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flickeringart · 4 years ago

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Minor aspects

While the nature of the major aspects in astrology is quite straightforward and has been covered more than sufficiently, there’s still a lot of fog surrounding the nature of the minor ones. There are a lot of minor aspects that can be taken into consideration when interpreting a chart… however, since they are labeled minor they won’t be as obvious and much more difficult to spot in one’s own life. Note that this doesn't mean that they aren't impactful. There’s a lot of speculation and vague terms used when describing them. It seems that every minor aspect is said to have a “spiritual/creative dimension” as if that is supposed to clear up any of the mystery surrounding them. Perhaps, on one level, we don’t want to pin them down too much because certainty is the enemy of exploration. Or perhaps it’s the case that the aspects themselves don’t want to be pinned down? There’s an appeal in keeping certain things mysterious in our lives, to avoid defining and putting rigid labels on phenomena. It makes life alive and beautiful. Many people dismiss astrology is because they are afraid that they’re going to be reduced to a set of characteristics and have their personality mapped up to the point of being able to predict and foresee patterns of behavior and fated themes. The fear of knowledge is not irrational; it is probably healthy to an extent. Knowing too much can be dangerous and rob life of its magic. “Curiosity killed the cat”, as the saying goes. However, this is not the whole truth because curiosity also leads to expansion and better understanding, so let’s not be afraid to concretize these aspects, it's not the same as "killing" their potential. Life is never completely in our hands anyway, there's no risk of knowing it all.

Quintile (72°)/Bi-quintile (144°)

These aspects are said to have something to do with individual style and quality of creative work. It is suggested that these aspects say something about a mental-creative process of imposing one’s mind on a particular subject. It is also linked to talent and gifts the individual would possess that have not been actively learned. Basically, it seems to be indicative of the particular way a person would approach a subject. For example, the quintile would not describe the activity itself - the activity could be painting, knitting, running, cleaning or whatever – the quintile/bi-quintile would point to the way the person approaches the activity.

For example, Ted Bundy (whose chart I’ve explored a bit here), has Neptune bi-quintile the MC. Neptune, being the planet of illusion hints to Bundy’s quality of being a chameleon, deceiving the public as part of his personal style.

Prince Harry, (whose chart I’ve touched upon before), has his Moon bi-quintile Neptune. The Moon can be indicative of the mother figure, and his mother Princess Diana certainly had an elusive style and charm that was a bit deceptive and seductive. Of course, he would have the same thing going in his own life but it would perhaps be difficult for us to spot. He also has Moon quintile Venus and he definitely has a style/quality of emotional-physical comfort. He has Pluto quintile the AC, which would point to a style of showing up in the world that is powerful and intense. He has a tendency to come off as destructive and chaotic at times. There’s also a quintile aspect forming between Mercury in the 8th house and the MC which would hint to a public image that is colored by the “taboo” things he has said about his family in the recent present, but also in the past. He’s a public image that is aligning with the style of the playful amoral trickster.

As I’m going with charts I’ve already explored, let’s look at the quintiles in Meghan Markle’s chart. Her Venus is quintile Uranus and it perfectly describes her style of “wokeism”, that is, appearing to be objective and intelligent about feelings and affective values. She has a style of being “the loving humanitarian”. Whether she is this way in an actual sense is debatable. The quintile aspect is describing the quality and style not the actuality. But, it is disturbingly close to reality that it somehow becomes reality. It’s like the actor who adopts another energy signature in order to portray a different person. It doesn’t really matter if a person is rotten at the core - if he has a loving way of being, what difference does it make? The style is real enough to not reflect and give the impression of love.

Semi-square (45°) / Sesquiquadrate (135°)

These aspects are said to precipitate events. The nature of these two aspects is more immediate than the square aspect (which causes tension and doubt and needs constant navigation). The conflict represented is usually unconscious and is therefore not easy to identify. However, as these conflicts tend to manifest quite abruptly, we can take a look at the concrete problems the person faces. The planets connected by a semi-square/sesquiquadrate aspect will be in conflict but force some kind of release (that may result in an accident because of it’s autonomous/unconscious function).

I have Saturn sesquiquadrate my Moon. Since I tend to unconsciously block my emotional responses, the pressure builds and I am “forced” to get out of a situation, “forced to listen to my emotions”. I have encountered the theory that the sesquiquadrate in particular is manifesting as something that is looked down upon societally. This would make sense considering the aspect forces a breakout of one of the planets and nothing that is immediate and abrupt is ever favorably looked upon when it comes to social-societal structure and predictability. I have been meaning to take on commitments that would further my status in society in terms of formal education (Saturn in the 9th conjunct the MC) but I have not been able to do it without considerable decline in my emotional well-being. So, I have been “thrown out” by unconscious forces every time I’ve tried.

My sister has her Venus sesquiquadrate Saturn. She’s known for her deliberate and strategic way of dressing. She plans her outfits carefully, there’s nothing haphazard about the way she presents herself. However, she has Lilith conjunct Venus so she can push the limits and simply do what she pleases sometimes as well when the pressure of Saturn becomes too much. But, this often causes external judgment. A relative of mine has her Sun semi-square Venus. I can tell that she’s highly aware of her appearance. She is very pretty but there’s always something that is a bit off between what she wears and her self-expression. It’s like it doesn’t quite fit and it’s irritating.

To get back to the celebrities, Meghan Markle has Neptune sesquiquadrate Mercury. Is it possible that this forces distortion and vagueness in opinion and communication? It would certainly fit the bill. She also has Uranus sesquiquadrate Mars. She simply has to “break out of her confining situations”, cut people out of her life and move on in her own way. Uranus is also sesquiquadrate her MC, which seems to point to her unconscious pull to “do what she wants to do” at the detriment of her public image and reputation. Notably, Uranus sits in her 5th house of personal enjoyment and creation.

Prince Harry has a semi-square between Mars and Pluto. When he is angry it blossoms into rage and he can’t see straight. It has gotten him into quite a lot of trouble and societal-social disapproval. It seems that this is a common theme with the sesquiquadrate and semi-square. He also has his Moon sesquiquadrate Jupiter. Isn’t it the case that he tends to indulge in a way that makes him look bad in society?

Quincunx (150°)

This aspect is typically found between planets incompatible by element and mode. Basically, they have nothing in common and have a hard time cooperating, which will cause minor stress in the individual because of necessity to work around the incompatibilities. The planets are not in direct conflict but they are uncomfortable with each other.

For example, I have my Moon quincunx Mercury. Every time I sit down to write I’m mildly disturbed by little things like an aching back, a headache, restless legs or whatever. It’s not very comfortable for me but I can still keep with it, however it might take a toll on me health wise. The quincunx has been related to health issues because of the mild stress that it causes. It is manageable and one is usually able to cope with the stress, but it’s not very pleasant. Because it is not as demanding as more disturbing conflicts in one’s life, it’s in the background causing irritation.

Meghan Markle’s Venus makes a quincunx aspect to her MC. This suggests that she has a hard time reflecting her value on a public level, it’s as if how she’s perceived publicly disturbs her sense of ease and comfort. She has an Aries MC with a Virgo Venus and she’s continuously depicted as a bully these days, as some kind a selfish and aggressive bitch (the more negative attributes of Aries). This must be undermining her self-worth immensely, however, it’s perhaps too minor of a problem to do anything about. It is still there nonetheless, harping on in the background, breaking her down and causing slow disintegration…

Semi-sextile (30°)

Planets forming semi-sextile aspects are said to be able to aid each other, to have a better connection than if they had no link at all. Usually one planet is in the sign that comes before the sign of the other; in other words, a semi-sextile might be forming between Mars in Aries and Venus in Taurus. The semi-sextile usually connects consecutive sign like this, but planets could be in semi-sextile in the same sign, like Mars in 0° Taurus semi-sextile Venus in 30° Taurus. In any case, the planet placed at an earlier degree or in the earlier sign can draw on qualities of the planet in the later degree or the later sign and vice versa. For example, Prince Harry’s Venus in Libra is semi-sextile his MC. He can draw on his sense of harmony a diplomacy to benefit his public image. His Mars in Sagittarius is also semi-sextile his MC, which makes it so that he can draw from his Martial qualities of energy and action to influence his career and success.

Parallel/Contra-parallel

These are called aspects in declination because they are measured by latitude and not by longitude. This essentially means that two planetary bodies can aspect each other in a certain way measuring the distance between them north-south of the celestial equator. Two planets at the same degree north and south of the equator form a parallel aspect and can be interpreted the same as a conjunction (some say that it's more obscure like a quincunx/semi-square). Two planets opposite each other north and south form a contra-parallel aspect and can be interpreted as an opposition (some say that it's basically the same as the parallel though).

I have found, looking at my own chart that these aspects only confirms already existing aspects measured by longitude or it confirms the sign that a specific angle is in. For example, my MC is in Aries and it is also parallel Mars. Mars is the ruler of Aries so it emphasizes my already martial MC. My Sun is conjunct Saturn and it’s also parallel Saturn. My sister has a Scorpio MC and it’s also parallel Pluto, the natural ruler of Scorpio. For example, my sister has a wide Moon-Mars conjunction (6°) but they are also in contra-parallel. How is this supposed to be interpreted? I would simply see it as Moon-Mars is connected strongly despite the orb being a little wide with the conjunction.

However, it’s not always the case that parallel and contra-parallel aspects only confirms already existing influences. They can also add themes and connections. My sister doesn’t have any longitude aspects between Saturn and Uranus but they are contra-parallel to each other.

Septile (51.43° - a 1/7 of the 360°)

It is said to indicate a hidden flow of energy between the planets involved, an inner sensitivity to the spiritual dimension of the planets. Another description I have come across is that the planets “darkly interact” and there’s an occult theme surrounding the connection.

I have Venus septile Jupiter in my own chart. Going by the said method of interpretation, it would mean that I have sensitivity to the hidden wealth and underlying beauty and abundance in life. I think it is quite accurate.

Novile (40° - 1/9 of the 360°)

Is said to be describing a contact of perfection/idealization. It also seems to have something to do with spiritual awakening and growth, lack of fear and freedom.

Having Sun novile Saturn for example could be interpreted as a feeling of communion with the world and life itself through responsibility and the control one can exercise through self-expression.

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There are of course other minor aspects to explore, but I'll stop here for now.

#astrology #aspects in astrology #minor aspects #minor aspects in astrology #quintile #bi-quintile #semi-square #sesquiquadrate #quincunx #parallel and contra-parallel #aspects of declination #prallel aspects #contra-parallel aspects #septile #novile #aspects in the natal chart #aspects #aspects in declination

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years ago

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Patricia Highsmith: The problem of good art made by bad people

No writer would ever betray his secret life. It would be like standing naked in public.

- Patricia Highsmith, the novelist writing to a friend in 1940

Patricia Highsmith, who died in 1995 having written a series of psychological thrillers, including The Talented Mr Ripley and Strangers on a Train and the romance The Price of Salt, left two sets of diaries hidden in a linen closet in her home in Ticino, Switzerland.

In one she recorded details about her professional life: plot ideas, philosophical musings and thoughts on writing. In the other she documented her private reflections and memories, including a single sexual encounter with the writer Arthur Koestler (a “miserable, joyless episode”) and her efforts, through psychotherapy, to “get myself into a condition to be married”.

She had no more compassion for men than she did for women. In one entry Highsmith writes that “the American male does not know what to do with a girl once he has her. He is not really depressed or inhibited by his inherited or environmentally conceived Puritan restraints: he simply has no goal within the sexual situation”.

Highsmith’s diaries, which run to more than 8,000 pages, have been pored over by biographers, but have never before been made public, or in this case interwoven into a single narrative of the life of a complex woman who thought deeply about themes of good and evil, loneliness and intimacy.

It was in her diary that she described becoming sexually obsessed with a customer at Bloomingdale’s in New York, whom she later followed to her home, provoking observations about murder and love.

She had an obsession about detailing absolutely everything in her life, very much like Sylvia Plath. And she drew on the diaries for her novels, which explore the notion of obsession, guilt and murder, and reject rationality and logic for the darker elements of human personality.” Dubbed “the poet of apprehension“ by the novelist Graham Greene, who said she “created a world without moral endings … Nothing is certain when we have crossed this frontier”, the Texas-born Highsmith was deeply influenced by European existentialists such as Albert Camus and Søren Kierkegaard, and those influences are deeply felt in her diaries.

She was a lesbian who hated women, totally politically incorrect in lots of ways, and certainly not a poster girl for the feminist movement. She hated blacks, Jews, men, and women. A sort of equal opportunities hater then. In mitigation Highsmith was self aware of her own beliefs and it mortified her and was a source of constant anxiety. She herself was fighting many demons including her mother’s rejection, an attempted seduction by her father as a child, and being sexually abused by two travelling salesmen. She had a tough life.

But there is a question over how far Highsmith can now be assimilated into contemporary culture of ‘wokeness’ and ‘MeToo’.

There is no question in person she could be a monstrous, violent and quite unpleasant woman. Knowing about her life and views could for some make it difficult to read her works. But for all that I think the diaries’ publication could help to again reveal that, contrary to popular imagination, creativity is not necessarily rooted in our best instincts.

These same highly culturally charged debates raged around the controversial French writer Celine in France. In Germany Wagner continues to be a touchy issue. Or back again in France, the recent controversy at the Césars where many people walked out as child minor rapist Roman Polanski was honoured for his latest film.

Going further back Gaugin was a pedophile. Degas was an anti-Semite. Caravaggio killed a man. Where do you draw the line? When do you draw the line?

Some argue art cannot be good or evil. Only the artist can. What he/she presents as art is a different dimension of thinking and somehow not really representative of the artist. I’m not entirely convinced by that argument. If only because great art is never transmitted through an empty vessel but is actively germinated through the life experiences of the artist. But also more importantly most artists don’t separate themselves from their art as they are convinced their art comes from the deepest depths of their being.

We don’t have to be puritans to acknowledge that some henious actions deserve more consideration than historically allotted to a consideration of the artist and his/her works.

But those who are ‘woke’ liberal left activists arguably seem to be advocating a one size that fits all approach. There is no wriggle room for discourse correction or allowing nuance to inform the conversation. And I use the word ‘conversation’ deliberately because such things are nearly always being worked out in real time and also each one of us ascribe different values to different things e.g. Picasso cheats on his lovers and so I don’t like his art, whilst others would say, so what? Grow up. There is a serious slippery slope that if you eliminate the bad artist and writer from the canon and you might as well eliminate art and literature itself. And that’s where we might well end up.

I believe that adjusting personal behaviour seems much easier than enforcing an interpretative cultural lens on a shifting audience and telling them this is how you should enjoy art.

I personally believe it’s a matter of personal conscience and conviction. If you’ve really searched your heart, and found that a piece of art is just that important to you, as many people do without admitting it out loud, then it should be fine to engage with it. But the imperative now is to privately think about why it matters to you. If I can justify that to myself then yes, I will go ahead and ‘enjoy’ that piece of art regardless of how much of a shit the artist was or is.

To me it’s not a question of compartmentalising, of ignoring or suspending my disgust with an artist's personal behaviour so as to concentrate on the art. I'm watching and reading because I expect art to be about moral dangers in a way that is less didactic than essays are. I expect art to be troubling because I expect people to be troubling. I am prepared to like and dislike something in every work. I can also appreciate the aesthetic genius of a moral monster without feeling that I am becoming inured to monstrosity.

For this reason when I for example look at Benvenuto Cellini, creator of Perseus With the Head of Medusa, was a murderer and a rapist. He killed at least two men and was accused by a model of sexually assaulting her. This does not stop me from looking with great amazement and curiosity at the naked and sexual Perseus With the Head of the Medusa. The knowledge of the immorality of the creator does not distract from my enjoyment of his creation; indeed I am made even more curious to know how beauty is perceived by a violently troubled man.

In the end for me, and I can only speak for myself, contrary to popular imagination, creativity is not necessarily rooted in our best instincts. Nietzsche said, “One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.” I like that.

A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To the artist, to paraphrase Pearl S. Buck, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this a cruel overpowering necessity to create - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.

In Patricia Highsmith’s case it’s revealing she said once in a sly backhanded way, “My New Year’s Eve Toast: to all the devils, lusts, passions, greeds, envies, loves, hates, strange desires, enemies ghostly and real, the army of memories, with which I do battle — may they never give me peace.” A true great artist never know really knows peace or contentment for this is the price of creation. The intensity of personal turmoil is the fuel of their creativity.

The Greeks may have believed that they had “muses” whispering ideas in their ears. Or that the Romans believed they wrote with their “genius”. But I suspect the best artists are those that are in touch with and confront their humanity, at their best and at their worst.

#highsmith #quote #art #aesthetics #bad art #literature #nietzsche

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 5 years ago

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The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 18: MJ is lying to Peter but it definitely couldn’t be for his own sake

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This is something of a tangent on the last post, where I discussed why MJ would know better than to lie to Peter. However an angle I didn’t cover was the idea that she might be lying in order to protect Peter and his life interests in some way. Well today we’re going to tackle that very question.

This counterargument stems from the fact that MJ (obviously) wouldn’t want to see Peter come to harm and wouldn’t want to harm his chances in making more of his life. After all, Peter (circa AMJ #1) had only recently begun attending college again.

Informing him about Mysterio would likely prompt Peter to ride out to L.A. immediately and potentially jeopardise his academic career.

But this just doesn’t really hold up to scrutiny.

In part 16 I spoke a length about how MJ values the greater good above even her marriage to Peter. I demonstrated that since she values her marriage over her career it therefore means she values the greater good above her career.

Using the same logic it’s pretty obvious to deduce that MJ also values the greater good above Peter’s academic career.

In ASM #303 (covered in part 16) MJ was prepared to jeopardise or potentially give up her successful modelling career for the sake of her marriage. This was owed to Peter being offered a promising new job in Kansas.

However Peter turned the job down out of consideration for MJ and instead decided to go back to college (as he is in ASM v5) so he could get a job in NYC. Mary Jane doesn’t even try to protest against this.

I’m by no means suggesting MJ is being selfish here, but it does demonstrate that the value she places upon Peter’s career prospects (which his college education is an extension of) has it’s limits. She clearly values her marriage more than that in addition to her own career.

So if MJ’s priorities place Peter’s career below their marriage and their marriage below the greater good, by extension it means she actually doesn’t value Peter’s education above the greater good.

And so she wouldn’t avoid alerting Peter to the existence of potentially dangerous criminals simply because she doesn’t want to screw up his academic chances.

But if you want even more proof, remember ASM #286? MJ ultimately decides the risk to Peter’s life wasn’t as important as the innocent lives that could be saved. Are we seriously going to suggest MJ believes Peter’s career options are more important than his literal life?

Of course not. And let’s not forget that Peter has gone back to school four time by this point. I am unfamiliar with the American college education system, but that suggests to me that there is no limit on the number of times someone can stop and start their academic career. So even if MJ reluctantly has to kill Peter’s current chances in college, she knows that he could simply restart again. She also knows Peter would want it that way too.

Not to mention MJ could be honest with Peter without risking him riding down to L.A. to save the day.

Peter knows he can trust Mary Jane. She doesn’t have the ability to get him to agree with anything she wants. But nor is Peter going to be immovable on any topic that entails MJ somehow being in a dangerous situation. In Marvel Knights: Spider-Man #2 Peter is insistent that MJ leave New York in order for her to evade whomever had abducted Aunt May.

Whilst she reluctantly left, she soon returned despite what Peter wanted and continued to stick around in spite of him wanting her to leave again.

However he didn’t press the point a second time even though the situation hadn’t changed. There are various reasons as to why but the point is that Peter was able to accept that it was a reasonable decision even though he disliked it.

Later in ASM #536 following the public unveiling of his identity and his turning against the Super Human Registration Act, the Parker family find themselves on the run. Peter wants MJ and May to get as far away from him as possible, arguing it’d be safer and more efficient for him to operate on his own. Peter is however convinced by May and MJ’s arguments to the contrary.

Both examples demonstrate MJ being honest with Peter of being in direct danger but of her also convincing him to allow her to remain in that situation. Now for sure we could argue that these outcomes were ultimately the lesser of two evils from Peter’s POV. That what MJ wanted was actually ultimately safer over all.

However if somehow MJ had a solid argument for why her sticking around on the film set served the greater good or was ultimately better for her it’s far from impossible that Peter could be convinced to stay in NYC. Just spit balling here but she could argue that something very fishy is going on, Beck already tried something large scale recently and singling MJ out could mean he knows Peter’s identity As a result sending him to jail could risk exposing his identity and by extension endangering his friends and family. If MJ sticks around and Peter keeps a distance it puts her into a position to investigate and see what he knows.

I don’t know how much that idea holds up to scrutiny as I came up with it off the top of my head but it certainly makes a lot more sense than Mary Jane just straight up lying to Peter.

Even if hypothetically Peter just could never accept MJ being surrounded by criminals, she could simply promise him she would contact her various super hero associates. Or in fact ask him to do that on her behalf.

That’s not me suggesting MJ be passive or allow a man to sort out her problems for her either.

It’d be a strategic and diplomatic use of both her intimate knowledge of Peter’s psychology and her famous people skills. Having Peter on some level take an active role in helping/protecting her would make him feel in control in some way. Make him feel like he is living up to his responsibilities as a hero and as a partner and thus alleviate his urges to ride down and intervene personally.

Nowadays Peter isn’t opposed to this level of trust in his super hero friends. Even ignoring his years as an Avenger (which included living with them alongside MJ and May), Peter has called upon these people in the very recent past.

Throughout in Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man volume 2 Peter called upon the aid of his super hero associates to help him during various crises. These included the Doctor Strange, Iron Man, the Human Torch and the wider Fantastic Four.

Another example can be found during the ‘Absolute Carnage’ event, which definitely occurred after MJ left for L.A. We know this because in ASM v5 #29 and issues #30-31 were tie-ins to the event.* The Avengers in fact appear briefly in issue #30.

In Absolute Carnage #2 Venom/Eddie Brock suggests that they call upon the help of the Avengers to deal with Carnage’s impending rampage. Peter asserts that it’s best if he do that.

He is shown doing exactly that in Absolute Carnage: Avengers #1 where he teams up with Captain America, Wolverine and Ben Grimm.

Additionally this team contacts Hawkeye on the West Coast to deal with Carnage’s minions over in San Francisco.

It’s important to note that Hawkeye was on the West Coast because he was a part of the West Coast branch of the Avengers. Their headquarters specifically being…in Los Angeles…where Mary Jane is making her movie.

Granted, it’s not the same part of Los Angeles because MJ is in Hollywood and the West Coast Avengers HQ is in Venice Boulevard. And a quick Google search reveals that to travel between the two locations on foot it’d take…under three hours…Yeah…

Basically nowadays Peter is absolutely not going to be opposed to calling upon the aid of other heroes to help him directly or indirectly so asking them to show up and lookout for the woman he loves wouldn’t be out of character. Especially when one considers that Hawkeye alone is probably out of Mysterio’s league considering the threats he’s survived. But Mary Jane’s personal friends Iron Man and Ironheart? Unless Beck specifically prepared for them he would be unlikely to get away, let alone hurt them.

Now look I’m not suggesting we apply every single facet of the Marvel Universe into our analyses because that’d be ridiculous. Every Spider-Man or related story would fall apart because he could simply resolve his problems by calling other heroes. It’s part of the suspension of disbelief that Spidey is the only person available to deal with whatever crisis is at hand.**

But these are all very recent stories that, happened in the main Spider-Man titles; or tie-ins directly to those titles. In the Avengers’ case they were his teammates for over a decade and were for a time outright his supporting cast. Mary Jane was a major supporting character in the solo titles of two separate Avengers characters and that fact was acknowledged within ASM itself.

Is the idea of calling upon these characters really not fair game in this hypothetical scenario of ours?

I’d say no.

Regardless the fact remains that in AM #1 Mary Jane cannot be lying to Peter for his own sake and has no other justifiable reason either. She would know better than to do that.

Next time we take a look at MJ’s skills and whether they actually could protect her and others from Mysterio or not.

*It’s not entirely clear when the events of AMJ #1 happen in relation to ASM v5 #30-31. They must happen after ASM v5 #29 and AMj #1 was published the very same day as ASM v5 #32; being referenced in that same issue.

To me this implies that AMJ #1 slots in just prior to ASM v5 #32, but in fairness it could occur just after ASM v5 #29.

However, the events from the story I’m discussing were published before AMJ #1. They would also happen so close to it no matter what that Peter’s characterization in the former is still a fair source to cite.

**Although it should be noted that it has often been common practice for Spider-Man stories to directly address exactly why other heroes aren’t available to help Spidey. A great example would be ASM #361, Peter’s first encounter with Carnage, where the F4 and Avengers are occupied forcing Peter to call upon the aid of Venom.

P.S. For some additional food for thought check out ASM #291. In the issue a Spider Slayer robot was on the loose but Peter reluctantly left it to the authorities because a crying Mary Jane called him up and asked for his help.

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#Spider-Man #Leah Williams #Amazing Mary Jane #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #MJ Watson #Peter Parker #Quentin Beck #mysterio

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skruffie · 5 years ago

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in which I’m getting to know my brain better

I can’t really pinpoint a time when I started reading about ADHD and believed that maybe it was something that I had. I think it’s kind of been in the back of my head from when ADD was still a commonly-used term but then I would go “naaaah can’t be me, I’m just a lazy person!” I remember ages ago in high school I was at a friend’s house and watching their brothers and I thought “This is what actual ADHD looks like” so I guess that kind of pins it for me thinking about it as long ago as 15 years ago but I never gave it serious consideration until more recently.

(This is very, very long so I don’t blame you if you want to just skip it entirely)

Just last night I was talking to Zack and I was giggling and going “I still can’t believe I really didn’t see this before” and they were going “Really?”

Let’s think about this. As a kid I was always pretty sensitive and had weird... I used to call them compulsions but now I wonder if it was more impulsive behavior where I would hoard things like rocks and leaves or do dangerous shit without thinking about it (one memory comes to mind immediately when I noticed there was broken glass on the playground and I started meticulously picking it up as carefully as I could, and my teacher freaked out when she saw what I was doing. It unsettled my mom too, but me explaining that I didn’t want anyone to get hurt didn’t help put them at ease). I would be deeply sucked into my imagination at times, like...

When I was a kid I always kind of pictured myself like everything that was happening was a movie. I don’t really mean this in a dissociative derealization kind of thing, but just imagining every second was a movie or a video game. Sometimes I still do this. I can’t really pinpoint if there were a lot of hyperactive symptoms other than countless times my mom told me to stop fiddling with my hands or string or whatever was within my grasp. I would always come home from school dirty with grass stains on my jeans and holes in my knees and rocks in my pockets, earning the title “skruffy ragamuffin” from my sister, but I just kind of figured that was part of being a kid. Looking at it NOW through this viewpoint gives me second thought though.

I picked up on physical activities rather quickly from a young age like dancing and karate--probably the physical movement was what I needed to help me focus--and I do things like pick at the skin around my thumbs, bite the inside of my cheeks (Didn’t realize this was a thing until I watched Hannah Hart describe it as part of her fidgeting and went “OH.”)

As I got older and after my sister died, see... I always viewed this time period in my life as I couldn’t do school or focus because of my grief and my home life falling apart, and I think part of that is still true. However, I would continue this with “And because of that I didn’t form good study habits and that continued into highschool when I stopped giving a shit”. Which was better than thinking I was just a stupid failure, and I really don’t think I am stupid... I can think quickly on my feet, I notice things that other people don’t, I’ve been an advanced reader from a VERY early age and I can infer correct answers from context clues and analyze things in that way.

There is one memory from high school that, in the past, I thought maybe was tied to an emotional flashback but I realize now that it might’ve been Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. There was a weird disagreement that I was having with a friend of mine over something (truly can’t remember what it was about now), and somehow this rejection of him not listening to me spiraled me into this state of Why Should I Fucking Bother and the first target for this heavy, painful feeling was “okay, well I should just stop drawing because Why Should I Fucking Bother”. My English teacher found me sitting in the hallway crying and sat down with me to ask what was happening and I tried to explain, and then he had me show him my artwork and he goes “You are an incredible artist, you shouldn’t give this up.” One of few teachers in my life who I will always respect because he was always stern in a kind way, understanding, and an overall wonderful man.

I’m kind of getting off track here but I think that’s really just self-demonstrating at this point.

When I worked at Target there wasn’t really an opportunity for the ADHD type symptoms to manifest because I was pretty much always moving. In school I could zone out very easily but at work I was able to have more bouts of focus, but traded off my inattention for anxiety instead. This was also just a few years after the big PTSD causing event, but retail in general can give pretty much anyone some anxiety issues. Nonetheless, the things that I enjoyed about working there is that I was able to master my work zone completely (to a point of annotating the training guide with new information and keeping it updated), became the go-to person for several things, and I enjoyed being able to have a bit of freedom of movement around my work space. I enjoyed being able to have physical, tangible ways to see progress being made on something and there was a surprising amount of nuance and problem-solving when it came to resolving customer complaints.

Moving to a desk job in 2018 was a weird departure from all of that. I had started off kind of as a clerical worker and would compile the concrete goods vouchers that we send out to our clients, receive them back, prepare them for scanning, scan+upload to case files, etc. It was dreadfully boring a lot of the time but I didn’t mind the long stretches where I could sit and prepare documents for scanning because I was able to listen to music while I got them ready. After a while I was encouraged to become a fiduciary, and that is really when the Maybe I Have ADHD started to rear it’s head.

My job doesn’t have the tangible way to see that I’ve made progress. I update placements to generate foster care payments, I generate the vouchers for concrete goods, I put in ongoing foster care case management payments or daycare payments, I will sometimes resolve some payment issues but only to a certain point--I’m able to see information but being able to solve the problem is actually not my area unless I can correct it within the case management system. There is an extreme need to be detail oriented because we work with specific service dates, with some services ongoing but some needing to be renewed every six months, gobs of emails with paperwork and trying to get the right signatures on everything because we’re dealing in state money...

on top of this, in order to move into the permanent position, I’ve been taking the accounting classes online outside of work and (until the pandemic started) having a long commute-work-commute day that totaled about 12 hours out of my waking life. My diet changed radically because Zack and I didn’t see each other often and getting home at 6:30 at night didn’t leave a lot of room to cook and then eat before having downtime to sleep... only to wake up at 5:30 AM again... my insomnia started kicking in to a point now where I take a benadryl through the work week to keep my sleep schedule on track. I started having anxiety attacks at work because trying to keep up with remembering all the little details I need to at work was getting to me.

As I was training, I would write a post-it reminder whenever I repeated a mistake and stick it to my monitor. I got up to about 14 post-its before it became distracting and I instead compiled them onto a list and tacked it to my cubicle wall.

A few months into this I had a crying jag talking to Zack because it felt like something was really wrong and I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. Depression? Anxiety? Trauma? School trauma? I think it’s just been untreated ADHD this whole time. I keep thinking back to this post I’ve seen on Tumblr a long time ago where someone said “disability exists in the context of the environment” and I think that’s what’s happening to me. I previously have bee in environments that weren’t butting up against The ADHD as much, but this job has been extremely challenging for the past 11 months.

Thankfully, my boss and I have one-on-one discussions regularly (used to be every other week but since the pandemic started it’s been weekly phone calls) and she has no issues with my work performance... likely because I exert a lot of mental and emotional energy to keep up with everything I need to do. I’m also in charge of the busiest field office in our region--there’s a high turnover rate, lots of child welfare cases, etc--and the social workers that I talk to on the regular enjoy having me as their fiduciary. There have been many times however, despite the fact I seem to be doing pretty good, where it feels like I am hanging on by a fucking thread. Here’s something personal that I don’t think I’ve shared yet on the blog: last year, within the first month and a half of adjusting to this new pace of work and school and the long commutes, the schedule was so stressful for me that it made my period late. Worrying I was pregnant just stressed me out more. Not being able to treat this Probably ADHD has been detrimental to my mental health.

On the 22nd, I’m going to have a telehealth meeting with a doctor to see if I can get a referral for a screening. I kind of worried that if I do get diagnosed with ADHD it would send me into this mourning state of what-could-have-been but honestly... I’m tired. I’m tired of beating myself up for exhausting myself into keeping up with other people. I think I owe it to myself to get the help that I need. Looking at my life with the lens of I Probably Have ADHD has actually given me a renewed sense of self-worth and confidence because it’s something that I can learn how to take control of. It’s worth it. I’m worth it.

#actuallyADHD #?#examining my entire life in a tumblr post #adhd

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master-sass-blast · 7 years ago

Text

“Myshka.”

Oh. Would you look at that. It’s 10k words long.

*sighs* On one hand, I have mild regrets.

On the other hand... I REGRET NOTHING.

Welcome back to my hyperfixation with Piotr Rasputin. This installment shows some of the highlights of you, our lovely reader, becoming “myshka” (little mouse) to Colossus.

Side note: I definitely took inspiration from @colossus-and-cable ‘s https://colossus-and-cable.tumblr.com/post/176047533623/soft-skin and https://colossus-and-cable.tumblr.com/post/176314375850/dinner-date! Obviously, I didn’t copy either piece (I ain’t no plagiarizer) but if you’re in the mood for more Colossus x Reader fluff, go check out those two pieces (and colossus-and-cable’s blog in general. They’re amazing, their writing is amazing, and they are my main supplier for my thirst addiction).

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, strong language, and enough fluff to rot teeth.

Pairing: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

The first time it happens, as with all great love stories, you wipe out on your ass.

Hard.

For clarification: Colossus calling you “myshka” didn’t make you wipe out on your ass; rather, you wiped out particularly hard during a mission and he called you “myshka” after he’d found you post-wipe out.

Technically, not the same, but the former way of phrasing the situation sounds much funnier than the latter, in your opinion.

The scene is set: the X-Force team is in the midst of taking down a group of mutant traffickers so they can rescue the latest group of victims.

There’s gunfire. Bullets whizzing everywhere. Lots and lots of bullets.

And, over the din of it all, Wade is cackling like a madman.

There were times where you really questioned your decision to be friends with Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool. This was one of them.

You grit your teeth as Wade runs headfirst into the gunfire and use your powers to knock a row of shooters off their feet with a hard blast of wind. You’re currently pinned behind a car by way of gunfire, waiting for the others --Colossus, Yukio, Domino, Cable, Russell, and Ellie--to catch up. “Wade!” you snap, knowing full well he and the others can hear you via the earpieces issued by the X-Men. “I swear to Cthulhu, if I die from your dumbass choices, I will personally come back just to kill you.”

“What’s going on?” Colossus’s voice floods the line, strained with effort and worry.

“The fuckstick decided to set off the shooters and charge them,” You growl as you watch Wade take down another trio of criminals. “It’s a mess over here.”

Colossus mutters something about proper language before starting to rant at Wade. “Deadpool, we talked about this. The plan was to wait for rest of team before--”

Wade cut him off with an undignified shriek. “Shit! Snipers! Fuck!”

You can hear the sound the bullets, both from where you’re sitting and through your earpiece. “Serves you right, dumbfuck. I hope they hit your ass.”

“Stop bitching at me and take those cock-gobblers out! Comprende?”

You mutter a list of death threats under your breath and rise up as much as you dare.

Wade’s dodging bullets as he darts around the abandoned parking lot in front of an equally abandoned three story warehouse. Most of the shots are coming from the third level.

You assess your odds. On one hand, Wade’s taken out all the active shooters in the parking lot. You don’t have to worry about any extra people firing extra bullets at you. Plus, snipers will make it much tougher to get into the warehouse --and to the trafficked mutants--before the shippers come in and whisk them away.

On the other hand, the team’s not that far out, you don’t relish the idea of running into direct gunfire, and --candidly--watching Wade get shot at is pretty entertaining. Ten out of ten, would watch again while eating popcorn.

Ultimately, you decide you can’t justify not doing what you can to save the trafficking victims. You grit your teeth and jog a few feet back. “I’m going to blast those dipshits.”

“Y/N, no.” Colossus’s voice. “Wait for us.”

“I can’t risk the traffickers taking away another group of mutants,” You say as you line up your shot.

There. The center window on the third level. Based on the schematics, it should line up with a long outer hall that you can use to blast the snipers out of.

“No, it is too dangerous.”

“I thought that was the point of these missions.” You steel yourself and focus in, taking a second to feel the air around you. “Wade?”

“Yeah?”

“You better hope I don’t die, dumb cunt.”

And, with that, you’re off. You use your powers to propel you halfway across the parking lot, then launch yourself off the ground and through the center window.

The brief looks that you catch on the sniper’s faces before you blast them out the opposite ends of the warehouse are priceless.

You look up, ready to land --and almost have a coronary.

A wall with a decorative window is speeding towards you, and you’re not slowing down the way you thought you would.

“Shit! I miscalculated!” You barely have enough time to make a wind shield before your plowing through the window, into something that makes a vague screaming noise, and onto the floor. You roll over broken glass and metal rebar before smacking into a wall, cracking the drywall.

Pain. Lots of it. In your back, your sides, your head, your legs. You groan and almost vomit, it’s so bad. “Fuck. I hurt myself.”

“Where are you?” Colossus asks, panic evident in his voice.

“On the third level. Follow the wake of destruction and the sounds of pissed off swearing. You won’t miss me.” You let out a gasp of pain as you try to pick a few gnarly shards of glass out of your side. “Shit, I rolled through glass. Oh, fuck, that hurts.”

“Can you move?” Cable’s voice this time, considerably calmer.

You shift yourself into a sitting position --which takes an amount of effort and stomach control you didn’t know you had--and almost lose your lunch at the sight of your leg. “Oh, definitely not. Shit, I fucked up my leg. I think my knee’s dislocated.”

“You shouldn’t have gone after snipers,” Colossus growls over the sound of men screaming.

“Would have, wouldn’t have,” You grumble back. “I cleared them out for you. You’re fucking welcome.” You take stock of your surroundings --glass, glass, more glass, crushed beer cans, glass--and gasp. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Colossus again, fretting as a mother hen must.

“Is that...” You peer closer at the dark, soft looking lump and gag. “Oh shit. That’s a body. I think I decapitated a guy when I went through the window.”

“Impressive,” Wade says. “I don’t think even I’ve managed that one.”

“You had to be clocking in pretty fast to pull that off,” Cable growls over the sound of his gun firing. “How quick were you moving?”

“I don’t know, dad, let me check my speedometer,” You grumble back. You lean back against the wall and try to breath for a minute.

It’s something no one ever thinks to tell you --being in pain is exhausting. On a good day, one might need to sleep off a particularly nasty headache. Now, however, when you’ve been running around and crashing through walls? You feel like a de-boned rag doll, like a pile of slowly melting Jello, like an over-wrung wash rag.

You let your head rest against the wall --despite the fact that you’ll probably get drywall in your hair--and slowly let your eyes close. You’re so... tired...

“Hey, kid, are you still with us?”

You force yourself to stir, fighting through the layers of pain. “Yeah. I’m here. ‘m jus’ tired.”

“Uh-huh. Why are you slurring your words? Did you hit your head?” Cable asks.

“I hit everything,” You grumble. “I thought that was clear from all my cursing.”

“Y/N, you need to stay awake,” Colossus orders over the earpiece. “Falling asleep now would be dangerous.”

“I’ve got something that’ll keep her awake. There’s a group of guys on their way up to you. They’re in the stairwell, T minus two minutes,” Cable says.

That does wake you up. Adrenaline courses through your system, pushing the pain down and forcing you into alertness. You take in shallow, gasp-y breaths as you try to put together a plan. “How much time?”

“Less than two minutes.”

You scan the room, searching for something to defend yourself with or a place to hide. Your eyes lock on to the decapitated dude’s gun and an idea starts forming in your head. “How many of them are there?”

“Five. Minute and twenty seconds.”

You lurch for the gun, barely biting back a scream of pain as your force your body to move. You yank a clip off the guy’s belt and shove it into the gun, then pull yourself under a table next to the door that --somehow--survived your impromptu trip through the wall.

You almost black out from pain as you get yourself into position, gun aimed down the hall. “How much longer?”

“Fifteen seconds.”

You count down and try to breath.

Right on cue, the door to the stairwell smacks open. Five burly men dressed in black, all carrying rifles, pour into the hallway.

You clench your teeth together and open fire.

Within seconds, they’re on the ground, as dead as the guy you decapitated.

“Y/N?”

You let out a ragged breath, wipe some blood away from your eyes --you must’ve cut yourself on your way through the window--and answer Colossus’s worried call. “Got ‘em. Stupid chickenshits. How’re we doing down there?”

“Only a few fuckers left!” Wade shouts cheerfully. “Then it’s down to finding the victims and releasing them!”

You let your forehead drop against the floor. “I’m gonna need someone to come get me. I doubt I could even fly myself out of here.”

“Stay where you are,” Colossus orders. “We will have someone up to get you in few minutes. In meantime, stay awake.”

Wade helps your effort to stay conscious by quizzing you on all manner of movie and music trivia. Most of his questions are inane at best, but it does the trick. You manage to keep your eyes open until you register a series of hurried, heavy thuds on the floor, and then--

The table you’re hiding under is tossed across the room like it was a piece of paper, and Colossus kneels next to you. “Bozhe moi. What did you do to yourself?”

“Nothing any self-respecting mutant with poor math skills and even worse impulse control wouldn’t do,” You mutter back. You roll onto your back with a yelp of pain and try to grin up at him --though you suspect it just comes out looking pained. “How do I look?”

“Like shit,” Cable answers, coming into view above you. He lets out a hiss through his teeth as his eyes scan you. “The fuck did you do to your leg?”

“Dislocated it, I think,” You manage. “I would try to set it, but I don’t know if my body’ll let me bend like that. It’s pretty pissed at me, all things considered.”

“Do you want me to try to pop it back in?” Cable asks.

“No, I don’t think that is good idea--” Colossus tries.

“Do it,” You interrupt. “I’d rather that happen than have it dangling around while I’m carried around.”

“Y/N--”

“Do it,” You snap at Cable, ignoring Colossus’s pleas for you to wait to let the medics do it. “Just give me something to bite on.”

Cable pulls a bandanna out of his fanny pack and hands it to you. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

You stuff the fabric into your mouth, bite down, and take a breath.

A second breath.

A third.

You close your eyes and nod. You let out a scream as Cable snaps your knee back into place --purely efficient and unhesitating--then rip the bandanna out of your mouth, roll up onto your side, and promptly vomit.

It hurts. Everything hurts. Your body feels like its on fire.

The pain is so intense that your arms give out and you nearly drop face first into your own puke.

Colossus’s massive hands shoot out and he catches you, pulling you up and into his arms.

The sheer amount of movement makes you scream again as pain ricochets around your body.

“I’m so sorry,” Colossus murmurs as he adjust his grip on you.

“It’s okay,” You assure him, even as your body demands sacrifice and as tears stream down your face. You can’t bear the idea of this gentle giant tearing himself up over hurting you. “It’s okay, big guy, it was going to hurt anyway. It’s okay.”

He starts carrying you down the hall, moving with extra care so as not to jostle you unnecessarily. “That’s my tough myshka,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you groan as he starts carrying you down the stairs. “Diving headfirst into trouble and hurting herself in the process.” Your head lolls against his shoulder, the toll of enduring the pain catching up to you fast.

You can vaguely hear Cable talking to someone --Ellie, you think, because he’s not nearly pissed enough for it to be Wade--and confirming they’ve found you and are on their way. You can hear the metallic clang of Colossus’s footsteps, but everything sounds like your head’s underwater --distorted, distant.

You can feel yourself fall asleep with every step that your favorite gentle giant takes. Your eyes slowly start to close--

Colossus’s voice brings you back to the surface. “Stay awake, myshka. You need to stay with us.”

You blink and stare at the way the thick muscles in his neck and shoulders work as he moves. “Myshka.” The word feels awkward and unfamiliar in your mouth, but you like it all the same. “What does that mean? Does it mean idiot? ‘cause I feel like that’s a fair accusation for you to make right now.”

He chuckles --a really pleasant sound that you hadn’t noticed how pleasant it was until this exact moment--and holds you a little closer so he can maneuver you through a doorway. “Not quite.”

You hum in response and watch the metal that comprises him ripple. “I like it. It sounds pretty.” You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, relishing the way the cool metal there soothes the ache in your head. “Colossus?”

“Da, myshka?”

“I think I hurt my everything.”

He chuckles again --a little more strained this time--and carries you to the jet. “Hang in there. We will get you fixed up soon.”

The second time it happens --not the exact second utterance of the word, but the second situation the word is uttered in--you’re hanging halfway off the couch in pursuit of one particularly evasive remote.

It’s not too long after the fuck forsaken mission where you’d tossed yourself through a window, and you’ve been confined to the couch on orders of both Hank and Colossus.

All in all, it isn’t too bad. The X-Force takes turns helping you get around and playing nurse --having Neena wash your hair for you had been a borderline orgasmic experience--and everyone’s pretty willing to keep you company --especially Wade, who’ll take any excuse he can get to introduce you to trash TV.

Right now, though, you’re on your own, and you’re trying to lift the remote off the ground via an air current and fling it to where you’re sitting.

It isn’t working. Not in the slightest.

You growl as the remote flops further away from you and you glare daggers at the traitorous device. “Stupid piece of shit.”

“Myshka.”

You look up and grin at Colossus. “Hey, big guy. ‘Sup?”

He raises an eyebrow at your precarious position, half-on, half-off the couch. “I do not think you should be laying like that. Is bad for your back, to say nothing of your knee.”

“Well, I didn’t start like this. I was trying to get the remote, but Wade left it all the way over there when he switched channels.” You grimace at the dramatics on the TV screen. “Is this really considered the pinnacle of modern entertainment?”

“For Wade, yes.” He scans the card outlining your prescription times --you’d gotten the good painkillers, plus some antibiotics after your little escapade at the warehouse. “Your next dose is due. You need to eat something.”

“Would that I could, but --alas--I am confined to this couch for the time being.”

He chuckles. “I can make you something, myshka. You only need ask.”

You smile softly at him --how could you not, when he’s being so considerate and sweet. “Thanks. I’m up for pretty much anything.”

He nods and walks to the kitchen --but not before he retrieves the remote and hands it to you.

You start flipping through the channels, trying to find something decent to watch, but realize that you don’t even know what to look for. A lifetime without TV has left you with absolutely no idea of what even qualifies as good.

“You know, you might find something easier if you watch more than five seconds at a time.”

You look up in time to see his gentle, teasing smile, and stick out your tongue in response as he sets two plates on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Very funny, big guy.”

He opens his mouth to respond, the pauses to frown --specifically at your injured leg. “I thought you were supposed to have your leg elevated.”

“I tried. I can’t get it high enough without the pillows toppling over.”

He stares down at you for a moment, frowning contemplatively, before heading back to the kitchen. “Wait there. I have idea.”

“I don’t know,” You call after him. “I was contemplating a breezy flight to Las Vegas. Play the slots, cheat at the Poker tables, try to win big.”

He chuckles --a warm, deep sound that you absolutely love--and reappears with a fresh ice pack in hand. “Cheating is against the rules, myshka.”

“Well, duh. How else am I going to win? I’m not that good at Poker.” You wriggle up on the couch so you can see him better. “So, what’s this idea of yours?”

He ducks his head, looking flustered. “Well, I need to eat as well. I thought I could sit with you, help keep pillows in place, that sort of thing. Would that be alright?”

You grin up at him. “Sounds perfect.” You wriggle up the couch a little more, making space for him, and pat the now open spot. “Come join me, big guy.”

He sits --the couch groans in protest as he settles himself on the cushions--and grimaces when he sees that the TV has defaulted back to Wade’s pick of Toddlers and Tiaras. “Is... is this what you want to watch?”

You grimace with him. “No. I just... I wasn’t allowed to watch TV growing up. I have no idea what to look for, much less what I might like.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then holds out his hand. “May I? I think I might be able to find something you will enjoy.”

You hand him the remote and start in on your plate, quickly taking your pain pills before you forget to.

He’s fixed you a sandwich --delicious, you’re sure, Colossus is a surprisingly good cook--paired with some grapes, carrots, and...

You grin as you pop a unnaturally bright, not remotely flavored like any cheese you’ve ever tasted Cheeto into your mouth. “You remembered my crunching addiction!”

He nods, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “Why you and Wade like those, I will never understand.”

“Hey, don’t knock ‘em until you’ve tried ‘em.” You stare up at the screen, frowning as an intro for some sort of science-y show plays. “What’s this?”

“American show called Mythbusters. I discovered it when I first came here. This is rerun from one of the earlier seasons.”

You settle into the couch with a shrug and start into your lunch. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than the shit that Wade picked.

As it turns out, he’s absolutely right. The show is amazing, and you’re genuinely entertained by watching the two hosts blow up, break, and generally destroy anything and everything that they get their hands on

And, admittedly, you can see where he was pulled into the show as well. It’s surprisingly intellectual, and does an amazing job of making the math and science going into the tests and myths accessible to the average viewer.

About halfway through the episode you’ve finished your plate and the pain meds have kicked in nicely. You giggle from the high of the medication and roll back onto the couch.

Colossus’s hand settles gently on your uninjured leg. “Easy, myshka. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself!” You declare as you flop around. Your hand smacks into the coffee table. You wince and cradle the stinging appendage against your chest. “Ow.”

Colossus helps settle you back onto the couch in a less haphazard position. “You were saying?”

“Okay, fine. I hurt myself. Happy now?”

“I will be happier when you settle enough to stop hurting yourself, myshka.”

“Myshka.” You giggle and repeat the word a few times before the buzz of the drugs makes you dissolve into laughter. “Why do you call me that? Not that I’m complaining --it sounds pretty cute.”

“Is a nickname in Russian.”

“Well, I gathered that much.” You grin up at him. “Don’t tell me what it means; I want to guess!”

“Very well.”

You peer up at him, doing your best to sift through the fog the painkillers have put you in as you try to puzzle out what he could be calling you. “It means ‘idiot,’ doesn’t it?”

He seems alarmed. “Why would I call you that?”

“I mean, I did toss myself through a wall and dislocate my leg in the process. I think it’s kind of warranted.”

Colossus shakes his head. “I would never. That would be unkind --and unwarranted.”

“Okay.” You eye him for another minute, then try again. “Fool?”

“No.”

“Lovable fool?”

“Also no.”

“Klutz?”

“It is not an insult,” he says, both amused and exasperated.

“Ah.” You grin at him. “Well, that’s nice --but I’ll have to completely rethink my strategy now. This might take longer than I thought.”

“I could just tell you.”

“No! No spoiling my fun!”

He shakes his head, smiling, and resumes watching the show.

On impulse --one which you will later admit was prompted by your growing feelings for him, not by the pain meds--you plop the pillow propping up your knee on his lap and swing your legs up so they’re draped over his legs. You flash him your nicest, sweetest smile when he looks at you, startled. “This okay, big guy?”

He nods, somewhat flustered. “Da, myshka. This is fine.”

You settle back in and finish out the episode with him, more content than you’ve been in a long time.

The third time it happens, you’ve admitted to yourself --and Wade, after some obnoxious prodding on the merc’s part--that you’ve got a crush on the metal man himself.

Which is why you’ve been careful to ensure that you’ve got a prime spot next to Colossus when you all head out to watch the mansion’s New Year’s firework display.

He has a fire extinguisher on hand, a sight that makes you laugh. “Ready for anything, eh?”

He grimaces. “Wade set up the display this year.”

You blanch. “Oh, god, is the house even going to survive?”

“Hey, have a little faith in me,” Wade whines as he skips past you to finish the final touches on the display. “I can have self control. When I want to.”

“Yeah, the question is does he ever want to?” You mutter as you watch Wade and Russell arrange the first row of fireworks.

“Speaking from experience, no,” Colossus mutters back.

“Ladies, gentlemen, noble gentry of non-conforming gender identity, and Yukio!” Wade crows from his position several yards down the drive. “Tonight is a date that technically doesn’t matter since time is a social construct, but we’re going to use it to celebrate surviving another year! That’s right, tell Death to go fu--”

“Language, Wade,” Colossus interjects over Wade’s tirade and the giggles of the younger mutants.

“Okay, okay. Take it easy, Long John Silver. Anyway, since the resident party poopers here at Casa de la Mutant have kiboshed getting drunk off our ass--”

“Wade.”

“Okay! Fine! Long story made short: fireworks! Lots of them! Cover your ears if you don’t want to wear hearing aids by the time you’re thirty!” He spins dramatically and pointed to Russell. “Russell! My man! Let it burn!”

Russell lights the fuse lines then books it to a safe distance with Wade.

You clap your hands over your ears just as the first set shoot off into the sky.

Multiple bursts light up the sky in what is a colorful, exciting, and surprisingly tasteful display, given that Wade and Russell were the ones that set it up. It takes several minutes for the main set of fireworks to finish going off. Once they’re done, Wade and Russell scamper back in to set up the finale.

By this point, you’re shivering. The New England weather in the dead of winter is none too forgiving to those who dare to venture outside without the proper protective wear.

You were contemplating running up to your room and grabbing a sweatshirt when Colossus reaches out and gently clasps your shoulder. “Myshka? Are you alright?”

You flash him a tight, ‘I’m-dying-from-the-cold-but-don’t-want-to-let-on-because-I’m-stubborn’ grin. “Yupp. A-okay.”

He frowns. “You’re cold.”

“Are you kidding? In this weather?” You feign wiping sweat off your brow. “We’re in a heat wave right now, big guy. How could I be cold?”

He laughs, then unzips the jacket he’s wearing. “Here. Use my jacket. We can’t have you freezing.”

Before you can protest, he’s draping the massive jacket around your shoulders, and oh--

It’s warm. Super warm. Like a beach in the tropics on a perfect sunny day warm.

You nestle into the jacket, sticking your stiff, chilled arms down the sleeves. You let out a happy, soothed sigh and relax a little. “Thanks, Colossus.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but ends up being cut off by a crazed screech from Wade.

“Alright, muchachos! Let’s blow this pop stand!”

You stick your fingers in your ears and keep them there until the finale’s done.

Once the smoke clears, most of the crowd does as well. Wade and Russell run off towards the back of the house, while everyone else heads inside.

Well, almost everyone.

Colossus sighs, and --with a good-natured smile--walks down the drive to pick up the remains of Wade and Russell’s firework display.

You scamper after him, far more content to spend time with him --even if it means helping with chores--than to head inside with everyone else. “Honestly, that didn’t end as disastrously as I thought it would.”

“Da. Wade and Russell were surprisingly controlled,” he agrees between coughs from the smoke.

You stop for a minute and make an air current to carry away the smoke. “There. That’s better.”

“Thank you, myshka.”

You bend to help him, but have to stop every few seconds to retuck the sleeves of his jacket so that you can physically grab onto the destroyed firecrackers. After the fifth time they slither down your arms, you drop the partially destroyed canister you’re holding and start rolling them up your arms. “Stupid motherfucking traitorous--”

Colossus chuckles. “Here, myshka.” He hands you the bag he’s been using to contain the trash. “You hold this. I can finish the rest.”

“Why do you need a jacket anyway?” You ask as you hold out the bag for him. “Aren’t you protected from the cold?”

“I am. The jacket is not so much for my benefit as it is for others. I may not suffer from the cold, but I still get cold. Complaints arise, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

You smirk. “That, and Wade won’t try to lick your arm to see if he’ll stick if you wear the jacket.”

Colossus groans. “Please, do not tell him about that. I would rather he didn’t try.”

You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Secret’s safe with me, big guy.”

“Piotr.”

“Gesundheit.”

He laughs --actually laughs, full-bodied and joyous--and shakes his head. “My name. It’s Piotr. I thought you should know.”

You grin --it’s a surprisingly attractive name, which you suppose is fitting--and extend your hand. “Nice to meet ya, Piotr. I’m Y/N.”

He laughs again and shakes your hand with the utmost gentleness. “Very funny, myshka.”

You’re about to suggest that the two of you head inside when a loud explosion, a towering fireball, and a scream that sounds suspiciously like Wade emanates from behind the mansion.

Colossus --Piotr--mumbles something under his breath that sounds like a curse. “We should go check on that.”

You grimace and nod. “Come on. Let’s go see what Wade’s done to himself now.”

The fourth time it happens, two things are different.

One, you’re undoubtedly head over heels for Piotr. He’s sweet, kind, an unbelievably good looking, steel and all.

Two, you almost murder someone.

To be fair, that someone was Scott and he absolutely had it coming.

Let’s set the scene again: You had pissed Scott off.

No surprise there. You’re unbelievably good at it. You’re so adept that you could list it as a skill on your resume.

This time around, it’s because you and Wade had utterly booby-trapped his room for April Fool’s day.

In fairness to you and your best friend, you hadn’t done anything lethal or extensively damaging to his property. Just a bunch of toilet paper, some dyes in his shampoo, conditioner, and shower head, and Wade had swapped all his underwear with cheap lace thongs.

For the record: Scott Summers wears tighty-whities, and that’s a fact you wish you didn’t know.

Scott smacks his hands on the kitchen table. “This is an unfair violation of my personal space!”

You roll your eyes. “It was April Fool’s Day, Scott. Also known as ‘everyone’s free game.’ I mean, come on, Wade and I didn’t even do anything that serious! No blood, no bombs, no breaking anything.”

“You switched out all my underwear with lace thongs!”

“That was Wade. If you want a refund, you can talk to him or the returns person at the nearest Walmart.”

Scott scowls. “Admit it! You’ve been out to get me since the day you got here!”

“You’ve been a pain in the ass since the day I got here. What do you expect me to do?”

“That’s your excuse? That’s your excuse!” He lets out a pissed off laugh and shakes his head. “You’re such a piece of fucking work. No wonder your parents kept you locked in your room. I bet you were a nightmare to deal with.”

You can feel your blood run cold as a dangerous calm sweeps over you. “The fuck did you just say to me?”

“Scott,” Jean says, stiffening in her seat. “Run.”

Scott doesn’t hesitate or offer an apology. He bolts for the back door.

You sprint after him, hot on his heels. You’ve killed before, and you’ve never been so tempted to do it again until this precise moment. “I’m gonna fucking murder you, Summers! You cowardly piece of shit!”

“I didn’t mean it! I misspoke!”

“Like ass you did!” You chase him around the back lawn, managing to scoop up a baseball bat left out by the kids as you do. You use your abilities to summon a burst of wind and push you forward. You close in and move to swing the bat--

It catches on something metal, resulting in a loud clang.

You almost fall off your feet when you can’t jerk your bat away from whatever it’s smacked into and look up.

Piotr frowns down at you, hand wrapped around the barrel of the bat. “No, myshka. This is not appropriate.”

“Not appropriate? On the contrary! This is completely fucking appropriate!” You yank and wrench at the bat. “Give me my bat! I’m going to beat his head in!”

“Uh, no!” Wade interjects. “No erasing Cable from the timeline!”

“Fine! I’ll maim Scott instead!” You brace your foot against Piotr’s legs and try to tug the bat out of his grip --not that it works, but you’re mad beyond reasoning. “Give me the bat!”

“No, myshka. Whatever he said, there is better way to handle this.”

“Oh, but there isn’t!”

“Myshka--”

“Do you know what he said to me?” Your eyes are stinging now, and your shoulders are starting to shake as you try to hold back angry sobs. “He called me a ‘fucking piece of work’ and said that it was no wonder my parents kept me locked in my room because I’m a nightmare!”

That gets a scowl out of him, and he turns to unleash it, full force, at Scott. “Is this true?”

Scott has the decency to look sheepish. “I misspoke.”

“No, misspeaking is calling someone an asshole, or a cunt, or a dipshit!” You snap. “It’s not saying their parents were right for abusing them!”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Professor Xavier emerges from the crowd of watchers, calm as ever. “Mr. Summers, if I could speak to you for a moment. Mr. Rasputin, I trust you can help Ms. Y/L/N calm down.”

Piotr puts a hand on your shoulder, holding you in place --not technically, he’d let you walk away if you wanted to--until the back door closes, leaving the two of you with some privacy.

You scrub at your cheeks with your sleeve, pissed off and embarrassed. “Well. That was a train wreck.”

“It did not go well,” he agrees. “You need to try to react better, myshka. Don’t let him get under your skin as bad.”

“Don’t let him bug me?” You paraphrase with a withering glare. “He said my parents were right for locking me in my room! How am I supposed to not let that piss me off?”

“Myshka, please, try to calm down. Let me try to get the words right,” he says, holding his hands up in a calming gesture.

You make in effort. It’s for him, after all.

“I am not saying Scott was right. He was very wrong, and he should’ve never said any of those things. I am just trying to say that beating him up all the time is not right response. You could get hurt, or someone else could get hurt in process. I think it would be better for you to get someone --the Professor or myself, maybe--when these things happen so you and Scott can work out your differences instead of fighting all the time.”

He’s right, you know he’s right, but outright admitting defeat right now is too great a task. Instead, you contort your face into a comical pout and whine up at him, “Aw, but my way is more fun!”

He smiles softly, a clear indicator that he knows that you know he’s right. “Perhaps, but more dangerous too.”

“Well, yeah, that’s why it’s fun.” The silence that follows lets the pain you’d been holding back rush to the surface. You grit your teeth together as tears sting your eyes. “Fucking asshole. Where the fuck does he get off?”

“People say unkind, unwise things when angry. Scott is one of those people, unfortunately.”

Your lower lip trembles, and you duck your head to hide the fact that you’re starting to cry. “I just... the fuck did I do to deserve that? What did I do as a kid that warranted locking me away?”

There’s a soft grunt as he kneels, and then Piotr’s hands come up to hold your shoulders. “Myshka, look at me. Please.”

You do. Because it’s him. You love him, and you know he’ll never make fun of you for crying.

“You could never do anything to deserve the way your parents treated you,” he says once you look at him. “You are wonderful, and smart, and kind; they were fools not to realize your worth.”

You smile, deeply touched by his unabashed praise of you. “Thanks, Pete. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

He gives you a bashful smile. “I would hope so. You are... you are my best friend, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

“You’re really special to me, too. I’d use the term ‘best friend,’ but I’m afraid Wade would hear, and he’d throw an absolute shit fit if he finds out he has competition for that category.”

Piotr laughs. “Say no more. I understand. Wade is Wade.”

“No kidding.” You hesitate, then ask, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but... can I have a hug? I’m feeling really shitty right now.”

“Of course, myshka. You don’t have to ask.”

You step forward into his arms, winding yours around his neck as you lay your head against his shoulder. You let out a soft sigh as his arms wrap around you, and you melt into the hug.

It’s soft --despite the fact that he’s literally made out of metal--and loving and exactly what you needed.

It’s a complicated, overwhelming moment due to the anger you’re feeling at Scott, the painful memories of your parents that are playing in your mind’s eye, and the utter joy thrumming through your body at being hugged by your crush.

You press against him and start to cry again, unable to really do anything else.

Colossus rubs his hand up and down your back, as gentle and careful as ever. “It’ll be okay, myshka. You’re going to be alright.”

And, despite how you’re feeling right now, you know he’s right. After a moment, you pull back with a sniff. “Thanks. I really needed that.”

“No problem, myshka.”

You grin as he stands. “You use ‘myshka’ more than you use my real name. What’s up with that?”

“Sorry, I--”

You stop him before he can build up too much steam. “No, big guy, I like it. I was teasing you.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “You are nothing but trouble.”

“And yet you keep hanging out with me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked it.” He gets oddly flustered at that, so you move on to spare him any embarrassment of trying to respond. “I still haven’t figured out what it means though. I’m starting to think that you just made it up and are messing with me.”

“It is real word. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I know that, Pete. I’m just yanking your chain.” You pat his arm as you cock your head to the side. “So, it’s supposed to be something nice. Is it ‘idiot’ in the sense that I call Wade an idiot? Like, in a loving sense?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nyet. I would not call you ‘idiot’ because it’s unkind. Besides, you are not idiot.”

“Okay, okay. Just thought I’d check.” You quirk your mouth to the side. “Is it a term for ‘friend?’”

“No.”

“Does it mean ‘genius?’”

He laughs. “No, but I would venture to say you are one.”

You grin. “Careful. I will absolutely use you as a reference when I apply for my official certification. What about... ‘super awesome badass?’”

Another laugh. “No.”

You wrack your brain for ideas, then waggle your eyebrows at him, unable to resist an opportunity to rib him a little. “Does it mean ‘sexy?’”

His reaction is immediate. He ducks his head, rubs the back of his neck, and laughs nervously. “Ah... no.” He mutters something else in Russian, and smiles bashfully at you. “That would be something Wade would say, but not me.”

You chuckle. “Fair enough.”

“You know, I could just tell you--”

“Uh-uh. I’m having fun with this. Don’t spoil it for me.”

The ‘myshka’ moments, as you call them, are a near constant part of your life after that. Colossus uses the term more than he uses your own name --not something you mind, though. You’re beyond tickled that he has a nickname for you.

You’re head over heels for him, plain and simple. Just about anyone can tell --except, as it would seem, Piotr.

Or, so you think.

Everything comes to a head a couple months after the hug moment on the back lawn, a little over a year after you arrived at the X-Mansion.

It’s a rainy day, which is almost a calamity in and off itself --it’s the week during the school year where all the teachers meet together and talk about curriculum and meeting student’s needs, which means the X-Force --since none of you, save for Piotr, are teachers--is stuck with babysitting duty.

Fortunately, Piotr volunteered to help, but that still leaves only four adults --Wade doesn’t count, since his impulse control is worse than some of the kids present--and three teenagers to try and manage a group of fifty bouncing, shrieking, hyperactive kids.

Neena ends up having the great idea to play hide and seek --which is perfect, since everyone can play.

You draw the short straw and start counting in the kitchen while everyone runs off. Once you reach ‘one hundred’ you pop up and run up to the library. You heard Piotr’s heavy steps heading in that direction, and an easy find will help you once you start tracking down your kids.

That, and you want to spend some time alone with him, but you’d only admit that to Wade. Under duress.

You pop into the library, victorious smile already tugging at your lips...

And he’s not there.

The library’s not empty, just notably Piotr-less. Instead, a large, pale man dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with black hair and astonishingly blue eyes sits at one of the tables, drawing something on a sketchpad. He looks up when you walk in, seemingly startled.

“Oh --uh--sorry.” You smile politely. You’ve never seen this guy before --and you’d know if you had, because he’s capital H-O-T hot. Massive, thick muscles, smooth skin, gorgeous eyes, chiseled features, the whole nine yards. “Uh, you wouldn’t have happened to see a metal guy walk by, would you? About the size of your average giraffe, made out of steel, probably muttering something about safety or rules.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of the man’s mouth, and he points to the right.

“Thanks.” You pop back out of the library and dart down the hall to the right. You make it about halfway down, then stop.

The man’s face is stuck in your head. He looks so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen him before.

You jog back to the library, hellbent on scratching this itch that is currently occupying your brain.

The man looks up as you walk back in, smiling slightly as he watches you. He doesn’t look uncomfortable or confused. If anything, he looks borderline amused.

You stare at him, trying to match up his handsome features to the faces that you know at the mansion. You’re sure you’ve never seen his face before, but he also looks so fucking familiar...

And the man, he’s just... letting you stare at him. He’s staring back at you too, brow raised and the corner of his mouth lifted up into an small smile.

And that seals it for you, because there’s no way a stranger would be chill with you just ogling at them like this.

He’s almost the same size as Colossus, you think as you study him.

And that’s where it starts. You know Piotr draws --he teaches art to the kids here, actually. Honestly, this guy looks like him, too. He’s the right build, the right size, just shrunk down a little.

But it can’t be. You peer at his face, and --yeah--the features are right, just a little more delicate and articulate than Colossus’s metal ones. You do a double take, then let out a hesitant, “...Piotr?”

The man laughs --which settles it, because you know that laugh-and nods. “Da.” He sets down his sketchbook. “Honestly, I thought this would work better. I guess I can’t get anything past you, myshka.”

You grin at him, awestruck. “Holy shit... I... I didn’t expect this.”

Because, good God, he’s handsome. He was plenty attractive as a metal titan of justice, but he’s downright gorgeous like this. His hair is dark and fluffy and lays nicely against his forehead. His cheeks are rosy and flushed, and he actually has dimples that you’re guessing don’t show up with the metal armor in place, because you would’ve definitely noticed them before now for as much time you spend staring at his face.

And his eyes. His eyes are doing things to you. They’re making you think dirty, sexual things. You’re going to need to shower in holy water tonight. Holy shit.

“Oh my gosh!” You walk over to the table he’s sitting at and lean against the edge. “I didn’t realize you had a human form! I just thought you were metal all the time!” You hop up onto the edge of the table, look him up and down, and wink at him. “Looking babe-ly, my man.”

He chuckles --and it sounds completely different now that it’s not reverberating through layers of metal, but no less attractive. “Thank you. I prefer to be in my armor. Especially with Wade around.” He wrinkles his nose. “Wade... necessitates being ready for anything.”

You giggle, partially because he’s right, but mostly because you’re completely overwhelmed by his transformation. “Yeah, he does that.” You catch a glimpse of his sketchbook and gasp. “Whoa! You did that?”

It’s a detailed, intricate drawing of a bird. Well, ‘drawing’ might be underselling it; the bird looks so life-like that it looks like it’s about to fly off the page.

Piotr nods, cheeks flushing. “Da. It’s not finished yet.”

You make a choking noise. “Your ‘not finished’ looks like my ‘only in my dreams.’ Can you teach me how to draw? I’d love to get better.”

He nods again, smiling softly. “I would love to.” He leans forward in his seat, an excited expression on his face. “Would you like to see others?”

You nod eagerly. “Hell yeah.”

He shows you a few other sketches --there’s one of the gardens on the grounds, one of a set of mutant twins that shipped in from Russia a few weeks ago, and a full color one of a sunset that makes you gasp.

“Piotr, it’s beautiful,” You murmur as you gaze at the seamless blend of colors.

He cheeks flush again --he’s a blusher, apparently, and you probably shouldn’t like that as much as you do--and he smiles bashfully at you. “Thank you. This is not one of my better ones.”

“It’s wonderful,” You insist. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“You can have it, if you want.”

You blink, startled and undeniably pleased. “Really? I don’t want to take it from you.”

“Really, myshka. If you like it, you can have it.”

“Piotr, that’s so sweet of you. I’d love to have it, if you’ll let me. Though, we should probably keep it in the sketchbook until the day’s done. I wouldn’t want it to get accidentally destroyed.”

You both move to close the sketchbook at the same time, your hands brush against each other. You gasp and stop to clasp his hand --still massive, especially compared to yours--in yours. “Oh my gosh. I’ve never felt you without your armor before!”

Thank goodness that Wade isn’t with you right now, because he’d never let you live that comment down. Unwitting innuendos aside, you’re right --you’ve never touched him out of his ‘armor mode’ before, and his skin is so much softer than you’d expected.

Your fingers make it halfway up his hand before you realize that you’re probably --definitely--crossing way too many lines right now. You withdraw your hand and let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry. That was weird of me.”

“No, it’s fine,” he says quickly, cheeks flushing scarlet. “It feels... good.”

Well. That wasn’t the response you were expecting.

Encouraged by his reaction, you brush your fingers against the back of his hand again, moving them up and down his hand, over his wrist, and up his forearm.

He’s just as muscular as he looks. There doesn’t seem to be an inch of fat on him anywhere, even on his forearms.

You look up, ready to quip about how many protein bars he had to eat to look like this, but the words die in your mouth when you see the look he’s giving you.

He’s staring at you --gazing at you, really. His blue eyes are watching your every move, intense and... maybe even a little fond? He smiles softly as he lifts his free hand and lets his fingers graze against your forearm. “May I?”

You nod, temporarily rendered mute from his intense gaze and the overall earnestness of his expression.

His gaze lowers to follow his fingers as he touches you in kind, fingers brushing against your skin. He traces his fingers over your forearm and up to your shoulder, lips parted slightly as he studies you. Then, in a moment of boldness that you almost can’t believe, he lifts his hand to your face and grazes his fingers against your cheek.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch. You don’t try to stop your pleased smile or the soft, happy sigh that follows. What would be the point? You’re one hundred percent head over heels for this man, and if he hasn’t figured that out by now, he never will.

When you open your eyes again, you gasp.

He’s staring at you, at your face, with such a strong intensity that it almost knocks you over.

You watch as his gaze lingers on your lips for a long moment, then flits back to your eyes, and you decide ‘fuck it’ and lean in to press your lips against his.

Piotr’s reaction is almost immediate. His free hand comes up to press against your back, pulling you towards him.

You slide off the table and into his lap, perhaps a little too happy to close the gap between the two of you. You let your hands rest against his muscular chest, bracing yourself against him.

After a moment, he breaks the kiss, gasping slightly. “Bozhe moi.” He looks utterly delighted as he smiles at you. “I have wanted to do that for... for a while.”

You grin back, completely blissed out. “Yeah. Me too.” You wince when you catch sight of the clock and realize that you’ve spent half an hour in the library with him. “We should probably go find the kids. It’s been thirty minutes.”

Piotr stands --careful to not knock you over--and tucks his sketchbook under his arm. “Da. Lead the way.”

You walk out of the library together, hand in hand.

The rest of the day is spent sharing quick glances and smiles with each other, along with careful, appropriate touches.

Wade shoots you a look when Piotr’s hand lingers on the small of your back longer than strictly necessary, then gives you two thumbs up --along with a series of crass gestures that make you roll your eyes--when you nod and grin excitedly.

Fortunately, the rain lets up about an hour before dinner, which means that you can take the kids outside to eat dinner. Hot dogs and fries --along with plenty of healthy sides, thanks to Piotr--are distributed to all the bouncing, happy kids on brightly colored disposable plastic plates.

You sit next Piotr during dinner and occasionally manage to share sweet looks and smiles with him before one of the kids distracts one or both of you. You can’t help but grin when you watch him converse with the set of twins from Russia, and you absolutely relish the way his leg presses against yours during the entire meal. You stay after everything’s done to help him clean up, hoping to have enough time to sneak another kiss.

Wade, the ever dependable wing man, manages to persuade or coerce the rest of the X-Force into herding the gaggle of kiddie mutants back into the mansion. He gives you an excited thumbs up, mouths the words ‘suck his face... or his dick’ at you, then disappears inside, closing the door behind him.

You smile up at Piotr. “Hey.”

He smiles back. “Hi.”

“What were you and the twins talking about?” You ask as you stack up a table’s worth of plastic plates.

“Mostly about what they think of America. They think the weather is too hot.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, it must be a big transition for them. Not gonna lie, it was really cute to watch you interact with them.”

He grins and raises his eyebrows. “Da?”

You nod. “Yeah. You’re really good with them.”

He ducks his head, cheeks flushing, then favors you with a bashful smile. “I liked watching you work with girl who can fly. I think you made her day when you showed your abilities.”

“She was a sweetheart,” You agree.

Piotr goes quiet for a moment, then leans forward and kisses your cheek. “She’s not only one.” He ties off the bag of trash from dinner and tosses it in a nearby barrel. “Shall we go for walk?” he asks when he turns back around.

You nod eagerly and take his hand.

The two of you walk towards the gardens, talking quietly about the day and what you think about the kids living at the X-Mansion.

Piotr leads you to a bench tucked behind a tree. He tugs your hand gently so that you sit down next to him and promptly presses his lips against yours once you do. “Sorry,” he says once the two of you part. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

You kiss him again, simply out of the satisfaction that you can. “Don’t apologize. I was hoping you’d do that.” You snuggle up against him and lay your head against his shoulder. “So, do you want to know what my last guess for what ‘myshka’ means is?”

He grins at you. “Sure.”

You can feel your face flush as you gaze up at him. “Does it mean ‘beautiful?’”

He shakes his head. “Nyet, though you are very beautiful.”

You can help but glow under his affection. “Well, then, I give up. I have no idea what it means.”

“Does that mean I can tell you now?”

“Go for it. I’m dying to know.”

He takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. “It means ‘little mouse.’”

You frown at him. “Really? ‘Little mouse?’ I know I’m short, but I didn’t think I was that small.”

He laughs quietly. “It is not about height.” The tips of his ears go downright scarlet. “In Russia, it is term of endearment... that boyfriends use for girlfriends.”

Oh.

You have to take a minute to process the new information.

He’d been calling you myshka for the better part of a year now --knowing full well what it meant.

“Does... does that mean you liked me all this time?”

He nods, fixing with that intense, gorgeous blue gaze of his. “Da. You are kind, and smart, and unbelievably fierce, and achingly beautiful. You swept me off my feet the moment I met you with your humor and spirit, and I have been in love with you ever since.”

“Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve kissed you months ago!”

“You told me not to say anything! What was I supposed to do?”

You slump back against the tree. “Man, the one time my stubborn streak really doesn’t pay off.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I think it all worked out in end.”

“Oh, there’s no way I’m disagreeing with that.” You grin up at him. “So, Mr. Rasputin, is this your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”

He blushes, but nods. “Da.”

You’re pleased beyond words, and simply opt to kiss him again.

“May I take that as ‘yes?’” he asks when you break the kiss, slightly breathless.

“Da,” You reply, earning a soft, sweet smile and an equally sweet kiss from him.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #piotr rasputin imagine #colossus imagine #x men fanfiction #this is literally so fluffy #also #most of this was written at 5 am #take that for what you will #god i love colossus so much #he's so precious

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lunaraen · 7 years ago

Text

For Nyanshadowforce

Life in the Wasteland meant constant excitement, continued existence always being questionable due to varied combat and dangerous forces of nature, and not enough breaks being available to anyone.

It also meant Danse had little idea what to do when bored.

Not to say that he didn't remember plenty of occasions where he'd been remarkably bored, but there was a stark difference between menial labor done for the good of a community or under orders and the boredom that came with simply having nothing to do.

He had no issue admiring the relative beauty of the surrounding land, thanks to the lack of fog actively trying to choke the life out of everything around them, but the entrance to the visitor's center allowed scenery that only changed when the settlement was under attack, and while it was certainly a relief that everything seemed peaceful, the silence had gone from keeping him alert and properly paranoid to being mind-numbing at best.

The worst part was that this was entirely Danse's fault. There were plenty of defenses set up and no reason to stand guard at this position or at this hour, with the sun high above them and making watch easy for any and all lookouts, just as it made aim easy for sentries.

He had no idea what else to do with himself or his time, though. Jessie had turned the area into a fine, efficient settlement for people to live safely in, which left him little to take care of beyond tinkering with various equipment either broken in the settlement or scavenged from outside of it.

And Jessie didn't help anything herself by seeming entirely amused by his boredom, smirking as she watched him scan the unchanging, monotonously gorgeous horizon.

Sunlight streamed through the branches, golden as it reflected gently off of the various stones, some jagged and others smooth, strewn about the clearing, the breeze just enough to keep the heat from being unbearable while leading the trees and other upright fauna in a slow, methodical sway of a dance.

And as lovely as it was, it didn’t keep him from feeling her watching him, or from being utterly uninterested by the splendor in front of him. It was a shame, admittedly, but he’d enjoy it more if he was walking through it, and he knew from experience that it would be asking for trouble and would somehow lead to all forms of chaos crashing down on his head as penance for his disruption of the peace.

"Is there something you'd like to add?" He was aware of how tired his small smile was, sly and wiry as he raised an eyebrow.

"I'd say somebody's trying to make busy work for himself." Jessie graciously left out the part about him failing and he gratefully ignored it. "Any ideas for how we could make it more interesting?"

What he said next could only be blamed on extreme boredom that had been endured for too long.

"Surprise me."

It was such a mistake that Danse could feel every part of his body attempting to twist itself inside out even as he spoke.

Jessie's grin, bright and impossibly wide, made the feeling much worse, and he had the feeling that was her intention. Because Jessie was insufferable and infuriating at the best of times and he'd just given her permission to get creative and this wasn't going to end well.

His sense of unease only heightened as she proceeded to take several steps away from him and into the covering of the entrance, but it was as far as she went and he had little idea what she was doing as she proceeded to stay there, out of view, for less than a minute.

And then she stepped back into view and Danse wished desperately that she hadn't.

Being able to strategically retreat comfortably into his power armor was an option, to a degree, but the somewhat poorly designed shoulder plates only allowed him to not see those to his sides well, and turning from Jessie so that she was at his shoulder instead was only followed by her stepping into his direct line of view.

He was a machine, and he was at varying states about how to deal with that even on an outstanding day, but if he didn't know better and didn't know that synths worked differently, he would swear he could hear the implant located in his brain freeze up and potentially melt.

"Get some clothes on, you're embarrassing us."

He sounded gruff even to his own ears, and if he didn’t, he knew he’d sound far more scandalized and mortified than he likely should have been.

"I am wearing clothes." She pointed to her hat and Danse was more than happy to focus on the only clothed part of her body, even if it meant he had to deal with the toothy smile that was followed by just as smug words. "Besides, 'us'? I thought you asked for this."

"I said nothing about this. You must be mistaken."

Oh, he asked for this and it was entirely his fault.

"It's nothing you haven't seen."

He was tempted to point out that at least most of the people at the refurbished national park had not likely seen Jessie like this, but it sounded too possessive for his liking and it wasn't that he minded her expressing herself or having confidence in her body, but his eyes were locked onto her hat and he was grumbling and it was all getting to be just a bit too much for his liking.

Danse realized then that he also had no idea how to explain that a lack of clothing was immensely unprofessional, socially deviant, and extremely distracting to someone who knew all these things and didn't care, and he had even less of an idea of how to make her care about those things.

So he didn't bother.

"Jessie."

Thankfully, she cared about him, and he intended to use that fully to his advantage.

"Hmm?" The hum was nearly a purr and he chose to focus on one of the nearby trees, observing a particularly odd branch as he gestured back behind them, to the poor excuse for shelter.

"Clothes." It came out more as a plea and he couldn't bring himself to care.

He half expected her to correct him again and use her hat as the poor excuse that it was, but it was possible his face looked as blisteringly hot as it felt, and either way he'd accept her agreement no matter how much pity it came with.

"Alright, alright." She grinned at him, over her shoulder, as she turned and walked back into the shaded cover, taking her time as she did. "I thought it would take more to get to you."

No she didn't. They both knew exactly how much that sort of thing 'got to him' and maybe Danse was waiting for a deathclaw to conveniently tear him apart and kill him right then and there. He'd even take Cupcake, Jessie's somewhat tamed monster of fangs and claws, because he saw little reason in not just continuing to give Jessie her sadistic gratification by this point. At least his death would take him out of it.

(And Cupcake did seem to like him, to some capacity, so he trusted her to at least give him a merciful death if he asked for it.)

It was still less than a minute later when Jessie returned, clothes looking considerably more dusted and her hat tilted at an angle as she rested a hand on his shoulder and smiled as she kissed his cheek.

(He knew what she was thinking, and at worst he was brooding.

Strategically mulling over ways it could have gone better, admittedly, and recollecting his thoughts while futilely attempting to get his face to return to its normal color. Not pouting.)

"Still bored?"

"I think I've had enough excitement." Danse rolled his eyes, taking the time to stretch his arms to the side before straightening back up, Jessie's own pout sparking a small smile of his own. "That being said, I'm sure there are plenty of reinforcements and fixes the buildings around here could use."

The chest plate of his power armor received a small jab that was likely intended to be more than the gentle poke he felt, Jessie lifting her chin as she crossed her arms.

"I'll have you know I keep them in perfect shape."

Debatable, given all the settlements under her care and the odd ignorance and potential stupidity of the average individual, but he was willing to have more fun with this.

"Well, I'll be the judge of that."

#My Stuff #fanfiction #fallout #paladin danse #female sole survivor

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chronomindrazed · 6 years ago

Text

01: x fuking D no I don't have

02: (S)Arya Star(k)

03: I've bought cigarettes and they are not gonna last that much. I also should be asleep

04: Only if I have to interact. For personal goals, I know well where to go. If I need to make conversation or interact with social people I just freak out

05: Single

06: Slept

07: I got an orange

08: Bunch of, the ones I stayed more than a year are Swimming, Rollerblade Hockey and CrossFit

09: I bite my fingers. Like the skin around them. It's kinda weird but it's the same idea

10: Can't remember quite exactly but I had a bit of face-to-face pushes and some fists where thrown around 12th January 2018. He owed me like a lot of money.

11: Yeah. I do.

12: And 56h I have stayed. And I'm afraid I'm gonna demolish that highscore

13: Some parts of myself. The things said in 01 and 04

14: I miss Bond, I miss (S)., I miss some talks with A(yeah, you, wanderess), D, and P. I miss my 11 year old me that was like 200% happier. I miss a bunch, yeah

15: A beautiful Mini-Snaucer that he is the most classy dog and I goddamn miss him. His name is Bond. Also known as "I'm fuking sleepy rub your hands in me hooman"

16: No filters: I am afraid that I'm not gonna sleep and I can't take more pills without involving dangers. Guess I will die in dreams somewhere around 7am. Also... Kind of sad about me and my WhatsApp texts that I'm unable to handle. And disappointed about my new smoky habit

17: Almost. But no

18: No. I petted one when I was 8. And I'm like *big* fan. Entomology

19: I have the theory that if you go back in time and you change stuff your 'you' in the future could get affected. And I want to be as I am so, I would rejected to travel.

20: Airport

21: I got assignments. But I should have time for multiple activities. Maybe with some lucky calls I even start some fixing

22: 0.

23: Don't have

24: At highschool I was the best at Technical Drawing and Maths. Now I just suck at all.

25: My old me. He knew how to stay calm. Talking about other people I think I don't miss anyone...

26: Sleep

27: I don't have concern. I had a suspicion, but think not.

28: No. I haven't been in a stablished relationship *dabs*

29: I had not had a girlfriend, so the thecnical answer is no.

30: My absurd capacity for no sleeping, that I don't understand one assignment and that I freak out so easy.

31: ...yes? Wanna think that. It's kinda complicated. Hope yes really. I love her back. Insecuritieeeeees.

32: Dark blue

33: Not trust issues but I tend to fuck up long-time relationships. Like the more with me, the more I'll tire you and you'll eventually leave. I'm a timed infection

34: I don't dream very often, so we need to get back to October or smth. I dreamt about landing off the plane and making the first steps once landed.

35: (S).

36: Yes, and sometimes work so..., idk.

37: Forgive.

38: Close to. Although *everything*. But my innocent years are quite hard to beat. I was so fuking happy when I did know nothing omg

39: 14.

40: On a beach in the south of Spain. Ironically trying not to be seen.

41: ~~~50:~

51: Soup.

52: I believe you have reasons to do all the things

53: Read a text I had in my notes and I would like to keep forever.

54: Using 52, I think that some situations could be talked and taken into consideration. I'll personally never cheat. But if someone cheats on me, I'm open to talk it (04 came here and laughed so fuking hard). But yeah I could talk it.

55: Think not. But maybe a bit

56: 4, and one of them I literally jumped from stairs above and holes him into the wall

57: Yeah, but it's not easy. Takes time to get with it.

58: Clear nights.

59: Yeeeeah

60: I don't want a wedding, but the abstract idea of linking to someone, both willingly, sounds okay to me.

61: I find it cute.

62: When someone talks to me and I can somehow carry with the conversation and I don't get nervous. I also like when they say things like "Hey I saw X thing and reminded me of you"

63: Hmmmm tough one. Maybe my surnames.

64: I think not (from my will). But I'm not sure if she. I am not sure number 04 go and stain another one.

65: Try to improve conversation and fix the differences, try to sync with her, and hope I stop being a dumbass for some years.

66: Not even of my same sex. I'm on high percentages but I haven't like reached a 100%. I still trouble in my subconscious. I don't get where I am supposed to. I think some gears need to be revised.

67: (S).

68: E.

69: Yeah I got one of those. It's kinda refreshing, although our relationship is not as strong as you would expect us to have. But we just can be enjoying silence together. So... I believe

70: Anyone, they just have to give me a valuable reason.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

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rabbitwritesfanfic · 8 years ago

Text

Fever Pitch [Sherlock]

AO3 Link: [Click]

Words: 2425

Fandom: Sherlock

Characters: Sebastian Moran, James Moriarty

Pairing: MorMor

Comments: James Moriarty is ill and being reckless about it. Sebastian tries to keep his boss alive and out of jail.

James Moriarty was not a man to pick a fight with. Anyone with half a brain understood that, even if they never knew the man's name, never saw him beyond a quick glance in a subway station or a crowded club. Unless he hiding in plain sight – which, in his teenage years, had quickly become his favorite activity (“It's like a grown-up game of hide-and-seek!”) – there was simply a vibe about him that set off alarm bells, told people to back up or risk losing a limb.

Unfortunately, James Moriarty was currently running a rather severe fever. Sebastian had noticed it when he'd briefly grabbed hold of his employer's wrist earlier in the afternoon, ostensibly to drag him from the crosswalk the man had inexplicably decided was a wise place to stand and argue with Seb about his comparative lack of planning. James had been quick to remove himself from the sniper's hold once they were safely on the sidewalk, but not before Sebastian had forgotten his place long enough to tell him to take something to bring his temperature down.

Moriarty had glared at him, his public mask slipping just a few inches before he righted himself with a shake of his head.

“Right,” he said, grinning faintly and casting a quick glance around at the people threading past them like water around rock. No one was brave or stupid enough to attempt to step between the two. When Moriarty spoke again, it was with a noticeable American accent. 'Jim' again, playing the tourist, rolling his eyes and lilting his way through his explanations. He clicked his tongue. “Sorry, Tiger– it's been a super long day. But I'm fine, really. It's just a little cold.”

Sebastian forced his hand back to his side. He shouldn't have overstepped like that. James was a grown man. The two of them were close, yes, but there were still limits to what Sebastian could get away with and attempting to tell James what do to was treading dangerously close to the line.

It occurred to him then that they must have looked like a couple to anyone passing them by – the 'rich boy, poor boy' kind that people wrote books about – Sebastian in his suit and long coat, and Jim in his torn jeans and ratty long-sleeved shirt. Just another couple in London, their existence of no consequence to the crowd around them, as easily forgotten as the weather – but just as changeable, just as destructive.

Still, no measure of acting talent could quite hide the rasp that had been steadily working its way into James' voice over the past few days or the way his gait trembled side-to-side just the barest of inches as he moved, gazing 'round like a tourist, through London's crowds. Whatever was causing his fever, Sebastian was beginning to get the feeling it was more serious than a simple cold.

He shook his head as he started walking again. Sometimes Moriarty switched personas so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. He trailed behind his boss as he often did, eyes flicking over faces, hands, coats, cases, looking for anything suspicious. The odds were that they could walk for miles without ever needing Sebastian's observational skills, but the colonel didn't care for walking thoughtlessly. Besides, it helped to pass the time.

The sun disappeared behind the buildings and with it went the warmth of the day. A bitter, biting chill crawled through the side streets James had decided to explore, lashing at them both from the crosswinds. From his place walking along the edge of the roof several paces behind, Sebastian could see him shiver in the stronger gusts, once or twice pausing to cough against his sleeve before pulling the near-freezing air into his lungs with a gasp that must have left his chest aching.

Reckless.

That was the word that swam under the surface of Sebastian's mind, flickering into focus for just a moment during scenes like these before disappearing beneath the waves again.

This is reckless.

Something was wrong. If he were asked later, he wouldn't have been able to explain it, but Sebastian knew the feeling well enough. The air was heavy and charged somehow, like that feeling you get just before a thunderstorm. There was no mistaking it: something was about to happen. He wrapped his fingers around the grip of the small handgun at his back. It wasn't his rifle, but it would be more than enough in most cases.

Up ahead, a collection of alcohol-soaked bodies tumbled around a corner, clinging to one another and laughing loud enough to wake the street. Sebastian made himself hard to spot, crouching and pressing his shoulder against the short wall that penned in the building's roof.

Keep walking, he thought, sharp eyes flickering from face to face. He's no one interesting – just keep walking.

Two stories below him, James coughed hard against his sleeve. He'd been sounding worse and worse as the hours went on, the noise becoming more of a rattling wretch. One of the more lucid of the group spun in a circle before locating the source of the sound and even across the considerable distance, Sebastian saw him grin.

The kid looked James up and down before spinning half-way back the way he came and calling “Hey, look what I found,” to the rest of the gaggle, which looked to be mostly comprised of college-age punks. Then, to Jim, “What're you doin' out so late, honey?”

Moriarty shifted, wavering before scuffing the side of his ratty trainer against the asphalt near the glint of a broken bottle. “I, uh...” he began, sounding younger and unsteady in a faint Irish lilt. “I got a little lost.”

Sebastian braced the gun on the edge of the wall as the drunk moved closer. Damn it, Jim, you're off your game – don't try to play with them.

“Well, come 'ere,” the kid laughed, winding an arm around James' shoulders and halfway dragging him toward the others. “Me 'n my friends - we know this place like th' back of our hands. We'll get ya right where ya need to be.”

Seconds ticked by and Sebastian could feel his nerves being pulled tighter and tighter with each shuffling, off-balance step James took. Do something, Boss.

Then...

“On second thought...” Moriarty dug the heel of his shoe into the pavement, stopping them cold. “I don't think I wanna.”

What happened next happened all at once. James may not have liked to get his hands dirty, but that didn't mean he was anywhere near incapable in a fight. The kid never saw that left hook coming.

Sebastian knew better than to relax. Fights tended to sober people up and there were quite a few still on their feet, most of whom probably wouldn't think twice about jumping into the fray. As if on cue, one of the women ran forward only to be stopped by James clothes-lining her across the throat. She hit the ground next to the first drunk and didn't get back up.

Now the mood was changing. Now it wasn't funny anymore. Sebastian kept the people closest to James in his sights and watched the chaos unfold. It wasn't often that he got to see his boss in action. Most of Moriarty's work was cerebral and calculating, kept at arm's length from anything that required him to start throwing punches... or bodies.

Most of the group scattered when the second man landed solidly on his back on the edge of the sidewalk. Sebastian suspected the angle and force had broken his spine. Served him right.

James rolled his shoulders as he straightened, pausing to shake blood off of his hand. He'd split his knuckles against the first kid's teeth. The colonel's stomach twisted when he saw him tip his head to the side in that reptilian way he did when something truly had his attention. Interesting things tended to happen when James reacted that way.

There were only two men left standing, but they were the largest of the group and had also appeared the most sober at the start of the party. The group's unofficial bodyguards for the night, Sebastian guessed. That might not have been an issue if James hadn't miscalculated.

It was just a small hesitation. The fever was making him shaky, clouding his thought processes. He shifted his weight, then quickly shifted it back to reassess. It wouldn't have been a problem for him save for the fact that the two remaining bruisers noticed and pounced.

The first man was dead before he hit the ground. The second scrambled away from the body with enviable speed, but even blind panic can't outrun a bullet. It was a small consolation that the police would be chewing on this one for a good long while. Better to keep them busy....

The crack of the gunshots faded, reverberating off the buildings until the echoes finally dropped below human hearing, leaving behind a dull ring. Sebastian cursed through his teeth as he scrambled down the fire escape. Lingering around a fresh crime scene in plain sight was never a good idea.

“Time to go, Boss,” he said as he walked up to offer James his hand. “The Yard should be along soon.”

Moriarty ignored him, opting instead for sitting on the sidewalk with his head in his uninjured hand, watching the blood drip from his fingers with an expression Sebastian could only describe as 'sulking'. Under ordinary circumstances, Sebastian wouldn't have even considered what he was about to do, but he doubted that sitting in jail would do much for his boss' temperament, so he made an executive decision.

The second his hand was firmly wrapped around James' arm, he knew something was wrong. James Moriarty was not the sort of man to be bullied and harried and dragged. People who tried always ended up disappearing. So when the man offered no resistance beyond a lagging step that Sebastian soon realized was caused by a lack of balance, everything changed again.

“Come on,” said the sniper. “We're going home.”

~ * ~

By the time the apartment door was firmly shut behind them, James had given up pretending he was fine. The crime lord seemed to be holding himself together by a string, leaning against his bodyguard in the entry way as though he were afraid to move unassisted. Sebastian eventually decided that direct action was faster and picked the man up, carrying him across his chest into the small first-floor washroom.

“Basher...” James began, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and leaning most of his weight against the wall. He was trying for the usual scolding tone he employed when he felt ignored, but only managed to clip the target.

“Not now, Boss. Really need to get your temperature down.” Sebastian was careful not to look at James for longer than necessary. He'd didn't care to admit it, but he was worried. He'd never seen him this bad off before, even on the few occasions he had personally fetched him back from certain exquisitely dangerous areas of the world. Whatever this was had him fighting for a full breath, small tremors running the length of his arms, shaking salt and copper from his fingers.

“'m fine.” James lied, swaying where he sat. Then, randomly, “Those kids were fun.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, checking the water against his wrist. Only James would consider the risk of being beaten to death (or worse) fun. At least Seb had been there to keep things from getting too out of hand. Moriarty's guardian angel... with a nine millimeter.

“There.” Sebastian closed the taps before drying his hands on the edge of his shirt. Warm water was safer and more effective than an ice bath, but he doubted that would stop James from complaining. “Get in,” he said, straightening. When James only raised an eyebrow at him, he continued, “I'm pretty sure brain damage isn't high on your 'Fun' list, Boss.”

“Depends. Are we talking about my brain or someone else's?”

Sebastian responded by looping an arm around Jim's waist and quickly but carefully tipping him into the bathtub. James, of course, came back up spitting water and curses.

“You can trigger a seizure that way, you ass!”

“I know, Boss.”

“You could have warned me!”

“I know, Boss.”

After a few seconds of silence broken only by coughing and spitting, James seemed to give up, curling in on himself. He sulked for a moment before sighing and placing his head on the edge of the tub near Sebastian's arm. “Sorry I worried you, Basher,” he said, nearly too quiet to hear.

Sebastian blinked at him, fighting down the urge to ask him to repeat it. James never apologized. For anything. The man would outlive the devil out of sheer stubbornness. He was also likely to blame his rare show of sentimentality on his 104-degree temperature as soon as he'd recovered a bit and, somehow, that thought was comforting. James' skin already felt cooler to the touch, so Sebastian let himself relax a little, brushing a few damp strands of hair back from his boss' face.

“Thought sure you'd skin anyone who manhandled you without permission,” he said. “Does that make me special, Mr. Moriarty?”

James snapped a hand up from under the water, splashing his bodyguard in the face. Sebastian spluttered and spat, and James laughed before collapsing into a small coughing fit. “I don't know what you are, Sebastian,” he said once he'd gotten his breath back. “But I'm glad you're mine.”

The sniper stopped vainly trying to wipe water from his face. Every now and then he could pry those kinds of sentiments out of his employer, but they were beyond few and far between under normal circumstances. Over the years, he'd learned not to waste them.

Sebastian leaned as close as he could given the tub wall between them, pulling James into an embrace, pressing close to the wet shirt and the too-warm body. These were the small, domestic moments he'd come to cherish over the years he'd worked with Moriarty. No one was dying, no one had to be killed, nothing had to be stolen. Even James' beloved Sherlock hadn't made an appearance. It was just this. Just them. Looking out for one another.

James wound his arms around Sebastian's neck and squeezed. “I could kill you for dropping me in here,” he said, his voice muffled against the man's shoulder.

Sebastian laughed before pressing a kiss to James' hair. “I know, Boss.”

#fanfic #Sherlock #BBC Sherlock #MorMor #James Moriarty #Sebastian Moran #[I'm trying to work through some of my anger about S4]#[results debatable]

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ps4fortnite17448-blog · 6 years ago

Text

The greatest Escort To be able to Fortnite V Bucks!

Money Laundering Scheme Uncovered Using Fortnite V

Fortnite is a house sandbox survival video game developed by Citizens May Soar and Epic Games. It was a freshly discovered piece with an individual in the Epic Games forums - it seems a number of Fortnite "movie" files were in fact damaged or corrupted. According to Marksman, selling Fortnite codes is a safer choice than go broken-into accounts, although the accounts may be more beneficial (one seller I address with was offer an bill with extraordinary skins for $900). Participants could pick up stolen consideration by contacting Epic Games' help and replacing their data. The values are irrelevant.

This currently no confidence that scammers have been there trying to make a quick money by suggesting gamers free V-Bucks, the electronic currency that Fortnite players use to get new products with skins in the general battle royale activity. May was probably the most productive month for which we have stats presented, with Fortnite: Battle Royale cause with $318 million (concrete post-May studies are demanding to get). That makes that the best-performing contest regarding it is type with this metric.

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crystalelemental · 8 years ago

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Atelier Sophie Opinions

Atelier Sophie is the most laid-back Atelier game I know, and will probably remain as such since Firis apparently brings back a time mechanic. Sophie is, I feel, a solidly average game. I have few complaints, but there are also no elements that stand out as particularly exceptional compared to other entries. It’s just all-around good. And you know what that means? I finally have a baseline to work as a comparison between all other games in the series!

CHARACTERS Sophie - Sophie is your happy-go-lucky alchemist, who is generally cheerful and wants to do her best. She earns a lot of points for being completely willing to bypass alchemy training in favor of just getting the cauldron of knowledge, and has some excellent reactions to character jokes, with my favorite being her just leaving when Tess makes any sort of suggestive joke. She's a fun one.

Monika - She's alright. Not the most interesting in the bunch, but decent enough. She's very religious and is a great singer, and spends a lot of time with the church helping out with the kids.

Oskar - Okay, I hate this guy, and I don't know why. His character isn't BAD, he's just kind of a bumble-headed nitwit. He runs around ignoring his job and talks to plants a lot, with this mentality of "plants are better than people!" It just rubs me the wrong way, like those people who insist pets are better than people. They're not, and they'd be just as shitty as other people if they could talk and weren't reliant on you for survival.

Julio - A knight of the church who is tagging along with Sophie, hoping to find alchemy to help some guy who was turning into a monster. He's a dedicated knight whose creed tells him to focus on helping the people in front of him, heedless of consequences. Which...alright. I can appreciate that. Again, not the most interesting in the bunch, though.

Harol - Similar to Oskar, I really don't like this guy. I think it's the same issue, where he just ignores his job for the longest time. Whereas Oskar is just an idiot who runs off to do his own thing all the time, Harol actively avoids it for fear of not living up to his father. He's at least a little more understandable, and his story arc isn't bad at all, I just don't like him.

Corneria - An oddball. She's from a different land, but doesn't know her father or apparently where she's from. She's on a mission to find out, though, and uses her duplication alchemy to hopefully spread the word until either her father comes to find her, or she hears of him. Duplication alchemy allows her to make multiple copies of items, which she sells back to you. She's basically your wholesale shop. The oddity is she reportedly shrinks when using this power? I dunno, it's weird.

Leon - Objectively best girl. Leon shows up and just kinda settles into the town to make clothes. She's tough, confident, and is generally just a pleasant character to have around. I also would like to offer massive credit to her character for not once pulling an uncomfortable fanservice scene like almost any other character in her role would do.

Fritz - This guy I like. He's a retired mercenary who loves puppets, and creates dolls routinely to put on excellent shows. We don't learn a lot about him, aside from he's a bit eccentric, but that's all I really needed. I appreciate the guy a lot.

Plachta - I have odd feelings about Plachta. On the one hand, she has the most history and is one of the most significant characters in the game. On the other, a lot that is shrouded in mystery until the end of the game. She made the Cauldron of Knowledge, sealed it away, and helps you get to it, only to remember she sealed it away so her former friend/current enemy can't revive with it and cause problems with their dangerous alchemy. She's given a doll's body, and I feel like that's appropriate, because she's fairly flat-affect, but willing to go to extremes to prevent catastrophe. She's outright willing to kill her friend, and did so once before, just to stop them from causing problems with a bad form of alchemy. All of this should line up perfectly to make a character I really appreciate, but for some reason she's just okay. I really don't know why. More of her personal history may have helped, but...right now I'm just not that invested.

Tess - Tess works at the Cafe, and constantly has on a bunny outfit. I...am not sure why, but...sure. She's very plucky and energetic, and a goof among goofs. She winds up being alright as a character, which I wouldn't have expected at first.

Pamela - The ghost girl from the Arland games returns, only this time she's a nun for some reason. She's still dead and definitely a ghost, but is here, somehow. There's a point where they mention a teddy bear, so it almost makes me feel like this is prior to the Arland games? Weird.

Logy - Oh, and Logy's here. But not the Logy we know. He looks the same, but is a blacksmith, not an alchemist. He seems to have little to no knowledge of alchemy at all, and...quite honestly, it's very confusing. I have no idea what's going on with this. Is the implication that this is post-Dusk trilogy and this is like a descendant or something? If this is trying to tie the last two trilogies together, it's doing so in the most confounding way possible.

Horst - Bartender man. I have nothing of value to say about him. He sure is there.

Marguerite - I probably spelled her name wrong. I’m not fixing it. She’s Oskar’s mom. She earns points solely for calling Oskar out on his bullshit of leaving his job to go talk to plants. Nothing else stood out about her.

Luard - Some guy really into Ablution Alchemy. It's this super dangerous form of alchemy that takes from nature and produces very little, but what it produces can be anything. See, your form of alchemy takes few resources, but can only produce certain things with the combinations you use. You're limited in that sense. Ablution Alchemy can take any resources and produce anything it wants, but it needs a lot more stuff to make it work. Luard is really into this, because you can get anything you want. Luard's more focused on the present and what's good for the here and now, while disregarding future problems. He'd be really interesting if there was a sufficient justification for his actions beyond just really wanting to be able to pull this off. There's something about a village that experienced famine, and was solved with Sophie's brand of alchemy back in the day, but it doesn't really inform his motivations in any way. He's just a bad guy for the sake of having a bad guy, I feel. Also, it kind of irks me how they introduce this form of alchemy, which would be an excellent way to explain how the Dusk started, after Shallie messed up their ending.

STORY The story is simple. Sophie is an alchemist working in the town of Kirchen Bell. Her grandmother, who was also an alchemist, recently passed away, and Sophie inherited the atelier, as well as a book that begins to talk and float when she writes a recipe into it. The book is Plachta, an alchemist from the distant past, whose memories have been lost. Your goal is to bring back Plachta's memories, at first to find the Cauldron of Knowledge, which will allow any alchemy to be performed at any skill level, and later just to help Plachta out. As her memories return you continue to progress toward attaining the cauldron, and learn more about Plachta, and why she was sealed in a book, and why her memories have gone missing. It's not too bad, and there's an attempt at a twist in terms of introducing the antagonist, but it was pretty easy to see through so nothing special. The game’s strengths are entirely in being an easy-going slice-of-life style story, and I can appreciate that.

SETTING I feel like this is in an odd place, in that the setting suggests that alchemy can be used for negative purposes which created the Scar of the Land. We also get the specific name from Ablution Alchemy, which is the alchemy that takes up considerable natural resources to produce little in response, but you get anything you want. It's an interesting idea that can showcase how a disaster arrived, and it's pretty easy to see how people might gravitate toward that form of alchemy over something more limited but eco-friendly. The damage it can cause is established and present within the world, but at the same time, we don't get the same grand feeling as in Ayesha or Escha and Logy. There's an issue, but it's still in a phase of "people shouldn't do this and as long as they don't things are fine." We're not at a level where things are just too late and we're trying to pick up the pieces. So while the location is fine with some interesting elements, it feels a bit less unique due to being an easily remedied problem instead of something that should be nigh-impossible to fix.

ALCHEMY SYSTEM This is a big change. When performing alchemy, you select your materials, and then place them on a grid within the cauldron. Within the cauldron, there are locations with differently colored dots that, when you place a material on them, adds a significant amount of bonus to the trait meter that item occupies. The color of the dot doesn't matter so much as the color of the material. For instance, if you have three effect bars, and you choose a red, blue, and green material to occupy each, you're going to have a rough time getting to maximum trait effect for all three. However, if all three materials were red, it would be much easier. Why? Because there's a counter at the top of the screen that tells you what percentage of the cauldron is occupied by which element type. If you have scatter, the element levels are going to be low, and only the highest is applied. So if you had the red percentage at 20%, green at 15%, and blue at 10%, only red would be applied; the other two would gain no bonus at all. However, if all three were red, you might have a red percentage at 65%, and then each bar gains an extra 65% of what they had. It's kind of complicated, but again, in that sense where it's easy to learn but hard to perfect. I love it.

There's also a difference in the type of cauldron used. For instance, depending on how you develop your cauldron, you can flip materials horizontally or vertically or rotate them, and some effects can give you bonuses to elements depending on how many orbs you collect. The type of cauldron used will directly determine the outcome of synthesis, and you can swap between cauldrons as you wish. This creates a very dynamic synthesis system that's largely based on selecting the appropriate type of cauldron, and putting in materials in the correct order, and the correct locations, to best apply traits and properties of items. It's a delightful system, and definitely the high point for this game. The only real drawback is that it sounds like a 5x5 cauldron is optimal in many cases? Because bonuses are based on the percentage of the cauldron occupied, a smaller sized cauldron has the benefit of applying higher bonuses. There’s also the issue of the best cauldron being a synthesis of all other cauldron effects, including the one where you have 60 seconds to figure it out, which I hate. Of all the things to put time pressure on, why the most delicate option? It doesn’t even really do anything beneficial for you, it just makes you run the risk of failure, which really only means I have to soft-reset ten billion times to make sure I get it right. It’s just a level of tedium I didn’t appreciate in the end-game.

BATTLE SYSTEM Battle is odd. XP output feels very low, across all enemy types, and so level ups are hard to come by. However, level ups are also tremendous. I've seen characters gain 10 points in a stat in one level up, which is like 5x the typical output of a level for this series. Other characters have gotten things like 8 attack, 7 defense, 9 speed in one level, which is just unreal. This would make it seem like Shallie, where stats are tremendous, but with a low start and a massive buildup. This isn't quite the case, as it turns out. Final stats in Sophie are actually surprisingly low. That's because your max level is 20. At level 20, you stop gaining stats. Level 20 isn't hard to hit, and I'd say I got there around mid-game. The real fun starts after level 20. You continue to gain XP, and to gain "levels," but instead what you get are skill points.

Yes, skill points are back, and are way more fun, because they seem more specialized. You still have the standard few that boost stats by a minimal amount, and the skills that improve on your attack skills. However, there are many that are specifically tailored to characters as well. Some, like damage reduction, are available for everyone. But most characters seem to have a high degree of specialization, such as Harol being about cutting wait time between skills dramatically, or Cornelia being about incredible speed to ensure more basic attacks, or Monika being about improving healing skills, reducing damage, and boosting evasion. It's far from a perfect system, but it's tremendously improved upon the Shallie method, and I really love the changes.

If there's one thing I can definitely lament, it's the weapon and armor creation system. They went back to basing it off of improved cloth or ingots, and you can't just take one piece of armor as an ingredient to add to the next stage up. This is incredibly bothersome to me. Worse, with the quality cap being 999 again, it's really hard to reach max quality for some things, and outright impossible to do so for the best weapons/armors, unless you utilize a glitch in the game. Needless to say, that's exactly what I did, because if it's in the game it's fair. Maxing out your quality is known to flat-out double the base stats of the armor, so it's a very useful thing to accomplish.

The other detriment is enemy variance. There are not many enemy types in this game. There are a lot of locations, but it gets annoying when you travel to all these spots only to be visited by the same like 5 enemy types repeatedly. Considering the limited number of different enemies available at all, it makes it especially crappy that so many are just re-skins. By mid-game, I had encountered maybe 15 different enemy types max, and of those 5 were puni types, and 3 were wolves. I'd really like to see more variance, or at least more of the concept of "here's a big, one of a kind enemy type to fight for funsies." I don't think I encountered any bosses until really late in the game, which...not gonna lie, kind of a downside.

Last thing to note: there’s a damage stat to weapons. No, not your attack, your damage. This is a very odd distinction, in that attack will tend to push your characters damage toward its upper limit, but damage numbers ultimately determine how much you deal, such that a change in damage from like 30 to 40 can result in hundreds of extra damage being dealt in combat. I have no clue how the formula works. All I know is, everything is based in these damage numbers, because if you get them high enough, the game’s just over.

OTHER MECHANICS Plachta's memories are the core of this game. See, unlike previous games, where you learn synthesis by purchasing or obtaining reference books and materials, this game has you figure things out for yourself. Sophie has to come up with the idea for a synthesis from battling monsters, gathering specific materials, or getting specific traits on synthesized items. In some cases, you even gain ideas by examining certain locations. Plachta, as your reference book, will give hints about what to do to find the ideas, at which point you are then able to synthesize them. Certain items, however, are locked behind Plachta's memories, and you need to synthesize or complete requests or battle tough monsters in order to unlock those memories, and be able to progress. You remember how I said the motivation counter in Shallie seemed pointless? Sophie keeps the idea of not having a time limit, but instead introduces Plachta's memories as your mechanic to keep you moving. You can mess around and gather things you need to make better equipment as long as you want with no downside, but you need to get around to quests and things at some point or the plot won't progress. This makes Sophie just about the most relaxing of the Atelier games to date, as there is literally no rush to accomplish anything at any given point. There are exactly two missable events: one is for the true ending and is easily identifiable, and the other is for a specific character event, which you are given several notifications about prior to its occurrence. It's such a laid-back game, and honestly, that's really nice.

Speaking of Plachta, there's a mechanic where you put different materials into her doll body to enhance stats and thankfully change her ridiculous outfit to something better. I...never really used it. I did it twice: once to test out, and once upon learning you could change outfits if you changed her qualities, so I immediately shifted her ridiculous default to...okay, the other one was also ridiculous, but at least she had real clothes.

Vouchers are back as well. When you complete quests, you gain vouchers, which can be exchanged for certain items. Some items are great, some are garbage. Unlike in Rorona, I never really felt the need to get vouchers? The accessories seem good overall, but often have points of being sub-optimal. They'll likely get you through the game no problem with them, but I can likely create better once I unlock the recipe. With no time limit, there's no harm in making things myself, after all.

Also making a return is adventuring gear. You have a bunch to choose from, but really you just want to expand the backpack's maximum capacity, increase the movement speed on the map, and increase how much you gather at one time. These items are great and cool and all...but are severely unimportant in the grand scheme of things because there is no NG+. I am not sure why there is no NG+, but there isn't one. This means that if you miss one of the missable events, have fun reloading a save or starting over entirely, idiot. This also means that getting maximum effects on any of these items isn't as critical, as it won't really help you at all in NG+. Seriously, removal of NG+ feels so weird. It makes sense. You have infinite time and thus can get anything done. But it's SO WEIRD.

You can also give gifts to people, which I guess means this is a dating simulator game now. Honestly, I hate that mechanic. It doesn't really do anything, but it was necessary to participate at times because for the longest time Logy wouldn't unlock a place I needed to go, but after boosting friendship with several gifts he changed his tune. For party members, this is wholly irrelevant, and you should never, ever do it.

Lastly, the rumors. At the cafe, you can buy rumors. Most are just information about characters and their preferences for gifts, but some are worth a couple hundred cole, and will unlock different enemy types, or different material types in specific locations, for a short period. Let's just get this out of the way: rumors suck. They are easily the worst part of this game, and probably the worst mechanic in the series. The concept that materials necessary to character events don't show up naturally anywhere and you have to buy randomized hear-say about it, which then only lasts a short time, doesn't really make much sense. Similarly, if there are going to be boss enemies, just have boss enemies. The fact that getting any of these things to trigger is hidden behind a massive pool of other rumors and which ones are available is 100% luck-based is just infuriating. Having no time limit is the only way this is acceptable, but even then you spend a lot of time just sleeping to try and force the game to give you the rumor you want. It's not the most engaging way to handle things, and the world honestly feels a lot emptier because of it. Most regions tend to have the same types of materials and enemies, unless you activate the random rumors. As a result, nothing about the location feels particularly more dangerous than anywhere else, so there's no real sense of progression. Which leads me to...

ADDITIONAL COMMENTS The traits you get early on are really good, and at a very early point in the game, you can get Attack/Defense/Speed Boost/Enhance traits. Thanks to infinite time, you can cycle through the traits to create the best possible combination traits, such as Well Rounded Power (+25 to all stats), and the +40 Attack/Defense/Speed traits as early as you want. This results in a situation where you're blasting through everything with virtually no issue. Because all areas feel very same-y, there's no location where the improved stats meet much resistance, unless you activate rumors. Which I think is my issue. In every other game, there are story-based bosses scattered throughout that you have to face, or at least areas that are super dangerous without new gear, in order to keep you on your toes and make sure you're pushing your alchemy skills forward. That...doesn't really happen here. You get the best traits really early on, and then nothing stands a chance for the rest of the game. I'm not one to complain about a lack of challenge, but I am one to complain about having virtually no feeling that anything was supposed to be a threat. There's no sensation at almost any point that something I randomly encountered was tough, or that any specific region was a threat. It's all just...there, with virtually nothing to distinguish one place from another aside from which color the enemies are, and the two or three locations with any hint of lore behind them. Coming off of the Dusk trilogy especially, this seems to be a lot more noticeable.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS I have my own points about Sophie that I'm not a fan of, including my decision that I dislike not having a time-limit, but it's ultimately still a fun game that is way more laid-back than previous entries. I think it hits a very solid average for the series, offering very little that stands out as something exceptional, but having no particularly significant flaws.

If you enjoyed this (for some reason), consider checking out the write-ups for the other games in the series as well!

Atelier Rorona Plus Atelier Totori Plus Atelier Meruru Plus Atelier Ayesha Plus Atelier Escha and Logy Plus Atelier Shallie Plus Atelier Sophie Atelier Firis

#atelier sophie #atelier series #atelier opinions

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usamyzonians · 8 years ago

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Multiple Identities

A little while ago I made a brief post complaining about juggling multiple identities.

It came up very specifically because somehow, I ended up sending my mom an email that was clearly from me that came from the wrong account. The one that I use for Tumblr, which has the name “Amy” on it.

This will be going up after my post on my family and homophobia and whatnot, which should add some extra context. What I haven’t really mentioned explicitly before is that I’m disabled and partially dependent on my family for assistance on a day-to-day survival level. This is why I’m so terrified of coming out to my family, because I’m not in a good position to just tell them to fuck off.

This is part of why continued abuse and rejection from the LGBT “community” has hit me so hard, because I am left with almost literally no support. I mean, I have a few friends, but most of them are dirt poor or work like 900 hours a week and I’m sure they would be willing to help me, but not so much able.

The internet has been an escape to me for over two decades. I spend my day to day life in fear of the very people who help me. Much of the internet has known me for who I am since I was a teenager, while I’ve spent my “real” life in constant hiding. I’m scared, and legitimately so. I’ve watched friends be abused or kicked out of their homes for being gay or trans or whatever.

So I’ve gotten very good at compartmentalizing my life and covering my tracks. And the thing is, I don’t know how my name got attached to that email. I manage separate identities and I know which box that was sent from, because it was still open when I got a response from my mother.

So I told her “the truth,” that the email was from me, but I didn’t know how that name got attached to it. She seemed to believe me, which is good, because I was about to go to pieces.

This is also complicated by some other issues. I can’t lie, I can barely lie by omission, and I have a lot of trouble not looking at things like what I did as lies. My therapist has said that this sort of black or white mentality is a symptom of trauma, of which I have plenty. But even saying what I did is still eating me up, because I can’t seem to not look at it as lying.

My therapist gave an example in which she might hypothetically have lied to protect herself from homophobes, and that shows how deep my issues go: people have attacked me for being “gay” or trans for decades and I haven’t really been able to deny it. Well, when I was like, 12, I was able to deny it, but only because I was also denying it to myself.

It’s easier to tell people you’re not trans when you yourself are trying to believe you’re not.

It’s gotten harder for me over the years. I lived with “lying” to save my life or keep people out of danger, but I can’t anymore. I’ve flat-out told people not to use me as a character reference because I might get asked the wrong question and answer. I have the urge to not only not lie, but to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

This whole incident has reminded me how precarious my situation is. I’m terrible at anything I consider to be dishonesty, to the point I’m convinced the only reason I haven’t been outed is because trans people are still considered so rare nobody thinks to ask if I am.

I sometimes suspect my mom knows, whether she actively knows or is in denial, but I am so scared because of the danger it represents. Not only because of the potential loss of life-saving assistance, but because my mother has some sort of difficulty processing the privacy of others. She doesn’t want her personal life out in the open, but will talk about mine without consideration. My mental health issues are out there. She’s even talked about the burn I ended up with on my groin (I swear, this was not self-harm, I used a heating pad on my thigh and t leaked and the gel got everywhere), because why not talk about my genitals to the world?

Even if I weren’t trans, I suspect that I would keep things from her for this reason. I have no sense or expectation of privacy and it’s a shitty way to live. The only protection I have is that most of my family isn’t computer literate. I don’t even really like computers, but I taught myself the technology to better insure privacy in a world where I don’t even feel safe in my own head.

I think what I hate even more than pretending to be someone I’m not is the perpetual sense of danger I feel, being around and dependent on people like this.

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eds-zebra-warrior · 4 years ago

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2021 Ehlers Danlos Society Awareness Month (Day 9 Prompt: Inclusion)

Inclusion is a difficult topic for me as it's very difficult to feel included. This actually comes hand in hand with discrimination, segregation and inequality, especially being someone with EDS who can’t walk. When it comes to family, I can go into my own house and into my neighbor's house and that's about it. I grew up in the invisible illness community, eventually making me part of the rare disease community. As my symptoms progressed and I was paralyzed, becoming a permanent wheelchair user, then fell into the visible illness community. I will explain my lack of inclusion not only among the community, friends and family but also exclusion I face within the medical system and law enforcement.

I have been excluded by all outings and holidays by my extended family. My aunt likes to have holidays at her house and had a wheelchair ramp installed when her mom got older. Not long after the passing of my grandma, I was paralyzed, going into a chair. Being in a chair and my aunt knowing I cannot walk soon after removing the ramp from her house with little to no consideration of my needs so now when she has holiday dinners at her house I cannot go. I brought up the ramp once and she said “Well I didn't think about you” then later I realized how hurtful and mean what she said was so I sat down asking questions like “So you can't walk at all? “Have you ever tried to see if you can stand up?” “Well what about physical therapy?” “Well, I went to physical therapy when I had cancer and it helped a lot so I don't know why it didn't help you.” Which honestly was even more hurtful because I am not even a candidate for physical therapy after being paralyzed during physical therapy.

With cancer going rampant in my family somehow when family members ask about me and how I've been, they somehow seem to turn the conversation into cancer. “Trust me I know what pain is, I had cancer and if you ever get cancer you will learn what real pain feels like.” of from those older than me saying “You're too young for pain, Wait till you’re my age, then you’ll know what real pain is”, failing to even research EDS, Multiple Neuropathies, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome or any of my other conditions. The McGill Pain Scale has recently been challenged with a study done on a cohort of EDS patients. It was found that EDS is more painful than Complex Reginal Pain Syndrome which originally took the top place on the chart as the most painful condition with Cancer pain hitting around the mid range area of the scale. Some tend to downsize EDS and make it sound like I’m just a wimp for needing medication for my pain. I always hear things like “Me and my daughter were sick and we are both doing great now. Why aren't you getting better? Again, this relates my condition to cancer and other long term conditions that are a lot more common and have treatment and/or surgery that can put them into remission.

EDS has no remission. It doesn't magically go away. I have a gene mutation and as of now, you cannot repair a broken gene so this is forever. There is no remission but society is raised to believe cancer is the worst thing a person can ever go through and cancer is also one of those conditions where there are two outcomes. You go into remission and get better, living life normally or possibly on several meds to keep you functioning well, with the exception of younger children or some adults who have organ systems permanently damaged by chemo but even then they are much healthier and have a much more normal life than they did with active cancer. There's also the other side of the spectrum. You die. There are so many conditions that, depending on the type of cancer or hormonal mutations can easily be much worse than cancer leaving people much sicker than chemo patients but with no chance of remission. Imagine being on chemo for 50 years straight.

I have learned to hate the discussion of cancer when others compare pain and symptoms because many with chronic and/or rare diseases like Ehlers Danlos, Lupus, Muscular Sclerosis, Lateral Sclerosis, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Osteogenesis Imperfecta and many more are also very dangerous, have a lot of serious symptoms and comorbidities, risk the person's life and can very well cause more pain or more systemic symptoms than cancer. I am not saying cancer is not important, I am just saying people with these conditions are also compared with people who have cancer with most people who do this not knowing anything about our condition, just going off of the assumption that what we hear about most in the media, what has the most fundraisers and financial backing and what has the most attention has to be worse. Many more will get offended if you explain or give them information relating to the pain levels found in EDS mad that you would ever compare your own medical condition to cancer even after they just did the exact same thing by invalidating your pain and saying something like "If you think you're in pain now you should experience the pain that comes along with cancer. Now that's real pain" Its as if its okay for them to compare but not you making it automatically wrong for you to stick up for yourself when they try to invalidate your pain. The worst part is when they do this day in and day out without even noticing they are doing it. It gets exhausting and frustrating when someone is always trying to tell you why you are weak and spread the misconception that all cancer patients are much sicker than these other conditions, downgrading you. This leads to a lot of people giving unsolicited medical advice, telling you all the reasons why you aren't getting better knowing nothing about your condition so it really does go both ways and gets old to hear.

Another issue I had with inclusion was when my cousin got married. I have food allergies and couldn't eat anything they were serving. At the time I was a teenager and couldn't drive so my mom told my aunt she was going to go to Wendy's and get me a baked potato because I needed to take my medications and needed to take them with food. We were at the reception and next thing I knew my aunt was literally screaming at the top of her lungs at my mom about how she wishes my dad had never married her, she cant stand her and I’m a spoiled rotten little brat. My mom kept trying to get a word in telling her I have food allergies and can't eat what she has so it has nothing to do with being spoiled and it's not that I don't want what they are eating and honestly would probably rather have what they are eating but that I can’t because before my diagnosis gluten put me in multiple organ failure. My aunt was yelling about how she will not take my mom leaving and coming back and me eating Wendy's at their beautiful wedding and continued saying, if I’m hungry enough I will eat what they have and she needs to quit spoiling me and allowing me to have a different meal than everyone else was eating like I was a picky little kid instead of someone who if I ate what they were serving I can go into organ failure or anaphylactic shock. If she didn't think a Wendy's baked potato fit into her daughter's wedding décor scheme she would have really not been happy to have an emergency squad backed up to the door, a gurney and a bunch of paramedics so my mom, myself and my dad didn't understand why she was making such a big deal out of it. My dad then told my aunt we are going to leave and apologies to my cousin for leaving the reception early. After he did this my aunt started calling my mom and I derogatory terms still yelling while my mom was simply talking and trying to keep it quiet so it wouldn't be a big deal but she started calling me and my mom derogatory names and didn't talk to my mom for two years all over a baked potato and my food allergies.

Outside of the family also have little access to inclusion as I have not one friend with a wheelchair ramp or no steps going into their house so zero access to visiting friends as well as family. The lack of understanding crosses over to friends as well and I have lost most of them. I’m not the best when it comes to visiting friends as my health is so unpredictable and many people take this as me being flakey or not wanting to visit when most of them knew how timely and never canceled on them when I was healthier. I also had two friends who used me and manipulated the situation to make it sound as if I was the reason we never hang out. One of these people, she and her husband did a lot of traveling and it seemed like every time she was out of town she would contact me and ask if she and her husband could come visit me when they came back. I would agree and when she was back in town she would usually ignore my messages until a day or two before leaving again and say “I wish you would have said something sooner. We’re packing up now and about to leave to go to Florida now. They would leave and she would message me saying they were on a Disney cruise but when she comes back they wanted to visit me if I was up for it. Again she would either not tell me when she got home or I would message her that day or a day or two later telling her if they want to visit it's fine with no response and no response until right before they were about to leave again saying something like “Oh, well we're about to go to California. I wish you would have let me know sooner, not acknowledging the message was originally sent a week or two prior. When I finally asked if they really wanted to visit or not and what was going on, she then responded saying, well every time I ask if you want to hang out, you never do which was far from the truth since she would only talk about visiting when on vacation or while packing to leave the state again.

Another friend of mine since high school did something similar. She would call or text me and ask if I wanted to hang out the next day and of course sometimes I said no but a lot of the times I said sure because it was something low key like she would come over here to visit or just meet at the dog park or something. If I said yes she would say “I know you have good days and bad days and your health can change so if you are still up for it call me at 10:00 in the morning and let me know what you want to do. Well 10:00 am would come around and I would call her and say I was up for hanging out and she would say “well, I’m actually at my sister in laws now so can we do it another time” another time she would call and tell me if I’m up for it call her around noon and I would call her at 11:30 or so and tell her I’m up for it and she would say “Oh, well I didn't know if you would be up for it or not, I actually took my daughter to the park so we will have to get together another time.” Next time she would call me that morning and tell me she was going to be in my area and asked if I wanted to meet her for lunch. I would agree and she said she was going to take a nap and to call her at noon. I would call and she would say “Oh, well I’m at the mall with another friend, can we meet up another day”

Don't get me wrong, she was like this before I got sick and when we were kids where she would cancel a lot but when I got sick and she was calling me at least once a month to hang out and after two years went by and every single one she canceled out on me to hang out with another friend or go somewhere else and only two of those were because you had a doctor appointment or something and declined on your own there's a problem. I asked why she didn’t seem to want to hang out and she said “What's the point because every time I call you say you're not up for it. When I only said I wasn't up for it twice and she canceled more than 20 times in a row, having no problem telling me she was hanging out with a friend from work or someone else making plans to replace the plans she made with me so this is another struggle I have faced since getting sicker.

The people I used to think were my friends who obviously don't like me because I’m boring and can't go out and party, run around the mall for 8 hours or go to the fair and ride all the rides with them but now can only handle the low key stuff like lunch, going to watch a movie, stay here and play cards, go to one of those paint with a friend things or something low key like that and I know the fact is that they don't like these low key activities and think I’m boring to hang out with but don't want to tell me this and I truly believe they don't want to admit to themselves that they don't like me anymore since I’m now disabled so they try to push the blame on me and throw it into the pile of problems I already have lol so friendships just don't work out well for me either.

Now that we have covered inclusion with family and friends let's talk about the community. I have always said, even before I was disabled that the communities that face the most inequality and discrimination are the communities you never hear about when discrimination and inequality is brought up. The Deaf Community, the Disabled Community, the LGBTQ+ Community, the Rare Disease Community and the Invisible Illness Community are the communities who I believe have the most severe lack of inclusion, face the most discrimination, face the most prejudice, endure the most physical, verbal and emotional abuse and have the fewest rights many take for granted. Black Lives Matter has really made me realize how severe these disparities are. Being in a chair I can’t just go to a small town. If we are going on a trip to Cleveland Clinic or the University of Toledo and we are driving through a small town with a lot of small, mom and pop businesses I can't stop and shop at one of those stores. If I have to go to the bathroom they don't have a wheelchair ramp going into their building so not only can I not go into a single store but I am unwelcomed by the entire city.

With ADA being signed in 1990, 21 years later the Columbus Police Department says and I quote “ADA laws aren't real laws and shouldn't be treated as such. Our own police have left me outside on the second coldest day of the year in January when two cars parked illegally in front of both handicap curb cut ramps going down to a parking lot. Instead of enforcing these laws and punishing those who illegally parked in front of these ramps or taking the time to send an officer out to help get me and my chair off of the curb they told me it was my problem and though every building in the strip mall had closed down that it was my responsibility to sit out in the cold with pure autonomic failure and the inability maintain my body temperature indefinitely until someone came back for their car which resulted in me going into hypothermia.

With BLM coming to the surface the disabled are seen as weak and also are essentially the punishing back for the black community now just because we are seen as weak and easy targets to take their anger out on. I have been through the illegal parking issue time and time again. Another time a black man parked in front of the curb cut. My dad kindly asked him to move his vehicle and he told us we had to wait while he finished his conversation with his friend which took about 20 minutes. We were in a bad area of town and my dad and I were the minority so there wasn't much we could say or do or we would be seen as the ones who were racist. This 20 minutes was one of the scariest times of my life as a woman overheard my dad asking him if he would mind moving his vehicle so I could use the ramp. She came up to me and pointed to my dad who is a senior citizen, asking why he can't lift me up in my chair and off of the curb. This area was old and fan down so the sidewalks had been done multiple times so the curb was quite high. It was about 10 inches up from the parking lot so not a little bump I can just back off of and I was 112 lbs., sitting in a 39 lb. wheelchair with a 17 lb. service dog and I didn't understand what she was talking about because she couldn't possibly mean for him to lift all of that weight himself and put me onto the ground plus the wheels spin and even with the wheels locked the wheels will still move so you need two people to lift a person in a chair without flipping it. Anyhow, kind of confused I said “No, I don't think so”

She then went off yelling about how I'm an overly entitled white bitch who thinks she can get whatever I want handed to me on a golden platter. My family probably owned slaves and how I have a lot of nerve to ask a “N word” to move their car so I can use a ramp that belongs to the community and doesn't have my name on it. How he can park wherever he damn well pleases and white bitches like me need to be shot thanking we can get all our NEEDS met when we don't even know what needs are because they “N words” have had to go without their needs for 400 years now calling me multiple swear words and derogatory terms as well as saying multiple times that I need shot. After about 20 minutes of her in my face screaming at me during Covid and me saying please, I have a compromised immune system or I’m sorry, I just can't get to my car the guy finally said he would move his car for us to leave. It was terrifying but things like this happen all the time.

Another incident happened in Aldi near the beginning of the pandemic. The checkout line was massive and stretched ¾ way down the second isle. And there was one of those electric pallet jack things they use that can't be moved because you need a key to start them on the right side of the isle so no space to get through I just waited at the back of the line until it got past the pallet jack so I could get by which wasn't an issue because the line always moves really fast at Aldi and there were only two people with carts in line behind the pallet jack so I got in line behind the last woman in line and locked my breaks. I put my smaller service dog on my lap because the isle was really crowded and I didn't want her to get stepped on.

Next thing I knew there was a black woman coming around the corner yelling everybody move, get out of my way slamming her cart into the back of my nearly new $7000 wheelchair and $7000 smart drive so hard that she shoved me in my chair, with the wheels locked about two feet forward and my foot plate into the ankles of the woman in front of me and kept pushing her cart yelling at me to move. I was still shocked at what was happening so all I could do was say “I can’t” because of course the line ran beside the pallet jack which couldn't be moved so there was only about 4 inches between the edge of the fork of the pallet jack and everyone's cart. The woman let go of her cart and walked up to the side of my chair, grabbing my right side push rims and tires and yelled “I SAID MOVE!” and pulled up flipping me and my service dog out of my chair and onto the ground with my body hitting the shelf to my left and dragging a ton of baking products off the shelf and on top of us. A bunch of people turned around and gasped when she did this and the woman's teenage daughter embarrassingly yelled “MOM NO!” then ran up around her mom and flipped my chair upright.

I was sitting there on the ground so shocked I still didn't know if I was hurt being someone who is prone to dislocations, traumatic brain injuries and having multiple spinal cord manifestations. The woman's daughter was almost in tears from embarrassment and reached down to grab my arm to try to help get me back into my chair when her mom yelled at her to get over there The girl said “but mom” and she said “get your ass over here now” and turned around her cart to start to go around the next isle. The girl then let go of my arm, her eyes still all watery because she was about to cry, she mouthed to me “I’m sorry” and ran around to the other isle where her mom was. Of course I didn't blame her daughter. She tried to help and I felt bad for her too. She tried and proved she was different from her mom.

After they went down the other isle the woman in front of her and the woman in front of me started helping me. I was checking my service dog Maggie to make sure she wasn't hurt and she seemed fine, just had eyes as big as saucers like she was kind of in shock over the whole thing too. The lady in front of me picked Maggie up off of me and held her in one arm while both picked up all of the cake, brownie, cookie and powdered sugar laying on the floor and all over me and put it on the shelf. She then put Maggie down on the floor for a second while they both helped get me back into my chair and then the one in front of me picked Maggie up again and put her on my lap. The Lady in front of me pulled up her pants leg to look at the back of her ankle where my foot plate slammed into her and she was bleeding. I apologized and she laughed sarcastically and said “It's not your fault, trust me, you are not the one who should be apologizing for this.

The three of us started talking with the one in front of her talking about how disgusting it was that she did that to me when right then the woman who slammed the cart into the back of me came up the front of the isle yelling at everyone near the front of the line to get out of her way. She didn't physically assault any of them like she did me but she was yelling at everyone to get out of her way, shoving her way between carts to try to get things off of the shelf and throwing it into her cart. There were only two employees working that day, one ringing people up and one trying to stock all of the shelves that were being picked through faster than she could stock so I can't blame the employees either because they were grossly understaffed.

I have had so many experiences like this since Black Lives Matter took off, a lab core worker talking bad about me because I showed up without an appointment when their door and website says “Walk ins welcome” and I tried to make an appointment but the captcha was down on their website so I wasn't able to confirm that I wasn’t a robot in order to submit my appointment and purposely showed up at 11:30 am because you could see already claimed appointments and 11:00, 11:30, and 12:00 were all open appointments. To make things better, My doctor had already sent the request and I scanned it into the tablet they had there as well as scanning in pictures of my license and insurance so everything was filled out and all I needed was to pick up two plastic, half gallon jugs for a 24 hour urine test.

She was in the back calling me similar names to what the woman did at the eye center when the guy was illegally parked, bringing up slavery and how my grandparents may have been able to get away with whipping “N words” to get them to do what they wanted but I can’t, how inconsiderate I was for walking in and who did I think I was thinking I can just walk in all unannounced without an appointment. She said “I ought to slap that bitch! Girl, you gonna have to hold me back before I slap that bitch” talking to the other phlebotomist. I could hear everything she was saying after she closed the door and she went on and on, came out and asked for my paperwork so she could put it in the system, ripping it out of my hand, kept going on and on saying nasty things about me then finally came back out and nicely said “Oh, I didn't know you already put all of this in the system for me. So you’re just here to pick up the jug?” I said “Yeah, I've done one of these before so I don't need any instructions or anything, just the jugs. She went back and still talking nasty about me came back a minute later with the jugs and said nicely have a nice day but still her body language wasn't nice and you could tell her friendly voice was sarcastic.

That's when I decided to stick up for myself and stopped her before she closed the door again and said, “Did you know your walls aren’t sound proof? I heard every word you said about me while I was back there and just so you know, I tried to make an appointment before I came here. The captcha is down on your website; you know, the little thing you have to click online to prove you’re not a robot? It wasn't working so I couldn't click it to submit my appointment request but it said online and on your door that walk-ins are welcome. I saw you had empty appointments from 11-12. I didn't know if anyone else would be here since the site was down but that's why I chose to come now because I didn't think you would be busy because of Covid and all but I did try to make an appointment. Her facial dropped.

She then started kissing up to me saying “Oh sweetie, you are totally fine, that's what we're here for, come anytime you need to, she walked over to the double doors and opened the first one saying “Let me get that door for you sweetie.” pointed to the floor and said “Do you see that spot right there with no carpet? There used to be a big lip in the door right here and I personally had it removed just for people like you who are in wheelchairs so your wheels won't get stuck on it. Would you like me to get the other door for you?” I said “No, that's okay, It’s not that heavy, I’ve got it” she then said “No, no, no, I insist. I’ll hold it open for you, I’m here to serve you. She then followed me outside where my dad was parked which was awkward and said “would you like me to help you into your car?”

These are the more major examples but I’ve had more minor interactions too such as trying to buy vinyl for my Cricut maker from a black small business owner to be told “Sorry, I only buy from and sell to black people” I had a dental appointment and Medicare and Medicaid is a death sentence for those with rare diseases with only two dentists that took my insurance within a 30 mile radius. I settled for Refresh Dental in Hebron, Ohio which was quite a drive but none that took my insurance were close so I made an appointment. When I called I asked if they were ADA accessible because I’m a wheelchair user and the receptionist said yes. I then asked about Covid and the precautions they take because I’m immunocompromised. She said they are very careful, told me they wear full PPE, mask, face shield, smocks, they have updated their HVAC system and are really clean. She said none of their staff had contracted Covid so I made an appointment.

When we got there we parked at a building that looked like it was about to fall in. Termites had eaten all the way through the window ledge, and you could see the studs behind it. When I went up to the door I was relieved to see a sign saying to go to the white building behind that one, surrounded by a bunch of orange stickers which looked like condemned stickers. Their driveway was gravel and anyone who is in a chair knows, a gravel driveway isn't easy to roll on at all so though it was cold outside I was getting myself into a sweat going back to the building behind it. The first thing I saw was a staircase with about 9 steps up into the building and I was thinking uh oh. I hope they have another door. I went around the building and found another door and this one had two steps into it. It was a door with a step into it, you walked about 5 steps and stepped up another step into a second door. I called the office and no one answered.

I then called my mom who was in the car by the first building and asked her to come over there. She saw the steps and said “You’ve got to be kidding me” and went into the building to talk to them and then came back out and told me what they said. She asked the receptionist if they had a ramp or another way into the building for people in a wheelchair. The receptionist pointed to the door that my mom just came in and said “That's the door our disabled patients use” My mom told her I’m in a wheelchair and called ahead of time and was told they are ADA accessible and the receptionist said “We are ADA accessible.” My mom followed up saying “Then how can someone in a wheelchair get in here? The receptionist said “Can't she just walk in here?” My mom said “No, she’s paralyzed” The receptionist then said “Well we have other patients in wheelchairs and they just leave their wheelchair outside and walk in here. It's only two steps.” My mom then said “So, we just drove 40 minutes here and you’re not ADA accessible?” The receptionist said “Yes, we are” my mom said “but you don't have a ramp?” She said “When your daughter called she asked if we are ADA accessible. We’re ADA accessible, not wheelchair accessible.” My mom said “First of all wheelchair accessibility is part of being ADA Accessible, you don't have wheelchair access you are not ADA Accessible and second of all, she told you she was a wheelchair user so I don't know what else you could have thought she meant by ADA accessible. The receptionist said she had to go speak to another staff member. She then told my mom to have me go back up to the front building and they would bring supplies from this building and meet me over there to see me.

We went back to the first building and I had been sitting out in the cold all this time. We sat outside the building for 20 minutes waiting for someone to come unlock it. I then called their office and this time someone answered and I said “I’m really sorry for bothering you but will it be a while before anyone gets over here? The reason I’m asking is because I have Autonomic Dysfunction so cant maintain my body heat well and was wondering if it was okay if we go back out and sit in the car until someone is ready for us” She said “stay there, she should be there right now” I said okay and waited, finally about 5 minutes later someone came to the door and opened it. The concrete wheelchair ramp was so old that it had sunk about two inches into the ground so I still had to pop a wheelie and push on my wheels while my mom pushed the back of my chair to get up into the door.

When we got in there it was filthy, every surface was covered in dust, dirt, wood chips and dead bugs. It smelled like the moldy basement of my sisters 1890 house. It was so dirty that I put my service dog in my lab because I didn’t want her to sit on the floor. I could see a trail from my wheels and my mom's footprints in the coat of dirt on the floor. The receptionist brought out paperwork for me to fill out and while I did she and the hygienist were flipping breakers to turn on electricity to one of the rooms and were bringing over a laptop, air purifier and some dental tools. I could see them in the room. The hygienist took a dry paper towel and brushed the dirt off of the chair and edge of the countertop onto the floor, not using any chemicals or even moisture to clean anything. The dirt started floating around in the air which was when they brought in the air purifier to suck some of it up. She sat the dental tools straight onto the counter she had simply brushed the dirt and dead bugs off of. I watched them do all of this while I filled out my paperwork and sat in my chair waiting for my appointment. They eventually called me back, now well over an hour after my appointment time. I gave my service dog to my mom because they had to do x rays and went back.

I got in the dirty chair and the hygienist only had a mask on and nothing else. She wheeled in an old x ray machine that looked like it was jimmy rigged to a sawed off IV pole. She put the bite wings in my mouth and tried to take the image and nothing happened. She yelled at the receptionist to hit another breaker and took the first image of the tooth that was bothering me. She then pulled the bite wings out of my mouth and that's when I noticed that they were reusable bite wings and having a lot of medical knowledge I knew those cannot go into an autoclave and was horrified when I saw that they didn’t have the clear sanitary cover bags on them to prevent the spread of disease but at this point I had already had them in my mouth and the damage was done. Having no clue if I had just essentially French kissed a Covid patient while being immunocompromised myself and having a condition that so far no one with it who has contracted Covid has survived it was too late so I didn't say anything. She put it back in my mouth for another image. Once she was done she grabbed a camera made for taking pictures of the inside of the mouth. It also had no sanitary covering on it and she took pictures of my teeth and said we have to wait for the dentist to come over.

I looked around the room while waiting and it was totally empty except for the chair I was sitting in. There were no pictures on the wall, no curtains, no TV, no pedestal where the little sink you can spit in usually is and where the cleaning tools and suction hook up, no chest of drawers with toothpaste or other supplies. They didn't even have any light in the room, just a light fixture with wires hanging out of it. Just a very thick coat of dirt, dust and dead bugs everywhere and a window letting light in. When I looked at the window I noticed there was light coming in around the window where termites had eaten holes all the way through the wall around the window casing. There were brown streaks running down the wall where water had come in the holes which I was assuming explained the moldy smell because if there was water getting all the way inside through the swiss cheese termite walls then there is probably a ton of water and mold behind the walls. I I continued scanning the room while talking to the hygienist about my dry mouth and she told me she was going to give me some jell to trial for dry mouth. Soon after, the dentist came in and was very cold. He said nothing to me at all but said to the hygienist “Cavity on 15 and 16” and left totally ignoring me when I said hi. The hygienist told me to go to the front where the receptionist was to schedule a filling and a second appointment for a comprehensive dental since they refused to do them the same day or do the imaging of my whole mouth when doing the images of the one tooth.

the receptionist had brought over a laptop of her own and tried to schedule my filling for two days after I got the second Covid vaccine and I told her I didn't think that would work because I would get the vaccine less than 48 hours prior to the appointment and I didn't know if it would make me sick or how long your sick for when you get it but I know my nurse didn't feel well for about a week after hers. The receptionists said “You’ll be fine” and scheduled it anyhow making sure to tell me about their cancellation policy and fine which she should know with the vaccine I wouldn't know how it effected me until the cancellation policy had passed. She then went on to tell me that she cant get it because she has a heart problem. I told her I couldn't either at first either but not because of my heart problems but because I'm a high anaphylaxis risk but my doctor came up with a concoction of meds that we can take starting two days before the vaccine, the day of and three days after that has shown to prevent full blown anaphylactic shock in most of us. She said we would have some kind of allergic reaction and still can go into anaphylactic shock but it will reduce the chances so hopefully the allergic reaction is tolerable and we won't need to go to the hospital. So I went that route and got the vaccine at a place close to the hospital. I then said, It's too bad that more healthy people don't consider people who literally can't get a vaccine or are immunocompromised and won't get the full benefit, or any benefit at all from the vaccine before they refuse to get it. She said Actually, I can get it, I just dont think I should get it. My dad got it and my sister and I tried to tell him not to get it but he didn't listen to us and got it anyway but I guess when you're old or sick like you guys are and are going to die sooner than later anyhow you don't really have much to lose.”

I felt like she was throwing me in the grave. She then said “you know that they chop up aborted babies and put them into the vaccine right? I said “Nahh.. that's just a rumor that went viral on Facebook that was originally created by some college freshmen. There's no fetal tissue at all in the vaccine. Where the fetal tissue comes from was in the 70s and 80s two women voluntarily donated their aborted fetuses to science. No other fetuses have been used since then because they have replicated the cells over and over again. Think of cloning. They do this so they won’t need any more fetal cells. The replicated cells aren't used in the vaccine, they are used in the early states of testing potential vaccines before they even start conducting studies on animals and after the hypothesizing stage to see how human and living cells respond to benign injected with the possible vaccine to ensure it doesn't harm the cells and does what its supposed to, which not only saves money because the cells can be replicated over and over again but it also helps save animals because its a way to test the vaccine before moving on to testing on them. Of course a lot more can be found on living animals than just in cells so things can still go wrong in the animal phases but there is no aborted fetus at all in the vaccine, it's simply used as a cell to test the vaccine on.” She said Well I’m a nurse too, not just a receptionist so I would know.

I then thought this would be the perfect opportunity to change the subject and said “Oh, really, I am too. I graduated from Columbus State, where did you go to school?” She changed the subject back saying, I know a lot of nurses and none of them have gotten the vaccine. Only a few people here have gotten vaccinated and this place has been riddled with Covid. Almost all of the ladies have had it at least once and they all are okay now. How many people do you know who have gotten vaccinated? I said “When I called to make this appointment I asked about Covid because of being immunocompromised and the person I spoke to told me no one had gotten it. Why would they lie to me? She said “I don't know who you spoke with but that's not true. This place has been riddled with it” At this point I was letting what she said simmer a bit and sink in, honestly not happy at all that they had lied to me more than once at this point and about very important issues.

She then went back asking me how many nurses I knew who had gotten vaccinated. I said all of them and not even just people I graduated with my home health infusion nurse got hers but she ended up getting Covid too. Idk if you saw on the news about the senior husband and wife that got Covid and the nurse arranged for them to be put in a room together and they died within minutes of each other? Well the nurse who set that up, her name is Mariah and I went to high school with her. Just a fun fact I guess.” She said “Well did she get vaccinated? I said “yeah and right then the hygienist came back with the dry mouth gel so I cut the conversation off and said I needed to go because my mom was out in the car. I couldn’t believe they had a halfway decent office for their able bodied patient but put their patients in chairs into a filthy, condemned building that is moldy and about to fall in from termite damage. If that's not discrimination, I don't know what is. and to top things off, I put the dry mouth jell into my mouth and it tasted awful. I looked at the expiration date and they had just given me and it had expired over a year prior. I saw another dentist and also found out that I never had a cavity at all and my wisdom tooth was coming in.

I do not feel included when it comes to my extended family, friends, community or country. Most things labeled handicap accessible aren't including the Franklin County Social Security Office which slaps a handicap sign on their bathroom stall which the door is so narrow that my tiny wheelchair for my 112 lb. self rubbed the edges of the door trying to get into it, not meeting the 32” door clearance standards listed in the ADA laws nor did it meet the minimum 5’x5’ size limit in order to be ADA accessible so most people in chairs cant use it at all and even those with tiny wheelchairs like mine cannot get their char in far enough to close the door so are forced to use the bathroom with the door open, on their period while people walk past and see everything. It’s disgusting that we live in a society where people in wheelchairs, even if they can hold their bladders are forced to wear adult diapers or map out every public facility, only going to ones they know are accessible enough because here in the US we are so welcomed and marginalized that we don't even have access to about half of the businesses in the US let alone a bathroom that everyone else in the world who is not a wheelchair user takes for granted and when we are lucky enough to find a palace that has a toilet we can use, it's always the filthiest ones, the ones that able bodied people use as their private pooping palace believing that just because it’s two or three feet wider that extra three feet will make their fart inaudible.

This is a country where an able bodied person can buy a new car for $16,000 and a used one for sometimes less than 2 grand but if you’re disabled your new accessible vehicle costs around $75,000, a used… well many states you can’t insure a van that is more than 5 years old and cannot convert one more than 4 years old and it has to be less than $50,000 miles and fit a bunch of other criteria so used isn't much less. We live in a country where you are not allowed to pay an able bodied worker less than minimum wage yet SSDI comes out to $2.60 less than minimum wage and employers are allowed to pay disabled workers less than minimum wage. We live in a country where ADA laws were passed but police officers don't have to enforce any of these laws. Here in the US they have schools for girls only, boys only, black only, deaf and blind but no special schools for children with physical or developmental disabilities, just life skills training for adults so education is still not equal. A country where if the Black or Asian Americans are brutalized by the police or community members and it is broadcasted on the news even though more than 70 percent of police brutalities in fact occur to those who have physical, psychological or developmental disabilities but this is never mentioned even if the person fits into two minority groups.

This is a country where if you have a service animal that you rely on you still don’t have the freedom of religion because a church can legally turn away a service animal. A country where if you are a drug addict you can get 50 mg of low dose naltrexone free and go to suboxone clinics free of charge but if you are a chronic pain patient you have to pay over 300 for 2 mg of naltrexone to control your pain and stay off of opioids which are oftentimes the only things covered on Medicare but also the same medications being cracked down on not by people who need them for chronic pain but by addicts in turn putting limits on opioids so drug addicts can live and chronic pain patients who are in so much pain they have seizures and go into organ failure to live in agony and possibly even eventually die weather it be suicide because they cant stand the pain or from organ failure that results from the pain.

A country where doctors are taught “if you hear hoof prints on the ground think horses not zebras'' meaning when a patient presents with a symptom consider common conditions that can be associated with these symptoms not rare diseases allowing doctors to abuse and neglect patients and slap psychological diagnoses on them so they don't have to jump into the rare disease realm of medicine or even learn about it in school. This results in more than 250,000 deaths each year from medical neglect alone and that's not even the people like my mom who wake up on life support to find out days of their lives have passed and they are now living with permanent disability. A country where there are still states like ohio where you cannot sue for medical abuse and neglect unless someone died or comes out essentially a vegetable and if this results in disability where you are in a wheelchair or have limited cognitive impairment but can still speak and think to some degree, yet still resulting in permanent disability, it's just too bad, so sad for you because sure you went in for a simple gallbladder removal and came out needing the blood in your body replaced 4 times, going into exploratory surgery with a 5 percent chance of survival, split from your breast to your pelvic bone to have all of your organs removed, your liver repaired which fell apart multiple times in the process of trying to sew back together your liver the other doctor cut open and tried to hide for 9 hours while you bleed to death, sure you came out on life support after being deemed legally dead multiple times and had four brain aneurysms because of this trauma, which resulted in cognitive impairment, missed months of work only to get laid off, now deal with chronic pain, fatigue and weakness for the rest of your life and will never be able function like you once did ever again but you didn't die and you're not cognitively impaired enough so that's on you, the doctor on the other hand can keep operating on people as if nothing ever happened.

America is where people on Welfare, who are poor and in many cases don't want to work, make more money and get more financial benefits than someone on SSDI who is disabled and literally can't work. A country where people on Medicaid who are poor get better healthcare than the sick and elderly on Medicaid and if you qualify for both Medicare and Medicaid you might as well forget it because your insurance isn't much better than having no insurance at all regardless as to what special programs you fit into, where the Medicare formulary trumps the Medicaid formulary and if Medicaid for the poor covers a service but Medicare doesn’t, what Medicare says, goes and you simply don't get coverage for your needs. A country where a president cuts funding to the Orphan Drug Tax Credit, oftentimes the only funding that most rare diseases have to study possible treatments for these diseases while cutting taxes multi billion dollar industries have to pay in taxes such as his hotels and golf courses and every time they send out a relief check during Covid they make up for it by cutting funding to either schools or Medicare, particularly Medicare recipients with rare diseases, removing them from the formulary and allowing them to die to pay for these checks, hitting those with rare diseases because they are just that rare, meaning less people to complain so it's less likely there will be large riots for these people. This essentially reversed the act put in place ensuring those with preexisting conditions can get insurance leaving us so underinsured that many will likely die because they cannot get their medical care covered and can't afford it.

A place where those with disabilities are still not accepted, ADA is not yet being utilized in many areas or even seen as real or legitimate leaving us to be isolated from all aspects of our lives. We have very few rights, access, equality or inclusion more than 20 years after the signing of ADA into law. This leaves a lot of people like me to live lonely lives where we have no chance to succeed or in some cases such as those issues related to Medicare, not even a chance to live. By law an insurance company cannot deny you insurance based on pre-existing conditions however they can deny you coverage of the vital care you need once issuing you a card leaving insurance virtually useless with many rare diseases making survival of the fittest a terrifying reality. Welcome to America. The home of land of the free and home of the brave.

#MyEDSChallenge #MyHSDChallenge

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