#The exposure therapy was absolutely brutal but she got there

[chronal-anomaly]

💔: What’s something they can’t look at or think about for too long without getting emotional?

Tumblr ate my memes || Not accepting

This one is easy - flying, and anything to do with it. Planes, helicopters, even walking by the hangers are difficult to her. Anything that reminded of her flying, including old uniforms and the special winged pins she's earned over the years, are all ignored because they will make her emotional. Sometimes, looking up into the very sky will produce that pit in her stomach, the churning dread and the bile of a woman that, in a way, lost everything again, and again.

It does improve over the years. When she's initially free of the isolation chamber, it's impossible to look at anything to do with life beforehand. Pictures, uniforms, posters, and pretty much everything around her small Overwatch room was shoved unceremoniously - and sometimes violently - into a trunk kept bundled in a dark corner of her closet. Gradually, things began to come out - an old wool blanket given to her by a friend at the flight academy as winter crept in, her half of her Overwatch wings that she keeps on her now as a lucky charm, pictures of friends and family. Gradually, it was pulled out, dusted off and set up in her room, making it feel like home again.

A similar progression occurred with the act of flying itself. At first, even the thought was laden with flashbacks and panic attacks, brought on by even the sight of aviation. Planes overhead made her heart race and sweat break out on her brow. But Lena was determined to get better; it was some of the few therapists she actually saw, the exposure therapists that would push her, everyday, closer and closer to the success she craved. Of course, there were positives and negatives, days ended in disaster and thrilling successes - "I sat in the simulator chair today; and managed to turn it on!"

It was her life, her peace, her stability, for a long time. And it was torn from her so violently, a piece of her very soul shredded from itself and pulled into the ether. All in the pursuit of time travel, of science, of the constant search for something beyond the feeble understanding of the cosmos.

[ramblinganthropologist]

MER Week 6 - Pets

Summary: Saren is the cutest little hamster in the world if you ask his owner. However, he is also territorial as fuck and he WILL bite. Grunt’s about to learn that one the hard way. Rule for the wise kid: don’t stick your finger in a hamster’s face.

---

“Shepard.”

“Grunt… hello there.”

Ok… he’d bite. Who brought Grunt up?

Honestly, Alistair was more than a little confused right then. He had expected once they got back to the shuttle that he and the young krogan wouldn’t see much of each other. After all, he was pretty sure he bored Grunt – except for that first time with the gun. Yet there he was, standing in the entrance to his quarters, looking rather uncomfortable.

Was he being punked?

“Still in the elevator, Grunt.”

Bo’s voice called from over his shoulder. Much like a good son would, he shuffled to the side to allow her entrance. Even as large as she was, she was a little on the small side compared to the krogan. That didn’t matter of course – she was well versed in taking them down. It was why she had gone 25-0 in the ring back on Omega.

Well, at least that answered who let him up. Still didn’t answer anything else, mind you. Alistair was left watching as Bo sidled past her son and entered into his quarters. Luckily for him, his sister was direct: whatever was on her mind, he’d hear about it soon enough.

She looked around the room for a second. “Surprised Mandibles isn’t up here. Aren’t you two planning to- “

“He had calibrations to run.” Alistair’s cheeks flushed as he rushed to cut her off. Grunt snickered behind her – asshole. “Anyway, what’s brought you two up here? Everything alright after Tuchanka?”

Nothing like a krogan puberty ritual to get the blood pumping after all. Alistair was going to be having nightmares about that thresher maw for weeks, and that was if he was lucky. On the bright side, he was pretty sure it counted as exposure therapy. That was fine by him; he hadn’t done his therapy homework yet and with his workload he doubted it would happen at all. His therapist was understanding, but she was also a stickler. At least he had something to turn in the next time he saw her.

Much to his surprise, Grunt looked uncomfortable. He shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting around. Dare he say it, but to him he almost looked embarrassed. Apparently, krogan could do that as well as anyone else.

“I could have just looked on the extranet, Shepard…”

Bo shook her head, clearly amused by this. “What’s better than a real-world example? You asked about him anyway.”

She turned back to Alistair. “Grunt wanted to meet Saren after hearing you talk so much about him. Is the little guy awake or do we have to come back later?”

…

“You want to meet Saren?”

His gaze slid from the embarrassed krogan teenager to the wall on the far left. Even before he looked, Alistair had known. He knew the sound of bedding shifting anywhere, practically heard it in his sleep. That alone made him get up and take the trip to what at one time had been an aquarium.

Good thing for him he hated fish – it was perfect to make a hamster enclosure out of.

The theme that month was jungle. Among the scattered green bedding and wood chews, he found a little ball of white sitting next to his food dish, digging through the contents. At the sound of his footsteps, two red eyes focused straight on him, and some food went right into well-adapted cheek pouches.

Saren was a practical hamster like that.

“Hey, little guy.” Alistair smiled as he opened the enclosure and put his hands flat. A few moments later, the hamster was climbing up to rest between his palms, just like they had trained to do. Then he was out, held close as the Spectre returned to his desk. “Someone wants to meet you if that’s ok.”

Saren of course didn’t answer – much as breeding had improved, sentience wasn’t on the list of traits – but his eyes were bright and he seemed calm enough as he sat there, chewing at a seed from his pouch. These were good hamster introduction traits, especially considering who the interested party was.

Grunt didn’t look too impressed though. He gave the hamster a rather blunt look, then glanced over at Bo. When he didn’t get the reaction, he might have been hoping for, it went from pink to red Shepard.

Talk about being in the hot seat.

“Is it supposed to be so small?”

Alistair chuckled as he stroked Saren’s tiny head with his thumb. “Well, the European wild varieties back on earth are much bigger, but they max out at about a foot long. Saren’s a Syrian male, so he’s a fairly decent size all things considered.”

Grunt probably didn’t care about most of that – it wasn’t exactly new. However, his eyes never left the hamster. Saren either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care; he was too busy on chewing away at his seed to pay attention to the krogan. It was a feeling Alistair knew well.

He loved the little guy, but sometimes he ran hot and cold with affection.

“If you want to see him up close, come over slowly. Hamsters are prey animals, so he’s easily spooked.”

Much to his surprise, Grunt listened. He approached the desk slowly, eyes never leaving the small ball of fur in his commanding officer’s hands. He was interested, even if he wasn’t showing it on his face. No surprises there – kids loved hamsters, didn’t matter the species or the fact they were born fully grown and ready to kill. They just did.

“Why did you name it Saren?”

Now Alistair was chuckling again as he watched the hamster continue to chew. “You’re going to have to ask Bo about that, she’s the one who got him for me.”

Bo’s answer came quickly as she observed the introduction. “They said he was a biter and ate a cage mate. Made me think of the real Saren.”

Well, made sense he supposed…

“They eat each other?” Grunt’s tone was definitely more interested with that. Now they were getting somewhere. “That means they fight.”

Alistair nodded as he made sure Saren stayed in his hands. “Yep. They’re fiercely territorial. It’s why you have to house them separately. Hamsters kept together can fight, sometimes to the death even. This little guy had some healed scars when I got him, so he’s been through it. I guess Omega and the Citadel gift shop share husbandry tendencies…”

His voice trailed off. Grunt hadn’t taken his eyes off Saren the entire time he had been talking. There was curiosity there and a raw interest. That made the Spectre smile as he slowly brought his hands within range, eyeing his hamster’s body language the entire time.

“You can say hello if you want, he’s pretty calm right now.”

To his credit, the krogan didn’t retreat. However, there was some definite anxiety there. He briefly glanced back at Bo, and then he returned to keeping his eyes on Saren. Finally, he managed a brief nod and came a little closer.

“Do I just stick my hand out?” A finger got a little too close to Saren. Before Alistair could warn him, the hamster eyed it and did what he always did when someone got into his space without proper caused. Tiny teeth were soon chomped down hard in the classic signs of hamster bite.

It probably wouldn’t hurt a krogan, mind you. They were tough.

“Grunt, don’t pull your hand away. He’ll go with you and he’ll fall.”

The krogan shot Saren a dirty look as he watched the hamster bite down. “That does nothing to me, rodent.”

Saren, naturally, didn’t care. Alistair’s hands were part of his territory. More importantly, Grunt was big and round. Honestly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the hamster thought he was an overgrown member of his species. Add a little fur, and he could honestly see it. He’d never say that of course – Wrex would hate it.

“He’s just defending what’s his. All he has is his teeth.” Alistair kept his voice level as he gently rubbed the hamster’s head with his thumb. “Come on, buddy, he’s not going to hurt you. You can let go now.”

After a few more moments, Saren let go. He went back to his abandoned seed, but his eyes never left the krogan. Grunt was in a similar mood, eyeing up the hamster with a rather brutal gaze. At least he had the good sense to take his hand back, the offended digit tucked away.

Bo’s voice carried over the chaos. “So… what did you learn, Grunt?”

“Don’t stick my finger in an animal’s face…”

There was a definite sulk to his tone. It was strangely cute, in a weird sort of way. Meanwhile, Alistair was just glad he hadn’t pulled back. Saren may have trusted him, but he would’ve gone for a ride. Then he would’ve had to eject Grunt out the airlock if anything happened.

Was he biased towards his hamster? Absolutely.

“It’s his way of making sure his space is safe. I used to get bit a lot when we were establishing ground rules.” He stood, crossing the room to return Saren to his enclosure in case he was overwhelmed. Much to his surprise, Saren didn’t burrow under the substrate as he often did to hide his food. Instead, he stayed on top, eyeing Grunt. “Huh… how about that.”

Grunt gave Saren the exact same look. “Your hamster’s hungry for battle.”

In another surprise, the krogan smirked. “Shepard was right, Saren is appropriate for a warship.”

Well… there was a stamp of approval he hadn’t seen coming. Maybe pigs would start flying…

Alistair at least managed a nod. “He’s territorial, it’s part of the breed.”

“Don’t sell the little guy short, he took a krogan on full force.” Bo was definitely amused as she surveyed Grunt’s finger. There was a definite scuff there – Saren had left his mark. “Damn, little guy bit down hard. The hell are you feeding him, concrete?”

Oh… just lab block, some seeds, extra protein if the mix didn’t come up right…

“He’s got a nasty bite; I’ll give him that.” And he was also done with the room – Saren was soon digging back under the substrate. “He’ll be out for a while; he has food to hide and some sleep to catch up on.”

His gaze found Grunt soon after. “Well, I hope he lived up to your expectations. If you want to come visit again, just let me know.”

“As long as you don’t try to convert him to the gospel of hamster.”

He made no promises there. Anyone who could be swayed, he would sway. That’s what it meant to have a hamster as cute as Saren.

Still, at least Grunt didn’t seem too upset about the bite as he nodded. Maybe it had taught him not to fuck with small animals -a win in his book. At any rate, it felt as though things were ending.

“I might.” And then he was heading to the door. Soon he was gone, leaving Bo and Alistair alone. As soon as he was out of hearing range, the larger of the two Shepards slumped down on his cough, doing her best not to laugh.

She did alright, but he failed miserably.

“God, that was fucking adorable.” Alistair wiped a tear from his eye as he chuckled. “I mean, apart from when I thought Grunt was going to toss my hamster.”

Bo nodded, snickering a little. “Yeah, he’s been wanting to come up for a while but he couldn’t figure out how to ask you. I agreed to be a buffer after it took him a half hour to spit it out. You might have just converted him to the dark side.”

Apparently, he was a sith now. Just because his face glowed red…

But still. Alistair nodded as he glanced back at the enclosure. He could see Saren’s tail from a gap in the bedding – he was pressed against the glass, no doubt making himself comfortable for a long nap. He’d had a long day after all – he’d just taken on a krogan.

“I think if he’s a little slower next time, they’ll get along just fine. Maybe I’ll give him a couple seeds to try.”

Baby steps, after all. Rome wasn’t built in a day and becoming friends with a hamster was just as detailed and complex. If Grunt put the effort in, he could see them getting along great. Hell, he might even get a new Saren sitter out of it.

He needed one of those. His normal ones went on missions went with him half the time.

“Thanks for letting him try. I knew Saren would be tough enough to handle him, little dude’s from Omega after all.”

Terminus system, born and bred – it was in his DNA. He’d never be as sweet as some hamsters, but that was part of his charm. It made their moments together even more special in his mind, honestly. He’d managed to get an Omega resident to let him pet him – that was a win in his book.

“Just let me know the next time he wants to come up.” Alistair returned to his desk – he still had work to do. “Now, unless you want to work on these reports…”

And just like that, he was alone as Bo beat a quick retreat out the door. He shook his head, chuckling once more as he went back to his reports. Still, he kept an eye on the glass enclosure across from him. Somewhere inside, the toughest hamster Omega ever bred was enjoying his rest. Maybe he was dreaming of fighting krogan, who knew?

One thing was for sure – they had definitely started on Grunt’s conversion to the dark side. Excellent. He had wanted an apprentice one day.

[wallwriterstuff]

It’s A Chore || Whole Guard ||

Summary: I have spent a weekend cleaning my parent’s house top to bottom and am now sick of chores, so it got me thinking about which chores the guard dislike the most! 

Warnings: Felix’s one is perhaps a little dark with mild descriptions of death. 

Alec

Alec is no stranger to hard work (he grew up in a time when he was expected to take on a fair bit of menial work from a young age just to keep his family fed) but that doesn’t mean he enjoys any of it. Alec isn’t one to use his fireplace for obvious reasons, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the guard don’t. Both he and Jane had argued that collecting firewood is something they should be exempt from but Aro’s yet to be persuaded by any of Alec’s arguments, his main one being that vampires don’t get cold so lighting a fire is both an unnecessary luxury and a safety hazard that every guard should be independently responsible for. Aro sees it as a sort of exposure therapy. Alec sees it as his own personal form of torture.

They live slap bang in the city centre, so they have to traipse just beyond city limits to gather the wood they need. Most people class it as a day off and a chance to fool around with the group that gets sent out every few weeks to collect enough to keep up stock levels for their floor, but Alec absolutely detests every moment. He can still remember collecting firewood near the village he grew up in and though it’s far easier now with his strength, he can recall exactly how bad swinging that axe made his shoulders and back ache. He can also recall the catcalls from the other village boys tormenting him about letting his devil sister freeze. It’s just not an activity he enjoys, so his solution was very simple.

Employ a human to do it.

Alec’s aversion to collecting firewood has kept one otherwise poor family on his payroll for centuries, and they deliver right to his door for a little extra tip he is always glad to give them. There are rumours amongst the family of course that their employer hasn’t aged a day since great-great-great-great Grandpa was employed by him but so long as Alec keeps paying them to chop the trees when it’s his turn, none of them ever bring it up.

Demetri:

This man has a love hate relationship with chores. He knows poverty, the stink of it clinging to your clothes, the dirt crusting under your nails and coating everything you own simply because your so busy working to live you don’t have time to clean. For that reason, he’s quite happy to do the chores required to keep his room clean and is one of those people who calls out others who aren’t doing their bit to keep the common areas of the castle clean to – he was the one who made the cleaning rota and every lower guard member that has ever complained about it very quickly shuts up when they realise he created and enforces it religiously.

On the flip side, ever since Amun created him he has been pulled out of squalor and living in the lap of luxury. He’s spent a millennium in the finest clothes, his food hand-picked and delivered to him, his quarters giving him more space than he was ever accustomed to before. So why should he do chores? He refuses to live in his own mess, so on one hand he’s happy to do his chores but on the flip side surely they can just pay someone else to do them? He has much more important things to do. While you can catch him dusting, polishing, changing bed sheets etc, one thing he absolutely cannot do is sew.

Now he has plenty of money, wealth is easy to accrue as a vampire, and he’s used it plenty to buy what he deems fashionable, but if there’s one human habit he hasn’t been able to shift in all the years he’s lived it’s the reuse and recycle policy. Why should he buy new clothes when he can reuse old ones? That requires a bit of skill in sewing, and unfortunately Demetri has very little. Consequently, he pays to have clothes repaired…and for sewing lessons. He’s just successfully darned his first pair of socks all by himself and is unjustifiably smug about it, but for everything else he pays a professional – no sense in wasting that ostentatious shirt he bought in the 60’s when it could come back into fashion at ANY moment.

Felix:

Felix is generally very happy with his place on the guard, but there’s one thing that really bugs him sometimes, and that’s the one particular chore he gets called on for a lot. There’s a lot of tourists that come through the castle on a fortnightly basis, and since they don’t leave…how do you get rid of them? With a contingent of lower guard under his command, it’s left for Felix to dispose of the bodies more often than not. The higher-ranking guard members do take turns to chip in and help with the clean-up, but more than one person has started to realise that more often than not Felix is the one left to the task.

He has a bulky frame and he’s exponentially strong, so he can shift a fair amount of bodies in record time once clean up begins. He strips the bodies of valuables, as the last of the blood drips down the drain, and once they’re ready for moving, he can take several at once down to the ovens near the dungeons and start cremating them. He’s good at his job, but he doesn’t like doing it. Burning flesh smells bad and if he’s brutally honest, he doesn’t want to end up looking twice at the people he’s fed from. It’s very obvious they all died in pain and more often than not their faces aren’t peaceful, mouths frozen open mid-scream and glassy eyes staring back at him till he closes them.

He’s made noise once or twice about being put on clean up duty less, but sadly he’s made himself invaluable at this task. He only does it so efficiently because he can’t wait to get the morbid task over with.

Jane:

Jane is…not spoiled per say, but she tends to get what she wants a lot. Her role as a woman in her human life was entirely domestic. She was meant to be a dainty little housewife so it’s really not a big deal for her to do the chores necessary to keep her room clean. There’s something oddly comforting actually, about cleaning her room. It’s one of the few things that makes her feel normal actually and she quite relishes the chance to drop the scary guard act. Hell, sometimes a quiet evening polishing her coin collection (whichever case happens to be on display gets polished once a week like clockwork) actually makes her smile.

What Jane appreciates less is having to clean the common areas. Demetri’s rota is the bane of her existence and she has tried multiple times to sabotage it but Demetri always has spare copies, and no amount of torture so far has gotten him to give up the location of these copies for her to destroy them. As far as Jane is concerned, she is responsible for her mess and her mess alone. Why should she clean up after anyone else? Nobody in the guard regardless of rank is younger than a few decades at best so they are all grown up enough to know to clean up after themselves, especially when they indulge in the secretary without permission and left a horrific blood stain she had to use three different types of Zoflora on to get rid of the smell.

[casualcatte]

[RP Journal] January 8th, 2021

Another wonderful evening at the Night Raid Bounty Call, spent awash in friends both familiar and new.  It was another busy night, so I didn’t linger in the lobby to pester Nan’to and E’nijah, though I did pause long enough to tease Sakura Sato and Tetsuro Wulf.  As it so happens, they rented the Water Garden during the Rest’s last public tavern night and we were paid far in excess of what was necessary. I found out why!  

The little nook-bed had been absolutely destroyed.  I don’t know /what/ those two had gotten up to to cause that kind of damage, but I made it a point to tease them about bringing bears into the Rest without telling me. I’m not sure what made those claw marks, but it was certainly something. Tetsuro got all flustered before Sakura politely demurred and dragged him off down into the Night Raid’s lounge.  Ah… it was almost too easy with those two!

Downstairs, I got my usuals and settled in for a night of snacks and drinking on my own, but lo and behold I was joined by one Moretsu Saito, a samurai of Doma. It was his first time at the Bounty Call and he felt that he should meet some people. Well, meet some people he did!  He told me of the bounty that he took, a yokai called the Chimi Beast, and was looking for other hunters to partner with.  I volunteered my healing services and recommended some of the hunters I’d worked with at the Bounty Call, namely Loksia Grimheart, and several of the aforementioned Night Raiders.  I also recommended he talk to Tetsuro himself for information on yokai and how to deal with them.

As it turns out, Moretsu himself was a yokai-hunter so he knew already many of the things I had to suggest, like getting his weapons blessed. Still, toward the end of the night he spoke to Tetsuro and even invited him on the hunt.  So, now I’ll be going hunting with Tetsuro, the newcomer, Loksia, and a couple of Moretsu’s friends, I think.  I have never gone on a hunt with Tetsuro and I haven’t had the chance to work with Loksia in a long time, though I know she’s more than capable.  She’s a Queen of the Ring and Grindstone Champion, after all.  It should be an interesting time.

Somewhere in the middle of that, we discussed going to the Lunar Beach Party tomorrow.  I certainly plan on attending. It’s been a long while since I’ve been to the beach, despite living not far from it at the Stars’ Rest.  So I plan to put on my favorite bikini and put in an appearance!  It’s a sad thing that Edgard will probably be busy, otherwise he’d thoroughly enjoy an opportunity to ogle me in a bikini.  Although, really, all he has to do is ask if he really wants to -- but I suppose he wouldn’t be able to do it in front of dozens of people and make a spectacle out of it, which totally ruins it for him.  Idiot.

After I left the Bounty Call, though, Edgard Beaumont and I left for Coerthas to deal with the bounty he’d taken.  He’d finally tracked the Ishgardian Poachers to their hunting grounds -- I’m really so very proud that his tracking skills have come so far -- and was ready to engage them head-on.  So that’s what we did. What we weren’t expecting is for them to have a dragon cornered when we did so.

The dragon lashed out at its attackers, burning them, and sending a few of them screaming. When Edgard dropped me off, I opened up with a spell that dropped a veritable star in their midst in the hopes of blinding them as Edgard attacked. It was effective and Edgard’s first assault was successful, but that’s really where it ended.  Edgard froze mid-battle.  I’ve never seen that happen to him in all the hunts we’ve been on and we’ve hunted some terrifying things in our time, he’s never once hesitated.  When he started moving again, he was ruthless, reckless, brutal -- it was an Edgard I’ve never before seen and, if I’m absolutely truthful with myself, I never want to see again.  I didn’t have time to deal with it just then, though, there were poachers to finish.

As we cleaned up the remaining poachers, Edgard froze again as the dragon unleashed a gusset of flame setting another of the poachers on fire. I started to go to him then, haphazardly tossing spells at the last poacher left standing, but I was careless.  The man was still alive when I turned and he threw a spear at my unprotected back.  I was saved, not by myself, not by Edgard -- but by the dragon who shielded me from the attack with his own body, then tail-swiped the poacher into the cliffside where the wicked man finally died.

The dragon eventually introduced himself as Verdandir and he seemed as surprised at us saving him as we were surprised by him saving us -- or, well, me.  In repayment, I made it a point to heal him from the bolt he’d taken from one of the dragon-killers the poachers had been using.  Edgard pulled it out and kept Verdandir talking while I used my magic to heal the wound.  I don’t know what it is about healing something that massive, but it took a lot out of me. By the time I was done, I felt so exhausted.  We exchanged a few more pleasantries with the dragon before it flew off for home.

Edgard picked me up in his arms and leapt with me to our cabin in Tailfeather.  It was there that I insisted he talk to me about what was going on with him, even as he fussed over me, ensured I was fed and had tea to keep up my energy, and was just -- very typically my Ardi-love.  Once he was settled, we talked for quite a while about his trauma concerning Valentina and dragons, how he’d truly become a dragoon, and how it had affected him.

I offered an idea I’d picked up in Tailfeather when a hunter had developed a fear of chocobo.  They’d called it “exposure therapy” and I thought that, perhaps, we might do the same with Edgard and dragons -- provided Verdandir was willing to help. The only problem was that it was the smell of burning flesh that had bothered Edgard the most.  There was no way we were going to find volunteers to help with that.  Or… were we?  Not volunteers, per say, but there were a number of bounties at the Call that were for people.  More often than not, the turn in was /not/ body parts, but particular items that they carry.  It would be an ideal way to dispose of the bodies /and/ condition Edgard so that he wouldn’t freeze up anymore.

Edgard, bless his heart… He seemed appalled by the idea, even nervous about it.  He’s a good soul that should have qualms about burning bodies for experimentation.  Why don’t I have any qualms?  Because it’s something that has the potential to help Edgard get through this.  And I would fight the very Darkness itself if it means that my beloved can once more walk in the Light.

[femmesfollesnebraska]

Artist feature: Helena Baka

Artist Helena Baka shares with LFF about her inspiration as an artist through trauma, experiences, identity, femininity and more. All images and text (c) Helena Baka, helenabaka.com.

Where are you from and how did you get into art?

I’m from Elmwood Park, Illinois, but I’m currently living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Both of my parents were born and raised in Albania and immigrated from there before I was born, a few years after the collapse of communism. I’ve loved art since I was a child – I used to draw princesses, my favorite television show characters, Sanrio characters, and self-portraits. This was probably because both of my parents were artists - my father is a painter, and my mom used to make little angel Christmas ornaments and draw mermaids for my sister and me (although she stopped doing that very early on once she became a paralegal). All my life I had been surrounded by my dad’s oil painting landscapes of Albania hanging on the walls of our home, so I think I wanted to be just as good as him.

It’s been hard to be upfront about this, but my mom committed suicide when I was only 16 years old, and that was really the beginning of my painting practice because I started to draw inspiration from my traumas, dreams and experiences after that. Now, my work is motivated by my cultural identity and the distance I’ve experienced with my Albanian culture while growing up American. Lots of my current work shines on aspects of my identity, both relating to culture and femininity. I also have been exploring the relationship between sculpture and painting in my work because I’m fascinated with how bending the rules of traditional sculpture and/or painting can possibly make either of those fall into either category.

I have a few impetuses for creating; much of it derives from the need to tell my story, to use my practice as a form of therapy, to take risks and experiment with both familiar and unfamiliar mediums, and to educate my audience on whatever topic evokes strong emotions from me.

Tell me about your most recent exhibit.

4th Midwest Open at Woman Made Gallery in Chicago is the upcoming show I’m featured in, and I’m really excited for it because it’s going to be filled with so many different types of work featuring many artists of diverse backgrounds. It’s a chance to showcase the voices of women and nonbinary people in a space that is not male-dominated, which I think is so important because spaces like these are rare to find in the art world.

I hope when people see my work, it can spark some curiosity and self-education of what and where Albania is, and that it’s not just some impoverished Eastern European country that never made it into the footnotes of western history textbooks. My work touches on themes of loss, displacement, and frustration with one’s identity, as well as learning to accept and embrace who you are; that it’s okay not to fit into the mold of who or what you’re “supposed” to be. So, I hope at the end of the day, anyone who views my work can see a little bit of themselves in it, too. Most importantly, I want to be the Albanian woman artist role model that I never got to see growing up.

Does collaboration play a role in your work?

Although I have always worked independently in the studio, I’ve found collaboration beneficial to my practice through exposure of others’ ideas and methods of production. Being in my last year of art school toward my BFA, I have grown used to surrounding myself in an environment of plenty of working artists, and that alone inspires me to create, too. I think the act of critiques and even showing in-progress work has been a collaboration between me and whoever is critiquing my work, because most of the time I’ll come out of it with fresh ideas handed to me by another person. It works the same way vice-versa.

I once had my first ceramic sculpture fall apart in the kiln, and through a collaborative effort of mending it with my friend who was very familiar with working with plaster, my sculpture was repaired and I gained new insight toward this specific material and potential future uses in my practice. My work could never have progressed the way it has without the exposure of different ideas, methods and materials that other artists use.

What do you think about making work right now with the current political climate?

The political climate we’re living in right now has brought on so much outstanding work that has been made by BIPOC creators. Through the darkness of the pandemic, a corrupt, unfitting president in office, systemic racism, police brutality, and all of the tragic deaths we’ve experienced in 2020 from these events, one of the few instances of light the world gained out of these tragedies was the art made by black folx and BIPOC. From music to writing to visual art, BIPOC’s voices have been uplifted and encouraged on every accessible platform, and I continue to see more and more spaces made exclusively for these communities in the art world. Art really makes a difference in impacting our ways of thinking and beliefs, and I believe that if we continue to make BIPOC creators and voices a priority after Black Lives Matter is no longer a trending topic, there could be huge changes in the art world that provide even bigger opportunities for BIPOC creators, such as solo/group exhibitions, publications, grants and rewards, and leadership positions, if not more.

Is feminism relevant to your work?

Absolutely! I would categorize much of my work as feminist pieces because it discuss the contrasting distance and pride not only between myself and my cultural identity, but with my female identity as well that has been challenged and taken advantage of throughout all my life by others. Sexism, misogyny perpetuated by both men and women, double standards, and body image dysphoria as a consequence of these things have all been themes I’ve had to work through in my life and practice.

I can’t speak for every womxn or nonbinary person, but most who are or have once been feminine presenting in their lives have experienced a hypersexualization of themselves and their bodies through the media, culture, and the overall tainted perspective of the patriarchy we’ve been trained to look through. Instead, my work inevitably sees through the lens of the female gaze, where there is no objectification or negativity associated with the female/feminine body or experience, and instead the viewer is presented with this sort of chaotic, distortion of the faces and bodies of my characters, who are often abstract depictions of self-portraits.

What’s the best advice you have received about being an artist?

Strive to make work better than the last and only compete with yourself. Never measure your talents and successes to someone else's.

helenabaka.com

instagram: @artbug666.

~

Les Femmes Folles is a volunteer organization founded in 2011 with the mission to support and promote women in all forms, styles and levels of art from around the world with the online journal, print annuals, exhibitions and events; originally inspired by artist Wanda Ewing and her curated exhibit by the name Les Femmes Folles (Wild Women). LFF was created and is curated by Sally Brown Deskins.  LFF Books is a micro-feminist press that publishes 1-2 books per year by the creators of Les Femmes Folles including the award-winning Intimates & Fools (Laura Madeline Wiseman, 2014) , The Hunger of the Cheeky Sisters: Ten Tales (Laura Madeline Wiseman/Lauren Rinaldi, 2015 and Mes Predices (catalog of art/writing by Marie Peter Toltz, 2017). Other titles include Les Femmes Folles: The Women 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016 available on blurb.com, including art, poetry and interview excerpts from women artists. A portion of the proceeds from LFF books and products benefit the University of Nebraska-Omaha’s Wanda Ewing Scholarship Fund.

Submissions always open! - Check out the 10th anniversary call here:

https://femmesfollesnebraska.tumblr.com/callforart-writing

[backseatsiren]

My First Shift in the New Normal of the Pandemic

Last night, I did a full shift on my ambulance for the first time since the pandemic was in full effect. The last time I went out was early March, when things had just started to get pretty scary - I had a patient then with a bad cough - and we were relieved when we got to the ER and we confirmed she had no fever. We had no special PPE, but also, life was still borderline “normal.” People were still going to restaurants and gyms. I was still training grappling with my teammates. 

Things obviously changed pretty rapidly.

For the last month, I’d been terrified, but also itching to get out there. It’s probably dominated a few therapy sessions (therapy is great, friends, I highly recommend it): my own terror of this virus, and the stories we’re hearing of people - even, occasionally, young and healthy folks - dying. Drowning. It’s an ugly, ugly death, and I was scared. I’m still scared, honestly, but my need to get the fuck back out there was quite a bit stronger.

You see, I do this for selfish as well as selfless reasons. I genuinely want to help people and serve in my community. I want that, and I love that. It means the world to me to have the opportunity to give back a little. But it’s also a vital need that I have personally - I need to work with my hands and do tangible things. 

I love my job. I’m the luckiest chick in the universe as far as I’m concerned - and hell, I just got promoted. I’m an Editor in Chief now, doing what I love!

But I do feel a disconnect on some level, in my very online job. Again, this is not a complaint - I love what I do and actually really love working from home, being here with my pets. I like making my own schedule, especially because, in normal life, I get to train in the evenings.

But I am such a little... woman of action, I guess. I love grappling and competing and getting my hands dirty, getting my body fully and completely activated and immersed in activity. I simply do not feel right, or feel like myself, without... action. Some Adrenalin. I’m not an adrenalin junkie, per se (idk, I’ve never jumped out of a plane or anything like that?), but it’s an important part of my life. It might make me a slight jock or meathead, and I don’t care. I love it and I need it.

Speaking of Need...

Frankly, the EMTs around me, in my city, in my community, have been utterly swamped in this crisis. Have been working their asses off. NYC had over 7,000 911 calls in a single day this month (the usual busy day is in the 5K range I believe). And here I am, sitting on my ass, doing my nice comfortable job. I felt like a massive, massive asshole and basically... a fraud.

I’m not a fucking EMT cosplayer. I don’t put on a uniform to take selfies, I want to go out there and help.

For a bit, it was hard to get a crew together. At first, we didn’t have enough PPE, so we didn’t send crews out. Then we got equipment, but it was hard to pin sown scheduling. This is understandable - we’re an all-volunteer organization, some ppl are underwater in all this, others have medical conditions that would mean exposure could very possibly kill them or put them in extreme risk. Tons of folks were helping in crucial ways - doing training or coordinating, seeking donations of PPE, etc. And some folks were able to go out on a special 911 service. I’m incredibly proud to be a part of this organization, where people are valued for many different types of service.

I, myself, had spent the last couple of weekends doing driver training with a really rad volunteer who couldn’t go out, but she still wanted to do her part to help. Hey, I drove on the Jackie Robinson in an ambulance for the first time last weekend! It was exciting! But eventually things aligned and I had a crew for Tuesday night. I practiced with my N95 mask and reviewed all our new PPE rules. We had a little demo of the new equipment before going out. And here’s the best part: last night, I got to guide my two other crew members through their first-ever 911 call.

That’s right, I had two (excellent), brand new crew members. That means I had to run all aspects of the call, and give instructions in a pretty wild situation. I’m thrilled and proud to say it went really well.

We turned up to a “fever, cough, difficulty breathing” - almost certainly COVID - for an elderly patient. The family were outside, and I told them we’d be right up, we just needed to suit up. So, on went our special tyvek suits, respirators, face shields and gloves. We went up, accompanied by the FDNY crew chief, who stayed outside the room, and had a very sleepy, confused, and sick patient. I let FDNY know we could take this one - and he was super thankful about it (he even said “God bless,” and i know some people don’t like that, but I think it’s very sincere and kind). We got info and prepped our patient. Based on everything going on (which I won’t go into detail on), I made the decision she should be seen by a doctor (one thing I will say - she found a family member dead, from COVID, in her house a few days before. So this family had already been through hell). She was an incredibly sweet person, and I made sure to keep telling her she was doing a really good job as we got her ready and down to the bus. She was a little scared as we carried her down the stairs, but very, very sweet and compliant as we took care of her. I may have sweated my body weight in that suit. But I will say that in a hazmat suit and shield, I felt safe and confident enough to do my job properly. That, honestly, was a godsend, and something I was pretty scared about before going out. This is a hands-on job. We lift and carry our patients, we have to touch people to care for them. This patient went to the bathroom in front of me and was confused and sleepy and feverish, and it was necessary to keep waking her (gently), and reassure her. We got her to the ER and spent a solid twenty minutes on very careful doffing (taking off the gear) and sanitation. I was deliberately slow and careful with this, since doffing is actually the part that supposedly poses the biggest exposure risk if done improperly. We bleached the crap out of our suits and shields and all surfaces, then used our UV light at base to kill everything else on the truck. I did my paperwork. It was a slow night after that. And yeah, we took our time on that call, ensuring everything was done properly and deliberately. One thing I’m really proud of on the call is my patient communication. My driver told me a couple of times that I had really good bedside manner - and I’ve heard that before. I care very deeply for my patients (yes, even the ones that could be considered annoying or troublesome, though this circumstance was far from that). It’s partially because, as a volunteer, I have plenty of time to work and give reassurance and comfort. I’m not on the clock, and I’m not an overworked, underpaid EMT (this job is brutal, EMTs should be paid frankly double what they are).

A medical emergency is terrifying for people - it’s a bad day when they call us. I like to build rapport and trust with my patients (obviously, in a case where we aren’t rushing, and really, even then I do my absolute best to be comforting and reassuring while moving fast). I think we made this person feel cared for, and she and her family seemed very grateful for the extra attention.

On that note, I am proud of myself. And I’m proud that I felt confident directing my brand new crew members. It was a relatively big job for a first call (with new, extensive PPE, lifting and moving our patient downstairs, transport, vitals and assessment in a pretty intense situation), so I feel good about that. My driver and attendant did an amazing job, stayed cool under pressure, and had a great attitude throughout.

Thank you

One thing that was positively wild was the gratitude, not just from the patient’s family, but... the people across the street from our base waving and clapping for us. The people at the grocery store/deli, thanking us and then letting us cut in line (I was so embarrassed and I probably made it worse by thanking them twenty times). People treated me differently in that uniform where... in the past, it’s more like “oh, an EMT” - and I have complex feelings on that.  I don’t want to steal a single ounce of valor here - I’m not out in the shit every day, I do this a few times a month because I love it. Does it feel super, super fucking nice to be thanked for volunteer service? It sure does! But I also don’t want to take away from folks who live in this shit - so I just want to be clear on that. 

I love that I get to do this, and yes, I love being thanked when I do a good job. I’ll admit that right now. But I also want to be aboveboard about it, and not take attention away from folks who are in this constantly. 

Wrapping up, and dealing with fear

I had a few decontamination procedures to do at home once I got back too. Uniform off at the door, into a tied-off bag. Shower right away, lukewarm water before hot water to avoid opening my pores too much at first. Wiping down a few items, even if I didn’t use them in service, just because they were on the bus. Simple stuff.

But I felt great, mainly that I was able to get out there and help, that I was able to manage the situation well with two rookies, and able to feel confident in the PPE and decontamination procedures.

Is it entirely possible that I was still exposed, despite doing everything? Yes, absolutely. I could get sick. I could get sick just from grabbing that snack from the grocery store (of course, I sanitized my hands twice before eating, but still!) But I tried to go into this with my eyes open, both extremely careful with PPE and fully knowing the risks. And knowing how I’d feel if I didn’t go out, given that I’ve been an EMT in this city for close to four years. Knowing that my skills and experience were valuable and needed at this time. That I can actually help, even if it’s just a little. I’d like to go out again soon. I’m actually volunteering with citymeals this week as well, so hopefully I can be a bit helpful there too. Carefully, of course, so as not to risk any exposure either way! (Gloves and masks and six foot rule in place for safety). But I feel proud, I feel good, and fuck, I just feel more like myself. And I can’t wait to go out again soon.

[sureroger]

hey hey guys !! it’s ava again with her second character who’s on the dl the opposite but also the same as her first ?? read on !!

jon bernthal + cis man + he/him + phobia-initiated ability manifestation.┊ ❛ ━ hey, is it just me or do you hear 1921 by the who playing in the distance ? oh, that’s just roger baron, a forty-one year old psychiatrist. according to my sources, i heard he can be neutral evil and is strategic, but also sadistic. that’s probably why they remind everyone of unserved justice, “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself,” and scribbles - or maybe it’s handwriting! - so much ! anyway, whether or not they’re against the supers, crystalline city is keeping a close eye on them !

triggers: murder, gaslighting, (mental?) torture

backstory:

roger was born to a pair of supers who absolutely prayed he would develop powers of his own, as they were vehemently against the human race. they saw themselves as superior in every way, shape, and form and hoped to establish a new order someday in the future.

“in the future” being the phrase. at the time, they were consumed with roger and had little time to take over the world, you know?

however, that didn’t mean a little murder on the side was completely out of the question. his mother used her wiles to charm a judge into coming back home with her; when he got there, she and roger’s father killed the judge who’d put one of their friends in jail.

for a good reason.

what they weren’t counting on was roger seeing the whole ordeal. from his mother taking the judge to the bedroom to his father brutally massacring him. when they saw roger had been watching through a crack in the door the entire time, they realized they had to cover their tracks.

they insisted he never speak a word of it, told him to pretend he never heard or saw it. they weren’t well-known criminals yet, they’d managed to keep themselves under wraps, and he had the power to destroy that.

but their coaxing worked. it worked so well, he went mute. 

due to this, he had a rather friendless childhood. school counselors suggested to his parents that he go to therapy, as there was only so much they could do, but god knows they would never let that happen.

from the age of 8-14, he said maybe all of ten sentences. however, as his power began to develop, he began feeling a certain bond with his parents, horrible as they’d been to him, and started speaking to them regularly.

he’d learned of his power when a boy he was associated with in a minor way made a passing comment having to do with a fear of his. not yet able to control it, he made the other boy’s terror appear and was like... “sick! i’m not gonna be killed by my parents!”

by the age of 16, he’d learned how to control his powers and began speaking regularly again. other than his parents, he told no one who’d known him during his selective mute ‘phase’ why it came on and how he rid himself of it.

his parents were a bit tempted to ask him if he’d like to help them kill someone, but ultimately decided against it. what good parenting skills.

when he was 18, he was accepted into yale and earned an undergrad degree for psychology. he proceeded to attend grad school for psychiatry in specific. then he had to complete three years of residency, which he chose to do in chrystalline city. then he earned his license. then he got board certified. oh my god.

doing the math, boyfriend was DEDICATED.

when he was 29, he was fully equipped to become a psychiatrist. he had also fallen in love – so romantic! – and proposed a few months after finding work in order to begin providing a stable life.

she said yes!

i may send in a wc for her, but, for context, her tentative name is maggie!

the two of them had a child together, a little girl they named sawyer. they were really living the american dream. he had a stable and well-paying job. they had a child and a golden retriever. they probably had a picket fence, let’s be real.

but that all started to change when he came up with a certain method.

before spilling this method, we’ll preface by saying that he had read of a murder very similar to the murder his parents had committed when he was 8. really, he hadn’t thought much about his parents in years, but that jogged old memories and new feelings. his wife, his colleagues, his daughter – they all wound up changing the way he saw his parents. 

so he stopped by for a visit. it started out as a nice dinner, just the three of them. they said they wanted to meet his wife, he told them ‘later.’ they said they wanted to meet their grandchild, he told them ‘later.’ when they completed their meal, roger used his powers for the first time since he was a teenager. while they were distracted by visions of having to kill a young roger for having no powers, he did the best he could to replicate the way his father killed their victims without the power used.

leaving the power vague so it doesn’t seem like i’m claiming more than one ksksksks but apparently it’s gruesome y’all.

he slept peacefully.

and that night, his brain hatched an idea! he began using his powers on his clients whose disorders seemed to stem more from deep-seated fears than they did brain chemistry. it was exposure therapy, so he claimed, and they surprisingly didn’t report him for malpractice? 

up until they did. they never filed an official report, but word began spreading. a lot of it was seen as rumor, what given that he’d become a respectable name in the community, but it reached maggie...

maggie was the only person he would actually tell the truth to. suffice it to say, she was horrified. she threatened leaving him with sawyer if he continued this method.

he told her he’d quit... but he’d gotten such rave reviews from some of his clients...

it all went to hell when sawyer began fearing ‘the boogeyman.’ obviously roger didn’t know what the boogeyman looked like to her, and obviously both maggie and himself had tried the whole ‘checking under the bed’ charade first... but when it all fell through, roger used his power on his five-year-old daughter.

you know, she’s five, so it was more traumatic than it was ‘healing.’

that completely tore it. maggie left that night with her daughter after telling him off, saying he was sick and twisted, that it was the cruelest thing a parent could do to their child, etc.

well... most of it went right over roger’s head after she proclaimed he was ‘sick’... perhaps ‘powers’ actually stemmed from illness, hm?

after that experience, he came to the conclusion that the only way he could live a normal life – his wife and child back – was to rid himself of the power he’d once held so dear... furthermore, to rid the entire mutant race of their powers. everyone was sick.

he started performing experiments on himself, thinking to the root causes of being a ‘mutant’ – did it stem solely from genetics, or could it be developed through trauma? did he get them because both of his parents carried the gene? or did he get it because the power was so similar to the trauma they caused him? 

thus far, none of his experiments have been very successful. some have muted his powers, but, judging by patient reactions, they were still very much there. he also began taking any mutant who seemed even slightly open to the idea and experimenting on them, recognizing that all of their experiences – the age the powers developed, how the powers related to their lives, etc. – were completely different and trying to find a common thread that went beyond genetics.

the side effects were much worse than the results – again, none of which were completely effective. when he attempted to increase the amount of the serum he injected into himself that’d resulted in his powers being dulled down, it did nothing but send him to the hospital after a grand-mal seizure. 

still, he’s determined to find something. he’s determined to ‘cure’ the mutant race, to get his life back to the way it was, and he won’t stop until it’s all tied up in a nice bow.

personality:

the kind of person who would blame every single one of his faults on his parents.

to be fair, he did grow up under the reign of neutral – or true – evils and was heavily influenced by the way they acted around him. so guess who gradually developed into a neutral evil himself?

THIS GUYYYYY.

so so so so so so obsessed. the pressure of finding a cure is all he really thinks of nowadays. completely convinced there is one, he will not stop experimenting on himself and others.

speaking of which, there have been a few people he’s had to bump off after experimenting on them. due to the side effects, or due to something he did (e.g. project a fear of theirs), it wasn’t uncommon for volunteers to threaten telling the police that he was performing inhumane experiments on people without giving them proper disclosure.

he tries so very hard to not use his powers to aid him in it...

in the $ad boiz klub. 

i’m bad at personality sections!!

wanted connections:

ya girl got a little page up here! more will probs be added later on but!

ok !! like this or hmu if you’d like to plot !!