#because they’re so much smarter and more empathetic than you and care about the Correct things you haven’t considered

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

me: [listening to a podcast abt Captain Cook]

guest historian: “exploration is inherently imperialistic”

me:

[rayereil]

And Orihime’s past is upon us at chapter 3. I really forgot how fast it happened.

Orihime is so perfect…

The car hurt her. Kill it.

Also, this arc gives us some more details about hollows and gives us some more character building. Even though the details of what hollows are seem to become irrelevant as the series goes on, it’s still neat.

I also enjoy Ichigo and Rukia training together (I miss that from later arcs).

We also get our proper introduction of Orihime and Ichigo, and true interactions between them. Orihime is as precious as always, and I like seeing protective Ichigo. Though he does get a bit exasperated with her nonchalance regarding her injuries. Also, RukiHime begins!

From a reader POV (pretending I’m the target demographic of teenage boy), I can see how Orihime is gearing up to be a love interest. Her clear crush on Ichigo is classic in shounen, but (more importantly) she’s shown as someone Ichigo is protective of. The reader is supposed to identify with Ichigo, meaning they’ll feel protective of Orihime too. Ichigo protecting someone isn’t unique to Orihime, but she is the first character to get this treatment.

Now this is an important scene:

I do see a lot of I/H fans say they’re childhood friends, but Ichigo is clear that they’re not close. It’s not the biggest deal, but they are near strangers. He goes on to say he’s only recently learned that Orihime was the same girl from this incident.

Aside from ships, Kubo is setting us up for a kickass reveal. As someone who hasn’t reread the series in awhile, I actually had a “woah!” moment…

I think the build up to this reveal was excellent! And leaving the chapter with this page is perfect suspense. I know hollows are the ‘corrupt’ human souls, but a lot of that nuance disappears later in the series. It was actually surprising to read this “reveal” because it kind of doesn’t mean anything by the end of the series…

Also TatsuHime.

And there are more cute Orihime fantasies involving Ichigo. She really is precious. I love her.

That bear hurt her. Kill it.

This arc is a great way to tell us about hollows, Orihime, and the soul chain (which comes back!). Especially in these earlier arcs, you can tell Kubo was keeping notes of what he’d brought up, because it’s inevitably come back again. Great writing.

But I do want to talk about this scene:

I’ve seen some cool parallels on here from much smarter people than me - they highlight how Orihime’s brother issues and Rukia’s brother issues are somewhat similar. While the parallels might extend further than I’d give Kubo credit for, I can’t deny them outright. Ichigo’s speech to Sora isn’t verbatim what he gives Byakuya, but the feeling is the same. Byakuya does say he’d let his own sister die (we’ll see if he specifically says he’ll kill her. If memory serves, he says he’d kill her himself if need be… oh my beloved Byakuya. So dramatic). Man, Ichigo is just correcting family issues left and right in the beginning of this series! I’m actually a bit sad some of these familial elements disappear later on… but this narrative of Ichigo challenging the status quo, of him using his grit and charisma to make people change for the better (Sora letting himself be sent to soul society, Byakuya eventually saving Rukia and mending his bond with her, rapid fire: Uryu, Renji, all the captains…) this is quality Bleach. The story eventually gets bogged down in character fights and we lose these themes and the focus on characters. It’s so nice to have this time to spend with Orihime and let her shine while Ichigo’s mostly in the background.

Anyways - I think this arc gives us so much for Orihime’s character! She’s such a strong kind-hearted person.

The hollow hurt her. Kill him.

More proof of Orihime’s love for Ichigo in Kubo’s paneling here… and also some great insight into Orihime. I think it’s so easy to brush her off as an air-headed big boobed love interest when she’s really a compassionate, caring, empathetic person. She doesn’t want other people to be sad, she tries very hard to make everyone happy… she’s so sweet! And some may say that she’s cliche or whatever, but so what??? Not every character needs to be Super Unique and Total Different. She embodies the cliche well, filling it out and bringing her own charm too. I really don’t have a problem with her. Also, I like that Kubo later makes some of her traits flaws so we can explore her character later. It’s neat!

Also… Kubo, can I ask you a question?

When the heck did Ichigo and Orihime have a conversation about her hairpins? We don’t need to see it onscreen, but Ichigo made it clear earlier in this arc that he doesn’t know her very well. I guess Orihime would be the nervous type to blurt this kind of information out if Ichigo even mentioned them casually, but you expect me to believe Ichigo noticed those hairpins when he didn’t notice the giant bruise on her leg? I can see why some people think they’re better friends at the start of the manga than they’re supposed to be. Kubo doesn’t even seem to remember from chapter 3 to chapter 6.

Overall, great arc. The pacing and plot were cool, and I adore Orihime. Plus, plenty of TatsuHime and RukiHime. I also forgot how much I like Kubo’s old art style. His new one is slick and all, but there’s something about these designs that are just fun. Definitely nostalgic.

[thetriggeredhappy]

[thinks about a comfort fic with sniper and scout cuddling and scouts a little mopey that night (ty spy ily spy) and he asks really quietly “am I stupid” and sniper gives the 745 reasons scout is Not stupid because he REALLY is Not]

i will stand by the fact that scout’s not dumb he just has ADHD until the day i fucking die and that’s that. (warnings for very mild violence and scout hurt followed right away by scout comfort)

-

At least Scout had finally settled down, Sniper thought to himself, carding his fingers through his hair.

Sniper had seen him outside having a run, heading in circles around the base and surrounding land at a pretty brisk pace. It was something Scout did sometimes to clear his head, and Sniper would catch sight of him doing that pretty regularly, and so wasn’t too much concerned. Then, an hour later, when he looked outside and saw Scout still running despite the fact that it was getting dark, he’d gone outside.

And it hadn’t startled him that Scout was out of breath—jogging for an hour would do that to anyone, even someone as in-shape as Scout—but it startled him to see that Scout was breathing so heavily through his mouth. Then he realized Scout had probably been doing that for some time, because all at once he noticed that Scout’s nose was bright red and very swollen, blood all across the bottom half of his face.

He hadn’t even asked at first, just taking Scout by the wrist and pulling him back to his camper. He’d given Scout a glass of water (which was drained in about five gulps), cleaned the blood off his face (“Oh, shit, that was bleeding again? I thought that was just sweat—“), and gotten an ice pack for his nose.

“What happened?” Sniper asked once all that was taken care of, tone leaving no room for argument.

Scout’s head fell, and he remained silent.

“Bilby, if you don’t tell me who did this, I’m going to head inside that base and start putting holes in the first bloke I find,” he said matter-of-factly, aware that his voice was intimidating and trying very hard to keep anger out of his tone. “What. Happened?”

“I got in a fight,” Scout started, speaking slowly, carefully. Sniper was tempted to interrupt, to say yeah, clearly, but he didn’t, just letting Scout talk. “Spy was just, he was getting on my case again, and, and saying all kinds of fuckin’… garbage. About… just, it was… look, he was just on my case again, alright? And I, I mouthed off, and then there was a fight, and half the team came in to break it up, and I… went out to take a run, and then I just, I don’t fuckin’ wanna go back in there.”

“Alright,” Sniper said quietly, putting a cautious hand on his shoulder in what he hopes was a comforting motion. “Alright, you can… stay here tonight.”

“But you—“ Scout started to protest, but he cut himself off, setting his jaw.

“What? What is it?” Sniper gently prompted.

“You said you don’t want me in here on weekdays,” Scout said quietly, unable to look at him.

Sniper’s heart ached. “When did I say that?”

“Last week. You said…” Scout started hesitantly, glancing up at him.

Silence. “Mate, I, I meant about sleeping over, since we have work in the morning and neither of us gets to bed when you do, we’re always up talking until late, I—you’re always welcome in here, I just wanted to make sure we were both getting enough sleep,” he clarified.

“But we’ve got work tomorrow,” Scout tried next, looking increasingly lost.

“We can make exceptions,” Sniper shrugged, “it’s alright. As long as we don’t make a habit of it.”

Scout nodded hesitantly, still clearly unsure. “So I can sleep over?”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

To be honest, Sniper wasn’t particularly used to having to tiptoe around Scout. He wasn’t in the practice of being particularly rude to people, and it generally took something excessively mean to get Scout upset anyways, so it wasn’t a concern. Scout had a pretty thick skin. Except… apparently he didn’t. Because all at once he seemed hesitant, jumpy, visibly trying to make himself seem smaller, even if he didn’t seem to be aware of it.

He urged Scout to go ahead and use his shower, found some of Scout’s pajamas that he’d left over and passed them through the door. Soon enough Scout was in bed with him, settled in against him, curled around Sniper’s arm with his head on his chest. And finally he seemed relaxed, as ease, like he wasn’t just sitting and waiting for Sniper to kick him out. When the nervousness melted away, it seemed that Scout was left exhausted, tired down to his bones.

“Snipes?” Scout asked quietly, voice very soft, after a long few moments of quiet.

Sniper hummed in answer to show he was still awake, going back to fiddling with Scout’s hair. It was very soft, even a bit damp, and it smelled like his own shampoo, something that made his chest feel warm the more he thought about it. “Yeah?” he asked after another moment when Scout didn’t immediately go to speak.

“Am I stupid?”

Silence. Stillness. Sniper had frozen entirely as the words and the weight behind them sunk into his mind. “No,” was all he managed after a second, words clogging his throat and choking him.

Scout seemed to sink. “I won’t get mad if you tell the truth,” he murmured, and he just, he sounded so very small in that moment, and it broke Sniper’s heart.

“Scout, that is the truth. Of course you aren’t stupid,” Sniper continued, free hand moving to squeeze Scout on the shoulder.

“Snipes, I can barely fuckin’ read, I almost didn’t make it through high school, I can’t ever remember anything important and I hardly even know English let alone—“

“Spy called you stupid?” Sniper cut in, just to be sure.

“And some other stuff,” Scout confirmed quietly. “But everyone calls me stupid. Because I am stupid.”

“No, you aren’t,” Sniper said firmly, anger bubbling away deep in his chest, but he pushed it back down for the moment, taking a deep breath and setting it aside for later. “You’re not stupid. Just because you don’t think quite the same as everyone else, that doesn’t make you stupid.”

“What if it does?”

“Bilby, it doesn’t,” he insisted.

“Well I’m sure not smart,” Scout scoffed. “I don’t—everyone here is either really smart or really good at what they do, and I’m just not, I’m just fast, I’m not cool or good at fighting or, or smart, and I, I’m not like the rest of you guys, I’m just dead weight, I don’t belong here—“

“Yes you do,” Sniper said, working hard not to snap. “You’re one of the most clever blokes around here. Not book-smart, the real kind of smart. The kind where you think of things faster, notice things, react quickly. And you’re a bloody genius at reading people when it’s important to, you’re almost always the first one to notice when someone’s acting fishy, and every time Miss Pauling comes around you always get a read on how she’s doing even though she doesn’t talk to you much—“

“Spy can do that, and Heavy can do that—“ Scout mumbled.

“But they’re also both at least twenty years older than you and either have a degree or were literally trained to read people. With everything working against you, you’re still bloody bright.”

“Clever, huh, can’t even read—“

“You slammed your way through the entirety of that Ghost D.A. series in a weekend,” Sniper pointed out.

“The kids version.”

“It was a thirty-six volume series with about two hundred pages per book. You realize that’s still impressive, right?”

“I still barely made it through school—“

“You realize that technically the Doc never went to school?” Sniper interrupted.

A pause. “What?”

“He never went to school. He was in through… what do you lot call it, elementary school? Then he was homeschooled for the rest of the required time, then he got an apprenticeship from his family and cheated his medical exams to get his license. He never even went to a real university, he just skipped to doing a residency.”

“Well he still knows what he’s doing. He’s batshit crazy, yeah, way too excited whenever he gets a dead body to mess around and experiment on, but he can only do that because he’s smart. What the hell do I know how to do?”

“Talk to people, get through places efficiently, what can hold your weight and how to balance, you always remember where you are and where you were and how to get there, you always know what people mean when they talk to you about things even if they’re bad at explaining, you’re the most empathetic bloody person I’ve ever met in my life—that’s intelligence. You’re intelligent.”

“Snipes, I can’t ever remember anything,” Scout all but snapped. “What’s the point of reading fast or knowing what people are talking about when I can’t think all the way back to breakfast, don’t know what day of the week it is half the time, always forget my chores and what I’ve gotta do for the day?”

Sniper took a deep breath. “Scout. That’s still okay. That still doesn’t make you stupid. Truckie forgets simple things like that too. So does Spy. They aren’t smarter than you, they’ve just got more practice at working around it. Truckie almost never remembers meals, Spy records things to listen to them back later.”

“He speaks like six languages,” Scout muttered.

“And he’s an arsehole in all six, what’s your point?”

For the first time that night, Scout laughed, even if it was just a little jump in his shoulders, a puff of air startled out of him.

“Bilby,” Sniper started in, voice gentle again. “You aren’t stupid. The blokes just… they pick an insult for everyone, is what it is. Soldier is insane, Demo’s a drunk, I’m a hermit, the Engineer is short. They don’t mean it, not really.”

“How come I’ve got so many, then?” Scout asked, tone not full of bitterness so much as… resigned insecurity. “I’m stupid, I’m scrawny, I’m loud, I’m annoying, I’m babyfaced, I’m uneducated, I’m rude…”

“No you aren’t, they’ve just decided to call you that,” Sniper was quick to correct.

“What’s the difference? If everyone thinks it, doesn’t that make it kinda true?”

“No,” Sniper said, carding his fingers back through Scout’s hair and feeling him relax at the attention. “No, it doesn’t.”

He kept petting at Scout’s hair for a little while, and Scout kept relaxing in increments. It was quiet for a long few moments, then minutes.

“I love you,” Sniper finally said, and Scout’s head tilted against him slightly. “And even if you were the dumbest bloke on the planet, I’d still love you. Even if you were all those things, I’d still love you. Because you’ve got a good heart, and you make me want to be better, make me want to work hard to deserve all the happiness you give me. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Scout said quietly. “I love you too.”

Silence.

“Night, Snipes,” Scout said, and he really did sound tired, terribly tired.

“Night, Bilby.”

-

The next day, Scout was still out of sorts, tired, lagging behind on his morning routine. Sniper turned the tables on what they usually did, offering to go get breakfast and bring it back to the camper for him. Scout agreed quickly, maybe too quickly, and Sniper pulled on his vest and hat and made his way into the base.

The kitchen was bustling, full to the brim with the rest of the team eating their own breakfasts of varying nutritional value. Sniper made his way to the counter where the main breakfast—eggs and bacon and toast, simple and straightforward and well-agreed-upon, it must have been Medic’s turn to cook. He packed up two little boxes and shoved them in his bag, then promptly made his way back into the main eating area.

He got one or two waves, an offhanded greeting. They all seemed unperturbed. Sniper wondered whether they’d even noticed that Scout was gone, and all the anger that he’d carefully pushed down bubbled and spilled over all at once.

He picked up one of the few empty chairs at the table and slammed it back down against the ground. The resounding BANG of wood against concrete immediately drew the attention of the entire room.

“Bushman,” Spy greeted calmly from his immediate left, almost bored-looking. “Here to break our furniture, I see.”

“What’d you say to him?” Sniper asked, voice cold enough to freeze over hell.

Silence in the room, the few mercenaries not already looking alarmed quickly shifting to do so. All except Spy, who just sneered. “You’ll need to be more specific, I’m afraid,” he said with faux politeness, an undercurrent of venom that would have most people backing down.

Sniper was not most people. “What did you say to Scout yesterday?” he clarified. “Tell me what you said.”

“Oh, before he threw a temper tantrum and stormed off to hide in his room like a spineless coward?” Spy asked airily.

“He’s not in his room, Spook,” Sniper said, the deadly cold hardening further. “He’s not anywhere in the base. Now tell me what you said to him.”

In his periphery, troubled shuffling, glances, concern. Spy did no such thing, just rolling his eyes and producing a tape recorder from within his jacket, rolling it back expertly and stopping after a few moments, letting it play.

“—don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” came Scout’s voice, slightly odd-sounding, different on tape than it sounded in real life, as well as apparently being a bit distant.

“Yes I do,” came Spy’s voice, slightly louder. “You’re an idiot, and a man-child, and a coward, and are only in a desert shooting your little gun at men who can’t die because you couldn’t possibly get a job anywhere else. You’re lucky that Miss Pauling took pity on you and gave you a job here, or else you’d be lying dead, overdosed in a ditch somewhere along the east coast just like everyone else you ever knew. And the moment someone faster and more literate comes along, that’s where you’ll be ending up anyways. Before you do, pass along an apology to your mother for the inconvenience of a funeral.”

Spy clicked the button again to stop the tape, cutting off the sound of Scout starting to yell something. Then Spy moved to say something, probably snarky, probably clever, but it never made it out of his mouth, because Sniper’s fist connected with his jaw at high speeds.

As the Frenchman was sent sprawling out of his chair and to the ground, swearing, and several members of the team moved to stand up and start protesting, but Sniper squared his shoulders again and turned to level a look at them, and they promptly stopped. He shook out his hand, glaring coldly.

“I’m guessing none of you lot said anything, did you?” he asked, still cold. “Just pushed them apart when Scout stood up for himself.”

The silence spoke for itself.

“Here’s what’s going to happen now,” he continued when it became clear that nobody had anything to add. “You lot are going to stop with your little jokes. Stop your fun little game where you make fun of the littlest bloke here. And you’re going to apologize to Scout for the way you’ve all been acting. This isn’t the schoolyard, and you’re all far too old to be acting like bullies just because he hardly ever bothers standing up for himself. And if you don’t, if you keep acting like children, you’re going to regret it.”

“You plan on knocking the whole team out cold, son?” the Engineer asked down the table, his own tone sharp. “Or are you saying Scout’s gonna try?”

“No,” he said. “Neither of us. That’s not what I meant.”

Quiet for a second.

“You’re all willing to lose Scout over this?” he asked flatly, looking around the room. Several of the team couldn’t meet his eyes. “You’re alright with Scout leaving, quitting this job, rather than you lot putting in the effort to stop being complete fuckin’ bastards to him all the time?”

“Where is he? Where did little Scout go?” Heavy cut in to ask.

“Is the lad alright?” Demo asked, genuine concern etched across his face.

“I found him when he was out for a run,” Sniper replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nose bleeding and all. Acting like he’d just seen a ghost. He talked to me. Maybe because I’m not a complete and utter cunt to him.”

Guilt seemed to be a common factor in most of the team’s expressions. Pyro had one hand up against their mask, body language that of upset.

“He told me he thinks he’s stupid. Worst bloke on the team, not as good as any of you lot. The weak link. Says he doesn’t think he belongs here. Wonder where he got that idea?” Sniper asked, the cold rage back in his voice again, and there were glances again, looks exchanged. “I’m not going to tolerate any more of what I just heard. Any of you in my line of sight start treating Scout like that again, there’ll be hell to pay. Because I’m not going to let you lot chase off the one good thing that’s ever happened to me just because you think you’re being cute.”

He shifted, looking over at Spy, who was still on the ground nursing his jaw, looking equal parts pissed off and concerned, something peeking through the anger, something that told Sniper that he really hadn’t ever considered the consequences.

“And if any of you give a damn about Scout, you won’t ever let that—“ a flippant gesture towards the fuming Frenchman, “—happen again. Do we have an understanding?”

A chorus of answers, all in the affirmative. Sniper nodded once, and promptly left the room.

-

He and Scout walked into the locker rooms to finish suiting up, and the place fell quiet.

Scout’s head sank, eyes falling to the floor, and he kept his head down as he walked to his locker, starting to wrap up his hands. He was doing that thing again, where he tried to make himself very, very small. Sniper sat down directly next to him as he pulled on and tightened the laces of the boots he generally wore into battle, and even that simple act of solidarity was enough at least to make Scout’s hands stop shaking so violently.

The click of expensive leather shoes on concrete, calmly coming towards them. Sniper felt the runner shift beside him, looking up, but he didn’t bother, keeping his eyes on his task.

“Scout,” Spy said, tone as aloof as every other day of the year.

“Just fuck off, Spy,” Scout mumbled, and perhaps Spy didn’t hear it, but Sniper did—the waver in his voice.

“No. I have something important to say,” Spy replied, tone even. A very brief pause fell. “I’m sorry.”

Sniper’s gaze flicked up. Scout went tense next to him. “What?”

“I apologize. I was out of line yesterday. I said several things which I very much regret. I sincerely did not think you cared enough about my opinion of you that my insults would in any way hurt, and clearly I was wrong, and so, I am sorry.” His words were awkward, not in the way of them being forced, but in the way that told them that Spy was uncomfortable, clearly not much used to giving real apologies.

Silence for a second before a Scout figured out how the hell to react to that. When he did speak, his voice was tight. “What, did Medic make you come over and apologize or something? Did Hardhat yell at you?” he asked, frustration filtering through.

“No. They did not. It just became very clear from your reaction that you were upset, and now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’m…” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

Scout was quiet again. Sniper glanced at him. He looked confused, mostly. “Okay,” he finally said, very much lost on what to do.

Spy nodded, looked away. Seemed to chew on his words for a moment. “And I take back what I said,” he added, quieter now. “You are not someone that could be easily replaced on this team. You play a very important role here, and… you are good at what you do, and we are all very fortunate to have you here on our team.”

Scout outright didn’t reply to that, visibly at a loss for words.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Spy finally said, glanced between Scout and Sniper, walked away from them and towards the rest of the team, a stiffness to his posture.

Sniper watched him go, saw the way the rest of the team glanced at Spy, saw Spy starting to talk quietly to Heavy and Demo, the latter of whom glanced back towards the two of them. Then he looked at Scout, hoping Scout didn’t see the overt way they were interacting, and saw that Scout very much wasn’t paying attention to that. Instead, he had his head ducked, and was starting to sniffle, eyes welling up.

“Wait, Bilby, what’s wrong?” Sniper asked quickly, a hand on his shoulder, ducking to try and get a good look at his expression, confusion and concern mounting.

“No, I, it’s just—“ He sniffled again and swallowed hard, hurriedly wiping off his eyes with his forearm as a few tears started falling. He took a few seconds to compose himself, and bent further forward when he cracked again. “I just, I think that was the nicest thing any of the guys have ever said to me.”

Sniper took a moment or two to process that, a series of complicated emotions rising in his chest, before he simply moved to pull Scout into a tight hug, his own throat becoming tight.

His gaze rose to the rest of the team, most of whom seemed to be watching them with some amount of concern and confusion. He flashed them a thumbs up as covertly as possible, and they relaxed, returning to what they had been doing.

They all became much nicer to Scout, still occasionally ragging on him, but largely dialing it back to a normal level, to the level they gave just about everyone on the team rather than him being the common target. And it took a while—a long while—but Scout seemed to brighten, straighten, smile more, relax more. And god, was Sniper happy to see it. God was he happy to see it.

[thecorteztwins]

🏁

FC: Matthew ClavaneAt one of the boards I RP at, the admin asked me to make a little brother for her character. It isn’t his time to come in yet, but when he does, his name is Morgan. He’s a mycokinetic (fungus control) from Ireland. I see him as moody, sullen, sensitive, and starting to suffer the effects of hereditary chronic depression, though he doesn’t know that’s what it is yet. He has a pervasive, wistful emptiness, and doesn’t really know what he wants out of life, or have any real talents, though he does do watercolor pour paintings and watercolor marble painting, in sea and moor tones,  and decorated his room with tiny seashells he’s found and strung upon thin colorless plastic wire.He's got a demeanor that can come off as sad, dreamy, or just plain distracted to many, but when it comes to emotional matters, he's very focused and perceptive. His biggest strength is his emotional intelligence, which is exceptional for a teenage boy. Which is to say, nothing special, but better off than a lot of his peers. He's good at understanding and managing his own emotions (again, for his age) and working out the feelings of others, and responding to them well. He's not perfect at it by any means, but it gives him a decent set of social skills and a talent for empathy, active listening, and taking care of himself emotionally through his bad times when his as-of-yet un-diagnosed depression flares up. But for all his sensitivity and emotional perception and all of that, he can still be moody, bratty, self-righteous, myopic, and uncharitable in his perception of others. He considers himself compassionate, understanding, and open-minded, as these are all qualities he admires, but in actual reality, he can be quick to judge others if they act in a way that really bothers him, and to dig his heels into maintaining this belief. He may or may not voice it, but he will harbor it, and he will let it fester and grow. If he forms a negative perception of someone, he tends to stick with it, disregarding new information, even when he picks it up himself, particularly if they're still behaving in ways that grate him even if he comes to understand more about WHY. He'll just let his problem with somebody sit there, rather than speaking up, and let it build, just avoiding them, and never working things out like an adult. He doesn't want to risk the argument, he doesn't want to do the emotional labor, and he doesn't want to feel like HE was the one in the wrong or that HE was being the unkind party. He'd rather just endure their shit and then sulk about it internally.One of the things that bothers Morgan most is the judgemental attitudes of other people towards harmless pleasures. He swears he sees more hate towards celebrities for being "shallow" than he does towards actual hate groups. What does it matter if someone likes fake tans or partying? It doesn't make them fake, or shallow, or stupid, or less of a human being. And he notices that the people who do this seem to think themselves and their interests are somehow smarter and deeper and more genuine, but you don't get to sneer at a girl for dying her hair blonde when you dye yours black. He also notices that they seem to take pride in how against-the-grain they are for hating the "popular" thing even though the stuff they hate is typically actually very popular to hate---everyone seems to love taking potshots at man-buns, vaping, and Justin Bieber fans. And why? Just another way to feel superior, it seems to Morgan. But but he's also a hypocrite in this because there are certain hobbies and interests that can immediately put him off someone else, namely anything to him that seems needlessly destructive or focused on violence. If it involves someone saying "hold my beer and watch this" he probably hates it. If it involves a preoccupation with how to hurt someone, even in a video game, he probably doesn't want to hear about it or be around the person who's into it. People who take pride in how much they can hurt other people are not people he wants to know. Morgan is the opposite of a perfectionist, always settling for “good enough” even in tasks he’s truly enthusiastic about, like his paintings. The good side of this is that he takes defeat in stride, and accepts loss of any sort as a part of life. The bad side is that it means he lets a lot of error happen, both his own and other people's, without moving to correct it. He won't ask for someone to fix his computer or toilet or clogged shower until it's truly beyond functioning, he'll indulge constant social faux pas from others without telling them they're putting their foot in their mouths, he'll turn in papers that could have been so much better with just a few rounds of editing, he'll do the bare minimum in any task given. He just does what's needed to get by, and in doing so, he robs himself of any chance to shine...not to mention fucks over anyone he's been paired with for a task or assignment. He also doesn't speak up unless he deems it absolutely necessary, unless he thinks it's actually worth it, unless he thinks his words can actually do something and won't cost him. Similarly, is always kind in small ways---letting someone in the lane ahead of him during traffic, returning stray shopping carts, giving a dollar to a homeless man or five bucks to a charity---but he doesn't do big kindnesses. He's not about to run off and dedicate his life to stopping whaling ships, or picket outside city hall for mutant rights, or do anything else that requires real time, energy, money, and/or risk. He's not a hero. He's not one of those people. He doesn't think it'd be fair to call him "selfish" but he's not the kindest, most selfless person ever either. He just does nice little unnoticed things if he can, but keeps out of anything larger, even if it's something he agrees with. Similarly, he's not a person who will "do anything" for a friend. He's a decent friend, a good one even, he'll listen and be empathetic and you can call him at 2 AM crying...but he's not a "ride or die" friend. He is not the friend that will bail you out jail or help you hide a body. He's got limits, and he's got boundaries, and he's not apologizing for that. Okay no, he will say sorry, but he's also still not budging on it.He is equally attracted and repulsed by bright happy energetic people. He admires their light, he loves it, he longs for it, he wants to tag along after them like a moth, but they also wear him out and he doesn’t feel he can be himself around them lest he bring them down or ruin the mood. He's frequently tired for no reason, physically or emotionally, and just detached, disconnected, and worn out, like he can't CARE about anything. But Morgan is determined not to make his problems anyone else's, because he's seen people who wanted to make theirs everyone else's. he's NOT going to be the whiny party pooper that rains on everyone's parade or demands everyone feel sorry for him. He's not. If he's got one goal or point of pride, it's this. He might not always be successful---he's a moody teen boy--but he's got a hardy self-awareness that he's far from the worst-off person in the world, and that other people have better things to do besides getting bogged down in sympathy for him because he feels bad or bland sometimes. He has a gray cat named Easter.

[vetnurseventure]

Compassion Fatigue – It’s okay to not be okay

No one told me about Compassion Fatigue. I’d been working in the industry for five years before I stumbled across the mere notion of it on my own. I spent three years studying to become a veterinary nurse. We learnt all about how to care for animals; in medical nursing, surgical nursing and triage. We learnt how to talk on the phone to clients, how to serve them in reception. We were taught about the five stages of grief and how to support our clients through them. We were taught customer service and communication skills. But not once were we taught how to look after ourselves.

The term ‘Compassion Fatigue’ was supposedly coined in 1992 by a nurse by the name of Carla Joinson. It is defined as ‘exhaustion due to compassionate stress, the demands of being empathetic and helpful to those who are suffering; the stress that evolves specifically from the relationship between the professional and the patient and client.’ (Dobbs, 2014) Although the concept has been around for many years prior, it had only ever been looked at in the human health care community. In recent years however, we have begun to look and realise that it is also rampant within the animal care community. (CR Figley, 2006) In the US in 2003 and 2004, a survey of 200 veterinary practices was conducted and it found that over 30% of veterinarians and staff had an extreme risk of becoming affected with Compassion Fatigue. (Jones-Fairnie, May, 2008)

The general consensus seems to be that Compassion Fatigue cannot be cured. Once you have it, the potential of relapse is infinite. (Prendergast, 2015) However, as made clear by Mehelich (Mehelich, 2011), an important clarification is that Compassion Fatigue is not something that a person is born with. It is something that we contract due to the environment around us. Some people may be more susceptible to it than others. The most commonly affected would be those in health care and those in animal care, because they are surrounded by trauma and suffering on a daily basis. However any compassionate, empathetic person who is trying to help someone can be affected.

It is imperative to remember that not all stress is bad. Some stress is not only good for you, but necessary. Psychologist Kelly McGonigal, author of The Upside of Stress has even suggested that stress has the potential to make you smarter, stronger and more successful. (Women's Fitness Magazine, 2015) The trick, however, is moderation. Just like an occasional glass of wine can be beneficial, but a case a night is detrimental. With stress, the occasional twinge can be inspiring. Too much and it can take a serious toll on our health, both physically and mentally.            

Compassion Fatigue is a real threat to those in the Veterinary profession, whether you’re a Veterinarian, a Veterinary Nurse or receptionist. And I find it alarming that there is still so little awareness out there. It seems as though there is improvement on the horizon. Mental Health has gained more recognition in recent years. However, I struggled to understand why learning about Compassion Fatigue and developing Emotional Intelligence isn’t a compulsory part of our training. As suggested by (Overfield, 2015), building emotional intelligence within a practice as a whole is the key to achieving a “successful and healthy practice”. So why do we have to look so hard to find more information on it? Recently the Veterinary Nurse Council of Australia hosted a webinar called Compassion Fatigue Pitstop, presented by Rosie Overfield. Overfield is a Veterinary Nurse also trained in counselling and is devoting a lot of time to the topic of Compassion Fatigue and mental health within the practice. It is becoming more popular in continuing education, which means it should only be a short step to including it in the primary veterinary education.

Interestingly, I haven’t found much research on the concepts of Chronic Compassion Fatigue and Acute Compassion Fatigue. In this area, I only have my own experiences to draw from.

I can remember my first episode of Compassion Fatigue extremely clearly. Mainly because it was horrific and mortifyingly embarrassing. It included a very public meltdown in front of my colleagues and it took a long time for me to get back on my feet. I should also point out that I while my occupation as a Veterinary Nurse most definitely contributed to my Compassion Fatigue, it was actually something that was happening in my personal life that truly triggered the attack.

I was looking after a close friend of mine. She suffered from mental illness and I had been struggling to take care of her for a number of years already. Things had progressed rapidly in our friendship, and before I knew it I was in an emotionally-abusive relationship.

At home I was moody and irritable. I am naturally introverted already, but I became antisocial. I stopped exercising, I stopped going out. I ceased taking part in my hobbies.

At work I became distant. I cried regularly, and even publicly, much to my humiliation. I couldn’t handle any form of criticism, every mistake I made felt as though it ought to be grounds for dismissal. My self-esteem and self-worth plummeted. My health deteriorated rapidly. I became physically ill. I developed an auto-immune disease called Tietze Syndrome; sometimes called Costochondritis. I was in unexplained and agonising pain for nearly two years. I struggled to perform my daily duties, further enhancing my lack of self-worth in the workplace. I developed stomach ulcers, stopped eating and became an insomniac.

As I mentioned before, it took me a long time to pull myself together and recover. I had amazing support from my colleagues, particularly with my physical illness. However, I believe that had I had more training, my attack of Compassion Fatigue would have been far less extreme. I was so unaware of my mental health that it was months before I could even acknowledge there was a problem. By the time I did I had what I consider a chronic form of Compassion Fatigue.

After this episode, I developed my own Emotional Intelligence (EI). Emotional Intelligence can be defined as an awareness of one’s on emotional and mental state. It is the “capacity to perceive emotions, assimilate emotion-related feelings, understand the information of those emotions and manage them”. (Timmins, Volume 33, Issue 1, 2006). With my newly developed EI, I became finely tuned in to my emotions and I was able to recognise red flags. I began to realise that my ill health was very closely connected to my level of stress. I didn’t recognise that I had Compassion Fatigue until nearly 6 months later when a lecturer mentioned it in passing during a short online course run by the Crampton Consulting Group.

These days, over two years on from that first attack, I still occasionally succumb to Compassion Fatigue. However they tend to be a more acute form. They’re brief and fierce, tending to only last 1 or 2 weeks. The more I learn about Compassion Fatigue, and the more I learn about myself, the easier it is to identify when I have it and, more importantly, the easier it is for me to correct it. Even reading the research for this paper enlightened me enough to be able to notice when my colleagues were struggling with Compassion Fatigue.

Compassion Fatigue is not something that should be fought on one’s own. The secret to a happy working life in the clinic is a firm grasp of Emotional Intelligence. Building EI with in the clinic is a great way to ensure that everyone in the clinic is being looked after. Develop your own coping methods, as everyone recovers differently and what might work for someone else might not work for you. Leave work life at work and establish a healthy home life. Exercise is a key component to relieving stress and can aid you in both a healthy body and a healthy mind. Sometimes you need to accept the fact that you are not okay and you need to devote some time to healing. You cannot care for others if you cannot care for yourself. It is okay to feel sad, but don’t let it consume you. Educate yourself about Compassion Fatigue. Develop emotional intelligence. Prepare yourself.          

“Sadness belongs to your patients and families, it’s not yours to take away.” (Huggard & Huggard, 2008)

  References  

CR Figley, R. R.  (2006). Compassion Fatigue in the Animal Care Community. Washington:  The Humane Society of the United States. Retrieved from Compassion Fatigue  Awareness Project.

Dobbs, K. (2014).  Compassion Fatigue. In L. Ackerman, Blackwell's Five-Minute Veterinary  Practice Management Consult (2nd ed.) (p. Section 6.24). Blackwell  Publishing.

Huggard, P.,  & Huggard, J. (2008, May). When the Caring Gets Tough: Compassion Fatigue  and Veterinary Care. VetScript, pp. 14-16.

Jones-Fairnie, D.  H. (May, 2008). Book Review: Compassion Fatigue in the Animal Care Community.  Australian Veterinary Journal, 186.

Mehelich, C.  (2011, September). Compassion Fatigue: Emotional Burnout in the Animal Care  Field. Bella Dog Magazine.

Overfield, R.  (2015). Building Emotional Intelligence In-Practice. Australian Veterinary  Nurses Journal, 22-23.

Prendergast, H.  (2015). Stress, Burnout and Compassion Fatigue. In H. Prednergast, Front  Office Management for the Veterinary Team (2nd ed) (pp. 143-144). Las  Cruces: Elselvier.

Timmins, R. P.  (Volume 33, Issue 1, 2006). How Does Emotional Intelligence Fit Into the  Paradigm of Veterinary Medical Education. Journal of Veterinary Medical  Education, 71-75.

Women's Fitness  Magazine. (2015, December). Turn Bad Stress Good. Women's Fitness Magazine,  pp. 30-31.