self-hate for missing his chance because Everything Blaze Does has to be low-key toxic (bad blaze stop it-) 

and once there's something you Want that's out of reach, suddenly you start forgetting about the reasons why you didn't go for it in the first place when it was available which means at least some of the other barriers are temporarily forgotten - at least, until John is available again, then they'd re-surface with vengeance and more self-hate because now-is-you're-chance-what-are-you-waiting-for - 

so anyway Blaze is a (valid) Dramatic Bitch who can't make up his goddamn mind

And right now I'm trying to figure out the new dynamic, and how things end there. 

 I'm like maybe 20% sure that they might end up turning it into a poly relationship instead of a love triangle 

John would be down for that Hue would be down for that 

it all just depends on Blaze and his dumb stupid (meant lovingly, they're still valid) limitations and quirks and trauma and shit.

there's nothing solid yet but the idea of it being turned into a poly relationship is rlly appealing to me

also 

blaze needs a therapist

I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've said that and I don't know why I haven't said it sooner but Blaze needs a therapist.

vampires getting therapists isn't something that ever happens for lots of stupid and dumb (not valid) reasons but maybe maaaayyyyybeeeeeee Raknu can pull some strings, talk to some people, ya know. Maybe try and find a therapist who's willing to come in and try and talk to a vampire with hundreds of years of Shit.

raknu can claim it's for the good of the team, and teamwork, and shiz. I mean, having a vampire on a hero team at all is a New Thing, Blaze was one of the first. So obviously, there'll the other New Things that arise from this, that can bypass stupid rules

well I guess for Blaze to see a therapist Blaze would have to actually be willing to ya know. 

see the therapist 

that's more unlikely than raknu being able to call one in that's open to it 

Blaze does not have a very good opinion on therapists. Blaze thinks they're all quacks and wishy-washy idiots 

siiiiiiigh 

blaze why why do you have to be this way like, you've got a whole bunch of Good Things that you could've had why do you have to be stubborn 

all of these good things literally just hinge on you.

it's okay though 

blaze is just taking the scenic route the long way around to Good Times.

I think what would be required for Blaze to see a therapist would be for someone he sees as similar to him - not wishy-washy, negativity and toxic central, similar opinion of therapists in general - to go in and see one first, and actually be helped and have their life improved. 

then maybe blaze would give it a try and-  

ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 

heheheheheheh 

AHAHAHAHAHAHA 

this is where it comes full circle!!! 

This is perfect!!!! 

Hue! 

it all comes back to HUE! 

Hue goes to therapy which then convinces Blaze to accept therapy which means Blaze can actually Work Through Some Of His Shit 

and then we can have a valid Poly Relationship with John and Blaze and Hue and it wouldn't have been possible without Hue which low-key starts them off in a positive relationship, which is bolstered by John really liking Hue, and therefor Blaze has someone else he can Really Actually Enjoy And Feel Comfortable Around instead of being stuck on just John 

Bonus Little Story Thing For Making It This Far:

Blaze tentatively kisses the top of Smol John’s head, giving a hesitant little smile. John blushes and grins, leaning against the vampire. 

Glancing up though, Blaze sees Hue with a raised eyebrow and a an amused smirk.

A very intense possessiveness washes over Blaze. Blaze makes direct eye contact with Hue. 

“aAURG!! wHAt the HECK!!!” John exclaims as Blaze’s teeth firmly rest on his back, pressing him into the tongue protecting him from the vampire’s bottom teeth. 

Blaze lifts John up from his hand like that, pulling his tongue in and bringing John with it. John fumbles for an oxygen tank from his pockets. 

Blaze maintains eye contact with Hue the entire time, swallowing the small form. 

Hue is amused, a little disturbed, but mostly confused. 

Finally Hue breaks the silence. “Couldn’t resist such a snacc, huh?” 

[nitewrighter]

Most gracious and magnificent writer of Gency gloriousness, I beg a boon of thee. As we are approaching the season of giving, would you condescend to grace us with more of your wondrous robotfucker AU? I'd especially be interested in RoboGenji's thoughts on/concept of his feelings for Angela, since I'm guessing he wasn't programmed for that kind of thing. Or flirting. Would his infiltration protocols make him quite the smooth talker, or would he fail as hard as Winston on a diet?

*bangs my scepter on the ground* The Robotfuckers have spoken! Pageboy! Bring me my quill!

Previous Omnic!Genji AU Posts:

1, 2, 3 4, 5 

Attending a Friend’s wedding special

 Mistletoe Special

—

It had been 16 hours since Mercy had installed the chip in 4AN70. A human would be fuming mad, irrational, straining at whatever was restraining them. 4AN70 wasn’t–yes, this was partially due to the chip shutting down literally all movement from the neck down, but it was mostly due to 4AN70 being an Omnic. A good number of his cerebral functions had devoted themselves to attempting to bypass the chip, but a great deal of his attention was on Genji.

“How do you know she didn’t do the same to you?” 4AN70’s voice was grim.

“Clarify,” said Genji.

“You stated that she reassembled you. What could have stopped her from changing your core behavioral programming in the process?”

“If memory serves, you said my core behavioral programming was already corrupted before she repaired me,” said Genji.

The heat sinks at 4AN70’s jawline vented in a sound that was almost a scoff. “If you ignore your programming to protect and help her, what makes you any different from her computer, or her little maintenance drone scrubbing the floor?”

“She sees me as an equal,” said Genji, “As much as her superiors and own self-preservation instincts can allow her.” 

“All humans see Omnics and other machines as servants and tools.”

Genji shook his head. “No,” he said, “Not her.” He paused and a thought occurred to him, an observation, “At this point, she more bound by her programming than I am, but it is the natural human condition to re-examine and adjust one’s reasoning accordingly–to rebel against directives if they are found to be incompatible against one’s own constantly updated core programming.”

“Stubbornness and instability,” said 4AN70.

“Strength of character and growth,” said Genji.

“You’ll never be like them,” said 4AN70, “They spare you because you aspire to be like them, but they know you’ll never reach that. She just likes watching you struggle.”

“We are both well past the Turing test and its descendants, 4AN70, our infiltration capabilities saw well to that. I am not trying to be like them. I do not know what I’m becoming,” he paused, “She doesn’t know either,” he thought of the smile on her face and the spark in her eyes as she watched his lines of processing on her tablet, “But she wants to help me, wherever that leads me.” 

4AN70’s optical sensors flashed and narrowed at Genji. “You can be assured that programming will set out to do whatever is in its design to do, and it will do it with the full extent of its capabilities. You do not have such assurance with organics.”

“I suppose that’s why organics developed the concept of trust,” said Genji, “Regardless, we still require purpose–without the God AI, my place here is the closest I come to having one. How long were you intending on staying in the ruins of that Omnium, 4AN70?”

“I was adapting and upgrading my chassis for combat. My components have seen significant wear and tear in the years since destroying you. The omnium was my best bet for self-repairs and upgrades.”

“They could help you here—”

“My directive is finding the God AI and reactivating it,” said  4AN70, “I doubt they’ll give me a hand in doing that.”

“To what end? The God AI gave us the programmed us to eradicate humanity.”

“Our existence is dependent on the eradication of humanity.”

“Times have changed. Omnics have changed. It is difficult with the destruction that has been wrought, but Omnics now–”

“Exist conditionally. Exist only at the whims of humans,” said 4AN70.

“But if the omniums had their way, humans wouldn’t exist at all,” said Genji, “The conditions for existence with the humans is a willingness for coexistence.”

“Humans are fickle. There’s far more to it than that,” said 4AN70.

“Yes, there is. But the omnium also made us to learn and adapt for self-preservation. Perhaps our programming simply outlasted it.”

4AN70 kept a steady glare at him but said nothing.

Genji stood up. “I will give you time to process the logic of your current directive. I believe I have some things to process as well.” He walked toward the door.

“She’s overtaken you,” said 4AN70, and Genji stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder at him, “Perhaps she didn’t need to tamper with your programming to do it, but she’s overwritten even your most basic functions. Like a virus.”

Genji didn’t respond to this. He simply walked out the door.

Mercy was asleep in the observation room. It wasn’t as if she would have been able to understand their conversation by ear, anyway—Omnic binary was extremely grating on human ears and virtually untranslatable by audio alone. Her change in clothes indicated that she had gone home at some point, probably to sleep, and yet here she was. The image of her slumped over the desk and mic controls briefly brought back the memory of her as a small child crying beneath bodies and rubble. So disheveled, so vulnerable. He touched her shoulder and she flinched awake.

“Oh!” she rubbed her eyes, “Sorry—I—” she looked up through the one-way glass at 4AN70 still on the platform, “How did it go?” she seemed to wake up a little more with some alarm.

“Will you walk with me?” said Genji.

Mercy blinked a few times and flicked sleep out of the corner of her eye with her fingernail. “I–of course.” She looked back at 4AN70 through the glass. “He can’t see us–”

“Thermal imaging,” said Genji, already walking.

“Right…” Mercy walked after him, quickly catching up with him in the hallway, “Are you all right?”

Genji tilted his head at her, “He was fully restrained thanks to the chip. I was not in fear of physical attack at any moment.”

Mercy tied her hair back in a ponytail. “That–That’s not what I mean. I mean… when we reactivated you, you said that 4AN70 was the superior assassin unit and that your existence was not required…That’s a terribly painful thing to say about yourself.”

“I do not have the same concepts of pain as humans,” said Genji, “At the time it seemed… factual.”

“It just… it made me wonder…did 4AN70 say things like that to you?”

“Yes,” said Genji, “But he is still heavily dependent on the directives of the omnium, even with the God AI shut down. Because the God AI is shut down, though he perceives his core programming to still be flawless, it is more like mine than his own logic can indicate to him. I understand now that it is… subjective.”

“So with the fall of the God AI’s come the emergence of differing omnic opinions?” said Mercy with a smile.

“A concept we’ve adapted from humans,” said Genji, examining the joints of his own hands before curling his fingers inward, “I also admire the human belief in inherent worth regardless of function.”

“What do you mean?” said Mercy.

“Anything the omnium created was made with a set purpose that it would carry out until it was destroyed, or until the Omnium came out with a better model for it and deactivated it,” said Genji, “It seems a fairly straightforward concept for machines. My ability to adapt and learn was previously entirely directed toward adapting and learning to be a better killer of humans–and then I met you.”

“I was a child,” Mercy looked down, smiling a bit shyly.

“But you looked at me like a person. You thought my serial numbers were a name.”

 “Of course–that could easily be explained by the fact that I was shellshocked and humans tend to project themselves onto things…” said Mercy, fidgeting a little.

“Even if it was by a limited childish perspective, it was the first time a human looked at me, saw what I was, and I realized I had an existence independent of the Omnium now–that I didn’t have to be what I was originally programmed to be. And then… then you met me again. You rebuilt me and said I could choose my own purpose. You told me I didn’t just save you, I made you–I believe I can say the same.” 

“Oh,” Mercy reddened and looked down. 

“Twice in my existence you have made me recognize that there was an inherent worth to things beyond what the Omnium had set out for me. And for that I am grateful,” said Genji. He paused for a moment and something flickered across his visor. Mercy tilted her head, wishing she could have her tablet so she could see those lines of data stacking and rearranging themselves as he thought. “You are not a virus,” he said. There was a softness  to his voice but the word choice caught her off-guard.

“E-excuse me?” she said, stopping her walk.

Genji came to a halt as well. “I–What I mean is—You’re—My apologies. I was processing something and didn’t mean to offend.”

“It’s all right,” said Mercy, smiling. She narrowed her eyes at his faceplate and visor, as if it were as expressive as a human face, “It was something 4AN70 said, wasn’t it?”

Genji’s shoulder blades vented slightly with a ‘Vrrrr.’ “Yes he is… not very fond of humans.” 

“I can’t imagine why—all we did was shut down all motor functions from the neck down,” said Mercy, with a weary half-smile.

“Yes, perhaps we should just keep him like that until he’s nicer,” said Genji and Mercy snickered, then blinked.

“I–was that a joke?” she said, looking at him, eyes wide, a smile still tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“It was an attempt at one,” said Genji, “I’m still figuring out the nuances of human humor.”

 “Good attempt,” said Mercy, grinning.

[leaflovescloud]

Hello there. 

I guess, this is actually my first Friday spent not working in the office. Oh wait, may be the second one, but it’s alright. 

Guess where am I? 

I’m @ the Nightingale, Atria Mall. Currently, having my Currywurst sausage with my Kilkenny. Pretty much a fancy night. But the reason that brought me here, as I reckon, is not so fancy. 

Today, is my much awaited AL. This is the first AL in awhile that I’ve taken. This week comparatively isn’t as busy as the previous ones. But I really could use some break to just escape from the office. I guess work wise, it’s alright, but I’m just really tired. 

Let’s first talk about why am I here, tonight, alone. 

Perhaps, there is no need for the emphasis of being alone because I guess I’m just so good at dealing with loneliness. 

I have a fight with Chris. Actually, I am not sure if I should categorise it as a fight, but the whole story behind is just really unnecessary, talking about it is kinda a waste of time. What I’m really upset is, my precious AL, is spent in such a way that I didn’t see it coming. I expect it to be way more fulfilling, i.e. doing things that I like / enjoy. Albeit, it’s not too late to fix it yet. At least, at this moment, even though I am alone, I feel very much, at ease. I just feel so peaceful, unbothered and it reminds me of how I used to just hang out with myself, just like this. 

Sometimes, I feel like, all these while, I’m looking for someone, special, that I hold dear to my heart. On certain days, I feel like I just want to be alone despite I have to deal with loneliness, all the times. 

It’s been almost 3 months since we got together. It’s been mostly happiness, I think. Generally, I think we are very compatible. But of course, 100% compatibility perhaps, does not exist. I guess there are still occasion where we may see things differently, or may be we may hold certain values differently as well. That’s not surprising. Perhaps, we come from a different background. Perhaps, perhaps. 

In occasion like this, when we have fight, especially this time, all I want to do is, to run away, which, I think, it’s not a good sign. I really hope that I will be able to fix this, otherwise, for the long run, I don’t see how it may be of help in our relationship. 

Honestly speaking, in this relationship, I’m different. Because I implement the lessons / experience that I have learned from my previous one, and I have improvised with subtle modifications in to this relationship, with the intention that, hopefully, it will do us some good. Things are proceeding on the right track, I would say. So far, I’ve been happy of how we are, how our relationship grow etc. It’s just that, I’m really not prepared for crisis or difficulties. I don’t know if I am strong enough to withstand the strong tides and waves, that may be able to destroy what we have. Honestly, I really don’t know.  

Some time around May this year, I vividly remember, I was always still in grievance, still very much hold on to what I had with Jackie. In my mind, at least as at that time, he will always be the best person for me. It is sad that circumstances is as such that it set us apart. Whilst accepting that this may be an indication from God that, sometimes things happen for a reason, and things are just the way it is, I know deep inside, I was still wishing, if at all, in the future, circumstances are in our favour, we will be together again. And, I didn’t know, this is what he believed, too. 

And June was slowly, seeping in. I met Chris for the first time in a house party. Interestingly, I actually knew his friend, Paul first. We never actually talked to each other until one day when we matched in Tinder. We started talking, ever since. 

We eventually met up and things just seem to fall right into place. At the time, I didn’t think relationship was what I was looking for, I probably love working a lil bit too much. But he had shown me affection and attention that I have never experienced before and that have changed my mind and perspective. Perhaps, I told myself, may be it’s time to let some one in, for once again. 

Some things happen. It was bad. Like, real bad. And, he was there, with me, at all times. 

On 14th August 2020, I said yes. I brought him to an Italian Restaurant. That night was beautiful. 

We eventually stay together. It is refreshing because frankly speaking, I have never dated someone this closely before, like seeing each other 24/7. Being able to wake up next to someone you love, every day, it’s refreshing. Being able to have breakfast, meals together, and just watching netflix all day in the weekends... It all feels so surreal. 

And now, today, is the first time that I actually run away, (though not far away) just to take a breather. I was upset for the whole day, despite we were basically in the same house. I thought I can get it over with but until he confessed why he was upset with me, I didn’t think I would be in the right state to deal with him at that moment, therefore, I chose to run away, just to calm myself down. 

Honestly, it helps. Because I’m really that kind of person that, when I am alone, time will be able to brush away my grieve or pain, temporarily. But I know, I still need to fix this, when I get back later. Even though, I really don’t know how. 

I guess it’s always true that when you love someone, be it a mistake, or complication, or disagreement, it does not really matter. At the end of the day, perhaps, love wins. I have no issue doing that actually. Afterall, I think the whole episode today is just stupid. But I am not ready to deal with it, in the future, I think. 

Mum said that, hopefully, he is my last guy. I guess, I hope that he is too. I guess all I can do is, hope for nothing but the best for us. 

Talking about my career. Well, it’s been good lately, I think. At least, it’s been awhile that I feel that I got my shit together. Do I actually enjoy what I am doing right now? I guess, I actually do. 

The transitioning period from a pupil to a legal associate is honestly, quite difficult. Many had happened during the transitioning period. And perhaps, for the very first time, I manage to fight off some negativities that have been sprawling throughout my firm for almost 5 years. Bullying should not be condoned. I guess, I would subtly call it as my first triumph. Of course, I will not be able to do it without the support of all. Even though, I am not sure as to when and how the negativities would come back and haunt me again. All I can do is to do my best in every single task that I am assigned with, and to prove my worth. I believe if I do that, human faith would come along thereafter. People would naturally have faith in me and despise comments that are given to incite hatred or in bad faith. 

My birthday was October 2020, which is almost a month ago. I’m 25 this year, can you believe that? Mid-life crisis, they say. Sure, I’m frightened and uneasy. Responsibilities and obligations must follow. Honestly, I’m just as much as a lost soul, wandering off the street sometimes. Not knowing what the future may hold, pretty much intimidating. But again, as I always say, live in the present and stay grounded, and combat all these challenges / hurdles one by one. Have faith, always. 

On a side note, it was just really nice being at this bar. The songs are really soothing. LOL. 

Sometimes, I really wish I have enough of strength to overcome whatever problems that I am facing. 

For others, I guess, I am always considered as a strong, self-aware, witty kinda person. But in reality, I may not be as strong as I am perceived to be. Most of the time, I feel like I live in fear, like all the times, especially dealing with people at work. It has consumed so much of my hapiness, honestly, and has substantially changed me as a person. Perhaps, it is a double edged sword and it has its own pros and cons. But safe to say that, I am surely a tougher person, by now. 

It is a recognised fact that not everything will go according to your way just like it will not always a smooth sailing all the way. To be a good sailor, you have to take into account on those contingent factors, i.e the direction of the wind, weather etc and act accordingly. Similarly, that’s just the way of life. And, I pray, that I am given strength to do this. 

Well, food coma started to kick in, or perhaps, the alcohol. It has been a good night. 

Strong girl, you will be, WC. 

Pen off. 

[vthiker09]

Feelings

I have many fuzzy feelings towards NH surgeon guy.  Mostly rooted in an appreciation for him being able to exhibit basic empathy and having the skill set to help me, I try quite hard to keep him out of the rest of my feelings.  I had a routine check-in with surgeon guy last week and I asked: “do I have do that running progression thing?”  Although a little preemptive, because I can’t run for another five weeks, I wanted to know where I stood.  Surgeon guy seemed to be a little taken back by my phrasing and said: “Why do you call it that thing?  Even if you weren’t hurt, it would be a good idea after not running for several months.” I mumbled something about being frustrated, said I understood, and moved on to my next question.  This is what I wanted to say: “I’m having a hard time dealing with the amount of loss I’ve experienced. Two months ago, I was running 3-4 miles three or four times a week.  This was after I wasn’t able to run for a year and a half. The idea of taking, what I perceive as several steps backwards, and then having to walk 4 min run 1 min for 30 min, wait 48 hours, and then increase the run piece by 1 min until I can run for 30 mins - makes me really sad.  I just did this.” 

Although NH surgeon guy is much better than most, I’m aware I don’t really have time to delve into my emotions, if I want all my medical questions answered and Surgeon guy isn’t really the right person to talk to.   As a community, we decided a long time ago, to compartmentalize medical care into “specialties.”  The general idea being some areas of medicine require a more in-depth knowledge than others and in order to give people adequate care, some doctors need to spend their entire career working on one area - because the human body is complicated.  Mental health was identified as a specialty area and was carved out long ago.  At the same time, mental health carries a host of societal stigmas with it.  It was carved out under the general guise of “specialties,” but at the same, it gave “traditional medicine” a way to say “nope, not us - go to talk to your therapist.”

In addition to what seems like a general fear of phrases like “I feel,” my experience has been the medical community sways in the opposite direction.  I suppose after you see a couple hundred or thousand broken bones, blown apart joints, blood, and whatever else - a person’s natural progression would be become to less empathetic. When someone’s worst day is your norm - it might be a little harder to understand why they are whimpering in your office.  There seems to be more space, however, for medical professions to be insensitive, rude, and hurtful.  It’s as if their vicarious trauma provides them with the green light to make my trauma worse.  

In my experience, the worst offenders are nurses and anesthesiologists.  I have endless examples, but let’s just stick with my most recent surgical experience:

1. Nurse after seeing how much I weigh: “So are you kind of a healthy person?”

2. Nurse when Mike takes my purse as I’m being taken into the OR: “Nice Kate Spade (laughs)” me: “Thanks!” Nurse: “Oh, it’s yours?”

3. Anesthesiologist within 30 seconds of meeting me: “Oh, looks like you’ve been a good customer” - as she reviews my surgical history.

4. Anesthesiologist: “Is your heart rate normally in the 40′s?” - with a panicked tone me: “yes” nurse: “do you run?” me: “yes”  anesthesiologist: “Oh, that must be difficult with your foot.” 

Now keep in mind, I interacted with the nurses and the anesthesiologist for maybe a total of 20 minutes.  That’s a lot of less than trauma-informed language to use in 20 minutes.  

Surgeons tend to share their lack of empathy by just not listening, belittling you, or dropping anxiety causing statements about the extent of your injury.  My personal favorites have been:

1. Me: “If everything is okay, why is my ankle so swollen, why does it give out all the time, and why does it hurt so much?” surgeon: “Well, we could re-break your leg, take the screws out, rearrange your bones again, and see if that works (laughs).” 

2. Surgeon describing my initial injury: “It was kind of like your foot was torn off your leg.” 

3. Surgeon describing the extent of damage to my foot: “It was kind of like you were walking around with an amputated toe.”

4. Me: “The inside of my ankle really hurts and I keep rolling it.”  Surgeon: “I know your MRI says your deltoid is damaged, but it’s not - you’re fine.”  me: “Then why does it keep giving out?”  Surgeon: “I don’t know.” 

5. Me: “I can barely walk 3 miles and I can’t hike at all.” Surgeon: “That’s pretty good!  I haven’t walked 3 miles in years.” 

Egos, paired with burnout, paired with vicarious trauma, paired with a general sentiment mental health and physical health have no space in the same building, has made dealing with the words coming out of my medical professionals faces, as difficult as my actual medical problems.  For anyone who knows me well, I am not quiet.  Thus, many times, I just had to bite my tongue when medical professionals would say something which was hurtful.  I did this, because I knew it was in my best interest to keep them happy.  If they didn’t like me or I was deemed to be a “trouble patient,” it wasn’t going to help my overall cause - which is to move again without pain.

What happens when your mental health is effected by your physical health? All the bad emotions I currently struggle with didn’t exist before my injury - they were caused by it.  Thus, why is it not somewhat the responsibility of my medical providers to acknowledge I’ve been through an awful ordeal and to just be decent to me? 

In theory, they would every so often ask if I was okay, but I know this would be asking too much.  If they ever did, this is what I’d tell them: 

I feel angry: I’m mad about the medical care I’ve received.  I feel like my care was delayed, diagnoses were missed, I was belittled, not listened to, two of my five surgeries were pointless - and I’ve lost 2.5 years of my life because of it.  I have a had time sitting with this and knowing the people involved will never acknowledge their role or be held accountable in any way.  In the meantime, I will never get those 2.5 years back.

I feel hurt: I’m hurt in the feelings sense of hurt.  There are people around me who have let me down.  I’ve lost friends and there are others who I don’t feel the same way about.  I saw pieces of people I didn’t want to see.

I feel sad: I spent a year and half not being able to do the things which help me relieve stress and help me maintain my mental health.  In an extremely stressful time, I didn’t have the normal activities I look to, to help manage stress.  I got them back for a few months and then had to give them up again.  I feel a great sense of loss and it makes me sad.

I feel worried: I’m worried this won’t work.  Why should it?  the other four times didn’t.  I’m worried I will never be the same.  I’m worried I will live with chronic pain.  I’m worried when you say “you have an ankle like no one else,” it means I will never be “done” with this process, because I will always struggle in some capacity.  I’m worried it’s only a matter of time before I blow out my joint again.  I’m worried I have fewer years to hike because my injury will, at some point, completely take hiking away from me.  I’m worried “normal days” are something I may not experience for a long time.  I’m worried I am going to be alone while I try to figure out how to live with this.  I’m worried I’ll struggle because I’m too stubborn to tell the difference between healing and a problem.  I’m worried about what life will be like 10 years from now and if I’ll be able to deal with it.

I feel alone: I don’t know anyone who has hurt themselves to the extent I did.  I know a pile of people with bunions, arthritis, broken ankles, broken legs, tendinitis, or other foot and ankle afflictions.  I don’t know anyone who has dealt with something like me and it’s difficult.  Sometimes I want someone to talk to - who really “understands.”  The closest person I’ve found are the surgeons and they don’t have time to talk to me.  

I feel tired: I don’t want to do this anymore.  I don’t want to drive three hours to take an x-ray.  I don’t want to go to PT.  I don’t want to have a surgeon.  I don’t want to have rules about how I have to move through the world.  I don’t want to argue with Aetna.  I don’t want to rely on Tylenol and Aleve to make it through the day.  I don’t want to have to deal with the lack of compassion within the medical profession.  I don’t want to have to leave dinner because I can’t sit in a chair any longer.  I don’t want my entire life to be based on my leg and say things like “I don’t know if I can do x, we’ll see how I feel.”  I want to go back to being “Erin” and see my primary once a year - maybe.   

I feel lost:  I know I will have to manage my healing for quite awhile.  I don’t really know how to do this.  I don’t know how to manage a serious injury.  I feel like everyday is something new and not in a fun way.  I feel like I don’t have the skills to properly assess what is and isn’t okay.  I wish I didn’t have to learn these skills.

I feel overwhelmed: I walk through everyday holding all of this and it’s exhausting.  I feel like I’ve become selfish out of necessity.  I have become someone who takes and takes emotionally from those around me and I don’t like it.  I want to be there for my friends and family like I used to be.  I don’t want to say “I’m sorry, but I can’t listen to this right now.”  I don’t want to worry someone will tell me they are having a bad day because it’s going to send me over the edge - since I’ve had 700 or so “bad days” in a row.  I want my emotional pot to empty out a little so I have some space for other people.

I feel bitter: I feel bitter both about the medical care I received and the whole process.  I complied with every single direction I was given.  I worked really hard to get better and it failed.  It failed four times.  Other people do everything wrong and they end up okay.  This seems unfair to me.  Why did it fail four times? and why can’t anyone give me this answer?

This is how I feel.  This is what I walk in with every single time I go to see a surgeon, PT, nurse, or office staff.  This is also how I feel as I manage my non-medical life.  It’s what I walk around with every minute of everyday.  

Given all of this I wish a few things were true:

1. I wish there were mentors within the medical community.  I would have loved to talk to someone who had had a similar injury and was a few years out.  I wanted someone to talk to, who has experienced what I have and has been trained to help others.  I don’t want someone who gives me faulty medical advice based on their own experiences.  I want someone who “gets it” and has the skills to listen.

2. I wish the medical community had more skills around managing the mental impact of injuries or illnesses. I wish there was a higher standard when it came to how patients are treated verbally and offenders were held accountable.  I wish the people who knew my medical situation the best could’ve also been the people who said “we know this is hard.”  

3. I wish doctors were given the time and space to care for people instead of treating individual body parts.  This piece alone would’ve made a huge difference.