#Beyond a few minor things like certain physical traits and emotions

[pinkytoothlesso11]

I'm writing a story meant to be a sequel to the original Trollhunters book, with my reimagined versions of Strickler and Nomura as antagonists-here named Carter and Nakamura.

I've thought of ways I could develop their personalities to make them different from the characters they're based on, and I'm considering making Carter dishevelled and messy in his daily life when he's not on the job, when he isn't maintaining the guise of a prim and proper english school-teacher. He would also eat weird things like taking bites from coffee mugs and crayons, not being entirely used to his human form yet.

Do you think that's different from canon Strickler? Would Strickler be as tidy and neat in his daily routine as he acts when in public and teaching?

I think maybe to distinguish Carter more from the Canon Trollhunters series, he should ALWAYS be dishevelled and messy, at least as a human. Perhaps scatter brained too... Definitely good idea having him try and eat non edible (to humans at least) objects while in human form.

Strickler is OBSESSED with being organised and everything having a place, all the time. This extends to all areas of his life, whether the troll parts or human. He hates clutter and needless mess. Which also extends to the way he deals with... Killing people and hiding the evidence lol.

[hockeylvr59]

Here With Me Part 6 || Taylor Makar

Author’s Note: Both Taylor and Kelsey have to take a deep look inside and figure out what they want. Kelsey’s girlfriend cancels and so she invites Taylor out....is it a date or not a date? Neither really knows. FC: Marina Laswick (@marooshk on instagram).

Warnings: anxiety, alcohol consumption, minor pda // Word Count: 4,355

~~~~~~

Five

With final papers to write and final exams to take, Kelsey had only shared scattered messages with Taylor as the days of December ticked by. Yet as she spent the final Sunday of her semester snuggled on the couch with her roommate watching a cheesy christmas movie he once again fluttered across her mind. What would it be like to have him look at her like the couple in the movie? To be able to be in his arms just because she needed to be held. It seemed silly, but more and more it felt like something she wished could be real. 

“Earth to Kels…” Jumping slightly, Kelsey realized that her roommate was calling for her as credits rolled on the screen. 

“You good? You look like you’re gonna cry and the movie wasn’t sad.” 

“Yeah I’m fine.” She murmured, a shake in her voice betraying her. Looking concerned, her roommate shifted to join her on the couch, bumping against her shoulder.

“Spill Kels.” 

When Kelsey just sat silently trying to figure out how much she wanted to say her roommate nudged her again. 

“It’s about that boy isn’t it? The one you’ve been hooking up with on the reg?” 

“His name is Taylor.” 

“Okay. Taylor. You’ve slept with him how many times now?” 

Kelsey sighed and mentally ran through their encounters before answering. 

“Three times since mid October. Would have been four but he was hurt.” 

“And you’re falling for him?” 

The question threw Kelsey completely off guard and she bit her bottom lip. 

“I don’t know.” She whispered, her voice cracking. “He’s…I don’t know.” 

Getting up, her roommate moved into the kitchen and Kelsey heard the fridge opening along with a cabinet and when her roommate returned it was with a bottle of wine and two glasses. After pouring Kelsey a healthy glass and handing it to her, her roommate settled back in beside her. 

“Okay now what’s he like? Besides apparently really good in bed.”   

Kelsey couldn’t keep a small blush off her cheeks because yeah he was really good in bed. Everything else though, it was hard to put it into words. Pulling out her phone she pulled up his instagram and jumped over to his tagged posts, tilting the screen so her roommate could see. It didn’t take more than a couple posts for her to find him in a bar in Belfast with a wide grin on his face, beer in hand, a carnation tucked behind his ear, and his free hand on one of his teammates shoulders. 

“He’s so touchy. Not in like a sensitive way, but in a constantly needs to be touching someone way. Physical affection is his thing. And I’ve never seen him exhibit toxic masculinity, the exact opposite actually. He gets vulnerable, emotional, and doesn’t act like he has to behave in a certain way to meet ‘societal standards’.” 

Scrolling a little more past a few hockey highlight reels, she heard her roommate murmur her nickname. 

“He’s one of your uncle’s players?! Don’t you hate hockey culture?” 

“Yeah but..I don’t know. I haven’t seen any of the traits I hate about it in him. And well…” 

Pausing to scroll further she revealed a reel of his training that she’d seen previously when Taylor had posted it to his story. 

“I can’t deny hockey gives him a great body.” 

“Booty you mean.” 

Kelsey laughed at her roommate's joke and nodded. 

“If only he had pants that fit him properly.” 

“Not anything that’s beyond your ability with a needle and thread I’m sure.” Shrugging, Kelsey continued scrolling even further down Taylor’s tagged posts to find him drinking a slurpee out of the cup with his brother and just celebrating Cale’s achievements. After a few more posts there was an interview the avs posted and Kelsey found herself closing her eyes just listening to Taylor’s voice. It was so soft and in a way made her feel secure. 

When it ended she sipped at her glass of wine and then took a deep breath letting her thumb continue scrolling. 

A good chunk of the posts were silly videos where Taylor was just a background piece but hearing his laugh and seeing him shake his head at the other person just made a warmth swirl in her. This other guy was an idiot but she assumed he was related to Taylor in some way. 

After that it was mostly just junior teammates tagging him in photos he may or may not have been in and Kelsey stopped and closed instagram letting out another big sigh. 

“You’ve fallen for him.” Her roommate eventually murmured, breaking the silence. 

“I…” 

“Nope. Don’t. Your face gives you away. It’s more than sex. You really like him and you like the way he makes you feel just in general. So when are you going to ask him out?” 

“He doesn’t…” 

“You don’t know whether he feels the same or not unless you ask and don’t tell me you’re waiting on him to make a move because it’s 2022 and you’re Kelsey Anne Gettier.” “I’ll think about it.” Swirling the wine in the glass, Kelsey quickly finished it off before setting the glass on the coffee table. “Don’t give me that look, we’re in the middle of finals.” 

“Just don’t miss your chance Kels…not when he makes you feel like this.” 

____

There was no better feeling than being done for the semester. As Kelsey stepped out of her last final feeling pretty good about it, she took in the light snowfall. That was perfect because tonight she was going to Christmas Carols by the fire in Historic Deerfield and it was going to be the perfect way to get into the holiday spirit. 

Walking back to her apartment, she kicked her shoes off at the door and was starting to hang her coat up when her phone rang. Seeing that it was the friend that was supposed to go with her tonight, Kelsey assumed she was calling to firm up their plans. Instead, as soon as she answered, apologies spilled through the phone about how she just wasn’t going to finish this paper in time because she needed to basically redo it all over and that she was so sorry but she couldn’t make it tonight. 

Though she was beyond disappointed, Kelsey assured her friend that she understood and school came first but she sunk into the couch with a sigh. Her roommates had all already left for the holidays so she couldn’t drag one of them along and she couldn’t think of anyone else who might enjoy it. 

As she was debating whether to go alone or just not go at all despite having reservations, Kelsey’s phone lit up with a snapchat notification. Opening it revealed a message from Taylor inquiring how her final had gone this morning and suddenly her roommate's words from the previous weekend flooded over her. She could always ask Taylor…

Biting the bullet, Kelsey snapped back a story with the text ‘what’s your cell # Tay?’ 

After just a few minutes Taylor sent back a story with a number asking if everything was okay. His concern was sweet and Kelsey smiled to herself quickly jotting the number down and adding it to her contacts before starting a text thread. 

Kelsey: If you aren’t busy tonight would you want to go for dinner & drinks and listen to christmas carols, I have reservations and my girlfriend ditched me. 

Kelsey: no worries if you already have plans or need to study. 

Having put it out there, Kelsey got up for a snack and a mug of tea to help warm her up knowing all she could do was wait and hope that she hadn’t misread things with Taylor so wrong that this would screw up everything. 

When she settled back on the couch and looked at her phone, her heart raced seeing his name before she even processed his response. 

Taylor: I’m assuming this is Kels. Not busy, what time? 

Kelsey: You’d assume right. Starts at 6 so 5:30….I can swing by to get you. 

Taylor: sounds good. 

For some reason, Kelsey hadn’t actually expected Taylor to agree but once he had she found herself unable to stop smiling at the thought of spending time with him once again. 

****

It was nearly three hours after Taylor had agreed to go out with Kelsey that the question of what the hell he was doing settled over him. He didn’t even know why Kelsey had asked after he had fucked up the last two times he’d seen her. Was it a pity thing? That didn’t seem like Kelsey, but it wasn’t like he really knew her just from having sex a couple times. Was it just him being a last resort since the person she really wanted to go with canceled? 

Hearing his roommates come home and start to make lunch, Taylor sighed and left his room moving into the kitchen. Figuring he’d be the most useful cleaning up, Taylor grabbed a rag to start wiping counters and snagged any dirty dishes to wash as they were used. When he had to wait between items he ran his fingers through his hair, not happy with how it looked and completely oblivious to his roommates’ annoyance. 

“Taylor. Go sit the fuck down. What the hell is up with you today?” Mikey declared after nearly bumping into him for the fifth time. Pouting a little, Taylor moved out of the kitchen sighing and moved to tidy up the bathroom he shared with Mercs. It wasn’t long before Lauts appeared behind him. 

“Seriously Taylor. What’s going on? Put the rag down and we can talk about it over food.” 

With Lauts’ urging, Taylor headed back to the kitchen and sat down, running his fingers through his hair once more. 

“Spill Tay.” Mercs insisted, tossing him a bottle of water. 

“Won’t be at dinner tonight.” Taylor found himself mumbling. 

“Okay. No big deal.” Lauts declared. “Not sure why that’s got you all out of sorts though. We’ll leave you leftovers.” 

“I’m meeting someone.” 

“Oooooh. A girl someone….that would explain it…” Mercs stated, leaning forward as if that alone would pry more details out of Taylor. “You’re ditching family dinner for a date.” 

“Not a date.” Taylor declared wiping his palms against his joggers. “Least I don’t think it is. I don’t know.” 

Sensing from Taylor’s tone that he really didn’t want to talk about it, everyone focused on the food in front of them, dropping the conversation for now. 

Around 3:30, as Taylor was digging through his closet trying to figure out what to wear, Lauts popped his head in. 

“Hey Tay…just checking to see if you need a ride tonight.” 

“Nope.” Taylor mumbled discarding another shirt that was probably too casual, his tone showing his stress. 

Opening the door further, Lauts leaned against the door frame. 

“If it’s not a date why are you so worked up about this T?” 

“Don’t even know why she even asked when I’ve already fucked everything up.” 

“How’d you fuck up?” A tip of Ryan’s head signaled Mikey and Mercs toward Taylor’s room because this was not something he could help with alone. 

Mumbling about how he hadn’t been able to get it up last time and had ended up crying on her, Taylor rubbed his face. 

“Did she seem pissed off? Because it doesn’t sound like you fucked up if she asked you out.” Mikey questioned, shrugging offhandedly. 

Not really having an answer to that, Taylor just sighed, his shoulders slumping. Pushing his way around Lauts into the room, Mercs wrapped an arm around Taylor. For a few minutes, no one said anything as Taylor just focused on steadying his breath and collecting himself. 

“I just don’t want to let her down again.” He eventually whispered. “What if she doesn’t want me and thinks she deserves better?” 

“She asked you out, so unless she’s a complete bitch clearly that means she likes you T. Go. Have fun. Stop playing guessing games over how she feels and just find out.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Taylor nodded and rubbed his face once again, murmuring his thanks. Patting him on the shoulder, Mercs pulled away and the trio of roommates stepped out to give Taylor some space to process before getting ready. 

By the time Kelsey’s text came through that she was outside, Taylor had managed to calm his nerves some, though he was still anxious. 

It only took a moment for him to spot her standing next to her car, her hands tucked in the pockets of her leather jacket. She had an olive green scarf on for warmth and she looked absolutely beautiful. Unconsciously, Taylor moved to wrap her in a hug and feeling her hands slide up and around his torso made something in his body settle. “Hey Tay.” She breathed, brushing a strand of hair back in place as she pulled away after a moment. “You ready?” 

**** Getting his nod that he was ready, Kelsey moved around the car to slide behind the wheel. Starting her car, she sat still for a moment just enjoying the warmth of the vehicle before buckling in and checking to make sure that Taylor had done the same. 

“Thanks for coming with me.” She murmured, backing out onto the street and off in the direction of Historic Deerfield. 

“‘Course.” Taylor’s voice stated softly, his tone suggesting to her that she wasn’t the only one who was a little nervous. 

Though there was a little snow on the roads, it wasn’t enough to make the drive more difficult, so it didn’t take any longer than normal to get to Deerfield and the soft Christmas music on the radio filled the silence as neither was quite sure what to say.

“Have you ever been here?” Kelsey asked as she pulled into the gravel parking lot behind the old firehouse. 

“Can’t say I really even know where here is.” Taylor admitted sheepishly having been watching her and the ease with which she drove from the corner of his eye more than the roads to have any clue where she had driven. 

The statement made Kelsey laugh a little as she climbed out of the car, locking it behind her after grabbing her wallet and phone. Bumping against Taylor’s side as she walked beside him, Kelsey guided him across the street to the Inn and restaurant contained within. 

Giving her name for the reservations, Kelsey was told it would be just a few minutes before a table cleared but they could head to the bar for a drink while they waited. Taking the hostess up on that suggestion, Kelsey pulled Taylor with her toward the bar and grabbed a small menu of the drink specials. 

Looking it over for a minute, Kelsey looked back at Taylor who still had a look of uncertainty in his eyes. Wanting to stomp that out as quickly as possible, Kelsey tipped her head back to talk to him. 

“I think I’m going to get a cranberry cider. Do you want that or regular?” 

“Cranberry is fine.” 

With his reply, Kelsey flagged the bartender down and ordered two cranberry ciders, showing her id and giving her name for them to be added to the bill once they were seated. 

It was only a moment after they were handed their glasses that the hostess came over to lead them to a table near the fireplace where the music would be played. Thanking her, Kelsey smiled as Taylor pulled out her chair before she could even get to it. 

“Thanks Tay.” She whispered, setting her glass down before slipping her jacket off and settling in. Taylor did the same, revealing his simple navy pullover which hugged his shoulders and looked really sharp. 

Taking a sip of her cider to distract herself from his body, Kelsey looked around the room where people were having dinner while the musician set up. It was cozy and quaint and the fire warmed the space fairly well. When the waitress came along she commented on their having drinks already and that she would just bring some water out for them before she left them with menus. 

Kelsey already knew what she wanted but she gave Taylor a chance to look over the menu before engaging him in conversation about how many finals he had left to take before Christmas break. 

His workload didn’t seem too bad but it still kind of sucked that he wasn’t done until the middle of next week. When he asked her the same question Kelsey smiled. 

“Hampshire is done tomorrow and today’s final was my last one so I am officially sliding smoothly into Christmas.” 

The pout on Taylor’s face as she said that made her eyes soften and she gently bumped her foot against his under the table. 

“You’re almost done too. Then you can go home and visit your family for a week right?” 

“Yeah. We get a little bit of time off before having to be back to travel for our holiday tournament.” 

“That’s going to be nice. Is your brother going to get any time at all?” 

“Not sure Cale’s plans yet.” Nodding, Kelsey left that at that knowing that Taylor wasn’t always the biggest fan of talking about his brother. Especially not in public and she couldn’t blame him for that. 

As the musician settled in at her spot by the fire, Kelsey took another sip of her cider and closed her eyes for a moment ready to just focus on Christmas and the joy it brought after all of the stress of the semester. When she opened them she saw Taylor watching her and it made her cheeks flush a little. 

Although the singer may not be the best in the world, she was at least pleasant to listen to and Kelsey smiled at Taylor as the waitress came over to check on their orders. While Taylor got a small plate of wings with the seasonal dry rub, Kelsey ordered the mac and cheese, her post finals comfort meal of choice. 

Food orders in, Kelsey focused on the music for a few minutes before asking Taylor if he was going to do anything fun while home. In turn he asked what her plans were and she admitted that she had to frantically try to figure out Christmas gifts for her family and friends because she was way behind the ball this year and hadn’t had time to do any of the sewing she had planned to do. 

Otherwise she was just going to do her daily yoga, bake and eat way too many Christmas cookies, and watch all the classic Christmas movies. 

By the time they had debated over the best kinds of cookies and what was and was not a classic Christmas movie (Die Hard absolutely did not count), their food was in front of them and conversation quieted while they ate and listened to the festive music. 

Kelsey’s mac and cheese was creamy and absolutely hit the spot and her pleased look caused Taylor’s eyes to flash dark for a moment as he watched her. Reaching over the table with his fork, he snagged a noodle despite Kelsey’s mock protest and ate it. 

“Not bad.” He mumbled before taking a sip of his water. Rolling her eyes at him, Kelsey reached onto his plate and snagged a carrot stick, dipping it into the small container of blue cheese before popping it into her mouth as well. If he could snitch from her she’d snitch from him too. Really though she didn’t mind because he looked so much more relaxed now than he was when she picked him up and she enjoyed seeing him relaxed like this. 

As they finished eating they continued to chat softly about everything and nothing and Kelsey noted how it just worked being with him like this. Between the fire, Christmas carols, the cider, and Taylor’s gaze Kelsey felt warm from head to toe and didn’t want this moment to end. 

Eventually the waitress brought over the check and though she assured them there was no rush, Kelsey knew that other people would be waiting for the tables and it wasn’t fair to their waitress to hog it all night even if they were going to tip well. 

Seeing a few standing tables pushed up against the wall Kelsey suggested softly to Taylor that they pay their check and just move to standing until they were ready to leave, that way someone else could have their table. Pulling cash out of her wallet to cover her half of the bill and a healthy tip, she waited for the waitress to take it and Taylor’s card for the other half before informing her of their plans so she could have someone clear the table. 

Excusing herself to the bathroom, Kelsey came back to find Taylor with a fresh mug of cider in hand leaning against the wall, their coats draped over the small table beside him. 

“Figured you’re driving and probably shouldn’t have a full one but that we could share it while we listen.” He murmured in her ear when she stepped into his personal space. 

“Sounds perfect. Thanks Tay.” She smiled, resting her elbows against the small table. Following their lead a few other patrons from the bar moved over against the wall as well and so Kelsey was forced a step closer to Taylor. In turn he just pulled her back against him fully and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

Relaxing against him, Kelsey rested her head back against his chest and sighed happily because this was everything she had wanted and then some tonight. 

Taking a sip of the cider, Kelsey just based in the moment smiling when she felt Taylor’s lips press against the top of her head before his chin rested there lightly. She’d never felt quite as safe and wanted as she did then and she hoped she wasn’t wrong about Taylor possibly feeling the same way. 

Sliding her phone out of her pocket she angled it to take a shot of the singer and fire just to remember the atmosphere and how she felt tonight, unintentionally capturing Taylor’s arm and fitness band in the bottom corner. . 

Lingering for another twenty minutes or so until the mug of cider was empty and the carols started to become more obscure, Kelsey finally suggested that they could go if he wanted. Letting him help her into her coat, Kelsey adjusted her scarf and smiled as Taylor led her through the room with a hand on her waist. 

Once outside, it was clear that it had continued snowing while they dined and everything was coated in a light white powder. Stopping Taylor, Kelsey took another picture of the street and inn looking picture perfect, their shadows captured against the sugar white snow. 

As they headed back to her car, Taylor insisted that he would brush it off while she started it and got the heat inside going. Thinking it silly to argue with him over something like that, Kelsey thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and settled into the driver’s seat. Opening her instagram she posted the two pictures from tonight to her story before fiddling with the heat and radio while Taylor made it safe for her to drive. 

She’d had a really really nice time tonight and could only hope that he had too. 

****

Folding himself back into Kelsey’s car, Taylor buckled up and looked over at the girl next to him. She was beautiful and sweet and he’d had a lot of fun just talking to her and spending time with her. She hadn’t brought up either of his previous failures and it seemed like she was completely unbothered by them. 

Pulling his phone from his pocket he posted the picture of the restaurant he’d taken while she was in the bathroom to his close friends instagram story before setting his phone down in his lap. Taking a chance, he reached over to rest his fingers on her thigh while she drove and the way she smiled and her cheeks flushed made a pang of want fill him. Not for her body, not for sex, though he thoroughly enjoyed both of those things, but for simple moments like this where he could touch her just because he wanted to and she seemed to enjoy it. 

As they reached the amherst limits, Taylor’s phone buzzed against his leg and checking it he saw a dm from his captain from last season, Bobby Trivigno. 

Give Kels a hug for me T. 

There was clearly something he was missing from that but he didn’t have the energy to try and unpack that right now. Instead, as Kelsey pulled up in front of his apartment and parked, moving to unbuckle herself to say goodnight, Taylor climbed out and met her halfway. Wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug, Taylor dipped his head to capture her lips in a soft kiss. When he pulled away there was a sparkle in her eyes that drew him back in and he held her close kissing her again and again until she was giggling against his lips and murmuring for him to get inside and get some sleep. Thanking him again for coming with her, Kelsey pressed one more kiss against his cheek before telling him to kick butt on his finals and asking him to text her if he wanted to get coffee or something before he headed home. 

As he watched her drive away, Taylor shook his head slightly. Though tonight had answered some of his questions, it created a dozen more and everything felt even more complicated than it did earlier. 

His roommates weren’t going to let him dwell on any of those thoughts though because as soon as he walked through the door, they were hollering for him to come join their COD session and tossing him a beer. He’d have to figure it all out later.

[parvulous-writings]

Fresh Meat // Ashe x reader

Request:It's my turn now, hehehe.First off, must say that your last two SFW alphabets are so bloody amazing, like WOW- You truly are an amazing writer, whether you deny it or not.Anyway, I wanted to request another one. Could you possibly make an Ashe x Reader? I was thinking that they are both in the Deadlock Gang, and the reader is a new recruit or something.Once again- thou art truly amazing! 😚❤

Requested by: @rey-is-not-a-skywalker​  (Hi bor!) 

Summary: Ashe and the reader have a conversation, regarding a few things they find odd about being new to the Deadlock gang.

Warnings: N/A

Words: 1.1K

Notes: I knew you’d be requesting something soon lmao. I did a little more research into the Deadlock gang, so hopefully I get this right!  Soft!Ashe. Slightly strange ending?  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

The Deadlock gang had recently welcomed a new recruit to their ranks, after a rather long period of seeing nothing in terms of fresh meat. You had to admit, Deadlock wasn’t quite what you had expected. Of course, you saw full well that the fearsome reputation they had in the Grange didn’t come from thin air or someone’s wild imagination, but they were a more tightly knit group than you would have expected when you looked at them with outsider’s eyes. What an outsider or stranger would have seen was.. Chaos. A bunch of criminals and those hated by their society, hardly acting in sync and only for their own gain and nothing beyond that. 

You see, when Elizabeth Caldonia “Calamity” Ashe- a wealthy, Southern socialite well known for lashing out- pulled together the band of misfits and criminals from the surrounding areas, what she was really pulling together was a family. One to make up for the one she had lacked in her younger years. These whom were cast out found happy refuge and sanctuary when they devoted themselves to her cause. A simple vow, in truth, merely to help with each score, take a share of the spoils, and expand the territory of the Deadlock Gang. It appealed to the many who had been done wrong by the world, cast aside by society and their moral high-horse.

Now Ashe, Ashe liked you. It was hard to ignore that you were quickly becoming one of her favourites. Not particularly because of your skill- to her that was neither here nor there- more so because of your ability to practically command a room with how you spoke.  In part  your slight confidence helped with this. But you could not discredit your ability to woo a group or crowd with your phrasing and vivid imagery. You had the traits of a fine public speaker, should you put your mind to it. In fact, this is what Ashe often had you do. She’d get you in front of the majority of the gang, to explain a plan on her behalf. In the woman’s eyes this accomplished two things. 

Number one; it brought her family closer together, being able to rally behind certain people such as yourself and herself.  Number two; it was her way of showing you affection- giving you an opportunity to flourish in your own, special way. She did not work well with physical affection a large amount of the time, so this is what she silently settled for. Whether you were aware of what this was to her she did not know, and nor did she much care. Awkward with affection as she may have been, she didn’t often shy away from emotions, especially the more passionate ones. 

After one particularly rousing speech and explanation, she approached you. “You did well..” She complimented you with a small, almost playfully fond smile. You returned the expression, though not with the same nuances.  “Thanks, boss.” You replied softly, moving towards the small bar to get yourself a drink, hoping to drench your throat to rid yourself of the dryness. “Ah-ah, what’ve I told you about tha’?” She playfully scolded you, shaking her head, causing her ice-like hair to sway with the movement, hitting her angled cheeks. You merely chuckled in reply, as you poured yourself a small glass of water. She continued speaking, “If I’ve told ya once, I’ve told ya a thousand times, sweetpea- You can call me Ashe. Most of ‘em do anyway.” She gestured broadly to the crowd that was murmuring amongst themselves nearby. 

“I know, I know...” You roll your eyes ever so slightly, though it was not out of annoyance. “It just feels... Odd, when I do, y’know?” You shrugged slightly as you swished the clear liquid around the bottom of the glass as you spoke. “I mean, you’re employing me, aren’t you?”  “Well, yeah, I s’pose you’re right” Ashe responded, as if it were the most trivial thing in the world.  “Exactly. You’re my boss. Shouldn’t I address you as such?” You ask, raising a single brow as you pitched this idea to the fearsome leader who had now settled on a barstool. At your question though, she began to laugh.  “Oh, god no, sweetpea!” Ashe was practically snorting- clearly this was amusing to her. “No, no. We’re more of a family than a business. You know that!” She playfully punched your shoulder. “Call me Ashe, sweets. Or there’ll be trouble.” She warned teasingly. She then got up to go and tend to a few minor things for their next haul, when you tried to get her attention again. 

“Ashe?” You were surprised by how quickly her head snapped round, and equally shocked at how her hat stayed in place.  “What’s up, darlin’?” She asked with that troublesome smile of hers.  “Why do you call me that?” The question clearly caught her quite off-guard, and she hesitated a little bit.  “Call you... What?” She looked almost dubious of your intentions behind said question.  “All the nicknames. The pet names.” You clarify. You didn’t mind them, not one bit, you were just curious. Ashe took a few moments longer to answer you this time, and you can practically see the cogs turning behind her almost crimson irises. You wait patiently, giving her the time she needs. You were always patient with her- though mostly that was because you didn’t want to burn the fuse to her temper. 

“Well, I like ‘em...” Ashe began, tapping her chin with a gloved finger. “And you’ve certainly never protested about ‘em...” She pointed out, which was certainly true. In fact, sometimes, with some of her more intimate nicknames, you could feel your ears start to burn with something akin to embarrassment. “And, well, I like you.” This particular sentence rouses you from your thoughts.  “Come again?” Ashe sighed at this. She didn’t like repeating herself very often.  “I. Like. You.” She repeated herself word for word, but much slower, her voice dripping with sarcasm. This tone made you rather doubtful of the truth behind her words. This seemed to show in your expression, as she shook her head and waved the subject away. “Never mind, never mind.” She sighed, though it was more lighthearted this time. 

She turned on the heel of her boot, beginning to trudge back over the wood of the almost derelict building the gang usually occupied- falling apart simply because of repeated and strenuous use. You left your glass on the surface of the bar, and began to trail after her. “You know...” You broke the almost silence that fell over the hallway you had turned down. “I’m pretty fond of you myself...” You told her, and this seemed to please her. “Oh yeah?” She smiled down at you beneath the brim of her hat. You nodded softly in confirmation.  “Yeah.” 

[random-thought-depository]

The Star Trek TOS episode Space Seed was on TV Saturday; the episode with Khan (the genetically engineered “superman” Khan, not the guy who built Data Khan).

And a thought occurred to me. So, in the episode they comment on how Khan has “magnetism” and he’s portrayed as charismatic and seductive (both in the sexual/romantic sense and in the more general sense). Personally I didn’t really see the appeal, he seemed like basically just an unpleasant violent narcissist to me, but then I guess some people are into that; I guess he might appeal to the sort of person who really likes Donald Trump.

But I had a thought... OK, Khan is supposed to be a genetically engineered “superman,” created to be superior to ordinary humans; stronger, smarter, etc.. And a lot of physical attractiveness is features that indicate health and genetic fitness. So maybe Khan would look unnaturally handsome. Like, maybe he has super-symmetrical facial features and absolutely perfect skin and teeth and he moves with the speed and grace of a natural Olympic-level athlete and Julliard-level dancer and so on. He doesn’t look that way to me, but we can apply the logic fans have applied to Klingon foreheads and the rubber suit Gorn in TOS and assume what we see on the screen is an imperfect reflection of what Khan “really” looks like. Maybe a lot of Khan’s charisma is just halo effect from him being unnaturally handsome! He has such a big ego and is so proud of his own cleverness and “natural leader” personality traits, I think it’d be funny if a lot of his charisma is really something stupid like that and he’s smart and observant enough to realize it and deep down it bothers him a little!

Mmm, concept:

It does bother him. He uses it, of course. Charisma is a powerful tool and weapon; to refuse to use it out of petty pride would be foolish. And he really is charismatic in the ways he’s proud of being. He really is smart enough to figure out what makes people tick and use that knowledge to manipulate them. He really does have the drive, ambition, vision, and aggression of a natural conqueror, and people sense that and respond to it. He really does impress people with his intelligence and strength. It’s hard to untangle all this from the boost his charisma gets from his unnatural beauty, and to try is at best a matter of blue sky curiosity, at worst indulging one of his few gnawing goblins of self-doubt. Khan is smart enough to know what his charisma is, and pragmatic enough to use it to its full potential.

Still, deep down it bothers him to think that some of his charisma is something that stupid; to think that a difference of a few millimeters of bone and tissue here and there might have made him less successful. Khan relishes bending people to his will with his mind; knowing that something as stupid as “deep down that person wants to please me because I’m beautiful and it feels good to be liked by a beautiful person” is part of the “recipe” taints his triumph, makes him doubt himself. It’s one of the few sources of self-doubt Khan has.

Not everyone responds to Khan’s unnatural handsomeness the same way. A significant minority are actively repulsed by it; they find him too handsome, too perfect; they find it uncanny valley-ish, creepy. And some people just don’t seem to notice physical attractiveness much, or just don’t seem moved by it. And sometimes people are uncomfortable with the feelings Khan’s unnatural handsomeness creates in them and this makes them hostile to him; that happens especially often with men. Khan relishes dealing with people who don’t respond positively to his beauty, manipulating them, bending their minds and hearts to his will. With them he knows it’s a true match of wits and personality; with them his victory is pure.

On a certain level, deep down, Khan envies people like Adolf Hitler, who were charismatic but physically unattractive. They could be secure in the knowledge that their power came from the strength of their minds. When he was younger he once half-seriously considered mutilating his face or getting plastic surgery to make himself uglier, just to make manipulating people more of a challenge, but that was a foolish idea, and he no longer entertains it with any seriousness.

His fellow “superiors” have the same unnatural beauty, and he sometimes wonders if they have the same feelings about it. He’s discussed the matter with a few who he’s closest to, but it’s not something he talks about much.

He tells himself that people responding to his beauty are just responding to his natural fitness to lead in a roundabout way. He asks himself rhetorically why people desire to please and serve beautiful people, and he answers his own question thus: partly because beauty is correlated with health and genetic fitness, and therefore with intelligence and sanity! This leadership-selection strategy is not conscious, but natural selection has carved it into human behavior at the genetic level. This makes him feel a little better, but still... He knows well how sloppy such intuitive heuristics are, and the idea of owing some of his success to something so loosely connected to the strength of his mind bothers him a little. It bothers him, mildly and secretly but persistently, like a cigarette burn under his shirt.

Sometimes Khan wonders if some beautiful women, Marilyn Monroe for example, felt something like the way he feels. To consider this thought gives him a strange feeling; it makes him feel an empathy based on shared suffering of a sort, and he’s not used to empathizing with normal humans that way.

Khan is good at empathizing with people in the sense of cognitive empathy, of knowing how they think, of course. It’s an important part of his charisma; to manipulate people it really helps to understand them. Some conversation with a normal and observation of them and he can often predict their reactions better than they can. But the sort of empathy that comes from shared suffering ... he’s not used to feeling that toward normals. He’s really not used to feeling it toward anybody, because he’s experienced very little suffering. There was the suffering of defeat at the end of the Eugenics Wars, of course, and ... that was about it. He grew up pampered and privileged, surrounded by his creators, who treated him like a prince and told him he was special, better than most people, the next step in human evolution. He had tremendous power and privilege for most of his life. His perfect body has only ever known two kinds of pain, injury-pain (rarely) and exhaustion-pain (mostly only mildly); he has never felt a headache or a back-ache or anything like that, he has never been sick. Even the suffering of defeat was mostly an abstract intellectual and emotional pain; only at the very end was he in any sort of direct physical danger. He has been in battle, he fought hand-to-hand during the coup that first brought him to power and during the chaotic last days before he fled from Earth, he has directly killed people in combat ... but that was more exhilarating and fun to him than anything else; his creators gave him the temperament of a brave warrior.

Once, early in his rise to power, Khan tortured a prisoner by burning them with a lit cigarette. How the weak little thing squirmed and squealed! Afterwards, he tried burning his own arm with a lit cigarette, just to see what it felt like. The pain didn’t seem so bad to him, but then his creators made him resilient enough that he doesn’t need to coddle every little injury, and they adjusted his nervous system suitably, gave him a high pain threshold.

Sometimes Khan does experience a pang of sad visceral empathy toward the unfortunate. He imagines what it would be like to be one of the wretched of the Earth: poor, slow, stupid, weak, sickly, ugly, awkward, wracked by physical and emotional pain, tormented by hunger, thirst, heat, cold, chronic pain, sadness, anxiety, fear, loneliness, impotent anger, shame, sexual frustration, battered about like a leaf in a storm by forces they can’t understand and can’t effect, used and tricked and abused by people smarter or stronger or just higher-status. That ... that must be awful. In his own arrogant, condescending way he really does want to help the normals. He really does want to fill full the mouth of famine, and bid the sickness cease. He intended to make the world orderly and peaceful, and to make sure everyone had the food, shelter, clothing, medicine, etc. they needed and lived in what he considered reasonable comfort and dignity. He created as close an approximation as he could of those conditions within the domains he controlled. They say he was the best of the tyrants.

He’s a convinced elitist, but it would only have been temporary. If he’d won, within a few generations everyone would have been a superior, like him. With time the process that created him could have been made cheaper, made available to everyone who wanted to make a child; if he’d won he’d have made that a great civilizational project, as important as the fusion reactors he saw providing endless cheap energy by burning the deuterium of the oceans and the great vaccination and infrastructure-building campaigns he intended to launch in Africa and Asia and Latin America and the asteroid mining and the... No more need for an elite of superiors when everyone is a superior. And no more arthritis, or depression, or ... so many bad things would have disappeared into the history books when the last generation of normals expired peacefully of old age (joining war and poverty, which he intended to banish into the past much sooner). And in the mean time he’d have seen to it that the last generations of normals lived in as much comfort and dignity as their flawed bodies and limited minds permitted.

And that would have only been the beginning! He looked forward beyond that, to future generations that would be as far beyond him as he was beyond the normals - further! He looked forward to a future of - who knew, immortals seemed like the next obvious step. And after that perhaps god-like immortal minds freed from the limitations of flesh, building for themselves vast magnificent new bodies of silicon and steel in which they would outlive the stars. He probably wouldn’t have seen it, as perfect as his body is it still ages. He wouldn’t even have outlived the last normals. Like Moses, he would have led his people to the border of the promised land but died outside its gates, it would have been to his successor or his successor’s successor to lead them through into the land of milk and honey and dwell there with them. But, perhaps, huddled around one of the last black holes at the end of the time, sipping Hawking radiation to power slow thoughts that took a thousand years to think, there would have been beings that remembered him, that saw his face and touched his hand in the staggeringly distant era when they were still human and had chosen to keep the memory of that as the stars burned out and all through the long bright joyous festival in the cold of the ultimate night. That concept pleased him.

It was not to be. Well, he doesn’t blame the normals too much for rejecting him. The way he figures it, most of them just weren’t smart enough to understand what he was offering, and getting angry at them for that is like getting angry at a non-verbal autistic for being unable to speak.

Once, when he was a child, he was walking alone through the expansive beautiful pleasant garden of his creators’ compound, in the pleasant cool of evening after a hot Indian day, and he found a bird with an injured wing. He supposes Dr. Hibbert’s cat must have mauled it and then gotten distracted by something and wandered off. One of its wings was bloody and wounded and broken and twisted, dragged against the ground as it walked. When he walked toward it, it walked away from him as fast as its little legs could carry it, and then it tried pathetically to fly, flapping its wings furiously and impotently. The sight of it filled him with a queasy mix of revulsion and pity. His first impulse was to run away from it, and his second impulse was to seize a stone and put it out of its misery, but his third impulse, the one he chose to obey, was to capture it and try to fix its wing and tend to it and feed it until it healed. It tried to escape from him as he tried to capture it, and it struggled furiously as he seized and held it, beating its wings furiously and scratching at the air and his hand with its claws. The panicked, vital thing in his hands revolted him, and its claws scratched his fingers and drew blood, but he forced himself to be as gentle with it as he could, to bring it inside and clean and apply antibiotic to its wound and reset and bandage its wing as it tried to escape his grip. He knew it was only natural that it would fight him and try to escape from him; it couldn’t understand that he was trying to help it; its brain couldn’t be much bigger than a peanut, far too small to contain the knowledge of what he was trying to do for it, too small to contain anything but that which was immediately relevant to its wretched and limited life, the search for food and the avoidance of and flight from predators and the building and tending of a nest and mating and laying and tending of eggs and tending of any young that might hatch from them. If it thought at all about what was happening to it, it probably thought he was trying to eat it, or more likely its struggles were simply instinctive, and the process of setting the wing and cleaning and bandaging the wound must have caused it pain. He set its wing and cleaned and bandaged its wound despite its efforts to escape him, and then he put it in a cage Dr. Pretorius gave him and he fed and tended it until its wing was healed, and then he took it into the garden and let it fly away, to continue its wretched and limited and meaningless life in the wild. Perhaps it lived to its kind’s version of old age (perhaps 15 years, he looked it up, and he has an almost eidetic memory) and knew a few moments of something like joy now and then, or perhaps it was eaten by a cat the next day.

When he thinks of the defeat that forced him to flee from Earth, deep into the dark, he thinks of that bird scratching his fingers as he tried to help it.

They say he was the best of the tyrants.

He killed more people than Hitler and Stalin.

------

Note: this is a model for, like, approximately Space Seed period Khan; Wrath of Khan period Khan has known real suffering intimately and would be a lot more bitter. Negative character development lol. Especially as the whole “we couldn’t tell two completely different planets apart” thing in Wrath of Khan is so absurd that I kind of headcanon that would actually happened is that Khan wanted revenge for his wife’s death, decided he’d rather be the ruler of a populous world than the leader of a 72 person village, tried to MacGyver up a small starship to reach a civilized world, ended up crashing on the much less habitable next planet out in that solar system, and in true Hitler/Trump-like fashion blamed somebody else (Kirk) for the consequences of his own overreach and disastrous failure.

[battlingbooks]

book battles: the greatest superpower

the greatest superpower by alex sanchez

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with a free ebook in exchange for an honest review! This has not affected my review in any way, all opinions are mine.

1.5/5 stars

Jorge Fuerte is about to start high school when his father comes out as a trans woman, flipping Jorge’s life upside down. Now, on top of normal high school things like bullying, a crush, and friend problems, Jorge also has to deal with his parents’ divorce, accepting his dad, and the rift this has caused between him and his twin brother, Caesar. 

IMPORTANT NOTE: Although Norma is a trans woman who uses she/her pronouns, she asks Jorge and Caesar to continue calling her ‘dad.’ Additionally, while I am not a trans woman, I am a nonbinary person of color. I can relate to Norma on certain levels, but want to acknowledge that I do not have her experience and ask that you read reviews by other trans women, particularly trans women of color, for more detailed opinions that trump my own. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of transphobia, deadnaming, misgendering, and racism. 

I had a very hard time writing this review, because ultimately, this is a book that attempts to deal with many many MANY issues, but ends up resolving almost none of them. It left me feeling as though the story wasn’t completely finished, or the author didn’t know how to resolve the situations that had been created. Because of this, I really didn’t know what to say. Or I went back and forth between having too much to say, and risk spoiling the entire book. 

Reading this was difficult. And eventually, I came to this conclusion: this book is a book about a trans woman, written by a cis people, from a cis character’s point of view, for a cis audience. It’s so binary. And there is a genderfluid character but…most of this book sticks so strictly to a gender binary. Even the comic plotline, where there’s a “trans superhero” (I am REALLY tentative about calling the character trans) is so binary. 

The idea that being a woman makes you more open to emotions and willing to work out issues through talking than physical conflict… And that changing depending on what gender the superhero is? It made me personally really uncomfortable, as well kind of sexist. These traits have nothing to do with gender and everything to do with socialization and the society we live in, as well as our own personalities.

And while I believe there is a place for stories like this, about cis kids understanding their trans parents, I do not think this is this book. The amount of misgendering Norma goes through in this book made me feel physically ill at times. Even Jorge, who accepted Norma much faster than other characters, misgendered her for such a huge majority of the book. It took him so long to use the correct pronouns. And other characters went the entire book without gendering her properly. 

So much of this book presents Norma’s coming out as something she “did” to her family. The characters ask how Norma could do this to them. It talks about how difficult it is for them to get through. But at the same time, it never really explores how hard this is for Norma. How being rejected by her family feels (which is in part very confusing and I won’t get into this review due to spoilers but the whole thing with Jorge’s mother is really confusing to me), the violence she faces as a trans woman of color. AND WE SEE THIS! We SEE Norma face transphobia head on!! Jorge sees it! And it’s only brought up like two times and is never really explored beyond that! 

Also frustrating was the fact that there is a gay uncle who is just there randomly to be gay and have no character or arc other than ‘hey he’s gay’ and only show up/be mentioned like twice. And there’s a genderfluid kid in Jorge’s grade/class who also has no character and essentially exists to be bullied, explain what being genderfluid is, and be a very stereotypical nonbinary character. Now that isn’t to say nonbinary people like Noah don’t exist, but when you only have one nonbinary character, and they don’t have much of a character, it feels incredibly stereotypical. Neither of these two characters are CHARACTERS. They feel like they were put here so the author could be like “See! More non cishet characters!” opposed to fleshed-out people with like. Personalities. 

But stepping away from the portrayal of trans and non straight people in this book. The comic plotline felt so underdeveloped. It felt like it was constantly getting lost in the shuffle. I didn’t really care for the attempt at the love triangle, but I suppose the romance was sweet. I HATED the reason the romance fell apart which I will not get into because spoilers but it annoys me. Racism (Jorge and Caesar are half Mexican), racial profiling, and transphobic violence, specifically TOWARD WOMEN OF COLOR, one of the most vulnerable portions of our population, are touched upon but never explored really in-depth. The relationship between Jorge and Caesar felt like it needed more time and the ending… I get the real world isn’t perfect but for a middle grade novel especially it felt so bleak. Realistic, maybe, but not only did it feel incomplete and unsatisfying, it made me wonder what the point of going through all this really was. 

Look, at some point this book made me cry genuine tears. I think it was during a conversation Norma and Jorge had. It had a few moments I enjoyed. There was a chance this book could have been good. But it tried to tackle a million things both major and minor (like did we need a comic contest AND a talent show?), and ended up falling so flat. Parts of it felt slapped together haphazardly. If a cis author wants to write about trans people, that’s fine, but I do not think this was the way to go about it. I think more sensitivity readers were needed at least, because so much of this felt so insensitive and was so painful as a nonbinary person to read. And if this is meant to be a way to help cis kids who are around Jorge’s age understand trans people and the struggle of being trans, I absolutely do not think this is the way to go about it. 

Instead of buying this book, I suggest donating the money you would’ve spent on it to support trans people of color instead. A few charities to look at include the Transgender Law Center, the Lavender Rights Project, the Trans Woman of Color Collective, INCITE!, and the Sylvia Rivera Law Project. (Note, I have not researched these organizations in-depth, and always recommend researching charities before donating!)

goodreads page for the greatest superpower author’s website

[pokeshippingflashfic]

keyword "support"

The semi-darkness blankets them just well enough to not be able to clearly see one another, as well as to block out any distinguishable traits of the crowd chanting his name from beyond the veil.

“They’ll likely be calling you out any second now,” Lillie forewarns him with a kind smile, and he returns it before winking at the electric mouse curled over his shoulder.

“Ya hear that, buddy? It’ll finally be our time to shine!” he exclaims, pumping both fists tightly against his chest before loosening back up.

“Pikachu Pikapi!”

“I guess you should take this back, huh?” Mallow asks offhandedly, holding out a rather familiar glimmering golden trophy. “The adoring public will probably be expecting you to show it off now that you’re the first champion trainer of the Manalo Conference.”

“Ah, thanks,” he replies rather bashfully considering, clearing his throat to shake off the briefly overwhelming nervous excitement and shuffling the trophy around in his arms until he’s able to tuck it under one of them.

Adoring public, huh…? he mulls over internally with a wistful expression most can’t decipher.

He’ll never say it aloud but his initial thought after winning the final match against Professor Kukui is how he can’t even believe it. Ash Ketchum has practically been all over the world, he’s seen more places than probably any other single person he’s ever met before, won more gym challenges and participated in more leagues than he has fingers on the one hand… But he hasn’t taken home the gold until now.

It’s crazy to think that he was in disbelief over his own victory, over his own Pokemon team’s capabilities, at any point over the course of his adventure. After that thought - I can’t believe it! - had crossed his mind and faded away, he’d shaken his head. Why couldn’t he? He and his Pokemon were plenty strong! If anyone else had asked him before the very moment he’d blinked up at the sky and his surroundings in the very same stadium he was standing in now, basking in the afterglow of triumph, he would have guffawed in assured confidence and said it was only a matter of time!

The chanting grows ever louder as Professor Kukui speaks fondly of his experiences in breathing life into Alola’s Pokemon League, as well as his pride at having one of his own students best him in battle.

He knows he’s probably two minutes or less away from being formally introduced as the reigning champion of the Manalo Conference. And, adversely, in the faint few moments before his induction, Ash Ketchum is suddenly overcome with a strange bout of nervousness.

Why would he doubt himself, even for a second…? In what can almost be considered a trial run of a new league branch, does his win even count? What does the weight of the gold-glinting trophy in his arms mean for him and his next journey…?

Perhaps sensing the sudden tension in his trainer’s shoulders, Pikachu kneads his sharp claws into Ash’s shirt, the young boy flinching from the minor pinch of pain in his flesh.

“Pikapi…” the electric mouse starts, nudging him affectionately in the jaw, “chu kachu pika?”

“It’s, uh… it’s nothing,” he replies breathlessly, his fingers burning, paling as they strengthen the grip on his trophy. “I’m just… It’s weird but I’m okay.” And he does what he can to blink away the uncertainty swarming after his statement.

This is stupid.

“What’s going on, Mr. Pokemon Master?” a rather sharp whisper snakes into his right ear, causing him to jump from its sudden intrusion into his consciousness.

“Oh. Misty.”

He says it like he’s forgotten her existence, or at least as if he’s forgotten the fact that she and Brock had bothered to take even more time away from their homes and their duties to see him compete in Alola’s league.

The redhead squints suspiciously at him in the low light, hands tucked behind her back throughout the course of her once over as she leans in ever closer. He thinks she must be angry at him for his previous tone. Little does she know this whole thing isn’t about her at all.

“You look anxious.”

…. Okay, so maybe she does know.

Well, at least the basics. There’s no way she knows him well enough to see the internal battlefield overrunning his mind.,, right? Not taking the risk, Ash Ketchum does what he’s prone to do when Misty Waterflower happens to touch a nerve.

Deny. Deny. Deny!

“No I’m not.” Shame that such an intense and unfamiliar emotion seems to have taken control of his vocal chords, and the three word assertion sounded much more panicked than he’d intended.

“Why are you anxious?” she asks, not accusatory, rather genuinely curious… It’s a bit perturbing if he’s being (again, internally) honest.

“Like I said, I’m not! I dunno where ya got that idea, Mist.”

This reply does him no good. Not only has he learned over the course of the past few years of knowing her that the redheaded trainer is unlikely to give up when she finds a debate worth pursuing but also it draws the attention of the rest of their group of friends.

He clears his throat, turns quickly on one heel, averts his gaze to the navy curtain before him. Lips clamped tightly shut, he hyper focuses on a streak of glitter in the fabric. There’s no way he’ll admit a darned thing!

“Ash,” she asks more softly now, gaze sober, “what’s going on?”

Even though it feels like her voice is trying to peel him open and unveil the truth, the moment is interrupted by the bellow he’s been dreading - er, expecting - for the past several minutes.

“And now it brings me great pleasure to present before you our first ever Alola champion trainer, Ash Ketchum!” Professor Kukui shouts, the hanging drawing suddenly open wide enough for the young boy to step through.

But he doesn’t. Or rather, with an attempt at dislodging the sudden mass forming in his throat, he staggers a few measly inches forward. But no further.

“Ash…?” Misty mutters affirmatively from somewhere just behind him, clearly frustrated by his lack of boldness. The next thing he knows, he feels a palm and fingers spread across the small of his back, and he’s lunged the rest of the way into the spotlight.

“C’mon! You’ve earned this!” Comes the follow-up declaration of sharpened fervence and - oddly - that’s all it takes to wash all the turbulent negativity and apprehension away from him.

He grins at Pikachu through tightly drawn lips before his mouth opens wide in a whoop of joy, the trophy lifted as high as his scrawny arms can carry it as he takes off running towards the professor.

He doesn’t have much time to think about where his boundless glee stems from in all the building excitement. He doesn’t have the attention span to split between his induction speech and the tingling bundle of nerves at the low center of his back where Misty had previously physically supported him. He doesn’t even have the consideration to think in the moment that it’s worth thanking her for her vote of confidence.

But instinctively, because he knows Misty as well as she clearly knows him, he’s sure she wouldn’t tell him he deserved something if she thought otherwise. That not her style, he’s certain. So if she’s backing him up here, it’s because she’s aware of his (and his Pokemons’) efforts, believes in their strength.

And honestly, there’s nothing in the world more capable of allaying his uneasiness than her telling him exactly what he needs to hear. Especially when he’s not sure what that is until she says it.

… Not that he has time to think about that.

[wildcardwriting]

Courage in the Face of Adversity #1

[Legend of Zelda]

Next Chapter | Read on AO3

Summary: The time Link kept a lot (tons) of secrets and left everyone else confused.Or not everything is solved by the defeat of Ganon.Post - BOTW(Features Champions back from the dead. A Hylian Princess at her wit's end, and a certain Hyrule Hero who is apparently a ninja in his free time.)

XXxxxxXX

Chapter 1:Doubt and Innocence

XXxxxxXX

Wisdom grants otherworldly knowledge, and how to use it efficiently, but at the cost of their personal freedom as royalty, and as a descendant of the goddess Hylia.  Creation.

Power grants strength used to protect people, but on its own will consume the holder eventually leading down a path of destruction if it cannot be reined in. Destruction.

Courage grants the ability to tap into traits from other species, but at the cost of happiness and eventually sanity if the Master Sword is used. Balance.

XXxxxxXX

When Link wakes, he can hear a song playing in the background. It takes a minute for him to recognize it, but when he does he grows sad. Saving the world once should have been enough, but sitting in this pool of water and blood and wherever else leftover from the final battle, he knows this isn’t the end.

It can never be with the Song of Time playing in the background.

Getting to his feet, his wounds pain and prickle him as the simple act of standing seems to be more than his battered and wounded body can take. If only he had an ocarina with him, he could heal himself a little, but he knows he doesn’t. In this life, he was born and raised to be a knight, and learning music was exclusively for the enjoyment of nobility, a talent useless for a knight.

Reaching for the Master Sword lying next to him, he uses it as a makeshift cane as he staggers forward inching himself away from the destruction that once was Hyrule castle grounds and the slowly dissolving body of Ganon. He has to find the Princess Zelda of this time and make sure she's okay before he does anything else even though all he wants at the second is to sit down and not move for another hundred years.

As he makes his way past the burnt remains of the trees near the front of the palace garden, he sees Princess Zelda kneeling in the dirt, her prayer white dress in tatters. The sight of her nearly makes him lose his grip on the Master Sword. For all his affection for his charge, there had always been a little bitterness in him when he thought about the bloodline. Even though he knows this incarnation had nothing to do with his curse, he can’t help the anger he feels for Hylia. Her love was a curse more than it was a blessing, and living over and over again was damaging.

Pushing the confusing mess of emotions to the back of his mind, he drops to the floor next to her a little confused about why she’s still praying. He knows Ganon has been defeated for this generation and reaching out to his Triforce, he can feel Power going to sleep.

Looking back to Zelda, he notices her eyes open and on him.

“All this time, I’ve been keeping watch over you…I’ve seen your struggles to return to us, and the battles you fought.” She whispers, her voice quiet but sincere and much more different than most of his memories.

“I always believed that you would find a way to defeat Ganon and you have.” She says reaches out to his face, and Link struggles not to finch. He has far too many painful memories of creatures reaching out to him. It’ll be a while before he’ll be okay with anyone coming too close to him.

She gasps.

Apparently, he didn’t hide that finch as well as he thought.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t move. That looks really bad!” She whispers catching sight of his wounds, blood finally having bled through his layers of clothing and armor. Her hands are moving to his shoulders in an attempt to help him stay sitting up but this time she’s actually pressing on wounds.

He tries not to whimper, but the pain is starting to grow and even as he looks at her, he can’t hear much beyond static. He sees her starting to panic, and he feels a slight pull against his waist as she reaches for one of the last elixirs at his belt, pulling it off quickly, but all she does is add to the pain he's already feeling.

“Drink this,” She says carefully helping the elixir up to his mouth. He doesn’t fight her, and in his condition, he doubts he could have drunk it by himself anyway. His arms are like lead, heavy and immobile as they ignore him. As it is he is clinging to consciousness by a thread.

The Master Sword is lying on the ground next to him, and even as he attempts to voice this out to the Princess she is far too distracted with his wounds to actually listen to him. His wounds although painful and varied are minor in the grand scheme of things considering all he needs is some proper bed rest, but she isn't listening to him or to Wisdom even as Link attempts to speak to her through Courage.  

Instead, she slowly tips the contents of the bottle into his mouth carefully, as to not spill a single drop. Link feels his wounds slowly starting to close. Some painfully. Some not. Except for all the wounds healing leaves him feeling exhausted. It was part of the reason why he ate hearty foods instead of taking elixirs. Even though food had a lower, slower healing rate compared to elixirs, they didn’t make him tired. He feels his limbs sag with pain and fatigue that he finally realizes that the dull ache in his back wasn’t just a pulled muscle but a physical wound as he feels the injury stitch itself back together. Apparently, he was far more injured than he thought.

He sees the darkness from the edges of his vision start to cover his view, overwhelming him. He sees the ground rushing towards him and he hears yelling and the heaviness of feet running before everything vanishes into the void as he slips into sleep and dreams.

He dreams of the moon falling onto a town, of Impa whisking Princess Zelda away, of the darkness stripping Ganondorf’s mortality away to reveal a monster. He hears the first song being played, while a world sinks into despair. He changes from one to four and he's forced into the form of a wolf. He remembers the chains around his neck and the burning of lava on his skin. Zelda's lullaby is playing in the background and—

A woman in white steps out and holds out a sword to him. She crying, begging for forgiveness and even though Link wants to forgive her, he can't.He can't. He sees tears falling from her eyes, and as she falls apart, she reaches out towards him even as a red puddle—blood grows underneath him. He can see her eyes pleading with him for forgiveness but he's just can’t give that to her. He's been through enough.

He's tired.

Let him sleep.

His eyes are heavy and there is screaming in the distance and he wants to give up but he isn't allowed to because everything depends on him. He's the Hero and the Hero isn't allowed to give up and it’s so unfair. Everything else has been taken from him anyway.

Why can't he be allowed anything?

Why can’t he be allowed to give up?

Why can’t he rest?

Hadn’t he done enough?

He'd rather sink into the void and not have to wake anymore. He's tired of being alone and fighting over and over again for people who will never know him. He’d rather stay here in the darkness of the void. No one can find him here—

A small hand reaches out to him in the darkness. He wants to look up to see who has come near him, but he doesn't want to. He feels like if he does, he will come to hate another person. He's not sure why though.

The person, a woman holds him and although his eyes are on the ground he can see the green of her dress and hair. She seems familiar, but the why or how's escape him. Why does she feel so familiar?

She pats his head and comforts him in the way a mother might, but he can't be sure. He's never had one.

"Dearest child," She says into his ear, but also through his Triforce. "We don't deserve to be forgiven. Even Din's chosen is allowed peace," She whispers to him before pausing. Link can't help but feel marvel at hearing the voice with both his ears and his magic. He wonders if perhaps she is Farore, but doesn't ask because the answer will only cause him more pain. He hates enough people, and he’s jealous of far too many people, its better he doesn't know.

He feels some drops of water on his shoulder and knows that she's crying too. He pats her on the shoulders, hoping to offer some comfort even while he envies her. He wishes he knew how to cry. It’s been too long.

"I won't ask for forgiveness or give excuses. We are to blame. Din's love started this tragedy, Nayru escalated it and yet you suffer. Yet know this, your pain will not be in vain. Every wound and every death upon your body will be paid back in full. The end is near." She whispers in his ears and hugs him once more before she vanishes into green dust.

He hopes she right. He really hopes so.

The wind surrounds him, leaving him alone and lonely before the darkness gives way to sound and pain.

The feeling comes back to his body a rush, pain biting into him one second where before there was none. He takes one shallow breath to get used to the levels of pain while his ears become aware of distant sounds.

His fingers move gently, slowly, almost like he was mimicking the notes for the Song of Time on the grass—except instead of grass he feels soft material. He’s not on the ground, so he knows he was likely moved. There is a clattering in the distance and the sounds of people moving all around him. It reminds him of a few memories he has in the castle, a place full of people in motion. Perhaps he is somewhere similar like in an inn or a townhouse?

A hint of herbs and the bitter scent of red potions give his theory credence and from the light steps of several people, he can just barely hear, he knows he is surrounded by the Sheikah. Perhaps he is in a makeshift infirmary?

It’s hard to tell with his eyes closed and as much as he wants to open his eyes, even this tiny amount of motion has exhausted him. He still needs more rest. Yet, he still wants to know what has happened. Straining his ears as much as possible he can barely make out some of the words from the conversation taking place near him. The tone is the first thing he hears instead of sentences, and even from the bed, he can hear the concern in the few words he can make out.

"...send word to the other races..."

"...your highness..."

"And...is hero...covering?"

"The battle was...difficult…wound..."

“…waiting…”

Impa’s voice is low and carefully measured. It’s like when she was speaking to him of his childhood, all soft tones, but with far more thought into every word as if she's afraid of saying too much and too little all at once. He’s never heard her so worried before.

Did something happen after the battle? Calamity Ganon's defeat should have lessened the effect of Malice across the land, reducing the re-spawn rates of weaker monsters but maybe there was something else he didn’t know about. Reaching out through the Triforce of Courage he doesn't sense anything strange or concerning from Wisdom but that might mean that whatever happened wasn’t physically painful.

Perhaps the Princess Zelda of this time was having nightmares or had some mental trauma after being stuck for one hundred years? He didn’t know but it would make sense. Magic, in general, was finicky, especially magic as complicated as space and time manipulation like what the Zelda of this generation had used would probably be even more difficult.

Though if that was the case, he won’t be much help to her as the holder of the Triforce of Courage, he was weakest of the three when it came to magic...

He struggles to keep his thoughts together as he felt his consciousness slipping as his body starts dragging on his mind. He needs more sleep and more time to rest even though he doesn’t want to. If only he had eaten instead of taking those elixirs, he would be fine...

He slips back into the void, somewhat surprised to discover color instead of darkness. He finds himself sitting on a rock near a grassy field. He's near a cliff edge by one of the shines situated outside Rito Village. He glances towards the east and he can see the sun come up over the horizon. He knows this place well. It's his place, the place he often went to in the real world whenever he needed a break from the rest of the world. Up here, surrounded by mountains and sparse with monsters he's alone. The Rito themselves rarely ventured to this spot on the mountain, instead preferring to sleep within the Village rather than rough it out near the mountain's peak especially since memories of Vah Medoh still lingered in their hearts.

He shifts on the rock, watching the sun climb the sky.

‘Perhaps this was better’, he can’t help but think.

If he had been walking around, Impa and the rest would have put him to work, likely as a messenger between the kingdoms or even as some wandering swordsman slaying monsters across the land. A task that while good for his skills was little more than stalling the enviable. With his duty officially done, he would only a burden upon the Sheikah to house him.

Rebuilding a kingdom demanded resources and manpower, skilled politicians, scholars, and so on and even if no one would comment on his presence immediately they would eventually.

He could particularly see the situation play out, had seen it a dozen times in other lands, during different eras. First, there would be celebrations and parties, notices would be sent out and the kingdom would set about restoring itself. It might take more time, in this era, maybe even years because of the amount of damage, but sooner or later the whispers, and politicking would start. Other races would attempt to bind him to their people, either through blood or marriage and accepting or denying or even doing nothing, would jeopardize his place with his own people. The Zelda of this time would try and shield him for a short time before she stopped, either because the Sheikah persuaded her, or she realized it was a battle she could not fight if she wanted her kingdom.  

Having the Hero of the Sealing Sword was a boon when Calamity Ganon was on the horizon, but after the battle, he was a problem. Memories still lingered for the other races after the deaths of the other champions; his presence was a reminder of that loss. Some like the Gerudo would scorn him, and the Rito might ruffle their feathers about relying on him, but at the end of the day, all races had monsters in their lands far too dangerous for them to defeat. They needed him in their armies and if possible some of them would try and force him into their households either through marriage or parentage. If he stayed with the Zelda of this time, re-building her kingdom would be harder.

And yet...

Perhaps, this was an opportunity in disguise. Staying in bed, would give him valuable time to consider his options, and figure out what his next move might be.

Still, before he made any decisions he needs to take account of what he has. If he still has the Sheikah Slate then he has his collection of weapons and items, including several weather elixirs and any rupees he earned. If he doesn't have it...

He shakes his head, even from his dreamscape he can feel it near him drawing on his Courage to power itself.

He still has it...or at the very least it is near him. If he can get it before he goes, his journey would be easier. If he doesn’t have it, surviving would be harder and his ability to travel would be limited significantly.

But on the flip side, even if he did have the Sheikah Slate, he would need to limit the amount of fighting he did. The last thing he needed was to be tracked down and be found by either the Sheikah or any of the other races and be forced into their politicking.

But then if he didn't fight, what could he do?

He had that house in Hateno Village and even if he ran out of rupees he was an expert in scavenging for food. So that wasn’t an issue, but then would that be all he did? Hiding out in some frontier village and watching the world move on without him? It’s not like he could do some other profession. He had been the hero for so long that it was all he knew. He had very few life skills beyond taking down monsters, and he had never been to school let alone taught anything that didn’t require swinging a sword.

He felt an emptiness within him at the thought.

Like all those other times.

When the battle was over, did he still have a purpose?

Could he survive in peace?

He still didn’t know after so many lifetimes, and he wondered if he would ever know. Fighting had taken up so much of his life that whenever the battles were over and the war was won for his lifetime, he always felt directionless as if his entire life was solely for that moment and the instance the fight was over, his purpose was gone.

Shifting on the rock once again, he looked up feeling lost. The sun was shining overhead, and although he could see the Rito Village from his seat on the rock, the view didn't comfort him. People meant problems and now after Ganon's defeat people meant conflict.

What should he do?

Thinking back to his memories of other lifetimes he still found no clear answers.

In other lifetimes after fulfilling his role as the Hero, he had retreated to the furthest village in the kingdom hoping to fade into obscurity. It never worked of course. The Princess Zelda of that era was always looking for him, and even though she had never intended it she drew all the wrong kinds of attention. After all, royal knights of the court didn't just go around bothering random peasants and even though Link had tried his best to stay out of the limelight, it got increasingly difficult when people started asking questions. Often times the village would eventually figure out who he was and praise him for his deeds, but ultimately being found created the same problems he tried so hard to escape.

Zelda might promise to respect his decision to live a normal life, but sooner or later her hand would be forced. Maybe some powerful Lynel started nesting near the castle and her knights couldn't defeat it, or there was a stampede of Hinox's near the Zora's domain, or Molduga started attacking Gerudo Town, etcetera. The list was endless. He would once again be called into service and problems would start again. People would call for him to train guards or be part of the knights, and once again he would be chained down. The cycle was never-ending.

He had no problem helping people or running quests it was just everything else that he struggled with. He was more than just a weapon. He was just a normal person that wanted to be left alone and yet no one listened.

Something that seemed more and more apparent the more he reincarnated.

Even though he had settled down in other lifetimes it had been more about well…settling than because he wanted to. He would be forced to don the mask of a Hero for the rest of his life, and then he was never free. A hero was needed here, or there. A hero was needed to fight a war, or defeat that monster, and to be more than Hylian, to be goddess blessed so he was put on a pedestal so high he could never see the bottom. If he failed at anything, he was scorned for it. As the Hero, there was no room for being Hylian. He was supposed to be above it all. He wasn't supposed to have nightmares or show up at breakfast tired and drawn, it made people angry at him because it was a reminder that he was just as mortal as the rest of them.

No one could understand his struggles and triumphs and the less they understood the harsher they were. No one liked to see a hero give up—

Muttering in the distance, brought him out his bitter thoughts. Perhaps something had changed. It seemed rather odd that the Shiekah was meeting up with Zelda again.  Straining his ears to catch even a few snippets of the discussion, he reached out to his magic to help him hear better.

“…our scouts have reported monsters disappearing from some of the hillsides…”

“…so peace truly upon us…”

His control on his magic waned and the voices vanished, as Link's emotions went wild.

It was like the floor was falling out from underneath him again.

He knew it was going to happen again, but so soon?

He was going to lose his place again. This time with pieces of himself still missing.

And yet, what would his lingering gain him?

He had been around the Princess Zelda of this generation and still, he was missing memories. Even those pictures she had stored on the Sheikah Slate were nothing more than copies of her memories. They weren't his memories. They didn't contain anything meaningful for him. All they showed was his time as a royal knight and later his term as the Hylian Champion, there wasn't anything more than that. None of his questions had been answered. So nothing was keeping him here. The Sheikah certainly wouldn't mourn him, and he had no one among the people here he could even call a friend let alone an acquaintance.

So leaving was really his best option. Besides the longer he delayed leaving, the harder it was going to be when he was forced out. If he left before it got to that point, he’d save himself some heartache and pain. Princess Zelda was back, and she was all the kingdom needed. She had the Sheikah Clan behind her anyway. What did one champion matter in the grand scheme of things? Surely the Sheikah would be better suited to guarding and advising the princess. They were after all highly educated in academics and politics.

It was better for him to start moving on.

His mind made up, he started trying to move. Thankfully, his eyes were no longer heavy and against the pounding of his head, he was able to get himself into a seated position before he slowly started trying to get up. It was a hard process because his first attempts nearly had him rolling back on to the bed but slowly he managed to get to his feet. It was like he had been fighting for days. His muscles and bones ached with each motion, and even when he thought back to other lifetimes he couldn't remember ever being in such pain even after his battles with Ganon.

Perhaps he was still too weak?

The thought made him frown. Being weak wasn't an option, because even with Ganon’s defeat, he knew there was always Demise to be worried about. He couldn't afford to be weak.

Hopefully, though it would come to that.

Demise shouldn't make an appearance in this timeline. He hadn't in the last lifetime, but there was always the chance. At the very least he could shore up the wards of the Seven Sages, to ensure nothing went wrong. Reaching to his Sheikah Slate, he re-equipped himself, taking a few moments to eat some hearty food he couldn't help but noticed the absence of the other Champions' presences. There was no background mutters, no hint of magic that symbolized he could use their abilities, nothing. It was strange but understandable. He had defeated Ganon, so there was no need for their spirits to linger any longer. He had gotten used to their odd and sometimes random words of advice, that now that he was alone, he felt lonely—

Pushing his emotions to the back of his mind, as he threw the leftover Kabob sticks into his inventory. He didn't have time to ponder on his loses. Soon enough someone would be checking in on him, and he'd rather avoid having his escape or his intentions known.

Pulling out the Shekiah Slate he clicked on the map.

According to it, he was currently in Kakariko Village, if he teleported to the Lakna Rokee Shine in the forest East of Kakariko he would be able to check Demise's wards. The seal would probably be weakened soon if it hadn't already, and if he went now he might be able to keep it in check for a while longer instead of having to fight it.

After all, now that Ganon was gone, Demise was likely to be temporarily weak as well, and if this time's Zelda was being guarded by the Sheikah. A few more hours wouldn't mean more in the grand scheme of things considering he wasn't going to be her personal knight anymore anyway. As was tradition, the Hero was released from duty after he defeated Ganon and given leave to do as he pleased. It was one of the few stipulations he always asked for any time he had taken on the mantle of a hero, and now that his duty was done, there was nothing to tie him down.

Besides the quicker he left, the more likely he could head off anyone trying to scheme him into marrying this Princess Zelda. As much as she had grown as a person, his memories were too tainted, for him to ever consider a relationship with what was essentially one of his children, even if they technically weren't related.

Pushing that thought from his mind, he tapped on the shrine and feeling himself go weightless vanished into the void.

XXxxxxXX

If he had been present, even a moment later he would have seen the chaos brought on by his disappearance.

XXxxxxXX

Next Chapter | Read on AO3

[theonyxpath]

Eric here. Today, I’m posting a fair chunk of the current Conviction and Loyalty section of Deviant. If conspiracies drive the actions of the entire cohort, Conviction and Loyalty Touchstones provide specific motivation to each individual Remade. Ready? Here we go:

Divergence damages the part of the Remade’s soul that once guided her senses of self and identity, replacing Virtue and Vice with the twin Anchors of Loyalty and Conviction. She defines herself by her interactions with others — specifically those actions driven by love and hate and directed toward a specific person, group, cause, or location.

A Remade’s Conviction can run white hot or blisteringly cold. It compels the transformed to do what needs to be done, often forcing her to make hard choices in the pursuit of her designated enemies. It dictates her need to confront anyone who would keep her from pursuing her goals. Conviction is the churning, seething anger that always lurks at the edges of her emotions. It is what makes a Renegade fight, what gives her the courage to escape, and what pushes her to determine her own fate. Conviction serves as a source of Willpower based on her actions.

Where anger and hate guide Conviction, Loyalty represents the Remade’s ties to those she cares about deeply and strives to protect — both from herself and from the sinister forces she tangles with. These are those few people who have stood by her since her Divergence, who accepted her how she was before and how she is now. They’re the friends and family who refuse to be scared off even when she insists they ought to run, that it’s for their own good. They’re also the new friends she’s made since everything changed. It’s hard for a Deviant to maintain relationships, but these ones approach the sacred for her. She’ll do anything it takes to protect the people who have earned her trust to this degree. Loyalty restores the Broken’s Willpower when she acts to uphold it.

Touchstones

Touchstones invoke strong feelings of hate or love in the Remade, anchoring her to her remaining humanity. Acting for or against a Touchstone helps the Deviant keep her Instabilities from growing worse, while falling short of these obligations shakes her confidence and can trigger disastrous complications.

Whether Conviction or Loyalty, most Touchstones are individual people. Some Broken forge ties with an object, place, or organization, but these are always concrete and localized – something that can be threatened or destroyed by a single actor in a single time and place, whether with a gun or an explosive.

A Deviant hates her Conviction Touchstones with a limitless rage. She recalls them with a passion so deep it always seethes just beneath the surface, ready to boil over. Most are members of the conspiracy that stalks her or created her: her Progenitor, the school administrator who nominated her for the experimental program, the lab tech who injected her with the serum, or the old roommate who invited her along to participate in an obscure ritual. She might even wish to see the lab where she was experimented on destroyed, or the ritual altar smashed Others have earned her enmity in other ways, such as by threatening a Loyalty Touchstone, standing in the way of the Remade’s revenge, or inconveniencing her in other ways: the police officer who keeps hauling her in for questioning, or the neighborhood gang that’s always making trouble for the cohort and their allies.

If causing a Conviction Touchstone to suffer is satisfying, killing one outright offers a moment of catharsis. However, resolving a Conviction Touchstone by destroying it does not extinguish the yawning chasm of the Deviant’s need to protect or exact vengeance. The Remade who destroys one Conviction Touchstone almost always replaces it with another as soon as possible – or with a Loyalty Touchstone.

The focus of a Loyalty Touchstone is often someone the Deviant knew before her Divergence. This may be an old friend or lover, a partner in crime, or even a former enemy whose past sins now pale in comparison to what her Progenitor did to her. Some Touchstones form after the Renegade goes through her ordeal: the lab assistant who helped her escape, or the member of her cohort who bears an uncanny resemblance to her little sister. They are people who remind her that even though being Remade took away a piece of her humanity, it didn’t take all of it. They show the transformed kindness even when — especially when — she’s incapable of showing it to herself, and they have her back even if they don’t always agree with her choices.

Loyalty Touchstones are the source of both comfort and concern for the Deviant. The Touchstone is the person he goes to when he’s troubled, but that means if his enemies are watching, and he’s not careful enough, he’s putting his friend in the conspiracy’s crosshairs. Ruthless conspirators often threaten to harm the Touchstone, following her to work, watching her children on the playground. They make her life difficult, sometimes using bureaucratic frustrations to mask their involvement. Police show up on her doorstep, following up on a tip that she’s harboring the fugitive Renegade. Child services pays a visit based on an anonymous call from a concerned party. Some conspirators contact the Touchstone directly, attempting to turn her against the Remade or suggesting they can protect her from him if he grows violent. They try their best to sow seeds of doubt between them.

Upsetting the Broken’s loved ones is a combination of a taunt and a threat. The conspiracy wants the Renegade to know they’re watching, to know they’re keeping tabs on where he goes and who he values. Anything they can do to throw their target off-balance is just fine by the conspiracy. In extreme cases, the Deviant’s enemies kidnap his Touchstones or put them in physical danger. While this can draw the Remade out of hiding or make him come to the table and negotiate, it also serves to fuel his hate and determination against the conspirators involved. Overtly threatening a Touchstone can backfire — a Touchstone is much less likely to be off the grid, and therefore will be missed by other people in her life if she suddenly stops showing up for work or her children don’t come to school. Conspirators usually deploy these extreme tactics sparingly, and only when they’re certain they can minimize the fallout.

Systems

Starting Renegade characters begin with at least three dots in Conviction and one in Loyalty, which Origin then modifies (see Chapter One). The sum of Loyalty and Conviction is never more than five. Each dot has one associated Touchstone, a character toward whom the Renegade feels a particularly strong hatred or protectiveness.

After a scene in which the Renegade makes progress toward one of her Conviction Touchstones, she gains one Willpower and takes a Beat. Once per session, when she risks danger or suffers for her Loyalty Touchstone, she regains all Willpower.

If a Touchstone is destroyed or killed, or when a Touchstone falls to Wavering, the Broken’s Loyalty or Conviction falls by one (depending on which Trait the Touchstone was attached to). If both Loyalty and Conviction reach 0, the Deviant goes Feral (p. XX).

Once per chapter, the Remade may declare a new Touchstone to fill an open Touchstone slot. This Touchstone begins at Wavering, and therefore doesn’t increase the character’s Loyalty or Conviction, unless it is successfully affirmed (p. XX).

A Touchstone may switch from Loyalty to Conviction (or vice versa) without Wavering first, as long as the Touchstone itself remains the same. When the Broken’s best friend betrays her, for example, her rage is so instantaneous she doesn’t pause to consider why her friend might have done such a thing.

Abandoning an existing Touchstone and replacing it with a new one is a two-step process. First, the Remade must cut ties with the old Touchstone, therefore losing a point of Loyalty or Conviction. This counts the same as his declaring a new Touchstone action for the chapter. Once the next chapter begins, he may name his new Touchstone, which begins at Wavering.

Acting counter to his Touchstone — failing to pursue the subject of a Conviction Touchstone or abandoning a Loyalty Touchstone in a time of need — means the Renegade has Faltered. The player rolls his current trait rating as a dice pool to determine the severity of the damage to the relationship:

Roll Results

Success: The character believes he made the right choice. Both trait and Touchstone remain in place.

Exceptional Success: The character heals a minor Instability.

Failure: Remove a dot of the trait. The Touchstone remains in place but becomes Wavering.

Dramatic Failure: The character loses both a dot in the trait and the Touchstone and suffers a medium Instability.

When a character acts against a Wavering Touchstone, he rolls his current trait as above, but on a failed roll, the Touchstone is lost, in addition to the dot.

The Renegade can also attempt to affirm a Wavering Touchstone, strengthening his friendship or rekindling his hatred for a conspirator. When he acts in support of a Wavering Touchstone, he rolls the trait (Conviction or Loyalty) as a dice pool.

Roll Results

Success: The character has gone above and beyond for his friend, or done a job that reminded him just how deeply his hatred toward his enemy burns. The Touchstone is no longer Wavering, and the Renegade gains a dot in that trait.

Exceptional Success: In affirming his dedication to the Touchstone, the character discovers a new reservoir of rage or devotion within himself. The character successfully affirms the Touchstone as above. In addition, if the character has an open Touchstone slot, he may immediately assign a new Touchstone, even if he has already done so during the current chapter. This new Touchstone is initially Wavering, as normal.

Failure: Nothing changes. The character has done the bare minimum his friend expects a decent person to do, or has chased down a lead against his enemy without any tangible results. The character does not regain the dot in the trait, and the Touchstone remains Wavering.

Dramatic Failure: The character finds he cannot rekindle his love or hate of the Touchstone. The character loses the Wavering Touchstone.

Sometimes the Renegade is caught between pursuing a Conviction Touchstone and aiding a Loyalty one. He gains the benefits for the one he follows, and rolls Faltering for the one he failed.

[shatteringangels]

Concept: Soul Destabilization

Concept: Soul Destabilization

Souls are a fluid, yet solid thing comprised of pure energy. However steady they may be, there are still things that can ail them, such as Soul Sickness or Destabilization. Both can leave the supernatural completely helpless, or, in the most serious situations, kill them.

Necessary Definitions: Soul: The center of the living body, supernatural or not. Highly fragile, though can be very powerful. The source of power and vitality. Soul Destabilization: When the soul is unstable. It absorbs excess energy much more readily, and actually moves about in the body. Too much can lead to Soul Spasm. Witch: A human who is able to tap into the Earthen Realm’s power supply and bend it to their will through their own body. Soul Spasm: When the soul becomes destabilized to the point of frantic spasming within the body. Can be fatal. Soul-Bound Mate: Two supernaturals that are bound at the soul. Can feel each other’s pain, and if one dies, the other will be driven to depression and longing for death. If they are not killed, they will most likely commit suicide.

Destabilization: Destabilization itself is what it is called when the soul begins to behave erratically in comparison with the body. The soul will tremble and move about within the body, creating physical pain, as well as soul damage from colliding with various internal processes. It can affect any being with a soul, making it highly dangerous, though humans don’t have that much knowledge on it in the first place. It isn’t contagious in its early stages, but as it gets closer and closer to spasming, the soul can begin to transfer its behavior onto other souls around it, spreading the damage further and further if not contained.

Process: A soul can be destabilized in many different ways, making this a very real threat to supernaturals. Each process can affect both full supernaturals, as well as their Demis. The different methods are listed below:

The first, and most common, is by causing great pain to the soul without damaging it. This typically happens between Soul-Bound Mates, and is a form of torturing them when the torturer knows the victim is Soul Bound. As the damaged soul transmits excruciating pain from actual injury, the undamaged soul will feel the same amount of pain, though not being damaged at all. The soul becomes confused at this, and begins to uproot itself from its stable position in attempt to make the stimulus match with the sensation.

The second way is to manually destabilize the soul. This method can only be done by a witch, and takes excessive amounts of power. Because of this, it is performed by multiple witches when it actually is done. The spell takes an incredibly complex spirograph, and the exact soul color of the intended target must be known, as the spiral must match that color exactly for the spell to work. However, this is very obvious to the victim, and the witches are often killed before the process is complete, leading to a very minor destabilization.

The third way is by incredible amounts of energy being introduced or expelled from the soul at a rapid pace. The soul can only take so much energy level change at a time, and when this happens too quickly, it harms the soul. For energy introduction, the soul is unable to contain all the new energy, and begins an attempt to expand to hold it. Much like a balloon, it tries to fill to bursting. When energy is sucked out, the soul begins to shrivel, which causes enough of a change of shape to begin the destabilization process.

The fourth only occurs in the Maculari populations, affecting both Angels and Demons. It is related to the previous method, though has a slightly different effect. When a Maculari is awakened, they rapidly gain access to all the energy they were supposed to have, which is often much more than their soul is used to, ven though it always had it there. The soul is overwhelmed by the sudden energy access, and becomes unable to control it, and thus expels the energy as quickly as it can. This leads to the third process, and thus near immediately sends them into Spasm.

Effects/Symptoms: Symptoms of Soul Destabilization:

weakness

fatigue

being easily startled

mood swings

uncontrollable phasing AKA “flash-stepping”

inability to use powers correctly

inability to use elements correctly

sudden power loss

sudden power gain

muscle spasms

organ damage

limb flickering

paralysis

soul damage

On Mates, even more symptoms/effects occur:

The other in the pair will begin to also destabilize, though at a slower rate

Dull ache in the soul

Only the victim’s mate could go into spasm; the other cannot

If, for some reason, the mate is in an Angelic or Demonic gauntlet, and the other spasms, they can shatter.

Spasm: Spasm occurs when the soul can no longer take the repeated attacks of whichever method is used to destabilize it. When this occurs, the soul begins shoving out all the energy within it at varying speeds, trying to get the “bad” energy out of itself. The symptoms listed before get worse and worse, until the body goes into a state similar to a seizure. In this state, the soul is incredibly weak, and even a light touch could make a deep crack. Physically, the body will black out, becoming completely blind, then fall unconscious from the mass amounts of energy being shoved out of the soul. Other physical responses vary from case to case, as an actual ictal phase of a seizure. After this ends, instead of following the pattern of a seizure and entering the recovery stage, the body will enter a coma, staying unconscious until either:

A) The soul runs out of energy, shattering it. Or B) The soul is restablized.

Treatment and Identification: Identification is difficult, as the symptoms could just be traits of the soul in the first place. Only one who can see souls can diagnose the issue. When looking at the soul in the process of destabilization, it will move about by itself, instead of with the body. The movements are also highly erratic, and if any birthmarks are present, the soul will gravitate to these areas in an attempt to break through them. However, this is not noticeable through the normal supernatural ability to see the color of the soul through birthmarks. Therefore, among demons specifically it is very difficult to discover, as only the Rooks and a few other lesser demons are able to do this for even a few seconds.

However, once it is found, it can be treated.

Treatment methods:

Stabilizing wards on thin soul areas/birthmarks

A witch performing a stabilization spell

removal of the stimulus causing instability

Only the last is proven to work 100% of the time.

After a soul slips into Spasm, it becomes much more difficult to treat. Removing the stimulus will no longer work, and wards do little to nothing. Certain herbs and gemstones can help to ease and slow the process of death, but only a Witch restabilizing the soul will completely treat it. This process can kill anywhere between a few days to millennia, depending on the amount of power the soul has in the first place. However, without a witch, it is always fatal.

Non-Lethal effects

Occasionally, soul destabilization has different effects that do not directly harm others or the victim. These can be used to the advantage of anyone who so chooses to experiment with them.

Destabilization can be used to switch two nearly identical souls into different bodies if paired with the correct spell by a witch.

During the third stage of the supernatural Mating Ritual, this occurs in a controlled way in order to fuse certain aspects of the mate’s souls together.

While in the Angelic or Demonic gauntlets, souls destablilize slightly in order to properly burn away what is necessary to become the supernatural it is supposed to.

Weakness and Resistance:

No soul is immune to destabilization, though some kinda of beings are more resistant to the process or weaker to the process.

Possessors are highly resistant. They will destabilize, but not to the extent of other classes due to the anchor point on their host soul. If the host soul destabilizes, the possessor’s will as well.

Earth souls are resistant to this because of their connection with the grounded nature of earth itself.

Chaos Angels are highly resistant to destabilization due to the fact that their souls already consume pure chaotic energy. It is still possible for them to fall to destabilization, but it is highly difficult.

The first sphere of the secondary angel hierarchy are weak to destabilization due to their lack of contact with energy beyond the Heavenly realm.

Water Primary souls are weak to destabilization due to their already semi-unstable emotional nature.

Fire Primary souls are somewhat weak to destabilization because of their flickering, somewhat impulsive natures, though not as much as water primary souls.

[segadores-y-soldados]

Thoughts on leadership and teamwork

While I’m on this train of thought... I’ve lived in situations of “large groups of unrelated, working people who are constantly around each other 24/7 in relatively remote locations” for extended periods of time (month-long chunks to “multiple months in a row”).    By “large groups of unrelated, working people” I do not mean “I lived in a house with 6 other housemates” or “I shared a bedroom with three roommates for a year.”  I’m not talking about that.  I’m talk about a group of people who are not family, who barely know each other, who come together explicitly for work-purposes - groups of people anywhere from 20 - 150+ people all living together for several weeks at a time.  More under the cut (including how I think these things apply to Overwatch)

These were not military situations.  However, they were frequently run with military-type scheduling, discipline, and organization in mind, aka, “set wake up and sleep times,” “standardized individual and gorup schedules,” “regulated group meals,” “regulated group chores,” “certain expected protocols, manners, and behaviors,” etc. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, multiple weeks at a time.  For those of you who HAVE NOT experienced this, imagine whatever dorm situations you’ve been in, and apply it to all hours of the day, the same 20 - 150+ people, only instead of classes, you’re working with these people constantly.  You are around each other all the time.  There are expected and routine things you must do - work, shared group chores, eating meals together, getting a standard sleep pattern real fast, etc.  You do not have the ability or means to go more than a mile outside of this area.   (Please note that these were situations that every person involved willingly put themselves in.  There was no coersion or pressure involved.) There are a few things you learn REAL FAST in these situations: 1) You MUST learn to find your own space.  Whether that’s “mental only” (e.g. listening to personal music, reading a book, playing a portable video game) or actually physical (e.g. going on walks, going to a different part of the physical location, finding a physical niche to hang out in, etc), you absolutely learn to take those breaks for yourself.  You have to, especially if you’re working in these situations for multiple months on end.   The people who do not do this, or who do not learn this lesson fast enough, absolutely suffer emotional breakdowns, or lash out at other people, or get extremely bitter and/or homesick really, really fast.   The people who DO manage to learn this are able to pull it off, but usually for more than a few months at a time.  Someone I once worked under put it like this: “When you’re in these situations, you can reasonably do up to a month withtout problems.  You can maybe reach two consecutive months with only some minor, temporary stress by the end.” “After two months, though, you start mentally breaking down.  Very rarely have I seen someone come out of 3+ months unscathed.”  I, personally, have not gone beyond 4 months of these situations.  I cannot speak for how active duty members handle this, but they probably have stronger or more flexible personalities than me.   2) You learn really, really fast which conversations are acceptable to which people, who you can trust “sensitive” topics to, which “authority figures” you can count on or turn to when under stress, etc.  You learn which leaders will “lead you best in x situation,” and which leaders will “lead you best in y situation,” and it is entirely possible to be able to value and critique both leaders for their pros and cons (maybe not directly to their faces, but internally and among trusted friends, you feel comfortable assessing these).  Saying these things is different from calling either leader “a bad person” - rather, you, the follower or worker, are recognizing that certain situations call for one over the other, and vice-versa.  More than likely, if these two leaders work together often, they probably already know their strengths and weaknesses.  In terms of Overwatch, it is very telling that all “four” leaders of the Strike team - Jack, Ana, Gabriel, and Reinhardt - have different styles of leadership set for specific parts of the Uprising game mode.  Each one of them relies on the others to help balance out their weaknesses with the others’ strengths.   Moreover, it does not imply that any one of them “is better or worse” at leadership than the others.  Simply that they are different.  I’ve seen lots of people argue that Jack being gruffer or “stricter” than Gabriel in the Uprising game mode is “a bad thing.”  Let me tell you, from someone who has worked under joint-leadership situations where someone had to be “the strict one” and another person had to be “the laid back one,” there are many, many situations where you need both.  There are many, many “bad managers out there” who “try too hard to be friends with their workers/employees” and then struggle to actually have the authority to lead when stressful situations hit.  Sometimes, you need that “gruff, strict leader” to actually organize and push you through the hardest situations.  And sometimes, you want someone who is calmer and more relaxed.  It depends a lot.   And, as someone who has BEEN in one of those positions of leadership, there are many, many times where being “too friendly” will get you burned real fast.  This applies to both Jack and Gabriel.   It is absolutely 100% important to be friendly, open, and available to your workers/employees/subordinates/students/whoever you are leading, but this is not always the same thing as “being friends with them.”  Especially when you are in a strict or harsh working environment.   Flexibility meshed with discipline is important.  There’s a reason why so many philosophies and teaching ideologies stress the significance of “flow” or “flowing like water.”  Water can be free and liquid-smooth and fast, but it can also be forceful and powerful.  It is important to be open to change, but also important to be strong when things are struggling to stay afloat.   3) You learn to accept your chores and your duties.  Sometimes these are negotiable.  Sometimes they are not.  Regardless, you learn to be a team player or you struggle.  Lots of people can tell you about the importance of team coordination in the actual game of Overwatch, but it’s important to recognize that this applies to many real world situations too.  This is different than giving up your indivdiual traits or personality aspects.  Let me repeat that.  Being a team player does NOT mean rolling over and accepting everything thrown at you.  Being a team player DOES mean accepting a modicum of shared responsibility and duty in a group situation.  Again, 3 does not negate 1.  Number 1 is number 1 for a reason.  But 3 is still important.  If you throw a fit over every little thing asked of you, people will learn a few things about you: you’re emotionally a brat, you’re probably incapable of working well with others, you’re probably out of the possibilities of a “real job” with this group for the rest of your life.  

4) This might be the one that “gets people to argue back against me,” but I consider it an important part of this discussion.  You learn extremely fast what IS and what is NOT abusive, manipulative, whiny, demeaning, or coersive behavior, ideas, or conversations.  So let me be explicitly clear: Banter, jokes, sarcasm, witty remarks, or even teasing are NONE of those things.   To put this in Overwatch terms, the conversations that the “three commanders” (Jack, Gabriel, and Ana) have at the start of the Uprising comic, fall into the latter category of “banter, jokes, sarcasm, witty remarks, and teasing.”  These people have been friends for decades and I respect Blizzard and the Overwatch writers for actually portraying that fairly well for a short comic.   This also extends to all the conversations and dialogue found among all seven characters (The four Strike team members and the three Commanders) in the Uprising game mode.  I have yet to hear a single line of dialogue that strikes me as being “abusive, manipulative, whiny, demeaning, or coersive” in the actual game.  At most, Torbjörn has a few “you can’t trust Omnics” lines that are quickly and quietly reprimanded by Reinhardt or Lena.  There are times when he acts gruff with Lena, but she quickly teases him back, showing that a lot of it is in good fun, even though they are under a very stressful situation.   Pre-Fall (as in, before “the conspiracy” infiltrates it) Overwatch fits a lot of these ideas as a “functioning, healthy, well-structured, well-managed, happy” organization.  Even in Uprising (which arguably post-conspiracy-infiltration) Overwatch still manages to stay afloat thanks to the multiple, cohesive styles of leadership being balanced here.  But we do start to see some of the cracks in the seams.  We start to see how the pressure is affecting the “foundation” of Overwatch - the original five members of the Strike Team - causing them to make hard, morally and ethically-difficult decisions (e.g. sending Blackwatch agents out to the field even under suspension, sending Overwatch teams into a hostile situation against orders, defying global powers and governments for “the greater good,” etc).  We see small sparks fly in among the different leaders - Ana wants to push for more aggressive intervention, Gabriel “gathering intel” but then “bowing out” of the decision-making process, Jack listening to multiple perspectives before he comes to a conclusion, Reinhardt quickly “shutting down” Torbjörn’s “opinion” on Omnics, etc.   It is entirely possible for Overwatch to have recovered from these cracks and chips under better circumstances.  But with the added struggles of Petras and the UN bearing down on them, plus the increased “internal aggression” from the conspiracy “working against them from the inside,” Overwatch begins to fall apart.  Losing “a critical member of the leadership balance” (Ana) leaves a weakness that she normally would’ve filled.  I’ve been in situations - especially the “24/7 living-working” situations I’ve described above - where things rapidly deteriorate.  We’re not even talking months - we’re talking days to weeks in these circumstances.  The combination of “constantly being together,” “increased emotional and mental stress,” “increased hard and difficult work,” “lack of space,” and “constant struggle to balance your own personal emotions and ideas with the rest of the team’s” is a brutal one, even in situations as small as my own.  It is the tip of the iceberg compared to something as “global” and “international” as Overwatch.  

[thisisablogformyfeelings]

Final thoughts of a neurotic ruminator by Alex

(also possibly borderline or avoidant)

I've done what my family has likely been dreading for a number of years, I'm sorry.

This letter is addressed to everybody I have ever known, and even those I haven't if you're curious.

Pre-preface - To my family

First of all: Mum and Kristy, that pain, anger, grief, whatever it is you're feeling. Please postpone that pain for now and read. Listen to what I have to say that was able to begin saying in person but could never bring myself to finish. I'm sorry to do this to you and so so sorry for Gabby I regret coming back home for the sole reason of how much I feel this might affect all of you more than if I hadn't, I know you won't ever believe me but beyond a certain point this was inevitable. Trust in my knowledge of myself, please.

Please cry as little as possible for me, I hate that I have to write so little for you and so much for the clutter in my mind. I have been guilty of this my entire life and, what I was never able to describe to you and I think and hope you may understand now, especially you Mum, just that one thing I could never quite get across to you. Why was I always struggling to be as considerate and curious and passionate in my actions as I claim to be in my thoughts? Everything you're about to read is why.

Sorry for everything, I love you all.

Everybody else, more distant people in my family that I have such a great disconnection with now more than ever, I'm sorry to you too, for what it's worth. I resent that our family is or was so dysfunctional. Kristy, you need to sort your shit out and stop getting on the defensive whenever you're told something is wrong. Whether you agree or not isn't the point, you need to take time to look in yourself and see what Mum has done for us. Forget that we're family and think of what would happen if such conflicts happened between you and a friend, you would send them packing their bags of course. You don't do this with Mum because we all love each other, you know that she'll always be there for you and if you want to continue that you have to be there for her too. Please, I'm begging honestly. Learn conflict resolution and consideration. Realise that there's no need to respond to things in a spiteful way because things are never initiated in a spiteful way. Unless you're a truly awful person then spitefulness only ever comes from misunderstanding.

Auntie Tracey, Kiayl, Katie, Auntie Rachel, Jon, Steve, everyone that I haven't seen for so many years as a direct result of suffering, confusion and failure. I love you and I remember the good times we had. I remember sleeping near the ceiling at Auntie Tracey's, I remember eating Auntie Rachel's homemade jam tarts, playing on the trampoline and swings at Steve and Lin's, I even remember Steve driving my curiosity by showing me Bill Bryson's A Short History Of Nearly Everything which, unfortunately, I never finished but absolutely loved choosing random chapters to read through. I remember Kiayl throwing down his amazingly molded “sandwich dregs” from the balcony in Spain. I, by far, remember all the good times I had with you more than any “bad”. I love you all. I wish you could all find a way to love each other...

Please god whatever you do, do not insult me and my existence by letting yourselves be overcome with survivors guilt. I'm very sorry that you won't be able to understand my decision no matter how much I write about it. The simplest of reasons is that I'm just not compatible, I've tried and tried and now some parts of me are broken beyond repair. I love you all and that's all that matters.

It's quite possible that if you tried hard you could attribute any actions as a causal factor to me taking this steps, but on the same hand you could ignore all of those and simply blame me for refusing to stop making mistakes and allowing my mental state to deteriorate even more, for years consecutively. In the same way that you could argue the butterfly effect, you might cherry pick any “negative event” from my past and choose that as the absolute cause and point of no return, but everything before and after that, positive or negative, would have to be treated in the same and equal measure. So please, remember this and do not blame anybody other than the person who took this action.. me.

Preface

Please forgive me for this is going to be a whole lot of inane self centered self pitying ego boosting crap and also a whole lot of narrow minded projection about the world around me. I don't mean this to be a statement on anybody around me other than the violent, manipulative and abusive people I've had to deal with during my time away from home.

Also forgive me for seeming neutral or unemotional in this writing, I'm writing this with a purpose and because of the time I've spent considering this I think I'm able to do it with a bit of decorum. I will use my words to describe my thoughts and emotions as accurately as possible. I can't possibly convey the physical feelings, the wretching and crying as I came to terms with this decision, the empty fake happiness combined with random outbursts of tears while I'm alone after coming to terms with it. I'm very sorry. I'm not really sorry to the world around me I'm sorry to say (phew), I don't think I owe it anything. I'm maybe sorry to those few friends who still really clearly care about me after everything, after all the ridiculous impulsive, self destructive behavior that really just "isn't me" that they put up with for years on end, consistently. I have always been exactly the sort of person I would avoid and be afraid to engage with yet others gave me the time of day and I thank you all so fucking much for that.

L........, or H...... I'll say this one time, I don't know how to pronounce your name and I never referred to you as it but god I love you so much, for you I truly am sorry that it came to this. You extended a greater offer than most would even dream about, after the torrent of abuse I put you through, you still came through and forgave me and got over your worries to stay with me and support me. Yet I still let you down. Although it's painful to recall specifics of how I ruined friendships and I only realised recently that I have done it consistently from long before I was "ill" or touched drugs or anything like that, I will do my best to explain everything I can. It feels that, although I wasn't aware for a long time, every time I broke a friendship and lost a connection with an area that pain become compounded with all the other friendships and places I had already lost. I remember many of these things intimately even now. The three weeks I spent in Hereford in 2012 right before I became impulsive and landed myself in hospital for the first time. Those weeks were extremely adventurous and exciting, I'm not sure what I was thinking and most of all I regret wasting my good friends during those weeks as I abruptly ended our relationship for no real reason from hospital. You would think I'd learn from this mistake, or that it was simply a result of the stressful circumstances, well I continued to do the same with every friend I ever made and only the really persistent ones stayed by me. I can't fix the impression I left on those people or myself, I desire to do the right thing and leave the world.

For those who don't already know, I'm a 23 year old unemployed person living in a rural area in England. I no longer do much with my days but I'm still well involved with my family. I'll probably write in greater detail on the things I've done up until now in this note. I wanted to start off by saying yes, this is my suicide note, and the reason it's so long is because I was inspired to write something lengthy by something a friend said to me. I realised that I've wanted a creative output of some kind for so long, I'm not an artist, I'm not a musician, I'm not really anything, but I've dreamed of creating something for a long time. Every time I have created something in the past it has subsequently been destroyed. During my first hospitalisation in 2012, the YMCA in Grimsby heartlessly threw out all of my belongings as I had no way to have them collected. This included things extremely sentimental to me such as the childhood teddy of my auntie who died when I was age 4 and items from penpals over the years that I held dear to me. Even non-posessions... friendships, homes, education and work, every one of these things has been destroyed for me. I've been wondering what this urge was that I needed to satisfy, and I realised it when the "something" that my friend told me was praise on the way I articulate my thoughts, I never thought that that in itself could be some kind of ability. I don't have much confidence in it and it is a little bit frightening to allow anybody into my head in this manner, I don't think it serves as much more than a release for me and some kind of deeper insight for people who knew me. This is the last true creation I'm going to leave behind, it's the only thing I'm barely able to do anymore.

I'm putting an end to the trainwreck that is myself. I may self deprecate a lot, but I can look at myself from a more external point of view and consider it a bit more objectively, so please don't misunderstand. I can see minor positive traits in myself heavily outweighed by other traits that have consistently held me back.

I've always been an interested and curious person, as the years went on these interests and passions have actually only grown surprisingly. Professionals have pointed out that certain drug usage can kill motivation and interest but it was always imulsivity that ruined me more than anything, I could never keep anything up for a long time or consistently. but really, I genuinely believe my interests have branched and expanded even since I dropped out of college and lived my life until I hit a point where my interests encompassed everything. I can't think of a topic that I wouldn't be interest to study and learn about. This makes the world a very overwhelming place, knowing that due to my circumstances and I understand how I work pretty well, I could barely become a "master" of one of these interests, let alone every single one. I could never do all the things in my life that I dream of doing, I wasn't ever able to dedicate myself to one thing because of this, I never knew what I wanted but I think a part of me always knew that I wasn't going to figure it out.

I love life more than any other suicidal person I've ever spoken with, especially if you only consider those who choose suicide due to mental illness and not some other physical condition. I consider that my choice to abandon my life and myself is down to a combination of emotional and mental "issues", my likely immature philosophical view of the world and my general beliefs on anything spiritual and metaphysical. I'm led to this decision after considering what life I might live and especially what might happen after I die, whether that be now, in 20 years time, or in 50 years time.

I've never really changed my view about the beauty in the world and my passion for certain subjects and even towards the end of my life I've learned to be passionate about many things. I'm simply in awe at the sheer absurdity of everything. I can't beging to comprehend it and it's one thing that makes me feel so incredibly insignificant and for me it justifies suicide in most situations. Contrasting with the views of many people who arrive at this point, I think reality and nature are far more incredibly than simply life alone, I don't really require any spiritual or religious beliefs to be in awe at the universe. One thing that bugs me is that I can never fully understand how the fabric of the universe works, what really happened before the universe? Considering what is really the real physical reality for such astronomical questions are the most interesting thoughts I've ever had. However, even if I did know, there would be a time where I would stop knowing and so would all other conscious beings. Despite all this, I admire and appreciate the people who want to and are able to live a full and happy life. Maybe there is a spectrum of acceptance, those who know the true meaninglessness and embrace the liberation it brings, those who hold onto some vague idea of an afterlife or something like it for some comfort in an absurd world, and so on. I still believe there can be true beauty and altruism in the human world but it's less common that I thought. There really is objectively much more suffering than I ever realised. I think the sheer visual beauty, awe inspiring vastness of the beautiful things out there in the world are incredible and while a part of me is sad that I can never experience them, thanks to modern technology I've already had a pretty good view of everything I'm missing out on. I never really lost my sense of humour and I can totally understand why people choose to live and not to live. I understand that many people live an acceptably mediocre life and actually find a lot of value in that, but it's not infeasible that not everybody isn't compatible. I only wish I didn't have to feel like I was comitting a great sin, no matter how much I tell myself that I have the right to die, the greatest effect any kind of stigma and judgement has ever had on me was to force me to internalise everything rather than vocalise it, I'm sorry to say. I spent a lot of time in my last few months singing and dancing with a sense of impending melancholy, being an idiot while babysitting my niece, letting out my inner child as much as possible and enjoying the tiniest of things. I think I've lived good enough.

I think this note satisfies my urge for a few important things: to be listened to, to have some creative output, for that something to be significant or maybe helpful for my family to come to terms with some kind of feelings.

My final wishes

I considered sticking this at the end but for fear of it being lost in this mess I'll start with it. First I'd like my resting place, whether cremated or buried, to be a place where my cats can be laid too. Considering my materialistic and non-spiritual views it is likely one of my most irrational desires but it means a lot to me. I want so bad to be with my babies forever.

I am not concerned with my material posessions, please do whatever you like with them.

I'm less concerned with any type of ceremony that may happen after I'm gone, but if there happens to be anything of the sort I'd love for some classical pieces of music to be played. I considered this for a long time, considered all types of music and songs that I thought reflect my feelings well or just meant a lot to me. I decided now that classical music allows people to reflect any appropriate feelings within a person without leaving anybody (listeners) left out. Thanks mum for helping me realise this. By no means do I know a lot about classical, far less than I wish I did, so I'll go ahead and request that, if any music is ever to be played, it be one of these famous pieces that I love, and I also give these to you as my final musical expression:  Chopin - Nocturne op.9 No.2 and Debussy - Clair de lune or maybe even Erik Satie - Once Upon A Time In Paris for my goodbye, I would adore Howl's Moving Castle soundtrack/theme or the celestial beings procession music from  for any sort of "celebration" or wake etc. Classical music allows me to appreciate the contrasting beauty of the world around me and human expression against the ugly selfishness that rears inside all of us and the true objective futility of life. Another that I love and would appreciate being played for me would be Gabriel Fauré - Pavane, Op. 50. One more, since I can't help myself, Erik Satie - Once Upon A Time In Paris is a lovely piece.

Most importantly, please just read this letter. Disregard the fact that my writing is atrocious and repetitive. Please accept that this is the best way I can be true to myself and explain as best I can, all I ask is that anybody who was affected by me read this.

Why? The right to die etc

Taking into account my existential opinions and my feelings towards death, the possible outcomes I can see for my future and the flaws in my life that I just have to live with. I have known and thought about suicide for over a decade but only the past couple of years have I considered it a serious option, besides a few "blips" in the past. I was always fed the usual platitudes and ever since I was a young child I've seen some sort of psych or therapist intermittently with large periods of no care at all, this was ultimately my own fault as I could never keep up with appointments. However, after long deliberation I believe I can firmly make the decision with my own autonomy to end my life. It is my right and I am taking back ultimate control and agency of my life. We are all born with nothing but our bodies and it makes perfect sense that it is the one thing that, no matter what, we must always be able to control. While it's probably true that I developed these beliefs due to the mental and social instability, it's also true that these beliefs are now a deep part of me. Whether I am to die now or some other time, I know that I will certainly die by my own hand and I've known it for a very long time. Please do not attempt to invalidate my beliefs or feelings by attempting to claim one was influenced by the other. Even if this is the case, my feelings and my beliefs are exactly that. If you were to invalidate any of them then what do you propose goes in their place? You can't replace a part of me with something you find comforting for the sake of it.

The process that brought me to this final decision, however, was a very long and gradual one, brought on by a direct result of the way I reacted to my life at certain stages, possibly childhood and genetic factors, and effects of the constant factors present between all of the major stages of my life. In hindsight I think at a young age something wasn't quite right with me, it's harder for me to think back at ages <10 years old and think how specific situations affected my development as I do not remember my thought processes during those times, but I can make educated guesses based on the person I am today and what I know about my past. I didn't really know it at the time but there were a lot of things that I didn't really like about my childhood, my mum and sister are amazing people and I love them to pieces, but I still feel that I didn't enjoy the majority of my childhood. There are some memories I remember fondly, holidays and things, but in between was just grey most of the time. I'm finding it hard not to just tell my whole life story here as I feel every little thing accumulated for me to reach this point and not any one of them could pinpoint the path leading me to this decision. Even if am event could be identified that had affected a significant portion of my life, such as dropping out of college, there were always other external and internal factors at play that would have led me here. I fear one part of my decision or thinking might be plucked from this letter and attributed as the true reason for my suicide. I'm leaving this in good faith that won't happen. I am, simply put, the result of a very unfortunate combination of circumstances and events. I wish so badly I could consolidate this feelings and reasoning into one concise all-encompassing statement but it's impossible for me to do. Some of the more material aspects of my life are likely solvable or able to be minimised with time but others are impossible to remedy. The ones that are possible to remedy would take me decades to start living even a fraction of the life I ever reamed of or to reach a place that I should already have been in right now had I not dropped out and taken to drugs, impulsive behavior and deviancy. What I will say is that the things I'm stating in this letter are not my reasons. They are simply an insight into how I might have developed into the person I am today. From an emotional perspective, I'm tired. Very tired and I don't want to reconfigure myself with medication, numb myself or unlearn things that I know now. I refuse to respond to or access treatment at this stage, at risk of sounding melodramatic, I can't live with what I've seen. I understand clearly that life is a rollercoaster but when things are looking up I can never see the steep decline coming on the other side. I would much prefer a neutral non-existance than a wildly and tiringly exciting life in which I never know what to expect. I want to go to sleep very comfortably one last time, and continue that sleep forever into eternity. I'm sorry for choosing to leave early but again, please don't be sad, death is not a bad thing. Nothing of value hasn't been lost that wouldn't have anyway been lost at some point in the future. Not a single thing lasts forever, no impression or mark, therefore it's okay for me to have made this decision.

One thing I resent is whenever I read suicide, mental illness, suffering, etc literature with clearly pro-life and optimistic attitudes it only ever seems to be from the perspective of a...  developed country is maybe the best way I can put it. With the idea that suffering is transient and if you just hang in there everything will be okay and such other platitudes. If people would discuss mental health and suicide in a realistic way, from pop cultures about teen suicide being wildly innaccurate to optimistic generic literature that helps nobody by except teaching neurotypicals how to patronise depressed people with platitudes, I think that would probably make for some important discourse and perspective changing discussions. Having a sense of trust with someone who you can share your problems with intricately and be helped, this is what really matters, in my opinion at least for me.

I understand that people may not agree with this, using the right to die argument, you might say it's not applicable because I'm mentally ill, I'll come to this later.

Something that I've only recently forgiven myself for and tried to tell myself that I was just a victim of circumstance, I made certain choices of course but my choices must always have been linked to the past and therefore been accumulative. Because I found it hard to focus on one hobby or interest I never really developed a long lasting passion. When I went up to college I went in the direction of generic maths/electronics and well that didn't really work out. The past few years I've even lost my most of my passion for technology and "the nerdy stuff" as you probably realise. By dropping out of college and getting hospitalised, my life took a turn that I never expected, the drugs that I abused in subsequent years must have affected me to some degree too but all of my drug use was more of a response to rather than a cause of my suicidal tendencies. I think leaving college is the closest to an event, if anything, that could be pinpointed as the biggest change that lead me here. Immediately my vastly varying dreams of being anything I wanted came and crushed me into reality. I entered a world of real dread that I never knew and the same as back then, even now, I just can't accept being complacent. I can't just back down and say "well, it's not what I wanted genbut it'll do" even though I know that's exactly what I'm expected to do.

I've always explicitly told myself that I will give myself the room to "back out" if I felt it necessary, and refused to truly put any shame on myself for deciding I wasn't ready. I always wanted to make this decision correctly. I believe my mental disorder(s) are partially a cause for these feelings of course, but also partially a contributing factor for me still wanting to commit the act for sure. It's just another thing holding me back from living the life I dreamed of which never existed. One important thing I'd like to say that even if I were given the option to live my life again from the beginning but retaining all knowledge I have now, I would still choose to die, and I think this is an important part of my decision. I've developed a strong opinion that mental health issues can be a contributor to a rational suicide while not being enough of an affective factor to make such a suicide irrational. Of course, I'm biased on the topic but this is something I just feel is correct. A whole other question I ponder but won't explore too much is, "How mentally ill does a person need to be before they lose the ability to choose suicide rationally?".

Bioethicist Jacob Appel has criticized "arbitrary" ethical systems that allow patients to refuse care when they are physically ill, while denying the mentally ill the right to suicide. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philosophy_of_suicide

Yes, why must a person who suffers from mental illness be forced to live at all costs, even if the evidence points strongly to a continuing and extended period of physical or mental suffering?

Me, me, me

I've always been well aware that I have a degree of mental differences to most people, and that awareness grew stronger as I got older, and I suppose fueled a more real isolation for me too. I hate myself for all the times I reached out for help and got given it in buckets and yet I still consistently broke things. I never intended to be that way, I thought I would make a change and make some progress but I only ever leeched what I could, made myself comfortable for a little while, and then moved on to the next sucker.

Over the years I suppose I managed to internalise a great deal of what seemed like just intermittent negative thoughts, self views in terms of my mental and physical identity. It's something I tried to stop analysing so much as it never did me any good. I view it as just another thing that I wasn't very good at, having correct thoughts. It means very little now, the negative way I feel about my appearance and personality overall, as I won't have to live with it for long, but this is one thing I can't truly describe and if only I could let someone be inside my head and understand, I don't think I would need to detail my entire explanation in this letter if that were possible.

The more superficial parts of my reasoning: I don't desire to work for a decade attempting to earn back 4 years of time during vital brain development stages and hoping to reach a level that comes anywhere close to what I was led to believe my "potential" was. I don't think it should be required to earn the right to, at the very least, a comfortable life in a beautiful area with few troubles or worries but this certainly seems to be the case. It's almost like I have a case of existential laziness.

Through my experiences of death as I was growing up and the way it was presented to me as almost a positive thing every time (it's not sad because x is going to heaven, it's not sad because y is going to sleep forever, it's not sad because one day we'll all be together again) I think I developed much more of a neutral view towards death and therefore suicide too.

I hate the platitude that goes something like "Don't kill yourself because _____" and paints the hypothetical details of people when they find out you've killed yourself. Implying if I'm serious I haven't already been guilting and obsessing over this for a long time already? I have spent long days excruciatingly torturing myself over the situations that might occur after my death. I've vividly imagined how different members of my family might react immediately upon learning the news and in the following days, months, years. I've considered it so much that I've sobbed because there's no way I want to cause that pain to another person much less my flesh and blood and yet I still feel compelled to end it.

My most recent hospitalisation was just a week long, a year and a half ago. The week preceeding my 22nd birthday. I shan't speak about that too much here as I made a whole separate writeup for that experience, I had been under the influence of a large benzo overdose during my first days in that hospital so I was certainly struggling but I was also very well aware of what was going on around me, even during the effect of the benzos I never "blacked out" so to speak, I scrawled half of a letter on paper and then remember taking myself to bed. Hospital on the NHS was abusive and neglectful, I kept a handwritten diary so I can verify most everything in the writeup and even missed out some important and disgusting events and names of staff just because I'm not able to recall them absolutely clearly. PLEASE if nothing else, launch another investigation on this hospital based on what I've written, don't warn them, check the things that I have spoken about specifically, bug the hospital to measure the sound levels in the rooms near the staff room and down the bedroom corridors if necessary. It's a dangerous environment for mentally ill people to be in. See: https://pastebin.com/bm5Et0xW for the full account

Tech

Ironically, considering the subject of this section, this letter is the last thing I'm using my computer for and it will be posted online for all to see. I've never done a lot of reading on the affects of modern communication technology, television and the internet. So bare with me if I state anything obviously incorrect.

I'm terrified to see my little niece grow up in this age, I love her to absolute pieces but I'm not sure how I would handle seeing her sucked into social media shit after my own experiences. Even now, I try to be the absolute most fun uncle I possibly can but if the televeision on she finds it impossible to even glance at me. I could be jumping around the room, squawking pretending to be a giant bird and she won't bat an eyelid, it's downright scary to me because of how consistent it is. I got humiliated the one time I ever tried talking about instant gratification and never tried talking about it again but the way we expect things to just work. I've seen many examples of people of all ages getting irrationally frustrated when technology isn't working as it is intended. Just projecting from my point of view, it's concerning not understand how far this might spread and if it could be having a real negative effect on people.

Don't get me wrong, I don't claim that the advent of digital technology and communication is to blame for all the terrible things in the world. I understand that many of the issues we're facing today were just as bad decades or even centuries ago and being science lover I couldn't ever say that I'm for the destruction of modern technology. What I believe is simply that there are far more negative effects that the internet, social media, and increased levels of "connection" can have on an individual in different ways that it's hard to be aware of all of the risks. This is probably unavoidable however it seems many people don't want to be aware of some of the more common risks that apply to the majority. More recently since tablets and smartphones have been given to children at younger and younger ages and parental controls are getting lax, there are many innappropriate apps and videos on youtube and youtube kids app that appear to be directed at children yet have a more sinister undertone. See: http://reddit.com/r/Elsagate if you search far enough you find videos that can't possibly be explained by “algorithmic” due to the disturbing content. These disturbing images are being made with some kind of purpose, with extremely sinister or just as sinister as a “troll” online who wants to be edgy, it is just worrying. Another example being the “Call Monster Blaze” app released on google play store for children see: https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/call-blaze-and-the-monster-machines-app-warning_uk_5a698c70e4b0dc592a0f5458 Forgive me for being dramatic, but where does this behaviour end?

Those who become obsessed with a specific type of social media, become far too invested in it emotionally. It's easy for people to downplay cyberbullying and manipulative behaviour online, everyone thinks being a troll is funny nowadays and if you get upset on the internet you're a sensitive baby. Mentally ill people just shouldn't go online is a view commonly expressed.

This is the thing I regret the most, some of the people who hurt me so much. I may not have known it at the time, but in hindsight I can very much differentiate between my real friends and the ones who really hurt and isolated me effectively, I feel like a part of me knew along the way too, but I preferred to feel as comfortable as possible and just “go with the flow”.

Video games, MMO, etc, I learned to live entirely in fantasies and so even when I refer to the possibilities in my real life, I find it hard to get back into reality. I dream of the most fantastical possible life I could live in reality, and I resent and refuse to live now I know that's impossible.

So many little things get me thinking, I remember carrying a candle upstairs on a saucer and thinking how calming the flickering shadow of the flame was and just feeling a little bit of sorrow about how my life was just a screen and drugs. and it was probably still a more exciting life than many that are going to be lived strictly by the law and society's standards. Lighting a candle inside nowadays is exciting, nobody ever feels the need anymore. We have ambient hue lighting (trademark!!!) and alexa so we can emulate everything comfortable about nature without actually experiencing it. I don't know.

People

Anyway, I can't attempt to comment on the state of society, I pretty much think that the increase in communication, population and human activity in general isn't so amazing when contrasted with all the shit going on in the world, and it's so hard to see any real solution. How do we stop rapists? How do we stop false rape allegations? When is somebody going to solve world hunger with all that money in their pockets? Are people really just going to accept the levels of despondancy and complacency modern technology brings to some people? How do you combat real gross organised crime happening on the darknet? Technology evolves really fast and I'm certainly curious about what the sudden explosion of anonymous free speech and expression is going to bring. Politics is a mess. Pyschiatry is a mess. My perception is just too narrow. I can certainly understand why people are the way they are and why they'll probably never change, it is much easier to be complacent with some things and focus on being a partially selfish person, it is much more comfortable and our morals don't actually make us feel too bad for doing that. It's easier to not worry about the problems a technology based society faces along with the innate suffering they're under due to being alive. It's much easier to just indulge and live as comfortably as you're able. I wish everyone who continues to live the absolute best of luck in figuring out this mess.

I had been experiencing dysphoric feelings around my gender for a long time and during this I had also been reading a lot of anti-man or misandrist content online from the communities I identified with. At first I thought it was harmless fun but then I quickly realised that any male who refuted these "jokes" with a statement along the lines of "not all men" is quickly berated and humiliated for wanting to defend himself and being so stupid that if he missed the point he must actually be like "all men". There are many people who appear to be what I'll term "radical misandrists", people who believe they're genuinely on the right side of hate due to historical wrongdoings and evidence. I think these people are missing the point, it's had a large effect on my ability to identify as anything at all because nobody is safe. Transgender people are almost universally hated in some communities, especially online. Men are also massively hated in communities were trans people are more accepted. What happens if you get stuck in a limbo between these two? - I pose this to you and suggest that SJWs sort their methods out. You're doing it fucking wrong, excuse my language.

I'm sorry to use the term SJW (social justice warrior) but I am going to continue to do it. I used to resent the term but I really have learned recently that no matter which side you're on, you must appeal to human nature if you want your completely valid and correct views to be heard. The fact of them being true, good or virtuous doesn't mean that people should listen to you at all costs and you have a right to forgo social customs. If you want to be heard, in fact, it's more important that you follow them. What I mean by this is that it seems many SJWs go out into the world with the conscious intent to "educate" people, some of these people may be emotional, even irrational when faced with opinions that don't match theirs. After experiencing this a few times they quickly build a hard exterior and subconsciously become ready to get offended by people who don't already have the knowledge the require to respect your opinon. A person who has never been exposed to the concept of transgender people will struggle at first, if you go into an interaction understanding this, and understand that they may be literally unable to be respectful as they're not quite aware of what is or isn't respectful yet, realise that "ignorant" may actually be extremely well intentioned and you'll get a lot further with these issues. Most of all you may stop hurting genuinely innocent people that you don't realise you are hurting. A great portion of people who support womens' rights seem to gradually adopt a misandrist mindset and I've seen this in many of my old friends who I've drifted away from. It really does make males afraid of identifying as proud males. Nobody should feel bad about being proud of themselves, it serves no purpose, even if you may think it's the "wake-up call that men require" and I feel many people (not just SJWs) get so "proud" of their own beliefs that they think it's totally reasonable to incite hatred against the other. If one group is being hateful and violent then I should respond with the same, right? It's only fair, right? Pride is great, but not pride to the point that you forget other people matter. I hope that shit gets old very fast.

From what I understand, many worthwhile discussions are never had because there is this overarching sense of hatred combined with absolute belief in your own ideas. There may well be some incels (google involuntary celibate, you will quickly see the original idea of this combined with the sick attitude it evolves into, lookism, "blackpill" etc) with something smart to say but unfortunately they're massively, I won't say outnumbered but.. outvocalised by the ones who literally incite violence, rape and assault against women. Incels like to play up their own issues and completely ignore the fact that women really are more likely to be attacked by men rather than vice versa, it's just how it is, it's not a competition and compassion on issues like this are the only way to make real progress in my opinion.

Both sides of this debate that have a loud voice seem to be full of shit to some degree and I find it hard to see how this shit will ever get resolved with people so far up their own asses. Then there are the sensible people somewhere in between who get shut down by hatred from both of these groups, if you don't support them fully then you don't deserve to hear their opinions put across in a mature way and you can't be a part of "the fight".

Being a biological machine

The human body is just amazing, as are all other living creatures. The conditions that arose to bring about life are amazing. I am in awe at what the slow natural processes of the universe can bring around. I think it's bizarre and mind blowing to think about how something came from nothing. Unfortunately this awe does not mean that I want to be a part of that system.

Something that I don't want to dwell on too much is the fact that I suffer from adrenal insufficiency, it feels this illness has been used as a tool to invalidate my feelings many times throughout my life and not just on the topic of ending it. Similarly I don't wish to talk about my experiences within psychiatric wards anymore, where I thought I did when I first started considering writing a note or letter. There are many people still alive and passionate who can fight for such an issue, the abuse and neglect that goes on in psych wards is so widespread that, as I mentioned, a big change needs to happen, possibly in the way the CQC investigations and the PALS work (re: UK mental health care) and it's no longer an issue I wish to tackle here.

I remember going through phases where I would think that eating is a chore, my metabolism is incredibly fast, food doesn't go down well, I get severely crippling hunger pains if I don't eat well every day. I recall thinking about how releasing waste in itself is, ahem, a pain in the ass. I feel very conscious and aware of any amount of pain, mild aches, jaw and back pains, the state of my teeth, and I feel my body is already crumbling at a relatively young age.

Disregarding the sensation and awareness of the body aging, another issue that affects me personally are the many “defects” I suffer from. Under the care of the NHS such defects are labelled “purely cosmetic” and therefore not treatable.  I hate knowing that the machinery and services are available to solve 99% of my cosmetic ailments but will be out of my reach for considerable time due to my past failures hurts me too much. I look in the mirror about once a month because of this. My teeth are crooked and I dreamt for years, since I was a teenager, of having braces to fix this but no matter how I put it across to the dentist I get told “you missed the boat on that one”.

I despise every part of my body in some way or another, even the sound of my voice being one of the biggest things. Every time I see my torso in the mirror I'm reminded of how horribly scarred I am by acne all over my shoulders, back, even down to my buttocks and legs. The treatment for cosmetic conditions like this is beyond expensive and if I were to focus my work on achieving them... well I would be solving about 30% of a problem and also wasting time that I could have spent living in a more productive way. Unfortunately I find it impossible to find a middle ground that I am comfortable with, I have tried for a long time.

90% of the life of a biological thing is about fending off pain and suffering by introducing the opposite things, but comfort is transient. Pain is default and constant if you choose to stagnate and I refuse to accept the fact that an “unfair life” is always a good one.

Friendship

Over the years I've had some really beautiful friendships with people but I think that, likely to due to an event in my formative years (same as with every other thing I'm talking about here) my expectations within a friendship became greatly skewed. It took me far too long to realise but my expectations from my friends were too high and I believe this is where my neurotic and impulsive behaviour started developing. I have realised that many people aren't as forgiving as I had wished, many people aren't as patient as I expected them to be, and I spent years questioning this. I used to blame the people who had left me for my suffering rather than looking into myself, I hated those people who knew I was suffering but preferred to live their "perfect lives" when really.. it's normal and natural. People distance themselves from "mental illness" and "failure" to protect themselves and their own success. I should've known and expected this fully, yet I continued, right up until the end of my life, to treat my friends as if they were therapists. I've always loved putting my thoughts down into words and attempting to make sense of myself, and I think many of my friends could never comprehend this either. There was a complete disconnection between my intentions and what my friends believe my intentions were.

I think a lot of people assumed I was attention seeking by talking repetitively and never changing for years, when all I've ever been trying to do was understand. What I'm doing, why am I doing, why am I the way I am, why am I so different? The way I thought to understand these things was by asking and relating to as many people as possible. I got incredibly obsessed with this to the point where I relied constantly on validation and explanation and would never focus on real material aspects of my life. I think, inadvertantly, I spent all of my time since I left home and possibly some before it too, simply thinking. I opted to think instead of live.

I think being this unusual type of person who hasn't ever really fit in taught me a lot about people and friendship. It taught me what it means to be individual and it taught me the difference between people who have friendships for the sake of it- people who just live life as they "should" and obtain friends along the way- and people who have friendships because they want them. People who genuinely care and want to understand what it means to be a different person and who is willing to consider that difference isn't a flaw.

To those people who never let me push them away, no matter how hard I tried, thank you to the stars and back, thank you so much that I could never possibly put it into words. To those people who did let me push them away, thank you too, you were just living your life. I can never blame you or anybody else for this. Life is something in which we're always learning, if you've never had the experience of something it's very hard to learn from it retroactively. I resent ruining as many friendships as I did, I feel as if people were attempting to form a valuable emotional connection with me and I breached the emotiona trust people were placing in me. I wish I could've experienced whatever it is I was missing that made me this way.

I remember every situation in which I fucked up, I remember upsetting and driving people away specifically. I'm still bitter over every single loving friendship that went south because I'm socially disabled. My issues never showed themselves immediately but there's something in me that doesn't handle groups of people at all. I do things wrong many times and I can't deal with the complexities of interpersonal interactions, and I don't really think I'm obligated to if I don't feel able.

Worldly issues and my passionate inability to change anything

It hurts me so knowing how much truly unavoidable suffering happens in the world, I find it irreconcilable knowing that if I were to learn to live any semblance of comfortable life I would be doing it at the expense of making any positive change to the world, reducing some sort of suffering, I can't do it, but I also can't dedicate my life to anybody else. Even then, as I have probably said many times now, it means nothing... if I choose to live a full life and dedicated every moment to other people or if I died instantly right now, it really does not matter. After considering death for a long time and almost making the link between my beliefs of post-death with the actual real event happening for me I learned the importance of living beings having an equal opportunity.

For example, being that there is almost no possibility of a god or an afterlife and consciousness is born from a biological physical mechanism, once a being dies it's over forever. That being's experience has ended. While this means that there is no meaning to life on the one hand, it also suggests the importance of having the opportunity to live that life to the fullest for those who would like to. The suffering that goes on in the world that could easily by solved with finance is more sick than I first realised once considering this, healthcare and starvation for starters, there is no real reason that people are still dying for "lack of funds". Each experience and life is unique and will only ever be lived once, every time a conscious being that desires to live is denied that due to human selfishness the world is plunged further into a hypothetical moral hell. I can't live on this planet knowing that I would focus largely on myself rather than dedicating my entire life to trying to improve or save those opportunities. I do not want to live in such a twisted world. I choose to sacrifice myself for being unable to do any of my percieved duties. I don't have the capacity or confidence to think critically when it comes to politics or most heated topics, vocal angry people generally tend to win over here.

Love

Essentially, for those people who want to live their lives to the fullest, with the most amount of satisfaction and fulfillment even after knowing all of this. You have to realise what is most important. You have to let go of all the inconsequential things that your impulses want you to obsess over. Forget about social media, forget about how many likes you get on pictures, forget about who thinks what about your life. Focus on yourself, look inside yourself, what is most important to being happy if you remove all of those other people from the equation? Family? Friends? Whoever or whatever you hold most dear to your heart. I truly believe the only important thing in the world of living, conscious, sentient humans, is to be considerate. Not just the word, being considerate isn't doing something nice. Being considerate is trying to understand the essence of another person and working out what makes them feel good and loved and appreciated. Being considerate is truly trying to empathise with those people who you "hate" for no real reason, realising that while your thoughts are your own, nobody is too good or too bad to be worth considering.

When you really learn to do this, it feels a lot better than getting angry, making digs, being sarcastic. It's very nice to be nice when people don't feel any kind of obligation and you do it for the sake of it.

True love and compassion, real attempts to understand one another, actually trying to see past the inevitable first judgements we make on people. I think these are what really matter. I truly believe people who focus on these things first and foremost, who can accept that there will always be suffering in the world but actually the majority of suffering in our world is not as "necessary" or unavoidable as people like to tell you, and that personal success is an equal goal rather than greater, will go on to live extremely satisfying lives.

People should be as weird or bizarre or crazy as they want to be, because the chances are you really do only live once. Consider how much of your life is already gone, consider everything you would like to experience in the only time you are able to experience things and just fucking do it before it's too late. You should make every choice with the knowledge that you can only make it once and the consequences will be with you until you die, and you don't get to “try again”.

Haters

I suppose it wasn't exactly the best idea to put this part nearer the end either, because I'm sure those who truly hated me won't get here or even read this letter at all. However, I do hope that maybe one or two people who I had disgareements with in the past may reach this point and listen to my perspective.  I love you. I leave this life without any resentment for individuals. I do not blame any of you, I blame the human condition and how society is in general. Modern society, ancient society, no matter how they compare to one another, it has always been flawed. There will always be those suffering and on the sidelines and people require certain defence mechanism to live with this shit world.

I'm very sorry if I ever said anything bad to you, or did anything wrong. Please understand that I only ever acted out of emotion, irrational responses that I somehow thought might help me deal with the feelings I couldn't comprehend. I always wanted everybody to like me, I wanted to be everybody's friends and see the good in everybody. People have often misunderstood me and, throughout my attempts to make things right, simply preferred to keep their distance and never hear me out. I would be so passionate about this, resolving conflicts and understanding people's behaviour that I would make myself appear very neurotic, unable to let a situation slide and achieving the opposite of my goal: pushing people away even harder.

I resent the fact that there are "bad" people in the world. I don't believe there is such a thing as a bad person, simply those more vulnerable to the sicknesses of the mind and society. People can be twisted into something they never intended, even myself. I resent, most of all, that I can't fully comprehend how people end this way and that I could never change a hateful person. This change only comes from within, as a process of coming to terms with personal experiences, once again as with me.

All the bad things I did, I never intended, I never knew. I love you all and I hope you can attempt to forgive and understand me in the same way I have done with all of the individuals I've ever known.

Mental illness

I'll talk a little bit on my experience with mental illness. In very simple terms and from a professional point of view I think the opinion was generally that I suffered some form of depression from a young age and then from my own deductions I gradually developed some kind of anxiety.Part of the reason for my friendships perpetually breaking down I put down to the mild but persistent paranoia I experience in groups of people, possibly due to a full expectation of them to gradually grow to hate me. Like a self fulfilling social prophecy.

I feel there was definitely some underlying, unnoticed and untreated malfunction in my brain long before my life went to complete shambles. An odd case is intrusive thoughts, once I'd learned what intrusive thoughts were I recall thinking that I wouldn't want to experience them. Which quickly became "what would an intrusive thought be to me personally? What do I specifically never want to think about?" from this point without actively choosing, I think I began to have intrusive thoughts. It certainly felt like I had induced the process of having intrusive thoughts within myself. I think I broke myself. These thoughts were disturbing enough that I'd prefer not to go into detail, it happens very rarely but when it does it is very distressing, usually it's in the form of sentences and not images, but as time goes on the thoughts become more fleshed out and I simply cannot deal with this mess. I'm not sure if I'm unique in the behaviour I'm about to describe but growing up I always had a set of images or memories in my mind that I did not want to remember for some reason or another they had disturbed me, particularly scary images from tv shows, movies and music videos. Whenever I had a slight thought in the direction of remembering things that I didn't want to, my brain would spin in the opposite direction and force me to remember all of these things that I didn't want to. Admittedly I seem to have matured out of that (that being almost a defined set of uncomfortable stimuli I'd failed away somewhere in the back of my mind) a little now but it feels to be linked with the way I began my own intrusive thoughts.

I'm not exactly sure how to relate back and understand my behaviour around 2012-2014, the few years after my first hospital stay when I turned to drugs knowing how badly they were going to affect me, and the brief period before that hospital stay where I was acting incredibly impulsively and bizarre even by my own standards. I chose to go mute for a few days on a whim based on my partner making a comment about it and how much I dislike the sound of my voice. I can't explain what my thought process during times like that were, and it's in this way that mental illness has been a large but also external culprit in my problems.

I absolutely adore "women's" fashion beyond belief and towards the end of my life this was the biggest factor that played on my "dysphoria" in terms of gender. There are an endless number of dresses and outfits that I find adorable and wished I lived in a world where I could indulge in such fashion with no sense of it being odd, unusual, wrong, bizarre, laughable. Yet that part of me has always been a joke. Even discussing it here there is always a sense of "I'm fucked up for feeling this way" thanks to the way I've been treated for it over time, I can't possibly counter the number of times online that I have read statements such as “trannies are mentally ill and they should kill themselves”. There are other aspects to my gender dysphoria but when I try to analyse these feelings in-depth it seems I can pinpoint most of them to generic dysphoria that is messily combined with my feelings on gender. The one thing I absolutely know is that I do wish I was born female and I can't quite get over that feeling.

Whatever brought me to the my current experience of overwhelming dysphoria is a process I don't understand too well but I've considered that it may have something to do with the conditions in which I grew up, for example never having any sort of male figure. It's another thing I really don't like to dwell on too much, I struggled through feelings of "gender dysphoria" whatever that means for years since my mid teens onwards, I never quite came to terms with it and understood exactly what it meant for me personally. I came to the conclusion that I can't possibly understand my own identity, sexual, gender, or even in general. My dysphoria "spread" and became something that affects everything I do and feel about myself, my actions and choices. I'm sorry, but I refuse to sit through therapy on any of these deeply personal matters, especially after being severely humiliated the first time I brought the issue up with my GP. I also don't want to learn to live with the fact I'm a gender I wouldn't like to be, but that's a whole other can of worms, these aspects of me are far beyond understanding.

The best way I can link how my mental health affected me from a young age in similar ways right up until the present day is an independant psych report that was done on me around 2007. Reading it back now makes me sick, many of my current situations were predicted and also many of my negative behaviour and thought patterns were recognised way back then.

I think I have neglected to mention how many times I really have attempted to live my life. Although I was always the destructor of my own efforts, I always tried and went into something with full passion and effort. Trying to get onto courses and looking for employment opportunities in areas I thought appropriate. Every single time, without fail, if it wasn't for my self-sabotage something else would slap me in the face, completely out of left field and more recently I'm simply unable to go into thing with a full enough tank. I get worn down before I even begin. Once I realised focusing on my selfish desires in life wasn't going to work out for me I thought that I could learn from my own mistakes and “suffering”, maybe if I went into something with full passion and knowledge of my experiences then I could make a real positive difference to other people. I spent time considering what entertainment products could be invented specifically for patients on psych wards as an obvious response to my experience of not being allowed something as simple as a radio because of the power cables but that passion quickly dwindled because my own miserable life would overpower even my drive to help others. There is a seemingly endless list of completely unacceptable human-caused suffering and I can't see any world in which this no longer happens, no matter how much I or anybody else dedicates their lives to “helping” others, it's the same logic behind people not voting in the election. Why should I even bother when it will make no difference? It's the same pervasive despondancy that makes us all selfish and makes suffering accptable.

I do not desire to live a life where it takes such an astronomical amount of effort and "fighting back" just to live a very mediocre normal life rather than an outright negative one. After failing for so long and everything else.. conditions are no longer optimal, my brain is almost past it's prime age for learning, probably severely damage too, and I basically need a slipstream to get me going.

Summary

I've had varying dreams and I think a strong part of me always wanted to grow up like those adults I idolised as a child. The type that are incredibly charismatic, passionate, enthusiastic about teaching and life in general. I've always somehow achieved the opposite of what I wanted to and then my dreams also became skewed by the circumstances I was engaged in. I became twisted as a person and developed a dream of engaging in an almost hedonistic selfish lifestyle, spending half of my time dreaming about leaving my life and living the most extravagant life possible, always forgetting that I'm socially unable mentally and financially. I realised that I just have no desire to work my life away, yet I can't live my desired life without doing this. I will never wake up in the morning and be happy with the body I grew, there are some factors that are unchangeable in my mind and in my physical self and I refuse to even attempt to come to terms with this and live life as a compromise. My thoughts have fought a war of attrition on my mind and won.

I will attempt to summarise my reasons for ending my life one more time...

I am unable and unwilling to attempt to "fix" all of the effects my life has had on me mentally and physically. Through a long period of deliberation I have realised that I love to sleep more than anything and that if I choose to leave earlier, in the grand scheme of things my suicide will have almost no impact at all, just as my life also wouldn't. I've realised that the value of living my life and experiencing things in general is lower than I first thought. That low value is really just a subjective thing, but it's also my absolute truth. I truly believe that I can see and choose the level of value I hold in living my full life.

I arrive at this decision through a combination of my unexpectadly low quality of life, my mental and personality malformations, my inability and unwilling to change, the time that I have already wasted and the prospect of knowing whatever I do I'll never reach close to the levels that I originally wanted. Every aspect of me has been broken down in some way or another and it's been almost invisible to most people. Both my circumstances and repeated mistakes have caused dramatic and permanant damage to my quality of life.

In a completely non-depressing (hah, sorry) way I know that life is just the same as everything else in the Universe. It just is, it's random, it doesn't really mean anything and it's not a shame that I want to leave. As I mentioned before I don't at all believe people can't choose to live and assign their own values and meaning. I wish I could truly describe the truth that I feel isolated from my emotional reasons just as I wish I could portray my mental state accurately so that all of this typing wouldn't be necessary.

All that I can ask is that you respect my decision. I know there's nothing I can do to ease your pain and that this will stay with you until your final day, I'm sorry but that's not my fault, it's Life's.

Love you. x

Ps.

What I've written in this letter might seem superficial or pretentious, no matter what maybe you can glean just a tiny bit of insight into my mind. I think I have a clarity and inner peace now that is harder to put into words than anything else I have ever experienced. I likely won't even read this whole thing back other than just skimming. I wish nothing but good fortune on everybody, even if I believe that is impossible. I don't blame anybody at all, I was wrong to live my entire life expecting people to know what was going on inside my head. I had intended to write a lot more than this but I think I've almost got everything I need from it. It's hard for me to view the entire document in much more than paragraphs at a time so I'm very sorry if I repeated myself too much or said much stupid stuff.

Finally I want you to know that my passing was meticulously planned and researched for years and was definitely peaceful, don't worry about that.

This turned out to be more neurotic and empty than I could have hoped, a stream of pointless words with nothing substantial inside, just like the husk that I am.

If you're still reading, think you for validating my existence. Goodnight and goodbye.

More on my choice

Thank you for reading, considering everything written here, I choose to opt out of my life.

Here I'll quote some of my writing I made in response to others that I think express some important feelings and I couldn't find the energy to incorproate into this thing. My head hurts and trying to organise something as long as this without repeating myself too much is difficult. I've probably missed out plenty of important details because I don't have the strength to finish it, but as I told myself I've done my best. This is my expression. I'll just accept that the parts of me I'm no longer able to express or even remember correctly are going to be dead with the rest of me, so I don't feel such a strong desire to preserve those older memories anymore. I feel some of those parts of me that held onto the things that hurt the most are already dying. I'm now filled with this emotional expression when consuming things such as music that I love and art and such, but even then I cannot possibly express it without judgement except when I'm alone. I can reach for the stars but I'll only ever be spat on for doing so.

There are certain parts of myself I just can't change, certain things I've learned to rely on, certain behaviours I don't feel comfortable trying to stop yet I know I can't go on being the same. There is no other way, I find that all the issues I have in my life mean so little yet they feel so insanely large to me, even though I know logically they're absolutely nothing. I come to the conclusion that the easiest way out is also not a deplorable way out. best of luck to those left living tbh

Honestly I think underage people accessing inappropriate content is a parental issue that should solve these discussions before they even happen. In hindsight I definitely wish I wasn't given free reign of the internet until at least say age 16. As fucked as it sounds, I think long distance relationships ruined me a little bit, skewed my priorities and delayed some important parts of my development.

This is the end of the letter, following is just snippets of my interests in case anybody close to me wishes to indulge and feel closer to who I was in this way

Really this is just my last attempt at sharing some of the last interests I ever indulged in, unfortunately I can't possibly include everything as I started out by saying... my interests are overwhelmingly all-encompassing, feel free to ignore it.

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I discovered Dawkins shortly before the end of my life, I love how passionate he is about spreading what he believes is good and right. I don't think I've seen any clip of him being truly disrespectful and from what I've seen he is just a remarkable man worth listening to. He has allowed me to expand upon beliefs that I already had and I'm very happy to learn some good reasons for me having these beliefs.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxGMqKCcN6A

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Here are some pieces of music that I love to pieces and invoke much emotion within me, often because of the personal memories and experiences I have linked with each piece. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6KcYN0A5LY

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If you wish to remember me by something I adored then please watch the box set of studio ghibli movies, they mean more to me and more in general than people like to give credit for. The music and art direction of these movies is very dear to my heart and represent a way in which I could externalise and really feel my emotions for once. Thank you to a very good male nurse at Cheadle Royal who leant me the box set during my stay and let me watch them all. All of them except Tale from Earthsea pretty much mean so much to me.

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a band that I adore and has really interesting, catchy and sometimes beautiful lyrics is Streetlight Manifesto. Classic go to for when I'm down in the dumps.

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You can find some more movies I enjoyed on my lists here: https://www.imdb.com/user/ur77664761/

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a lovely insightful post by a good friend I made:

Yes, I think psychic suffering (however you want to define it: depression, isolation, shitty life circumstances) can be the basis for a completely rational decision, so long as the suffering has been over an extended period of time and not simply a reaction to a specific life event (say losing your job or romantic partner) which may be overcome.

I’m middle aged and have experienced a lifetime of woes, and have decided, quite rationally, that my suffering will only get worse from here.

Some of the posters here are quite young but have suffered for years, and they too can make this decision rationally. Anyone younger than 25, however should be discouraged but I still respect their right to die.

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I was originally unsure about sharing this due to the personal nature of stuff that I blogged but I decided I'd rather leave this behind as a momento of the things I was interested in, liked to look at, the aesthetic and parts of me that were never known. Parts of me that I'm humiliated by and wished I wasn't.. my Tumblr is here and my about page shows I've been writing similarly to this for a long time:

http://icebaka.tumblr.com/ http://icebaka.tumblr.com/about

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“I felt no guilt 'til I was caught and I was told that I was gulity, and even then I wasn't really sure.”

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