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not-enough-teeth-and-treasures · 3 years

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An Autistic’s Perspective on Tears of Themis’ Representation (spoiler alert: it’s bad)

Before you read, I should warn you that there will be spoilers for Chapter Five! Read at your own risk. Also, trigger warning for discussions of ableism and harmful disablility stereotypes. I get pretty heated as well, so if you’re not a fan of swearing and stuff, then it might be best to skip this.

So, I was debating whether or not I wanted to talk about this, mostly because this game doesn’t do anything new in regards to the perception of autism in media. Unfortunately, it ends up leaning into a lot of not great tropes and goes into “what the fuck that’s incredibly offensive territory” waaay to quickly. So here I am.

The most prevelant character with autism (or who we start out thinking has autism. Don’t worry, I’ll get to that) is a small, supergenius child (a boy as well *sigh*) is so overdone at this point that there aren’t many new criticisms I can say. The stereotype of autism presented in media is overwhelmingly extremely intelligent (usually with sciency or math based interests) men with no ability to socialize or be kind to others. This not only paints autism as a disability that effects men primarily (which creates intense stigma around AFAB autistic people and makes it harder for us to get diagnosed or believed), but also creates this expectation of greatness. Autistic people are often held to superhuman standards, which further others and dehumanizes us in the eyes of allistic people. The vast majority of autistic people are not savants, and that it perfectly fine.

But all of this is pretty standard. The red flags started popping up when it was revealed that the autistic kid, Hugh, doesn’t actually have autism and is faking it in order to keep people from asking hard questions about him or trying to pry into his life (which is full of secrets). I’m definitely not a fan of perpetuating the idea that people fake diabilities in order to manipulate people, so this plot twist was not my favorite. However, it wasn’t really enough to inspire me to write a whole ass essay about the representation. And then I got to the fucking text conversation with Vyn.

Here is where I’m gonna put a trigger warning for talk about eugenics, curing autism, ableism, and basically just a fuck ton of awful shit. Fuck, this makes me so mad.

So, I went in and took screenshots of both options just to see, and all of them lead to terrible bullshit. Lets start out pretty light with the MC and Vyn discussing symptoms.

This is a pretty limited and honestly incomplete explanation of autistic behaviors. These can definitely be symptoms, but they’re heavily overcovered and really basic. A lot of autistic people don’t have these symptoms, and it would be really nice if more media branched out and covered more of the spectrum. However, considering they don’t do anything different in any other areas, I’m not surprised.

Also not a fan of Vyn’s use of “abnormal.” It has some very negative connotations and is a bit insulting, honestly. These behaviors are perfectly “normal;” they’re just not as accepted by neurotypical people. Plus, no behaviors can really be labeled as normal because humans are complex and different.

That was the easy shit. Let’s get into the truly awful garbage.

This is treading into ABA territory here. For those of you who are unaware, ABA is pushed as the best autistic therapy, but a large majority of autistic adults consider it to be abusive and unhelpful. This is mainly because it seeks to “correct” many behaviors that are helpful for autistic people. It seeks to surpress stims (which are behaviors that improve the mental health of autistic children), force us to talk (as opposed to letting us use sign language and technology), and more. This harms our mental health and makes us ashamed of who we are. These behaviors do not need to be “corrected.” We don’t need to act “normally.” All this therapy does is make us more palitable for neurotypical people, and it’s bullshit.

It also doesn’t help that ABA was pioneered by Ivar Lovaas, a man who did not believe autistic people were human. He developed ABA as a way to “build a person” using harsh punishments such as withholding affection and ELECTRIC SHOCKS. If you think this is a think of the past, you’d be wrong. Electric shocks are still being used to harm disabled people. Look up the hashtag #StopTheShock to learn more and help push for legislation that bans this practice.

Oh, and did I mention Ivar Lovaas also inspired gay conversion therapy? Because he did! So yeah, fuck ABA and fuck Vyn for performing it (god damn it, Vyn, I liked you a lot).

And now, onto the eugenics. Fuck my life.

FUCK! THIS! BULLSHIT!

I am so tired of autism being treated as this horrific disease that needs a cure. I had a perfectly fine childhood. Yes, it was hard at times, yes I got traumatized, but a large part of that was due to ableism and abuse from teachers and peers. A large reason why autistic people suffer is because the world is not built for us, and we are often denied accommodations that would make our lives better.

It is beyond offensive and disgusting to suggest that we would be better off not existing than “suffering so much” because of autism. Because that is what this game and everyone else who thinks there should be a cure is suggesting. There is no me without autism. it literally affects my brain structure. You are wishing for a completely different person when you tell me that autism should be cured.

Now, I’m not going to get into the horrible consent issues that arise from talks about a cure, including genetic editing, fear mongering to parents so they think abortion is the only option, and straight up Nazi style eugenics. I do not have the spoons to delve into that exhausting discussion. But if you want to know more, then there are so many incredible autistic people who have written blogs, Twitter threads, and more about why a cure is a terrible idea.

Oh, and if you’re going to come at me with the “severely autistic people should be cured” bullshit, don’t bother. There is no such thing as “severe” autism, first of all, and second, non verbal autistic people (which are who people think of when they talk about “severe” autism), largely don’t want a cure. There have been so many surveys of tens of thousands of autistic people, and the result is that the overwhelming majority do not want to be cured. We want support and proper accommodations. Listen to us.

So, in conclusion, fuck this text conversation and it’s ableist and offensive bullshit. I really wish ToT had stayed away from autism, or at the very least did not touch on therapy or a possible cure. For a game that is about genetic experimentation on children and how bad that is, it sure peddles a lot of eugenics.

Fuck, this text conversation actually made me ill and I hate that. I’m so done with constantly trying to prove to the world that I am a human being who deserves to exist. I’m gonna go cuddle my service dog now.

#tears of themis #vyn richter #autism #autistic perspective #autism representation #seriously can we stop treating my disability like a disease? Is that so fucking hard?#i don't need a cure #i deserve to exist #aba is abuse #autistic people deserve to exist #hugh tears of themis #tot #tot vyn #god damn it vyn I simped for you

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pynkhues · 3 years

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.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)

#hbo succession #succession fic #fic recs #welcome to my ama #kendall x stewy #gerri x roman

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inqorporeal · 4 years

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Future Tense

It was rare, Theron mused, that things were so quiet that they had a moment to relax like this. The cantina was bustling, and all of the advisors and primary staff had been able to justify taking the evening off. Theron got a lot of shit for being a workaholic, and even now he could feel the niggling itch of a puzzle left unsolved. But it could wait. For the moment, there were more important things to worry about.

Sitting in the booth beside him, the Commander cradled their drink between their hands and leaned a little more into Theron's space, seeking permission.

It was a… weird dynamic between them. The Commander was Imperial, Theron was a Republic spy. Feelings should never have developed between them; but what had begun as an uneasy alliance had blossomed into a mutual respect and even admiration. By the time Theron ran into them on their way to rescue him from the Revanites, well….

You couldn't fake that look of relief in a person's eyes. They had stood up for him, defended him, and hadn't agreed with Lana about her willful negligence which had led to Theron's capture. Seven years later and he was still awed that anyone had successfully extracted an apology, however reluctant, from a Sith Lord on his behalf.

When they'd first begun their association chasing rumours of Revanites, Theron had been worried that the two Imperials might try to extract Republic secrets from him; neither had asked more than he was willing to offer, and even though he'd felt incredibly lonely during that time, he had also felt at ease. Nobody was leaning over his shoulder for once Marcus, nor prying into his downtime activities Jonas, and the people he had to work with had encouraged him to put the datapad down in the evenings to share a drink or two and talk shit about members of the Dark Council. Theron had felt free enough to dump some of his (non-classified) dirt on certain Senators, to the amused delight of his partners in conspiracy-routing.

So when the Commander had asked about Satele, Theron may have spilled a bit of long-held bitterness. It wasn't really fair of him -- Satele wouldn't have wanted to let Darth Marr know Theron might be leverage on her (he would be; her distance in his youth aside, Satele did care). But… he'd been tired. The painkillers had been wearing off. Maintaining a semblance of professional decorum during that meeting had consumed his remaining energy, and his patience had largely taken a leave of absence.

The Commander -- his ally, swiftly sliding into territory that could have tentatively been friendship -- had expressed concern, support, bantered lightly and teased him, drawing his mind away from the pressing issues for a precious moment. When they'd kissed him, it had felt real, like Theron was appreciated and cared for, like they had seen the worst sides of him and found the whole package worth the risk.

They had been risking everything, stealing private moments when and where they could on Yavin IV, surrounded by military detachments from both sides who clearly didn't trust each other. If anyone who had cared had caught them together, Theron would have lost his job and possibly been brought up for an official inquiry; who knew what the Commander had risked. Knowing the Sith, probably interrogation and/or death.

Just for him, Theron, a Jedi washout, an intelligence analyst with no life outside his work and a long list of past relationships that had never survived his career for more than a couple of months. The knowledge had shaken him to his core then, and it still did now: that someone had looked at Theron and found him worth risking death for.

Of course it could have been a ruse, but the looks Lana had been giving them said otherwise. She pretended not to see anything and didn't utter even one word of teasing. If Marr and Satele found out about them, it wouldn't be from her.

Saying goodbye had been unexpectedly painful. In truth, Theron had allowed things to continue because he hadn't believed they would live long enough to see the end of it. So, it seemed, had the Commander. Who needs words? they'd whispered, and kissed him, soft and tender, gloved fingers weaving into his hair and pulling him close. Theron had started to speak, to say how sorry he was, and they'd pressed a fingertip to his lips, with a smile so gentle and sorrowful it damn near broke his heart. Message received: don't apologise for the inevitable.

Theron had spent a year denying that it still ate at him, denying that he thought of them every day, denying that the reason he'd stopped joining Jonas for nights out that ended with casual hook-ups had less to do with working hard to re-prove his loyalty and more to do with the fact that a certain Imperial loyalist had claimed Theron's heart and he didn't want a replacement. Hearing about what had happened to Marr's fleet, though, had blasted that denial right out of the sky. Theron had got back in touch with Lana, asking what happened; maybe she'd actually liked him, or maybe she'd just been in shock, but she gave him straight answers instead of telling him where to get off, and then wrapped it up with, They're not dead, Theron. I can feel them, still. I'll be in touch.

Now he knew why the Commander had been pissed enough to force Lana to apologise to him a year earlier. The thought of the Commander imprisoned somewhere while everyone assumed they were dead nearly destroyed Theron. He'd thrown out all the alcohol in his Coruscant apartment so he wouldn't give into the temptation, and the feeling of time being wasted on the comparative minutiae of his actual job scratched and scraped at the back of his brain. Jonas, perceptive bastard that he is, had noticed; he'd suggested burning off Theron's restlessness with a night out and got snapped at for his trouble.

Theron had -- eventually -- apologised for that, but not before Lana had commed him on the secret, massively encrypted frequency he'd devised. Theron had sent his apology to Jonas taped to the only bottle of booze he'd kept, the unopened bottle of Corellian brandy Jonas had given him to celebrate Theron's most recent promotion.

He had no illusions that he'd effectively sunk his fifteen-year career in the SIS when he'd packed up his essentials and bought a shuttle ticket to Nar Shaddaa under a pseudonym, using credits from one of his other pseudonymic accounts. It wasn't like his work mattered anymore, anyway. In the last few months since Zakuul's Eternal Fleet had come out of nowhere and effectively annexed the Republic, their department heads had played at pretending everything was fine and normal, while all signs pointed to the contrary. According to Lana, the Empire was in much the same state.

Theron had long since grown tired of sitting on his hands instead of actually doing something. He never had dealt with periods of inactivity well.

And now… now he sat in a cantina surrounded by people he by rights should never have become friends with, with his arm openly around the shoulders of a certain ex-Imperial whose faith and loyalty had been well and truly shattered. They'd looked terrible when Theron had first seen them upon his arrival at Odessen: too thin, too exhausted, moving like everything hurt.

It hadn't prevented them from hugging him tightly -- right there in front of everyone -- and murmuring, "You're a sight for sore eyes," the same greeting they had offered on Ziost six years earlier. The feelings were still there, stronger than ever, and Theron had accepted the knowledge that this was his life now. Their lives, now.

The Commander was doing better since Valkorion had taken a cryptic leave of absence; better appetite, less prone to waking up in the middle of the night cursing out someone Theron couldn't throw out of the room, able to focus on work without drifting off to glare at the corner of the room every few minutes. Force only knew how much hassle the creepy Sith ghost had been giving them. It was a relief to Theron, as well -- both of them had been uneasy about the idea of the Sith Emperor watching them in the privacy of their quarters.

"What do you plan to do?" Theron found himself asking. "When this is all over and things go back to normal, I mean," he added when everyone at the table looked at him.

The Commander frowned into their drink. "I'm not sure 'normal' is ever going to happen," they answered. “Too much has changed in the galaxy. Everyone has been forced to adjust and adapt."

Theron gestured to the cheerful crowd beyond the relative privacy of their table. "I mean… the Alliance. Are we all going to have to just… go home?"

The Commander looked thoughtful, then glanced at Lana. "In your professional estimation--"

"Hah," Lana snorted, but she was smiling.

"Shush, you. In your estimation, how many friendships and romantic entanglements have occurred since the Alliance established itself?"

"On Odessen?"

"Everywhere we have operations."

The Sith frowned for a moment. "Hundreds. Thousands."

"Mmhmm, and in your estimation, how many of those would be considered cross-faction?"

Theron could see where this was going but he remained quiet -- his specialty was external intelligence; Lana's was internal.

"Roughly two-thirds, if we're considering smugglers, pirates, and bounty hunters their own faction."

The Commander looked back out at the bar. "Infrastructure is nothing without the people who make it tick, and those little alliances mean something. Say we win. Say we beat Valkorion at his own game. Do you really think people will happily give up everything they've built over the last few years and go back to what we were doing before? No. The defection rate would be tremendous. We're all here because the people we wanted to trust in sat back and did nothing, chose to use the opportunity to enrich themselves politically rather than combining their strength and fighting back." They turned their glass on the table, watching the water ring smear. "I'm not going back. I can't. I can't believe in that anymore. And if there are others who also don't want to go back…? Then we'll figure something out together."

Theron looked over at Lana, who met his eyes and shook her head. She couldn't go back, either. "Then maybe we should start thinking about future organisation," she ventured. "I know you don't want to remain in control forever--"

The Commander scoffed and leaned further into Theron's side. "I'm only the Commander because you pushed for it. Our Zakuul allies want me to sit on the Eternal Throne. I can guess why -- they think I'm Valkorion's next incarnation -- and I don't want that. Zakuul can figure its own shit out. But if we settle anywhere else, either the Republic, the Empire, or both will try to annex us. They already dislike the concept of a third power existing in the galaxy, and let's be real: Odessen isn't as secret as we wish it was. We should already be looking for a backup base; we might as well look for something that can be more permanent. I’m not just giving this up. Not again."

They hesitated, and glanced at Theron, something guilty in their eyes. Before they could apologise for making a choice without talking to him first, Theron pressed his temple against theirs. "Wherever we go, you can count on me to be there too."

#just swtor things #I have a beef with how the Alliance and the expanded story were handled #Theron x Commander because the dynamic is fun #Imperial Commander because that dynamic is also a lot of fun #wish the game had gone more into how all this shit is affecting the people caught up in it

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system-of-a-feather · 4 years

Text

“The Inner World Isn’t Real”; Personal Comments from a Gatekeeper

So I have been looking around and I know that a lot of people who like to complain about people with DID and how they should “know the inner world isn’t real” and “take the inner world too seriously” and similar things. I know there are some that say “inner worlds don’t even exist” which to that I am not even going to comment on since I really don’t care to argue that.

[[DISCLAIMER: This post is entirely based on our system and my perspectives as a gatekeeper that spends a lot of time understanding the inner world and how that works with our trauma memories and compartmentalization and stuff. This is not based on science. This is based on our experiences and as such, take it with a grain of salt. I’m not good with the science shit, that is Lucille and Riku’s things but what I do know is how our system and trauma work so this is coming from my experience.]]

Okay, now with that out of the way, the inner world isn’t real. It feels very real, it is a mental image / symptom / aspect of DID that is real, but the inner world itself is not real. If I am remembering Riku’s readings right, it is a form of coping through fantasy / daydreaming to help interpret and process trauma and understand the disconnect / dissociation between parts. Don’t quote me on that since I am remembering that from a layer or two down, but I believe that is probably founded - if not, that is my take on the inner world.

With that being said, I really very very much dislike people commenting on how systems “take the inner world too seriously” or “should know that it isn’t real and should stop taking aspects of it seriously” or “need to focus more on reality and less on their inner lives” and I find those claims absolutely ridiculous.

Firstly, at least in our experience, the inner world is primarily a safe place where a lot of parts retreat to in order to be able to relax, process trauma, process emotions, and internally go through events to either help process or come to terms with things that had happened. It is a “form of escapism” if used too much - that I understand - but more than not, it is a place of self regulation, relaxation, and being able to find peace in a mind that is full of trauma and mental health issues. It is a place that allows us to process things in an easier manner and in a more controlled environment. It allows parts to communicate and understand one another more - and if “dating” comes out of it, then so be it. That isn’t a problem and it is two parts understanding one another better and a form of self love.

There is a reason a lot of therapists encourage the creation of an inner world if one is not inherently present. It helps to make sense of the disorder, the amnesia, the parts, and create an environment where one can relax and breathe.

Secondly, for people that get upset about how specific and hyper fixated people can get on aspects of the inner world, they also do have to remember inner worlds, again at least in our experience, are conceptualized perceptions often built with trauma in mind.

Yes, it might sound silly to be stressed about what one alter is doing in one part of an imaginary world and how that might affect how the imaginary world is functioning. Yes it might sound silly to get worried about how a part of the inner world is blocked off when it “isn’t really a real world anyways”, but a lot of what an inner world is is an intense and detailed metaphor / personification for parts of a whole that are not understood.

Our inner world is structured and divided and have rules and universal laws (similar to physics) that apply to it as it is important to how trauma is processed, internalized, and structured. We have parts of the inner world that can’t change for specific trauma reasons. We have parts of the inner world that *shouldnt* change for specific trauma reasons. Some areas are known to hold heavily traumatic parts. Some areas are known to store memories that would upset others. Some alters are stuck behaving in a way or are unable to interact because of how a trauma had impacted them.

Of course these aren’t “real” things and it sounds silly to be concerned or think much on them since they are “just an imaginary world” but they are very directly linked to the nature of the trauma and understanding it.

Thirdly, for those that comment on how “memories from the inner world aren’t real and shouldn’t be taken seriously” or anything similar, again, do remember a lot of what happens in the inner world is a conceptual understanding of trauma. If someone has very intense emotional memories of something that happened in the inner world, it is likely associated to something unprocessed from the real life. That applies similar to psuedomemories and any other sort of substitute belief. To shirk those off because “they didn’t happen in the real world” and “shouldn’t be taken seriously as real emotions” is ridiculous as - while they are likely twisted and turned to be easier to process / handle - they are almost always based in actual events that had happened to the system.

And in that regard “innerworld trauma” and “exotrauma” and “source trauma” aren’t real in the sense that “I got traumatized from my backstory”, but they ARE real in the sense that “inner world trauma” and “memories from one’s source” are able to feel real and be taken as genuine traumatizing events that happened because it was a reinterpretation and warping of actual trauma that had happened to the system. To say someone is wrong for “being traumatized from their source” and to try to push them into saying they are faking or wrong is problematic since it is very often that those “traumatic memories from a source” are warped / twisted / substitute memories personifying an aspect or type of trauma that is not ready to be digested or taken in through its truest and unadulted form.

I have “innerworld abuse / trauma” that means a lot to me - and I know exactly where it came from in connection to our real life and I am aware that is what I am *actually* working with, but the truth is that what happened in the inner world is how I have best processed it as it is. I will likely pull away from the substitute belief, but that isn’t now and currently as it is - the inner world version can be a lot to handle. Its an elaborate re-wrap of an actual traumatic aspect of our childhood that I was gifted to hold. Yes, it isn’t real and it “didn’t really happen” but the core event did - just how it was encoded was different.

Anyways, this is getting a bit lecturey and rambly, but the point is - if people want to try to minimize the complexities of having an inner world while having DID, they should really stop. Inner worlds aren’t just some “imaginary world” or “just daydreaming” even if they are in a way. They have multiple purposes and work in a lot of different ways that are often hyper personalized to each system based on what they have gone through.

Also, for those that don’t have an inner world or have a small inner world or whatever - that is 100% valid and this post IS NOT to say that you HAVE to have an inner world or that it has to be a complex inner world. Inner worlds are not mandatory to being a system.

This post was just put out here to talk about inner worlds a little more seriously from our own experience and my knowledge of it.

((EDIT: Also, while I do say and talk about the inner world in a much more clinical-detached manner - other alters in the system would likely describe it differently. I have a particular relationship with the inner world as a large part of my job in the system is maintaining it and learning about it and how it connects to our life and trauma history. Riku and a few alters would probably consider it a lot less clinically.))

-Ray (Gatekeeper)

#alter: ray #gatekeeper #inner world #innerworlds #actuallydid #actuallyosdd #dissociative identity disorder

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taexual · 5 years

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HOLIC - 49 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: angst (ONE LAST TIME, LET’S GO)

words: 4.7k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Jaebum watched you for a while after you asked the question, the echo of your voice ringing inside of his mind. Seeing you after nearly a week was too overwhelming. He couldn’t focus on just one emotion that he was feeling and the urge he had to cross the room and approach you overpowered everything else.

“I don’t—” he tried, resisting his own heart in order to remain true to his mind. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

But even despite what he said, he remained frozen in the same spot, not closing the door and not walking away from you.

“Please,” you said, the stinging pain in your heart translating itself into words, “I need you to know what really happened. I’m not—I don’t want you to immediately forgive me and move on. I just want you to know a-and to understand.”

“Don’t I already know everything I need to know?” he asked but still moved to a side—just slightly but that was enough for you to slip into the lounge room, away from the loud music.

In the brief second that it took for you to walk past him into the room – your shoulder brushing against his chest gently – you thought you were going to suffocate. The smell of his cologne, his side profile and the twin moles above his eye that you’d spent countless mornings staring at, his close proximity and just him, as a whole, brought back every moment of the life that you’ve shared with him and you immediately understood that walking away from this life—away from him—was going to be a task you would never have enough strength to finish.

“No, not everything,” you said as he closed the door. The two of you were back to where you’d been so many times before – in your own lost, broken, and exhausted world that pulsed with pain and sorrow and desperation. “Y-you know about these events I had to do. Well, that was Jiho’s idea. He insisted the gallery couldn’t invest in me if I wasn’t popular enough. It was all about media play. I thought that sort of made sense but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to establish my career by having my pictures taken with him—”

“I get that,” Jaebum interrupted. He’d had enough time to analyze every single one of your cryptic and vague answers to his questions about how your exhibition was going. He managed to put the pieces together himself. “I understand that you were working on your career. It was a way to get your own exhibition, that’s fine. It’s good. But faking a relationship while—”

You protested immediately. “I wasn’t—”

“Please,” Jaebum looked away. The utter lack of emotion in his voice scared you far more than any possible outcome of this conversation could. “He took you to all of these places to stir shit up on purpose. To draw more interest to you because you and him were there together.”

It was starting to become obvious that you wouldn’t have to talk about what happened since you saw Jiho at the gallery out of town. Even despite not giving Jaebum the detailed breakdown – or any sort of details about what you did, really – Jaebum still seemed to know everything. In the time you’ve spent preparing the right words to say to him, you’d forgotten to give him credit for his unrivaled perception skills.

“But there was no relationship,” you said. “There never was.”

“Right,” Jaebum continued, the hollowness behind his eyes taking you back to the night you told him about Jiho. You could feel your hands start to shake just like they did back then. “Except you went along with all that he was feeding the media.”

That was true and that’s why you were unable to find an excuse. “I-I was doing it to get the exhibition—”

He scoffed. “Because there was no other way, right?”

“Yes!” you agreed, your voice growing desperate and borderline manic. “You’d have left me behind, otherwise. I’d have—”

“What?” Jaebum’s voice had risen, too. Your accusation had clearly taken him off guard. “How would I leave you behind? I—”

“Oh, come on, you were already busy with your company dinners with executives and your meetings about the upcoming single…” you said, not trying to sound accusing but feeling like you did anyway. Pausing for a quick moment, you tried to continue in a softer voice, “you’re already working on an album. I was just trying to catch up with you so we could do this together. Like we wanted to.”

He narrowed his eyes and did not find a way to form a sentence for a minute or two.

“Okay,” he finally said then. “Yeah, so that makes it better, right?”

“It—”

“No, no, stop, it’s—” one of his hands squeezed the bridge of his nose as he exhaled slowly. “I just—God. I took you with me to everything that I was going through. I told you about all of it—like you said. I’ve welcomed you into my life and actively tried to include you in every single thing that was going on with me. And not just in terms of my career. I mean every thing. And you—well, fuck, clearly, I don’t mean enough for you to—”

He started to pace around the room – all while avoiding your eyes – but you had a feeling that the creaking sound wasn’t caused by the old floorboards. It was the sound of your heart breaking.

“No, Jaebum,” you stopped him before he could finish the sentence, “t-that’s not it at all. I’m—I’m horribly afraid of hurting you or ruining the things between us and that’s why I didn’t tell you. This fear was—it just took control of all of my decisions. I’m sorry, I—I should have never kept quiet about something that was this big. I never meant to hurt you like that, I just genuinely—stupidly—thought that this was the only way for me to do this. I thought that if I could endure those events with him, it would ensure a future for me. For us. A happy, successful future.”

“That’s built on a lie?”

You blinked, his raw words ricochetting off the walls of the empty room and hitting your chest. “Built on—”

“—on you, selling yourself out to Jiho?” he finished for you.

“I wasn’t—Jaebum, please. I don’t like him, either. I hate him, really. Nothing ever happened between him and me—honestly, just the thought of something happening makes me want to tear my hair out in disgust. It’s just--at first I didn’t tell you about this to spare your feelings. You were in such a good mood, I never wanted to ruin that. And then I-I was scared because you’d started to drift away from me – you were telling me about all of these new opportunities, all of these new people. Imagine how much worse it would have been if you were making it in the world, and I was still scrubbing the walls at my gallery per Eva’s orders.”

You realized that no matter which direction you went in, your words still sounded accusing. But before you could express yourself more clearly, Jaebum was already groaning in exasperation.

“At least, I was telling you about my life!” he snapped. “You are the one who tried to leave me behind, in the end.”

“I—that’s—I didn’t mean to make it sound like you’re the one to blame here,” you said carefully. “I know I fucked up. I genuinely believed that everything would have worked out, eventually. I thought that I could host that exhibition and we could put all of this shit behind us, not having to focus on it at all. I thought I could completely erase the part of my life that involved Jiho while I was still living in it and only now do I realize how big of a reality check I needed. No one can live and attempt not to live at the same time.”

Jaebum didn’t speak but you saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. You took this as your cue to continue and say the words you’ve come to say.

“I just… I couldn’t shake these thoughts that you would have started to feel bad about talking about your achievements to me if I wasn’t achieving anything myself – that’s why I went along with what Jiho offered. Otherwise, y-you would have kept quiet about advancing your career so you wouldn’t upset me and, maybe, you would have found someone else to talk to,” you said and noticed that he opened his mouth – evidently ready to protest – so you continued louder, not letting him cut in, “you’d meet a lot of other people, a lot of similar people – aspiring singers – and they would listen to you. They would understand. You’d feel sorry for me then, maybe even try to help me. We would argue just like we used to, only this time, it would be so much bigger. We would—”

“Alright,” he couldn’t listen anymore. “I get it. Okay? You did this for your career. I get it.”

He didn’t just say that to get you to stop talking about all the hypothetical ways in which your relationship would have reached its end. He truly did understand your reasoning and, in any case, he wasn’t this upset about your choice to pull a publicity stunt with Jiho. What bothered him this whole week was the fact that he didn’t even know about this choice. Your voluntary silence in regards to your career was what hurt him the most and, when he allowed himself to unclench his muscles and finally glance at you, you saw the repercussions it had on him.

He looked exhausted. Vulnerable. Hurt.

“I didn’t want to keep it a secret,” you said slowly, your voice breaking when you needed it to be strong the most, “but there was nothing I feared more than losing you. Every time I was supposed to see Jiho, I felt sick. Every time I had to smile next to him, I was just about ready to die. I regretted it every step of the way and I wanted to tell you about it. I knew you’d tell me that I didn’t have to do this – that I could find a different way – but I feared that the end result would have been the same. My inability to keep up with you would have created a bottomless pit between us. It was already looming in the distance.”

“How long did you think you were going to keep doing this with him?” Jaebum asked but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. Just this question, however, asked in a sensible tone, let you know that he was now hearing what you were saying and, as the gaps in the puzzle he’d pieced together began to fill, he was beginning to feel the tension in his chest recede.

“It was supposed to be just a few appearances,” you said. “He said it’d be good for me to make a name for myself but no one cared about that. I obviously wasn’t the first person he was dragging to these events and no one gave a shit about me. I was just his plus one.”

“So, why—”

“I finally decided to end this in the car on our way to Jackson’s event,” you began to respond, guessing what he was going to ask, “I knew this wasn’t going to work. I-I mean, it probably would have worked, eventually, but I’ve had enough. I didn’t want it to be like this. And then Jiho and I got into a fight and I got—I don’t know, confused? Distracted?—and I decided to wait until the end of the night before I told him I was done. I figured it’d be good for me to, at least, get to know some more relevant people before I gave up on everything I’ve been trying to work on.”

“But then Jackson ruined everything,” Jaebum pointed out.

You weren’t exactly sure how much Jackson had told Jaebum about your conversation but now didn’t feel like the right time to ask. You weren’t here to testify according to Jackson’s testimony. You were here to tell Jaebum the long-overdue truth.

“He didn’t ruin anything,” you said. “Jiho didn’t hear what Jackson and I talked about at that event.”

“Well, then what happened? How come we’re here?”

You took a deep breath.

“I ended it,” you said simply with a small shrug, “because I finally realized that none of this was ever going to be worth it. I ended it and then I quit my job at the gallery, too. I realized I’d made a mistake: I should have never stomped on all that I thought was right. I should have stuck with my morals. I realized where I was and what I was doing, and I didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t want to talk to Jiho anymore, let alone work with him,” you could feel yourself fire up as you talked, the emotions that had taken over you too difficult to control, “I didn’t even want to host a stupid fucking exhibition anymore. I just—I wanted you. And I no longer cared if I would've had to rob a construction site so I could build my own fucking gallery from the ground up and have the damn exhibition there, all on my own terms. I no longer cared if the exhibition would never even happen. I think, for a moment, I was hoping it would never happen because I didn’t think I deserved it. Because it made no sense if I didn’t have you. Nothing made sense if you weren’t with me.”

Jaebum couldn’t find enough air in the room to fill his lungs.

“Y-you—but why?” he asked, breathless and completely distraught. “You could have kept going. Like you said, if you’d have endured him a little more, you could have had your own exhibition just like you wanted. Why tell me and break the deal with Jiho off—”

“Because I love you,” you cut him off and for the next minute, the two of you listened to the heavy silence of the room, hearing how, beat by beat, your hearts returned to the harmonious rhythm.

He didn’t say anything – he was afraid – and you didn’t think you’d manage to find the strength to talk either, but the look on his face pushed you to open your mouth.

“I-I love you so fucking much, I’d rather throw away my only shot at a successful future than lose you,” you said, very uncertain about breaking the silence but gradually growing more confident once you saw the old glimmer in Jaebum’s eyes return, “I love you so much, I can’t pretend to be a different person with a different set of values, because every step along the way, I know that you would never support me like this,” you dared to take a step closer to him and nearly tripped over your feet when he stayed still, not pulling away from you, “I love you so much, I would rather stand behind and quietly watch you drift away from me, further and further every day, than risk drowning our relationship for the sake of something as trivial as ambition.”

You were standing right in front of him now, the two of you breathing each other’s oxygen like you’ve done so many times before.

“That shit means nothing to me in comparison to you,” you said quietly, the corners of your eyes wet with tears. “I don’t want anything else. Not like that. Never like that. And I’m so fucking sorry it took me this long to see this. I’m so sorry I didn’t immediately—I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I hesitated for so long. I-I waited and waited until I started to feel as if I could either have my exhibition or you and, if that was the case, I didn’t care about the fucking exhibition. I wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“F-fuck. You didn’t tell me. You kept quiet—”

“I know. Fuck, I know. And I’m sorry, Jaebum,” you kept going, repeating the apologies over and over as tears slid down your cheeks, leaving a glistening path of sorrow in their wake. Ignoring your own feelings, you focused on collecting all of the pain you’ve caused him. You’d have spent the entire night apologizing for every bit of it—no matter how small and irrelevant. “I’m so fucking sorry. I love you and I can’t think straight. I’ve never—you’re the only—fuck, I thought I was keeping it all to myself because I didn’t want to ruin your happiness. I don’t even know why that made sense to me—I-I’m sorry. I should have never kept you in the dark about this. I wanted—I want you next to me through everything I go through. I do, really, and I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Please stop,” he asked shakily, “don’t apologize anymore. Please, just—l-let me kiss you. I can’t breathe.”

The words seemed heaven-sent -- you could almost hear a grandiose tune crescendo in the background but that could have just been your heart exploding -- and the speed with which your hands wrapped themselves around his neck as his lips found yours, stopped the earth from turning. The feeling of his body pressed against yours and every single touch of his fingers against your skin was filled with emotions so strong, it could have rearranged every star in the Milky Way.

You could hear the stars exploding in the night sky outside and you could taste the supernovas on his lips. You kissed him back, reading every painful memory he kept as your fingertips brushed against the shivering skin on the nape of his neck. You could feel the love for him burst in your chest, extending far into the other galaxies and returning right back, right to this empty room, where one single soul was beginning to patch itself back together again.

You never wanted to pull away and Jaebum held you like he wasn’t ever going to let you. His tongue slid under yours until the kiss was almost as deep as the love in his heart and as strong as his grip on your waist. He kissed you like he was never going to leave. Like everything was going to be okay.

When you pulled away, your lungs were heavy with the air you had both struggled to find in this room and your chests were full of the love you’ve held yourselves back from sharing. You leaned in, kissing him again – not taking the feeling of his lips against yours for granted but still not being able to get enough of him – and he stopped you from pulling away by kissing you harder because the thought of not having kissed you for so long suddenly hurt much more than anything else.

You were laughing when he broke the kiss to inhale, leaning his forehead against yours. His hands were still on your waist as if the only way to make sure that you were really here, was to hold you as close as possible.

“Y-you said you quit your job,” he mentioned after a moment, his eyes scanning every inch of your face to check how much of you has changed while he wasn’t there to see it. “Are you sure about that?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s okay. I’m looking for a new one,” you said and then could not resist adding, “maybe you can support a poor girl with the money you’ll get when your debut album goes platinum.”

Jaebum laughed and, for a quick moment, it felt like you’ve died and appeared right at the gates to heaven. The thought that you’d risked never hearing the sound of his laughter again was impossible to bear.

“Hey, but what about the bottomless pit, looming in the distance of our relationship?” he asked.

You hated the metaphor when you said it but you wanted to stomp it into the ground when he repeated it. He was probably never going to let the dramatic flair in your speech go but even the possibility of him mocking you for the rest of your life excited you.

“I spit in it,” you said, dead-serious. “And anyone who tries to get to us will be drowned in said spit.”

Jaebum frowned but the smile didn’t leave his lips. “That is disgusting and very violent.”

“Every time I end up almost losing you, I become more aggressive,” you confessed in a humorous tone but you weren’t joking about anything you were saying. “Watch out, I’ll kill a man for you one day.”

He laughed again – and the heavenly gates opened up even wider – shaking his head. “I hope that won’t be necessary.”

You cleared your throat, the moment’s banter broken by the heaviness in your chest that, frankly, might never go away despite how tonight ended.

“I hope so, too,” you said and your hands detached themselves from around his neck, sliding down his chest until you felt him reluctantly release your waist. You needed more distance if you wanted to tell him the things you’ve gotten too overwhelmed to say before. “I truly am sorry, Jaebum. I never ever wanted to keep any secrets from you, I—”

“I know,” he said almost reflexively. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

He nodded, agreeing with your disagreeing eyes. “Yeah, alright. It’s not. But I love you. I don’t know what’s okay anymore when it comes to you.”

The shivers that ran down your body after he said the three words seemed to buzz so loudly, you couldn’t hear your thoughts anymore, let alone think about the power you held over him.

“I… I’m scared of the lengths I might go in order not to lose your love,” you admitted slowly, your stomach clenching and twisting and turning as you said the words that seemed right but felt so terrifying. “I’m scared I might keep proving to be unworthy of it.”

Jaebum lifted his hands to reach yours – still resting on his chest – and he squeezed them, pressing them into his chest harder until you could feel his heartbeat.

“My love isn’t that noble of a thing,” he said.

“It is to me,” you insisted. “I know you don’t give it to just anyone and I hate to think that I almost proved to you that all of your fears about this – about us – were rational.”

You were afraid to look him in the eyes but he refused to speak if you weren’t.

“They weren’t rational,” he said once your gazes finally met.

“W-what?” you frowned. “But—”

“They never were rational,” he said, the beating of his heart accentuating every word. “There was never a legitimate reason for me to be afraid of what would happen to us next. I can’t be afraid of life. And I know that for certain now because you told me you loved me a-and you meant it. You’re the first person who told me that and meant it.”

“Jaebum,” you whispered, scared to talk louder than his heart was beating. “You will probably never meet a person who fucks up more than I do. I make mistakes so stupid, it’s impossible I haven’t accidentally killed myself yet. And I always realize that what I’m doing is wrong when it’s too late.”

He watched you before admitting, “I don’t see your point.”

“I love you but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me to love me back,” you confessed, getting your hands out from under his and dropping them to your sides. The words you were saying to him now were a permission for him to leave and touching him felt too much like holding him back from making a rational, sensible decision. “You deserve a relationship where you wouldn’t have to try so hard. A relationship where you would be treated right and would never have to overcome all of these huge obstacles in order to be happy. A-and I love you enough to leave if you tell me to leave.”

He didn’t respond right away and, for every second that he was quiet, the fear spread faster and faster inside of you. You would certainly go if he told you to but you were scared of how many pieces of yourself you’d leave with him when you walked away.

“God,” Jaebum finally said. “You do make painfully dumb decisions, that part was true.”

“I—” your eyebrows had risen as these weren’t the words you’d expected him to say. “Yeah, alright. I do.”

“If you left me, ever,” Jaebum said, “that would be the mistake you’d realize you’d made too late.”

You tried not to focus on the excited whimpering of your heart. “I-I just don’t want you to feel like—”

“You are indescribably thick—” Jaebum interrupted.

“Okay, now that stung a little—”

“—for ever thinking that I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he finished, taking your hands back into his so you wouldn’t cut him off again.

“Y-you…” your breath hitched, “you’d want that?”

“Of course,” Jaebum said, pulling you back closer to him as final proof that he was absolutely not going to let you leave. “No relationships sail smoothly from beginning to end. There are obstacles everyone has to overcome so they could be together in the end.”

“But these obstacles, they—they’re never this big for others,” you weren’t sure why you kept talking but it still didn’t feel like all was said and done. You’ve already made so many apologies about keeping secrets from him that it didn’t feel right to stop talking before you’ve truly said everything. “We’ve gone through so much and I’ve always been scared that you and I might have an expiration date. I don’t want to put you through any more suffering because of me, and, God knows, I can’t walk away from you but maybe being with someone shouldn’t be so hard.”

His grip on you only tightened.

“Maybe it shouldn’t,” he said. “But if it is, then you’re the only person I want to go through all of those hard times with. Maybe that’s my painfully dumb decision.”

You gave him a look. “Ha.”

“I love you,” Jaebum smiled, his voice sounding far less strained than it did when you first came here tonight as if a thousand pounds have been lifted from the inside of his throat. “And if this love is exactly what kills me, then, at least, I’ll die knowing that you love me, too.”

“I do,” you promised, smiling when he grimaced at his own choice of words. “Always.”

It was what he needed to hear. It was all that he needed to hear and he leaned in to capture your lips with his in a kiss that sealed the promises made here.

Jaebum could recognize his own vulnerability when it came to you – not that it mattered when your lips were against his – and he was partially convinced that he’d already forgiven you long before you came to see him tonight. But the fact that you did come only proved to him that you were worthy of his forgiveness.

You would've had to be extremely naïve to believe that you'd immediately move past the weeks of silence and the days of pain. All of it might still return to haunt you in the future but it was okay because, with every shared kiss, the hurt and the pain would recede until, eventually, it’d turn into a memory. A memory that made you stronger.

You’ve made promises to each other tonight. Promises to fight together, even if sometimes you couldn’t help but return to your very roots and argue with each other instead. However, at the end of every fight, what you would truly be defending would not be your own interest or your own feelings. You’d be defending this relationship. Defending your heart and his heart, permanently tied together with rusty, tortured--and yet unbreakable--chains.

You would have screamed, suffered, and sacrificed the whole world to keep his heart safe and he would have done all of that for you.

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cuntess-carmilla · 4 years

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Update: I stopped taking psychiatric medication because they turned out to have only ever been of “help” because I have POTS/dysautonomia and one made my blood pressure rise (Wellbutrin) while the other kept it from going up too high (Lamotrigine).

Now that I’m taking meds that are for what I ACTUALLY do have (POTS/dysautonomia) not only do I not need the psychiatric meds, but they were throwing off everything else. I hate psychiatry so much. Can’t believe I turned out to be one of those people who had their physical illness mistreated as You’re Crazy for years haha. :) With that out of the way...

Some Many of my Opinions™ on psychiatry, as a psychiatrized person myself who does take medication, but hates the institutions of psychiatry and psychology, and thinks a large chunk of it is white pseudo-science:

A good amount of the issues that the psychiatric institution addresses ARE absolutely real and, as a society, people who’re afflicted by them should by all means receive help and support so they can live happier lives. I experience many of them and take medication to help myself, I obviously don’t think the difficult experiences people seek help for are made up.

At the same time, psychiatry and psychology as disciplines ARE made up (like every other discipline), making them not infallible or objective, AND they were built on eugenics, patriarchy, white supremacy and capitalist exploitation.

Those very real issues addressed by psychology/psychiatry aren’t actual literal pathologies. They don’t need to be literal tangible sicknesses in order to matter or be deserving of help and compassion. Your literal brain as a bodily organ is not physically “ill”, at least in most cases. It doesn’t need to be for your problems associated with an “ill mind” to be real and to matter. Remember, these disciplines were created at a time in history in which (white, male) doctors and theorists were obsessed with turning everything into a material, scientifically tangible subject that could be objectively measured with numbers and shit, hopefully medicalized or otherwise turned into “hard science”. That’s where ethnography came from. It’s called positivism, which is extremely dehumanizing, white supremacist and capitalist.

Psychology should be largely considered as much more of a metaphysical or philosophical discipline than as objective science, which is how most people perceive it to be. It’s mostly pure theory about emotions, thoughts, cognition, relationships and subjective experiences + perceptions -- which isn’t necessarily a bad thing on itself. It not being hard science doesn’t immediately delegitimize it. Get rid of the white capitalist idea that only (western, white) science and “objectivity” are real or of value. Actually, holding psychology to the standards of hard science turns it into pseudo-science, so... Yeah. I genuinely think we’d get so much further As A Society™ regarding psychology's potential to aid people who’re suffering if we treated it as more of a metaphysical or philosophical discipline than as some objective scientific truth.

Psychiatrists often are super ignorant of the actual way the medications they prescribe work or affect patients lmao. I had that almost ruin a whole semester at college because a shrink prescribed me meds that in combination she should’ve known would fuck me up. Not that much is known about how the human brain truly works compared to other human organs, you can’t expect psychiatric meds to be well tried and true. The research on psychiatric pharmacy is very lacking + biased in favor of pathologizing and controlling psychiatrized people, besides attempting to make the most profit under capitalism like any other capitalist industry, so of course they’re gonna prescribe you shit. Plus, like doctors of every other field, many psychiatrists arrogantly disregard the experiences, requests, questions and ideas of their patients, who’re the ones taking those meds.

Psychologists/therapists, just like psychiatrists, also disregard the experiences, requests, questions and ideas of their patients.

There’s such a strong element of power imbalance in how psychiatry and psychology function. The more a patient knows formal information about anything related to psychology/psychiatry, the more the shrink can get upset, distrustful and dismissive of them, saying they’re faking it, or telling them “not to do their jobs” when they so often do said jobs like shit anyway lmao no matter how thorough the research and understanding of the patient is.

Psychological and psychiatric diagnoses are just as made up as any other human construct (such as language, race, gender, etc). They’re not tangible realities as if shrinks had ran into a previously unknown objective fact of nature. In the realm of psychology, someone takes a bunch of traits and behaviors that by their observation they consider to be interconnected with one another, put them in the same bag, stick a label to said bag, and ask other psychologists if they agree with the bag being a thing. These considerations are heavily influenced by sociocultural bias. You can’t tell me it isn’t true that they’re made up and very subjective when “diagnoses” such as drapetomania, hysteria, homosexuality, gender identity disorder, etc, have been seriously considered at least by part of the psychiatric establishment of their times as legitimate mental disorders. Hell, some still consider being gay or trans to be mental disorders. Don’t get me started on "Oppositional Defiant Disorder”, that shit’s just evil.

A lot of the ideas spread by the psychiatric-psychological institution are legit pseudo-science that researches try time and time again to prove and end up coming with nothing, or they end up tweaking their own research or conclusions to maintain the established consensus that just so turns out to be very convenient to the people who make and sell psychiatric meds.

Many of the traits, emotions, thoughts, perceptions and behaviors that are pathologized by psychiatry and psychology aren’t inherently harmful. If they don’t make the patient or others suffer by their very nature (as opposed to like, homophobic parents “suffering” because their child is gay or a gay person suffering because of homophobia) then there’s no need to alter them. “Correcting” them is a measure of social control that crushes individuality and only attempts to mold people into obedient ~productive~ servants of capitalism. Much of psychiatric medical treatment (not just the diagnoses and therapies themselves) focuses on turning the patient into less of a social “burden”, than on their actual happiness. That’s why you have ADHD and autistic kids being given meds that turn them into zombies and that's been considered a good thing for DECADES. Like, why does the stimming of an autistic person or an “unusual” attachment to stuffed animals as an autistic adult have to be corrected? WHOMST does that harm? Nobody! But it makes allistics uncomfortable because allistics are fucking stupid and can’t mind their God damned business to save their lives like normal people do.

Even non-pharmaceutical treatments for psychiatrized conditions are or can be turned into measures of social control.

Maybe CBT wasn’t meant to be a tool to control people and shit, but it can be misused as such SO easily! It can go from being therapy to help individuals process inner pain and redirect harmful behaviors in positive ways, to being turned into training someone to react, feel and process abuse and oppression in ways that are convenient to the status quo.

Don’t get me fucking started on ABA as an inherently oppressive, abusive “treatment” for a psychiatrized condition that does nothing to actually better the lives of autistic people, instead punishing autistic traits, teaching autistic people to painfully repress said traits and ignore their needs, and seeking to appease allistics by prioritizing their convenience and subjective comfort.

Behaviors, emotions, perceptions or traits that on a man or white person would be considered a non-issue or given much more compassionate/less stigmatized diagnoses, are pathologized or given much more stigmatized diagnoses when it comes to female or racialized patients, which reaffirms psychiatry and psychology as subjective tools of social control.

While many of the traits, emotions, perceptions and behaviors of what are considered personality disorders are painful, harmful and real (and thus should be helped, with consent, not hammered down), literal personalities aren’t “ill”. They’re personalities. Pathologizing or medicalizing a fucking personality on itself is ridiculous. It is possible to address those problematic traits/behaviors/etc without saying that a fucking personality is “ill”. So much for “you’re not your disorder”.

What shrinks will deem as hallucinations or delusions can be subjective, and it definitely can be deemed as such out of white-centric cultural bias. Plenty of non-white cultures have considered different perceptions of reality as valid and worthy of respect for centuries, at times related to their sense of spirituality. Not to mention how psychiatry has deemed the real anxieties of oppressed people that they’re being followed, spied on, plotted against and all that, as hallucinations or delusions in order to discredit them.

Many patients are given medication to try to alleviate traits/behaviors/emotions that come from circumstance (poverty, ongoing abuse, trauma, oppression...) instead of addressing the root problems. While I 100% understand using medication as a palliative measure because, bitch, you can’t always fix those problems and you still have a life to live (the same way I take clotiazepam when the insensitivity of the allistics around me causes me sensory overload), this puts the burden of the person’s situation on their own body, as if their body was the essential source of a suffering that comes from outside forces they’re not responsible or in control of. This should ideally be addressed through material change in realities that can be individual (removing the person from an abusive situation, giving economic aid, giving proper treatment to an untreated chronic illness) or social (abolishing white supremacy, the patriarchy, capitalism, etc).

So many times when palliative medical treatments for suffering that comes from circumstances don’t work (BECAUSE THE PATIENT IS STILL TRAPPED IN SAID CIRCUMSTANCES, HELLO?) it’s blamed on a supposed defect of the patient’s body/brain rather than, like... You can give me as many anti-depressants as you want but I’m still gonna be miserable if I’m being abused or suffering from unending physical chronic pain lol. And then, instead of at least having the decency of recognizing the real source of the problem if your shrink can’t realistically fix it, they keep trying more and more different meds on you like you’re a fucking lab rat, keeping on blaming a made up defect you were “born” with. Imagine what that does to a person’s self-image! At least when I loathe my body for the chronic pain, chronic fatigue and more that my chronic illnesses give me, it IS actually true that it’s my body that has a defect that can’t be cured. Why convince a person in suffering due to anything, but especially when it’s due to outside conditions out of their control and your job is fucking supposed to be to help them be happier, that their pain refuses to respond to treatment because their BRAIN is so terribly defective? I don’t wish the hatred I hold for my objectively shitty body on anyone, and causing that to someone when it’s not even true...? Incredible.

Lots of genuine difficulties associated with psychiatric diagnoses are much better helped through accessibility and material considerations, or at least through teaching the patient pragmatic methods to better deal with those, than through pills. But guess what solution shrinks usually give you. Hint: it’s easier for them and they can charge you for it monthly.

Society™ medicalized emotions, bro... WE MEDICALIZED FEELINGS!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!

#antipsych

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adozentothedawn · 4 years

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First Playthrough Log Pathfinder: Kingmaker Part 15

Jhod, I already built a hospital. What do you want from me? Yeah, maybe they should have thoght through a bit more, because I built a hospital as soon as I could, namely after my capital became a town, and so the whole story of “we didn’t have a place to treat the people” kind of seems out of place.

I really need to go visit Maegar Varn sometime soon, he’s a darling.

I let the lamashtu priests have their fun and give me their boon, and the text says I can now see in darkness as if it were day, and I mean, that’s nice and all (and actually refers to a perception bonus I think but the text still says so), but I’m Aasimar, so I already had nightvision I think. Thanks I guess, Lamashtu.

I’m kind of dissapointed that I haven’t heard a dialogue yet where Jubilost insults Amiri and she just takes it as a compliment. Like “Hell yeah, I’m the monster killer!”

Wh- Linzi?! Don’t turn me back, I just want to visit my neighbour!

I love dealing with the Fake Stag Lord. “Okay, Stag Boy” xD

What is that enemy’s picture? That looks like an ancient sims model. No really though, why is that a 3d model when everything else I’ve seen in this game is normal portraits? Weird.

Regongar just got eaten by a giant worm. Ups.

I really wich there was a way to stop execution of a move. The amount of time the game has just decided that clearly I want to go right past the enemies instead of selecting an ability is infuriating.

The mini bosses in the dragon dungeon are so unimpressive I only ever notice that I killed them when the journal checks off the task.

Oh no, the poor fighter. An optimist till the end.

This game is not very optimistic is it? Also nobody likes the dragon. I don’t either, his table looks like a trap.

There is still only one body at the table even after I’ve killed the priestess, so I guess it’s just a random corpse for shits and giggle. A shame really, I think it would have been kind of cool if the table started filling up with their bodies the more of the other heroes I killed.

#pathfinder kingmaker #my log #spoilers

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dreadnought-dear-captain · 5 years

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Happy (Slightly Belated) Birthday, Baghdad Waltz!

*CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BAGHDAD WALTZ UP TO CHAPTER 37*

I know these are stressful times right now, but I wanted to post a little something for BW’s third birthday on 3/13/2020 (and I’m a little late because I had a lot to say). THREE!! I cannot believe it. Truly, I cannot, but here we are. I know there are still a few stragglers hanging around from when I first started posting this story (extra hearts to you all), so many people who have come and gone and sometimes return again, and so many new people joining this crazy journey all the time.

You are all so great, and you make it possible for me to keep writing this. I probably would have quit a long time ago without your support, because this shit has been quite hard to sustain sometimes. I know I am very bad at keeping up with comments and things, and I’m so sorry. I am terrible with social media, too. People IRL will say the same thing about me. I am super old school and still talk on the phone with my friends. I KNOW.

(Heyyyy Bayside High)

I’ve prepared a couple of things for BW’s birthday. First, a few statistics I thought I’d whip up. Then a few questions and answers about BW, both from myself and from my beloved beta, @pitchforkcentral86. And I’m still trucking away diligently at chapter 38! I just have a few scenes to go.

-- BW Statistics --

---------------------------------------------

Words to date: 526,011

Chapters to date: 37

Shortest chapter: 3,821 words (Prologue)

Longest chapter: 31,395 words (Chapter 33)

Number of words per chapter: 12,530 (median), 14,257 (average) (note: the median is probably a better measure, since this is such an abnormal distribution - see below for the changes in chapter length over time)

Estimated total work to date: 2,890-3,120 hours (approx 18-20 hours/week). This includes writing, rewriting, editing, research, conversations with beta, outlining, and a small portion of the brainstorming. This is a conservative estimate and only includes a fraction of the ambient thinking I do about this story. And God, I do so much processing when I sleep! Perhaps I will be a BW “expert” -- estimated at around 10,000 hours I guess? -- by the time I am done with the story and all my revisions hahahahaaaaaa D:

Money spent to date (estimated): $600-700. This includes books on various subject matter and writing craft, video access to therapy education resources, and other educational materials. This does not include the incalculable sum in lost productivity from thinking about BW when I’m supposed to be doing other things!

Most of you probably don’t know this, but @pitchforkcentral86 is not just a beta reader. She is my partner in crime with BW. She knows my characters as well as I do, sometimes better. She helps me troubleshoot scenes, she tells me when my writing sucks, when my I’m not being true to my characters, when I’m not being real enough (sometimes when I’m being TOO real). She gives me porn inspiration and listens to me bitch and calls my bullshit and makes this story what it is. I really mean it - this story would not be nearly as good without her, and you can see how much better it gets once she starts to get involved around chapter 17.

So I decided I would answer some silly little questions about BW. Just my own personal opinions about stuff! And asked @pitchforkcentral86 to contribute as well. See below.

What are my favorite scenes in BW and why?

In no particular order:

The 9/11 memory (Chapter 26): When Steve is in therapy with Hope remembering when Bucky returns from Ground Zero. This was one of the first times I experimented with writing in a sort of stream-of-consciousness way (though certainly not the last!). I have done several tweaks to it since the original version, texturing it more. It’s so rich in detail, visceral detail, little details about their relationship, pieces of Bucky’s past, clues about his alcoholism, the way he handles stress, his difficulties letting Steve in, the love Steve has for him, Bucky’s need to be loved and cared for and his aversion for it, it’s so, so rich. Gah. I love it. (GUH and @buckydunpun’s ART - just murder me. Thanks.)

The Thor “breakup” scene (Chapter 28): This is the moment I think that many people realized Bucky is not a reliable narrator. Maybe they suspected it before, but this is when it’s very obviously apparent. His entire interpretation of his relationship with Thor is thrown into question. He built a rich fantasy about what they were, holding hands in the grass, all this bullshit, and he could actually say they were boyfriends, which makes complete sense because there were never any stakes. It was always surface. There was never any intimacy except as veteran/soldier friends who had sex, which is about as deep as Bucky can go anyway without getting utterly terrified.

This is in such stark contrast to Steve, where there is actual intimacy, ongoing demand for more intimacy, and this relationship feels VERY real to Bucky, and it’s very frightening to him. And that’s why he runs from the term “boyfriend” with Steve. It’s all so real. It’s easy to engage with a fake boyfriend. But still, he didn’t deliberately realize he was doing this, so it was devastating to find out the truth of his own self-deception. And to hear that he’s not the kind of guy you settle with, he’s the guy you fuck… wow. But how can you really hate Thor? (I’m sure some of you can but…) He’s a nice guy. Even Bucky knows it. So he’s run from something good and real (Steve) to something good but false (Thor) and then he gets rejected from both. It’s horrible and so self-defeating and so quintessentially Bucky. I love it.

A Close Second (Spent Brass fic): This whole side fic came together like a glorious dream. I love everything about it. It’s such a wonderful look into their relationship, into their dynamics, into their individual personalities, their idiosyncrasies, so much push-pull between them. Whispers of things that have happened to Bucky in the past, a lack of understanding from Steve, a desire to know, so much affection. Some good sex. I love this SB. But I love all the Spent Brass fics. They are so close to my heart.

Honorable mention: Bucky’s masturbation scene during his bender (Chapter 32). I had an absolute BLAST writing this. Thanks to @pitchforkcentral86 for proposing that Bucky’s core sexual/romantic desire is just to be kissed. Dayum. It all unfolded from there.

Who is the character I think about the most? Bucky. I think because he’s got the most complex history and the most complicated psychology. He’s actually fairly rule-bound in terms of how he operates, but he’s got a lot of back story that explains how he became the way he is, and I spend a lot of time considering what happened to him and how he developed his self-image, his coping strategies, and his ideas about others and the world. I think a lot about his relationship with his parents. I think a LOT about bby Jamie. It’s not because Steve is not important or any less complex. But Bucky’s childhood experiences have shaped him in very specific ways, and I want to make sure that I represent them very thoughtfully.

Who is my favorite character to write? Bucky. His voice and thought processes come to me more easily than Steve’s. Perhaps in part because of my personal penchant for the word “fuck.” I love writing his perspective, his preferences, his interpretations of situations. I love imagining the way he imagines the world.

Who is my favorite supporting character? Winnie. I know she’s a very polarizing character, but I have so much affection for her. I think she’s a badass. She joined the military as a female officer back in the 1970s, which is incredible and rough. She kept her maiden name. This is a Southern conservative woman, an Air Force brat, raised by very conservative Southern people in a very conservative Pentecostal church, but she has always had an irrepressible rebellious, feminist badass streak in her even before she knew what feminism was. She might not even define herself as a feminist now. She has always done the best she can under very difficult circumstances, and she loves her kids, even though she sometimes sucks quite badly at mothering them. I love her for her imperfections.

Favorite topic to research this year: I’ve been really enjoying researching emotionally focused couples therapy, which was developed by Sue Johnson, EdD. I’ve been watching therapy videos of couples going through this and having a wonderful time imaging Bucky and Steve going through something similar with Claire. I don’t think Claire is the strictest adherent to EFT, but I think she’s informed by it. It’s tough, because I’m very used to cognitive behavioral type therapies, so this one has been different to think about writing. I’ve also been really getting into reading about childhood sexual abuse and its effects on boys and men. It’s greatly helped my conceptualization of Bucky and Bucky and Steve’s relationship. I mean, it’s a grim topic, but there have been some fascinating threads in terms of understanding one’s self perception of sexual orientation, etc. and thinking about how Bucky would consider and contextualize his experiences.

Am I more of a Steve or a Bucky? Hmm. I don’t strongly relate to either, but I think if I had to choose, I’m a bit more of a Steve. I’m pretty expressive of my affection and positive emotions, and I’ll complain about daily life things enough. However, when it comes to major life events that really bother me, I tend to err on the side of not processing them and turning my feelings into headaches and other physical afflictions. In other words, I’m a suppressor of major emotions and events. It’s FINE. I’m FINE. Nothing to see here. But I am definitely not as tidy as Steve, nor as smart, and definitely not as buff or hot. So that’s where most of our similarities end lol. I do eat a lot of tofu though.

Who would I want to hang out with for a day? I initially thought Rikki, but like @pitchforkcentral86, think she’s actually too cool and smart for me, and I would probably just make an ass out of myself. I think probably Elektra. I know, this is a left field answer, but it’s one day! To do whatever with anyone! I want to choose someone who’s going to make it worth my while. So many of the characters are either too busy, too rigid, too anxious, too conventional, etc. I would want to run around NYC with Elektra for the day and have drinks with her and Matt afterwards at some weird-ass underground bar. My more infield answer would probably be Hank. I want him to tell me gay stories about gay things. I want to see his apartment. I want to drink coffee with him. I want him to tell me about what the AIDS crisis was like for him. I want to hear about his relationship with Howard. I want all the shit that Bucky takes for granted every day. He can be my fairy godmother any day.

Who would I want to be friends with? Probably Sharon. She’s one of the most reliable, loyal, and level-headed people in this world. She’s smart, she’s flexible, she rolls with things pretty well but also doesn’t take a ton of bullshit. She also has a good sense of humor about things. I feel like she’s someone I could call with my Zack Morris phone and talk with for hours about all sorts of things. We could also split a bottle of wine and talk some real shit.

Wait - Why not Bucky or Steve? I don’t think these two are entirely likable, to be honest. They’re good humans, they mean well, but I don’t think they’re very well equipped in the friendship department. I care about them very deeply (I hope that’s clear), but I don’t know if I’d want to be particularly close to either of them at this point in their lives. They’re both lacking in the skill and perspective to be good friends and partners, which is a major reason why they are in therapy.

Who would I want to be my therapist - Hope, Bruce, Scott, or Claire? Claire. Given how much I suck at talking about the things that are really deeply bothering me, I think I would need an emotionally focused therapist who is going to dig in there and really get me to focus on all the emotions I’m trying to shove away. I would probably try to over-intellectualize everything and deflect, and I don’t think she’d let me get away with that.

Okay, on to @pitchforkcentral86~~~~~

What are my favorite scenes in BW and why?

Oh boy. Well, this is a difficult question to answer since it feels like every chapter becomes a new favorite simply due to sheer amount of time spent planning and composing and revising and whining and complaining. And also my memory sucks. BUT, with that said, I think I would like to mention three scenes specifically:

1) Bucky on deployment, cleaning a Humvee (Chapter 7), Steve standing nearby. This scene conveyed the tension of deployment and between Steve and Bucky so well, and, perhaps more importantly, built my respect towards Bucky as a competent, caring NCO (to that effect, the small scene in which we see Bucky the NCO on film telling all the little grunts to eat so they can become big and strong is another favorite).

2) Beautiful Boy (Spent Brass), Steve’s memory from childhood with Sarah at the park, naming animals. I really don’t have a good reason other than that scene was so clear to me in my mind and was especially tender.

3) Steve sleeping with Sharon in DC (Chapter 33). Honestly, it was just a great scene, and we had a really good time planning it out.

I can include many more, and certainly the ones Dread mentioned are favorites too, but I have to stop or this will just be a squeee fest.

Who is my favorite supporting character?

Hank. His particular brand of honesty is extremely appealing to me, and I think Bucky secretly, or not so secretly, loves him too. And also Quill, just for shits and giggles because he is reliably there as an ice breaker, that lovable Mountain-Dew-drinking goof.

Favorite topic to research this year:

Well, I don’t do the research myself, but I spend many, many m-a-n-y hours listening to and conversing with Dread about all the things he’s delved into for this fic. So I guess maybe I’ll turn this question into favorite topic to discuss/conceptualize. In that respect, Bucky’s and Jack’s relationship has been by far the most intriguing, grueling, fascinating and difficult aspect of this fic to conceptualize – those were some of the best talks in the process. [Dreadnought edit: You will see much more of this in future chapters, folks!] And for a fun answer, planning out sex scenes is hilarious.

Am I more of a Steve or Bucky?

Bucky, no doubt. Sometimes it feels like Dread has climbed into my brain, found a horrible nugget of truth about me, and then put it into words coming out of Bucky’s mouth. Those moments are both wonderful and terrible in equal measure.

Who would I want to hang out with for a day?

For a whole day? Can it maybe be a coffee or, like, a quick lunch? I honestly don’t know… Neither Steve nor Bucky will be very good company, I think. Not in their current versions, anyways. Rikki is hella cool but she intimidates me, so, not her. Um.. Huh. Nope, don’t have an answer.

Who would I want to be friends with?

Probably Hank, again. He has a really good attitude. I’m starting to feel like not picking Steve/Bucky is selfish because it’s like “oh, they have too many issues and it won’t be fun”. But it’s also true! Friendship is reciprocal, and I really don’t think that’s where they’re at. (But I would have totally been dying to be friends with Steve in his bookshop days).

Who would I want to be my therapist - Hope, Bruce, Scott, or Claire?

Hope or Claire. Both are no-nonsense competent therapists. But I think maybe Hope will be too put-together for me. So, yeah, probably Claire.

-----------------------------

Okay, everyone. Back to the grind. I’ll update as soon as I can! Remember to wash your hands with the fastidiousness of BW Steve Rogers. (And also remember to sing the “happy birthday fucking everyone” song, which should actually be sung TWICE or resentfully enough that it lasts 20 seconds.)

#baghdad waltz #happy birthday #fucking everyone #I love you

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hysteriamodes · 4 years

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After watching “Gone Girl”.

So, uh, I have an unpopular opinion. I’m no expert on criminal investigations, I listen to a bunch of true crime podcasts, one that has a co-host, a retired detective, Paul Holes. I’m also a survivor of CSA, so I know how it goes down once you file a case to police and talked to a detective.

I can’t really say I like this movie completely -- don’t get me wrong, it’s a good movie, but... This is not how it works, lol.

It’s hard to really take a story seriously, knowing in real life that a criminal investigation into a disappearance would involve:

- Not just interviewing the spouse/significant other, interviewing those who have been previously romantically involved with someone. - Someone would have talked to Desi - Someone would have also looked into the stalking claims against Desi and if he was supposedly doing it electronically, there would have been a paper trail. Restraining orders are really hard to get. - If you buy a car and have to drive it, you need legitimate identification, have the title singed over, and register the car in your name, so the “getaway car” just seems so unfeasible to me. You can’t drive without plates, you’d get pulled over and sellers will take the plates from you. - Also, if you look on Craig’s List, it’s on your internet history. - They also would have had search warrants for electronic devices, including computers, and would have gone through that internet history. - You can pay cash for short-term rentals or hotels, but they still require ID. - Burner phones can be traced - “No body, no crime” -- the case built against Nick is completely circumstantial. Any rational prosecutor would have tossed it out and demanded more evidence, especially if no one’s double-checking for more suspects. The amount of blood they found at the crime scene is indicative of serious injury. Blunt-force injury like that as Amy claimed what happened would leave visible bruises, even for weeks, and would also have fractures. This lady rolls up (literally) to her husband just covered in blood and has no sign of that other than sexual intercourse. - CSI would have probed the convenient box cutter under the pillow, while she was supposedly tied up. I mean, seriously, what the hell? - Any investigator would be dubious of Amy’s responses during that interview. According to her, she was kidnapped and held for weeks, supposedly injured, and is so unusually cool. - In the same vein, you would have a victim’s advocate to check in on you and they too would fin that unusual. - They would bother to check Nick’s alibis, whereabouts, and where he was, so therefore, the credit card debt would look extremely dubious. Transaction IDs wouldn’t line up if Nick was out of the house, doing his thing, and Amy is buying stuff with his credit cards while he’s at work. Just saying. - Any smart investigator would have looked at the security footage of Desi and Amy calmly strolling up through the lake house, not of her being dragged in or at least sedated. Anyone sharp enough would have noticed that. - Desi’s phone would also have been traceable, so they would find out where he went, the casino, and there would have been security footage of Amy and Desi meeting. - Who’s to say that the people that robbed Amy didn’t notice. That woman saw through her shitty disguise and said nothing. There was a reward posted for finding Amy; that woman also could have called into the tip line and report her stay at this hotel or whatever. - The “clues”. A sensible person would have found them oh, so, convenient. - The “best friend” would have been interviewed, they would also disclose how long their friendship has been. - The hormone that comes up during pregnancy, that’s been diluted in water, wouldn’t be so potent enough to test... I’m still wondering what Amy’s motives were, she didn’t show Nick. She only showed her “friend” and it’s still not clear to me if the investigators checked into this.

I guess because I’m on the aro-ace spectrum, I probably don’t appreciate what this movie says about relationships and their roles and perceptions, but my thoughts were that Amy is clearly a sociopath, she has a troubled history, and that would have came up during investigations. Not to mention, Amy is just too Perfect, to the point she supposedly outwits the FBI. These are the same folks that work in more notorious disappearances, murders, and profiling outside of a self-absorbed couple. It just reminds me that law enforcement doesn’t take women criminals a seriously compared to men. Women are just as capable of absolute sociopathy as men, though there aren’t as many sociopathic women. Women that commit murder, schemes, and behave like this operate on a completely level compared to men.

The bottom line is, women that are criminals are underestimated and that’s what I saw in this movie. Sure, Nick is an absolute asshole, but he at least was knocked down a peg to see his own faults, even going as far as saying he won’t end the marriage for the sake of his unborn child (and... don’t get me started how Amy just conveniently came up with Nick’s sperm sample, after she said to him she didn’t want kids) upon discovering he’s going to be a father.

Amy could have ended this marriage in a divorce and bled him dry of his money. She could have ceased that bar, sold it, even take his sister to court because she was a co-owner, too. And given the “Amazing Amy” books, Nick still would have been publicly humiliated and even more humiliation would have came to him. A teacher, a well-known writer, having an affair with his students? I mean, come on. His friends would dump his ass, too.

Instead, Amy over-reacts, concocts this supposed disappearance and fabricated murder, in the 21st century, where even in the mid 2010s, you are completely traceable. Amy could have disposed of evidence all she wants, but the fact remains, people are nosy as fuck and would have noticed any of this shit. Amy, realistically, wouldn’t get away with this forever; she’d be sent to prison for life.

Amy isn’t like Thomason or Dani, she is a selfish, manipulative, and petty person. Thomason and Dani were true victims of circumstance and were so horribly traumatized, so caught up in hysteria and apathy subjected to them by men. Amy isn’t a victim; she had every chance to walk out of this, take ownership. If I was around a guy like Nick? I would have left him a long time ago. And I know that this whole movie is based on perception, but someone who’s so clearly narcissistic and so devoid of personality that she molds herself into the ideal “cool girl” would wise up and find another way, but no.

Yes, there is an argument that “women are crazy here”, but I just... I can’t.

I found myself more frustrated with this movie, so riddled with continuity errors and that it’s so unrealistic, with a narrator that may or may not be lying to the audience, who is also Completely Prefect and Untouchable that she’s practically a Mary Sue.

I’m also mad because there is a perception that women can make fake rape allegations and are already portrayed as conniving and scheming, and I feel like this movie just completely fed into these stereotypes. I will concede that it was likely doing that on purpose, but still, it’s not helping! Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good movie, everyone was really cool in it, and I’m sure the book is very different, but holy shit, this is like a bad episode of Law & Order: SVU.

#eeeeehhhhh #gone girl #murderino #this is not how it works #anyway i love SVU #this wold be olivia's worst nightmare lmao

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vespertine-legacy · 5 years

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Time for playlist spam! Here’s a playlist I built for Zuvi. Track list with pertinent lyrics and some explanations under the cut. The formatting will almost certainly get broken on mobile, so apologies in advance.

Two Points for Honesty - Guster [just a little about Zuvi in general; she grew up kind of thinking that she was a waste and not good enough and that nobody did/would care about her]

If that's all that you will be Then you'll be a waste of time You've dreamed a thousand dreams None seem to stick in your mind Two points for honesty It must make you sad to know that Nobody cares at all

Sweet Disposition - The Temper Trap [how Zuvi falls in love, a little bit recklessly, but deeply, wholly, with more care than it looks like from the outside]

Sweet disposition Never too soon Oh, reckless abandon Like no one's watching you

Mess is Mine - Vance Joy [falling in love, kind of in general, but specifically with Risha]

You know you gave me all the time Oh, did I give enough of mine? Hold on, darling This body is yours, This body is yours and mine Well hold on, my darling This mess was yours, Now your mess is mine

Bloodstream - Stateless [Zuvi & Lana; they really did not mean to get involved with each other, and it ends up not really being a good thing for either of them and they kind of know it, but sometimes it’s hard to say no to something that feels good, you know?]

And the silence surrounds you And hunts you I think I might've inhaled you I could feel you behind my eyes You’ve gotten into my bloodstream I could feel you floating in me

The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most - Dashboard Confessional [Zuvi hates Odessen, she doesn’t want to lead the Alliance, her crew and her lovers aren’t here, and Lana’s been withholding information from her but she knows why; my inner emo teenager is showing and I don’t give a shit]

And you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone Or anyone at all...or anyone at all And the grave that you refuse to leave The refuge that you've built to flee, The places that you've come to fear the most

Trembling Hands - The Temper Trap [getting the news that they might have found her old crew--maybe it will help her to have them back, or maybe it’s too late for them all]

So throw me a line Somebody out there help me I'm on my own Throw me a line Afraid that I have come here To win you again With trembling hands Hear me now make me whole

I Won’t Fight It - Andrew Belle [reuniting with Corso and Risha, scared that it won’t be the same (scared that it will be the same)]

Where your body is I'll be brave I walk to it If there's a crowd waiting for me there I'll break through it, but I won't fight it, I won't fight it

You’re Somebody Else - flora cash [Akaavi and Corso to Zuvi, probably starting around the time she kills Senya, potentially Akaavi to Zuvi even earlier, because Akaavi is a lot more perceptive than Corso]

Well you look like yourself But you're somebody else Only it ain't on the surface Well you talk like yourself No, I hear someone else though Now you're making me nervous

Simple Pleasures - Jake Bugg [Zuvi & Theron; a warning]

And maybe it's all that you've done wrong So just bite your silver tongue That you lied with, lied to yourself

It’s Too Much - Moose Blood [fuck. This is how Akaavi leaves Zuvi]

And I don't think I've got this in me And I don't feel the way you do It's been a while now and it kills me to say that It's just too much

Tell Me Why - Nine Pound Shadow [double fuck. Corso & Zuvi breaking up]

And after all this hurt I still love you so And you don't know what this is like There must have been something that you could say Everyone who tried to love you You pushed them all away

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star [Risha about Zuvi; and Risha still loves her no matter what]

I think it’s strange you never knew

[yeah, because you don’t just come out and say it, asshole]

Hanging On - Active Child [fuck, the third. This is Zuvi and Lana’s break up; Lana has always wanted something different than what Zuvi can give her, and I’m terrible for doing this to them, but I’m a slut for angst and suffering]

Touch me and then turn away Put your hands into the flame Tell me if you feel this pain 'cause I don't want to be your ball and chain

Your Ex-Lover is Dead - Stars [Zuvi is having some bad days, yo; but she brought this upon herself and she needs to learn to face actual consequences]

Live through this, and you won't look back There's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave You were what I wanted I gave what I gave I'm not sorry I met you I'm not sorry it's over I'm not sorry there's nothing to save

Better Life - Paper Route [Accepting, moving on]

All this fire in my veins From a heart that's trapped in my ribcage Burning through my fingertips Burning everything I kiss | And what is done is done Piece together what's been broken Can you ever give up someone A better life, a better life is waiting

Our Hearts Are Wrong - Jessica Lea Mayfield [Zuvi & @rainofaugustsith ‘s Ror; Meeting Ror? First mission with Ror? Realizing she’s falling for Ror? Deciding darkness is worth it as long as she has Risha and Ror?]

You're intimidating as all hell But I ain't scared of you I know how you work I am just like you No matter what you say Our hearts are wrong

The Night Starts Here - Stars [Post Onslaught fuckery, but I’m not saying much more]

The night starts here, the night starts here Forget your name, forget your fear You drop a coin into the sea And shout out please come back to me You name your child after your fear And tell them I have brought you here

#swtor oc zuvi #november puts entirely too much thought into oc playlists #i hope somebody enjoys these...#oc playlist

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mikkock · 5 years

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HELLO I ADORE YOUR OCS SO MUCH WILL YOU TELL ME ABOUT KAI HE LOOKS LIKE A TOTAL "YOUR DAUGHTER CALLS ME DADDY TOO" DOUCHEBAG AND I FUCKING LOVE HIM AND WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT HIM

LBLMVBGK THANK U OMG love it when ppl like my kids, im a proud dad rn

ALSO wrow congrats on ur on point analysis, cause, that’s the Essence Of His Being (fun fact since i got two characters who go by the name of kai -cause fuck that basic writing tip that says ‘dont have two characters named the same thing- i usually refer to him as The Bad Kai cuz he a bad bitch)

so lets unwrap that dude shall we uwu

SO this dude was created when i realised my story didnt have antagonists so i made a bunch of Bad People and then they all became good people after i started giving them more personnality somehow eXCEPt him for some reason, the only survivor of the “everyone will be baby” plague, the only rude bitch in this house, the only guy who’s still on the dark grey side of morally grey...but tbh im in love with him cause he’s an asshole and im an idiot so like.

His base concept was basically something along the lines of “fuckboy but make it Couture”, like douchebag indeed But Gotta Be Fancy at being one, gotta add a pinch of Sneaky Bitch in the pot. His aesthetic is Chillin, gettin in ur pants, then moving on for some more chillin and more pants. So if you’re into some funky sexy time with no pressure and no ties, ya gon get along, your goals meet, time to have fun.

All that is supported by his charisma, cause unless ya got some nasty history, he’ll just look like that charming bad-boy “oho hot dude with a dangerous but not agressive” vibed person, and he’s quite a sweet-talker. He’s probs not only the ‘your daughter calls me daddy’ kind but also ‘and so will YOU, i’m scoring with the whole family and you wont stop me (and you wont WANT to stop me)’

He got that handsome ppl priviledge ya feel

but also, he wouldnt be a rude guy if he was just the ‘i enjoy chill frick-fracking and im just so sexy that no one can say no to that booty’ guy

Dude got quiiite some spite-fueled ego and Does Not Take losing well, and will not, in fact, let himself lose on any objective he has, and when that objective is A Person, he gets ugly. Being good at sweet talking also means being good at small stuff like “not saying exactly the truth always when it would be more beneficial not to”, “deliberately using euphemistic, ambiguous or obscure language so to mask wrong doings and technically saying the truth but in such a way that it becomes completely masked by a thick fog of bullshit”, and “use words and behaviour in general to influence others unscrupulously so to get something in return”. Even a little “playing with their perception in order to make them doubt in their thoughts and selves”. In short dude got no qualms about using all the tools of manipulation available if it means that he comes on top (or on bottom if the goal was getting an assful eeeeeey we’re masters of comedy here) It tends to be all for short term results tho, so not much your ‘boyfriend who convinces you you’re nothing without him” and more of a “you thought you were dating but only you were thinking that as he always kept it just vague enough to have you not official yet convinced of his and now you’re blaming yourself for believing you were together”

master of getting ass, also master of Ugly Ass Breakups, and master of suddenly dissapearing from your life so hard that you wonder if it was just your imagination all along (he got ugly past with a bunch of other ocs especially he’s ex boyfriend with two that are now together cause i dig that sort of drama the sAME dUDe gave u the trust issues that held u from going full lovey dovey ? i fucking lIVE off that kinda shit wait until he pops back like ‘oho hello fancy seeing YOU TWO here my two fave exes together incredible what a small world”)

Though I have to rework on all that cause that backstory is oLD AS SHIT (like prolly i built it in what, 2016? ew ugly) I had that stem from some sort of neglect-fueled inferiority complex. I had given him a kinda cold family with a bunch of siblings who got Way More Nurtured due to their respective talents and achievements, having him left behind and feeling like he got nothing. SO that’s basically the explanation as of today but i dont like iiiiit anymooooore so I’ll have to work on it to make it something i dig, cause idk, bitch feels flat so far.

BUT i do intend on keeping the whole concept of ~Loneliness~, and of him working alone and quite hard for anything he gets. And the general need of proving himself that had come from the WIP backstory. I don’t exactly see him as an overachiever at all, but definitly as an obstinate and persevering hardworking guy, because “Look YALL I WAS aBLE TO DO THIS YALL THOUGHT I COULDNT HUH YALL LOOK DOWN ON ME well fuck u cause idc im better than u now also ur mum’s into bondage i kno from experience bye”. So tbh pair up with him for group projects, you’ll be sure his share of the work will be done (but also if you dont do yours then he’s probably going to be a bITCh about it, no remorse in leaving blank slides in the middle of the powerpoint and then loudly proclaiming ‘OH RIGHT This was supposed to be Kevin’s part but I suppose he never sent it to me, despite the numerous reminders i sent him, no big deal, no hard feelings, its ok sweetie we all sometimes feel too lazy i forgive u :)” )

Also he’d be Chill to hang out with for like, parties, nights out at the bar, that kinda shit. He definetly has some beans to spill about quite some people, he gathers the goss as he gathers lovers (i was gonna end that in “as he spreads legs” but it sounded too PG-18 for this good Well Behaved family friendly blog) and Will Not stay tight lipped, and Will be a bitch when trashtalking people, and It Will Be Entertaining as it always is when you’re hearing about crazy exes and you’ve had some beers.

Now trivia that idk where else to write cause idk i stupid or more like disorganised :

- he digs red ale beer like if ya wanna win him over with the appropriate alcohol offer there u go

- he’s a fake blonde (cause my hobby is painting regrowth roots on hair)

- his design is a mixture of those 3dgy denim boys u see on pinterest and the specific brand of fuckboys that are french-L-section-chic-grunge-hipster-fuckboys (L section is like a branch of highschool)(that word combo is a so specific kinda guy)(its kinda like a softboi but more arrogant but in a lowkey way)(also they rich)(but he’s not rich so guess that should make him Less Arrogant)

-im constantly dead afraid of giving him more characteristics and story or whatveer cause he’s the only meanie i got left and i do Not want him to stop being an asshole but everytime i develop a character they end up nice or redeemed or whatever and i wanna keep him a bitch so i neglect him (just like his parents in his 2016 version wow)

he smokes (prolly started quite early to Be Kool and now relies on it for stress relief)

he’s outspoken and extraverted and prolly the guy who had a lot to say when you were doing debates in class (there’s always that person who has a Lot to argument about)(its him) but outside of a Set and Defined debate structure he probably doesnt give his mind voraciously

he’s a law student and despite saying he’s the one bad guy left he probably wont be a corrupt lawyer or judge or whatever like come on he will do his job properly he worked hARD FOR THIS justice may be served

he’s not the kind to openly hate or even dislike anyone cause what’s the point of wasting your energy on that? its much funnier to him to be obnoxiously Neutral with someone and basically ignore them but still strike them with some Spikes of passive-agressive comments, let them be Mad at your calmness

he’s 177cm tall (that’s like 5.8 according to google)

honestly if you’re bros with him he’s fun to be with the being a jerk is completly coincidental

he probably ranks high in the list of “those criminals who steal big lighters from their friends”

i think at a point his design had tattoos but i forgot the designs of those so now he doesnt anymore

a dog person

i think ive run out of facts (or my brain dead) so im leavin with a shirtless pic cause my hobby is drawing tits

in short, charming asshole who can get ugly, secretly feels lonely and small, works hard for himself, better have him as a friend than as a foe though probably not the most frontally agressive enemy, and also, your booty, hand it over.

#people probably excuse his naughty behaviour bc of his looks and that's the fact

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chiyoumen · 5 years

Text

Two Faced | Chapter 3: Inseparable

Angst | Hurt, no comfort | Jealousy | Denial

I wasn’t able to get to my computer to post chapter 3 here on tumblr, but here it is now (for anyone who is past meeting Ren and hasn’t read this chapter on Ao3 yet lmao)

Summary:

Neither of them expected their reunion to be so... Bleak. Distance had given them both false expectations and changes in perception. The contact high had faded, and so had their victories.

Ren keeps his stead fast desire for treasure, and Ryo keeps his desire for justice, and peace. The conflict lay in their want for one another... Of which they both further deny.

But, Ren knows he needs Ryo to reach his goals, whether he cared about him or not... Their disappointing reunion left them both feeling raw.

What happens when he eavesdrops, and finds how Ryo speaks about him to other people?

What happens when he hears him flirting with another man?

Notes:

There is, of course, major spoilers for Shenmue III from this point on. Future chapters are planned, and will hopefully make it out as I replay the game again.

This chapter is based on the meeting with Ren in Niaowu, which was far more mundane than I expected. But it gave me something to work with, so here we are. It also involved the scene after they meet, where Ryo talks to Shenhua about him, and then calling some people, since I had the international calling card.

Major thanks to everyone who's commented, left kudos, and sent asks to me about this, or generally read this and supported in any way. Your support keeps this alive and I greatly appreciate it!

Hope you enjoy!

[Inseparable]

"He really liked you, didn't he?"

Honestly, he wasn't so sure about Joy's observation. Whenever he was around Ren, there was a palpable tension. The kiss they shared, the memories... The moment he felt strongest was at the top of the yellow head building, Ren's hand upon his shoulder, staring off into the sunset sky as Lan Di got away. He felt nearly defeated when Lan Di had escaped. But there was much more in that moment. He felt so close - like he could truly accomplish finding his father's killer.

And now... He was beginning to feel more alone than ever. While his relationship with Shenhua had grown, and he felt safe with her, she was... Comfortable. He didn't know how else to put that. She was innocent, and he was scared of her seeing more of the world than necessary - but she'd made her choice to follow him. He couldn't blame her for wanting to save her father... And he absolutely wanted to help. She was by no means weak, but she was quite naive.

Ren following him to China was something he'd anticipated, but he hadn't allowed himself to think on it too much. What if he hadn't shown up? He couldn't let himself feel that disappointment.

But he had shown up.

"Is that really all I get!?"

Ryo's heart practically punched through his chest when he heard that abrasive voice slice through the crowds and busy vendors. Ryo saw him the moment he turned the corner and did not hesitate to approach.

"THIS much." Ryo watched him gesture a large amount, "I want THIIIS much."

"Ren-" He tried to push through Ren's argument with the vendor.

Finally, he was here again. But he didn't turn around. He was just shouting about noodles and how stingy the vendor was being... This wasn't surprising.

"Ren!" Ryo needed to be heard.

Ren turned and face him, his heart leaping in frustration over the situation, words slipping from his lips because he did not want this to happen now, "Oh, for crying out loud!"

Play it cool, play it cool. You didn't follow him across China only out of worry. Right, money. That was the main reason, duh. Screw any other reason, honestly. It was the truth, just... Not the whole truth.

"What are you doing here?" Ryo asked, as if he hadn't known Ren would follow him all along.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Ren gestured to the stand multiple times, "I'm buying some chow mein!"

Ryo glared, "This is no time for jokes."

Ren drew his hands up, taking a step back, that scowl always made his heart skip, "Oh, there you go with that scary face again."

Ryo stepped closer, grabbing Ren's full attention, at least for a moment, "What the hell are you doing in Niaowu?"

'Say it,' Ryo plead internally, 'say you actually care for once, damn it.'

Ren stared at him for a moment, and the smirk that grew on Ren's face made Ryo scared to hear what he was about to say.

"You remember hearing Zhu Yuanda's story back in Kowloon?" Ren wagged his finger upward, and as he finished his statement, he couldn't bear to keep looking at Ryo, and darted his eyes away. Focus on anything else.

Ryo glared instantly, "About what?"

'Please don't say treasure.' Ryo thought, but it was cut off by exactly what he didn't want.

"Treasure!"

'Bastard.' he internally replied, glaring a little.

"I'm talking about treasure!" Ren hissed, briefly raising his fist to him to prove his sure, rock-steady stance on exactly what he was after. But he couldn't look at Ryo anymore, or that rock wall of a facade may crumble. So he turned away, unable to avoid the tension when Ryo lingered closer despite his move away, "The scent is so strong I can practically smell it..."

Ryo sighed, turning his head to stare at the ground. Ren really wasn't as good as he'd built him up to be. In the end, Ryo didn't give a damn about treasure. He wanted vengeance, justice, and eventually peace, and while he had thought Ren cared about that - he very clearly didn't.

"You..." Ryo's voice dropped, trailing off.

He shouldn't have been surprised.

Ren looked back to him, brow raising at Ryo's sudden downcast appearance. Damn. It worked. Ryo couldn't see through anything.

Ren stretched his arms back in the most nonchalant manner he could, deciding that he really didn't want to deal with the aftermath of this encounter. It wasn't his fault that Ryo showed up unexpectedly, he wasn't prepared! And now the kid was upset. Whatever. Ryo could handle himself.

"I'm gonna walk around some more." He flashed a fake, crooked smile at Ryo as he backed away, waving, abrupt and awkward, completely disregarding why he had been at the noodle stand in the first place, "See ya."

As Ryo glared at his back, he hadn't the faintest idea that Ren could be cursing himself mentally the entire time he walked away. Instead, Ryo was wondering how the Hell they'd gotten so close - only for it to be torn away to shreds and crumble so quickly... They'd only been apart a few weeks, but perhaps that was enough to put all their pain and differences in perspective. Or at least remind Ren what his real goal was.

"That Ren could easily pass for a red snake..." He sighed, mumbling to himself, "Guess I should head back to the bustling diner I go." He'd said it loudly in a last ditch effort to tell Ren where he'd be. But the man didn't even acknowledge him.

Ryo's heart had sunk into his stomach, any attempt at staying positive was gone, and he hadn't moved away from their meeting spot right away. He had a feeling that they both knew they'd see one another again - but this was not what he'd been anticipating... And Ren felt as cold as ever. That smirk of his was the same yet it felt so false and hollow. He felt more like the man he met the tried to stab him right off the bat... He felt like that same broken thug he distrusted, and needed to go to for help. He no longer felt the man who spoke up against his cool demeanor, the man who helped him when he didn't need to... the man he'd kissed.

He felt used.

Ryo's fists clenched tightly with his anger, rage brimming his eyes with tears. He'd tried to avoid disappointing himself with thoughts of their reunion - yet this was worse than he'd tried not to imagine. This hurt.

"Damn it..." He muttered inaudibly through gritted teeth, watching Ren's pony tail lightly chase him in the air as he walked away, "Damn you!"

Ren was thinking the same words.

There was nothing about their reunion that felt good - aside from the initial excitement of hearing Ryo call his name. But he was hungry and cranky, not only that, he hadn't expected Ryo to find him in the middle of a vendor's market. This was not going right. This was awful. He couldn't have possibly played it off any worse. Whatever, he really was there to find treasure! Not that he thought Ryo believed that anymore.

Did he care? Sure. Should he? Absolutely not. He had a job to do, and his number one goal was to become rich beyond his wildest dreams. It wasn't his fault that some dumb, passionate kid made him feel a thing or two. It's not like he hadn't slept with people or had brief flings without a second thought before. This was just like that. This was only that...

Being in an actual, public relationship with another man would be a scary prospect at best. Ren had a fondness for women too, but was by no means traditional, nor did he really care about the public opinion. He liked who he liked, despite sexual activity between men being illegal in his hometown. But fuck staying there, anyway, how boring. And since when did he care about any law he didn't want to follow? Boom, problem solved. But only the gods knew how Ryo might feel about that sort of thing. He had no idea how Japanese culture worked when it came to... All of that.

Gods, he was thinking too much. Headache central.

Although... None of it meant he had to be so cold to Ryo.

Maybe he should try again...? He already knew where Ryo was staying, perhaps he could try and stop by, change things. He didn't have to, and he had shit to do, but what good was any of this if Ryo remained pissed at him? There wasn't going to be any treasure, and there wasn't gonna be any glory if he couldn't tail it off the damn kid.

Yeah, that was his rationale.

Ren sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked along the riverside. Yes, he fucked up. He had to do something. Like fixing a business partnership, right? Damn.

Not too long after their fleeting reunion, Ren made the decision to find Ryo in the Niaowu hotel. He'd been waiting for a while, and it was nearly nine. With a disgruntled groan, he headed into the lobby bathroom, annoyed at Ryo for making him wait so damn long...

Now, he wasn't usually the type to hype himself up, and he felt like an idiot doing so, mumbling under his breath. 'You can do this, he's just a dumb kid, he'll forgive you, this isn't a big deal. You don't even need to ask the idiot.' That was good enough right?

He stared at his hands for a moment, releasing a slow sigh. Gods, he was tired. Getting here hadn't been easy, and now, being here wasn't easy.

Adjusting his bandanna, he moved to leave the restroom.

He froze briefly when he heard Ryo's voice out front. Ren was about ready to push himself ahead, go catch him, talk to him, but he changed his mind the instant he heard a woman respond to him. He snaked against the wall, keeping himself pressed against it as he neared the corner, briefly peeking out to see Ryo sit down with a young, beautiful girl. How strange was that? A girl? Really?

Ren scowled, and moved back against the wall. He was in no way above eavesdropping. He hadn't heard the beginning of their conversation clearly.

Ryo was always awkward, but even more so when he spoke to women.

"Have you found anything?" The woman asked, a delicate, sweet voice reaching their ears.

"Hm. Nothing... New." Ryo replied.

She seemed disappointed, but resigned to patience, "Okay..."

"I..." Ryo paused on and off, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her this, "Met someone... Unexpected, though."

Unexpected in the way he ran into him, not entirely unexpected, as he knew he'd see him eventually.

"Oh, who?" The woman replied.

"A man I met in Hong Kong, named Ren."

Ren's heart skipped, cold sweat beading throughout his skin.

"Ren, huh?" The girl seemed curious, "Is he a friend of yours?"

Neither of them knew the answer to that. But Ryo's response forced Ren into a state of anger that he had to swallow like a dry rock.

"Not... exactly.

Excuse you, kid?

"I keep my guard up when he's around."

'Seriously?' Ren glowered internally, 'After all I've done?'

"So..." She pushed for clarification, "He's a bad guy?"

"Uhm..."

Ren's entire body was washed over in a cold ice.

"Yeah, actually. He is."

Ren's hands balled into fists as he attempted to slow down his rapid breaths. He wasn't going to disagree when he was called a thug, or a jerk, or a snake. But he wasn't a bad guy! ...Was he? No! He was just trying to make a damn living in this harsh environment. One that he was born into and wasn't his fault to begin with!

Yet, his anger was lightly soothed, softened a little upon hearing, "But... We can trust him?"

"Well, yeah... We just have to watch our backs is all."

It was something. But not enough to completely quell the heaviness and heat weighing on him now.

"O...Kay?" She seemed just as confused about the two's relationship as they did.

So... Was that really how Ryo felt about him...?

Ren felt lost in a dizzying heart palpitation. He couldn't find his breath anymore, until he somehow forced a shaky one into his lungs. His nails were digging into his palms, only protected by the fabric of his gloves. He really was a bad guy, wasn't he? He's a thug, a villain, and Ryo had only needed him for help. Never took him for the using people sort, but maybe Ryo wasn't as innocent as anyone liked to believe...

With a start, Ren realized he needed to hide better as the girl passed by, toward the stairs. He slid down the hall, cautious, quick, and careful. He pushed himself off the wall to hide behind the corner in front of the bathroom door, still hidden.

He listened to Ryo and the girl bid each other a good night, and he peeked out very carefully to see if Ryo followed her. He felt some sense of relief when Ryo didn't tail her - but panicked when he almost turned his way. He hid again, and he wasn't spotted. All Ren ended up hearing was the sound of a phone being picked up - and Ryo beginning to dial a number.

Well, he certainly didn't want to apologize now anyway. If he wanted a bag guy, he was going to see one. Bad guys don't apologize, bad guys don't do rescue missions. But Ren had to stay put, there was no way he was going to sneak past Ryo while he was on the phone - Lords knew the damn hotel woman might say something.

But again... Ren was not above eaves dropping. Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor, closing his eyes as he sat on the ground and listened.

"Joy?"

Joy. Joy!? Why of all people would he call Joy? Either way, at first it was a typical greeting, boring the crap out of Ren already. He leaned his head back against the wall, and waited.

But his head shot up when Ryo began talking about him, yet again.

"I ran into Ren here..."

Yeesh, don't say it so dryly.

"Yeah..." He paused, "Play nice? With Ren?"

Ren grimaced to himself. But hey, he wasn't much one for playing nice either. Fair. But the next statement wasn't.

"Don't make me laugh. Nobody would make a great team with him."

'Wow, thanks.' Ren bit back that sarcastic statement, by literally biting his lip, 'Least I'm a leader. I've got people waiting for orders. Tsk.'

"He's only interested in treasure! Treasure is about the last thing I'm after."

Ren's hand hesitantly met his face, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger. This was a nightmare. Ryo was both completely right and wrong at the same time. Ren's desperation for power and riches completely conflicted with the way his heart was beating right then, with the way he wanted to yell at him for being such a damn idiot, for disregarding his actions and taking priory over his words... Not that he was about to admit a damn thing.

Though the way Ryo spoke next put a dent in his lost thoughts, "A... blast? With Ren? Really?"

Ren peeked out again, nearly crawling to look that annoyingly far around the corner, too quickly, almost making a sound. It was difficult to see him, but he'd stepped back enough. Either the lighting had changed, or Ryo's face had become flushed with red... Ren knew his face matched.

But Ryo scowled, "Give me a break."

Oh, what Ren wouldn't do to hear Joy's side of the conversation. She knew him, she knew him more than he liked to admit... She was gonna weasel his feelings out without being blunt, wasn't she? But Ryo was convinced that he didn't care now, and Joy may have made him flustered, but that didn't change anything!

They shared a kiss! How the hell was he so damn convinced he didn't care? Gods, what kind of a mess had he gotten himself into... Sure, he was the type to run off and do reckless things... But chasing a boy across China? What the fuck was he thinking? At least his friends didn't seem surprised. Wong and Joy may have been able to read him like an open book, but any of his men? Nah. They expected him to chase the scent of money, hell, they trusted him to do so. Of course he'd go running off at the statement 'treasures of the Qing dynasty.' It was a priority to him... Ryo was merely a benefit to the chase. Yeah. That was all. It was better to look at a pretty boy (and potentially a pretty girl now, too) on the trail to gold than fight along side a ton of old geezers. Uhg.

Ren had been lost in thought, and he hadn't realized that Ryo was talking to someone else already. They had been talking for a moment already, and Ren hadn't caught on until he heard...

"Naturally, I didn't do it alone. I was with a few friends I made back in Hong Kong."

Ren peeked up a little again. But scowled, were they friends or not? And who was he talking to!? Yeesh. And he thought he was the hot and cold one.

Ren stood again, moving a little bit further in when he realized Ryo had moved closer to the phone, his voice more on a hush-hush level. Whoever was on the other end of the line must have been someone who knew of Ryo's path and all that was going on... He wanted to keep it private.

"They were at least trustworthy, but they couldn't hold a candle to you..."

Ren froze in place, staring at Ryo's profile with wide eyes and a sneer. Ohhh no. No, no. Ren knew that tone. That extremely subtle flirting. That damn tease - so similar to the way he spoke his name, the very thing that drove him up a damn wall. Ren gritted his teeth, knowing he was going to get a headache after all of this. There was no way he was talking to a girl, either. He could never be that suave with a woman.

"There were so many times when I wondered, what if I'd brought you with me to Hong Kong..."

Ren felt his stomach drop, every part of him washed with cold again...

That smile in Ryo's voice, that genuine care, who the hell was it on the other line!?

"Yeah, why?" Ryo muttered, a gentle lull to his tone.

No, no, maybe it was just a friend. Maybe he just knew that person really well. Maybe it was a brother or something? That had to be it. Ryo couldn't possibly talk to someone like that in a flirtatious manner... But he did hear a masculine tone on the other line as he stepped closer, pressed back against the wall.

"Are you blushing, Guizhang?"

Guizhang!? Who the fuck is Guizhang!? If he'd been told, he'd completely forgotten. But now, whoever he was, he had his scorn.

Ren thought he'd already heard the worst crap he could possibly hear while eavesdropping. He was wrong. This took the cake, and the presents, and the house. His ears were ringing, vision tunnelling, and his heart felt like it was about to give. All the fury he'd ever felt seemed to rise back into every single fiber of his being all at once. All over a stupid kid and a stupid mystery phone man and a stupid treasure! It was all stupid, worthless, useless crap!

It took all of his willpower not to stomp up to Ryo right then and there to confront him. Who the hell did he think he was!? How could this possibly get any worse!? He knew confronting him would be far worse than keeping his mouth shut, and pretending he heard nothing inside the wall of Niaowu Hotel... And that's what he would do. Erase this night, erase the ideals he had, erase any promises in a devil's heart.

But he wasn't going to leave Niaowu empty handed, and that meant shoving his heart as far down as it could go, deep into the crevices of his own personal hell in hopes that no one would ever find it again.

It was only a matter of time before Ryo would need him, and Ren was going to make it as clear as possible - he wanted treasure. Nothing more, nothing less.

#shenmue iii #shenmue iii spoilers #shenmue 3 #two faced #renxryo #ryo hazuki #ren wuying #fanfiction #angst #so much angst

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vanishcd · 5 years

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[[ So i’m gonna post this whole thing but I just. NEED to analyze the entire discussion between Morrell and Stiles in Battlefield. Because its such important character stuff besides being INCREDIBLY well-written.

Included are my thoughts on my Stiles and my perspectives on how he thinks, especially when it comes to how ADHD/anxiety makes you perceive things. Likes are appreciated but PLEASE ask to reblog since this feels very personal for me and my muse

Stiles: You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's - it's actually kind of peaceful.

So this whole thing starts off with his anxiety. His way of describing things in details with both feelings and facts that makes it incredibly visceral and real. You can feel yourself underwater, you can imagine that moment he’s talking about. The pain and then the relief. (Fear and pain. Big threads in some of his emotional beats. He also FOCUSES in on those details when he’s afraid, classic anxiety symptom.)

Morrell: Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments Stiles: I don't feel sorry for him. Morrell: Can you feel sorry for the nine - year - old Matt who drowned? Stiles: Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one.

He has no sympathy for Matt. Not after what he’s done to everyone. Not for what Stiles perceives as a dumb, if awful, fluke and Matt’s personal offense/inability to get over it.

The punishment should fit the crime and his noting of "one by one" points out that Matt has been calculating this. For something ambiguous and one time, if traumatic. It's a conflict with Stiles' sense of what justice is. Matt also attacked him, his friends, Scott, his dad, and Melissa. That alone means Stiles can’t excuse, reason, forgive, or sympathize. But then--

Stiles: And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train.

here’s the thing. Despite having general/social anxiety and ADHD, Stiles isn't forgiving of mistakes/cruelty because of mental illness. Yes, even though he fully knows his own issues have caused shit. Even knowing it's a POWERFUL motivator. But he has a LOW opinion of someone who uses trauma/illness to lash out purely for revenge. Especially over something that as he said was the result of kids being stupid

Even without this, he would hate Matt simply for being a creepy af stalker, not only CREATING this delusion of him w Allison but ACTING ON IT. Anyone who pulls that shit is LOW. And it was toward one of his closest friends.

He also happens to be deflecting, talking about others instead of himself (which is of course the whole point of a counseling session). He’s not just rambling cause he’s angry/disgusted and has a tendency to. He’s JUSTIFYING himself through it, which means he’s on the defensive and doesn’t want to open up to Morrell.

Morrell: One positive thing came out of this, though. Right? Stiles: Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between [him and his dad]. I don't know. It's just like tension when we talk.

The first moment he opens up, maybe because the guilt of STILL not saying anything about the supernatural to his dad is TOO MUCH. It's one of the heaviest burdens he's carried. So even though Stilinski got his position as sheriff back, Stiles still feels like he's to blame.

Interesting thing to note is that the topic of his dad is the one thing he consistently opens up to people to. Showing vulnerability doesn't matter when it's his dads ANYTHING at stake. And he's ok showing that to Morrell both cause it's not focused on moving forward and his own feelings, but because it's actually something that he feels he needs help with. Because their relationship means too much.

The tension could also be alluding to the hallucination he had at Lydias party (despite the fact that he obviously doesn't TELL her about it) I can write a whole essay on that scene but the scene, real or not, clearly weighs on Stiles. And with anxiety, it's easy to fall into the mindset that your fears are real, they just aren't being SPOKEN. Even when you KNOW without a DOUBT that the person doesn't feel that way, it sticks in your mind and messes with your perception. Stiles is aware his perception could be skewed from stress.

Stiles: [Scott’s] got his own problems to deal with though: I don't think he's talked to Allison either. But that might be more her choice, you know. Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer. Jackson? Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal.

As Morrell is about to silently observe by asking about him, Stiles is once again deflecting the topic to everyone elses trauma and avoiding talking about how he feels. Just what he’s observed and his judgement about it. And his comments can be perceived as pretty neutral despite how much he cares for 3 of the 4 people who are going through hell with him.

Morrell: And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night? Stiles: Why would you ask me that? Ah. Uh, no. I - I never actually play. But hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right?

AGAIN he deflects. He knows she's digging for “im feeling anxious” and admittance that HE isn't ok. And not only denies it on reflex but then takes the leading part and uses that for the topic. Again he talks about others and uses dry sarcasm to make himself more comfortable.

Morrell: You mean, Isaac. One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you? Stiles: How come you're not taking any notes on this? Morrell: I do my notes after the session. Stiles: Your memory's that good?

Deflect; and this time because she doesnt give up, he turns the topic to HER. Most people will let you ramble about others but when you start making observations about THEM, particularly what they’re doing at the moment or their professionalism, they get defensive. Even if its a word or two, it’s enough to give him an “advantage”.

And it’s, as becomes the ultimate point, him fishing for time.

Morrell: How about we get back to you? Stiles? Stiles: --I'm fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible's about to happen.

And there's the moment he finally breaks. He knows she's not gonna let him go, she's directly observing his anxiety. And there's a slight pause before she says his name. For the first time, shes directly giving him permission to speak, instead of asking prying questions. He could deny it. And he does, but in the obvious way that's just a lead in to his feelings.

He's at a point in the conversation and the situation that he doesn't have any other option. And even though his tone is harsh, it's honest. Because he's scared and suddenly realizes they covered everyone, and no one is left to help.

Morrell: It's called hyper - vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat. Stiles: But it's not just a feeling, though. It's - it's like it's a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe. Morrell: Like you're drowning? Stiles: Yeah. Morrell: So if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in? Stiles: You do anyway. It's a reflex. Morrell: But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right? Stiles: Not much time. Morrell: But more time to fight your way to the surface? Stiles: I guess.

He has a way with words. He's been rambling this whole time. But his description of a panic attack is the last vivid bit for several lines. Trying to get across his desperation.

Then he goes to simple answers. "Yeah" and "I guess" because when he feels so lost, he gets quiet.

Stiles is very pragmatic AND emotional. He thinks with both but rationalizes. "It's a reflex" and "not much time" is his logical side kicking in, but in that way it's counterproductive because anxiety. You search for an answer, a relief from your fear, and when it's GIVEN, you don't quite know what to do with it. So you rationalize your own helplessness because you've fallen into that pattern of logical thinking combined with fear. That's what makes an anxious mind spin out.

Morrell: More time to be rescued? Stiles: More time to be in agonizing pain. I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding? Morrell: If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it? Stiles: But what if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now and then - and it's just hell later on?

Stiles fears pain. And I think it's not the pain specifically, it's the idea of it being the last thing, an extended thing. Emotional or physical (who wouldn’t?) And then he rationalizes with facts again to prove his point. This is the crux of MANY anxieties. That you aren't strong enough to get through, that it won't end, that there's no hope.

Morrell is having none of it. She won't let him give up on HOPE.

Morrell: Then think about something Winston Churchill once said - "If you're going through hell, keep going."

Know why that got through to him? Because it's simple and factual and makes him realize--it's the only thing you CAN do. It's not exactly hope for him but determination. Will to keep going for a little longer

And the truth is, that's all you CAN do in some horrible situations. You feel hopeless, useless. But to quote another favorite tv show "believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing."

Hope, hope for hope, will get you through. It can be more painful than anything in the world, but it's also the ONE THING that lets you get thought when EVERYTHING ELSE has failed.

And as Morrell says, if you can survive, isn't it worth it?

#ooc #save #;Hollowed Boy #this is largely based on my own observations and headcanons #but i feel this its p accurate #headcanon

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