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surlifen · 4 years ago

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i dont waste energy hating closed species And You Can Too!

alright you asked for it

Claim 1: “Closed species limit creativity in the art community by locking off certain concepts.”

No, they don’t. If you believe that, then you also must believe that copyrighting in general-- or just generally the fact that making a design exactly like someone else’s is viewed as kind of wack-- are stifling creativity. Why? It’s easy to accidentally make a concept that is similar to someone else’s, because there are literally just not that many Things That Exist. There will ALWAYS be repeats. Generally, if a design coincidentally looks like another, there will be a mixture of backlash from people who believe it was an intentional ripoff, and total acceptance from people who understand that it was an accident. Ultimately, the correct way to live is to understand that 1) these coincidences can happen and should not be punished, but 2) intentionally ripping off someone else’s work is wrong. It isn’t black and white, you must process 2 or more concepts at once.

Species owners understand this. I have never seen a species owner come after someone for accidentally making something similar or inspired. This is a myth. Species owners are busy as fuck, generally Normal People, and simply do not have the time or energy or desire to moderate things outside their community. Please talk to literally any of them for more than two minutes and you will discover this. Every species owner I have met is friendly and kind and I’ll go into detail on exactly how bullshit this stereotype of them chasing people down for similarities is later.

So, given that some randos will get upset and harass people over harmless inspiration/coincidence but most will not in ALL cases of accidental over-similarity: this is NOT a species-specific problem and happens just as often--if not MORE often, because of how much people fucking despise closed species-- with non-closed-species characters.

Secondly, species owners do not create a closed species with the goal of closing off a concept from use. They do it to create a community they can manage and share a concept they have created.

Take the world of Nephfei, created by the artist Queijac. The closed species of Nephfei are called Spinxyn, and they are very much sphinxes. They are not a brand-new concept Jac is claiming to have come up with, they are intentional and very direct references to sphinxes. What sets them apart is their species LORE, WORLD, and COMMUNITY.

[image ID: a screenshot of the Spinxyn species guide on deviantart, created by queijac. Text reads “IMPORTANT NOTE: Spinxyn are a species OF sphinx. Yes, they are sphinx, and yes of course anyone can make sphinx characters and designs using similar appearances! I claim no ownership over design aspects! Spinxyn as a CS community, however, which offers social art related activities, world building, themed events, etc., to use the characters in, simply relates to my own PERSONAL WORK and how i want to enrich peoples experiences with it! Please understand this, thank you!!!”]

This species is not closed so that Jac can copyright the idea of a sphinx. It is closed so that Jac has some control over the world and lore they have created. Were anyone able to create a Spinxyn without an approval process, not only would the community become too large to manage too quickly, but all sorts of Spinxyn with aspects that don’t fit the lore would pop up.

[Image ID: screenshot of a message from Queijac in the nephfei official public Discord server. Text reads: “theres just a total disconnect that 99% of ppl making closed species are making. a Group...... its about.... the community....... and building the community around One concept that someone makes and puts rules in place for so that they can actually. U kno. MANAGE THINGS... and make a cohesive group experience....... the reason CS have so much popularity is because they come with a community, not because theyre 100% unique never before seen or heard of concepts”]

Jac explicitly acknowledges that sphinxes do not belong to them and even says that borrowing some spinxyn-specific appearance details is okay!!! The ONLY thing off-limits here is a WORLD, COMMUNITY, and LORE.

Except it isn’t. Because Nephfei also hosts not one, not two, but THREE open species of intelligent beings, plus NINE official species of non-intelligent animals, so that anyone can participate.

Claim 2: Species owners harass and police people who make similar concepts.

I touched on this already re:species owners are busy as fuck & Jac openly encouraging people to make sphinx characters and even borrow spinxyn-specific traits, but this note from ground-lion/seel, the creator of Chimereons, really does it for me.

[Image ID: a DeviantArt note from ground-lion to me. Text reads “hello, thank you for showing me this! we don't actively do anything to police offbrands, since it causes more trouble than i think it's worth. i like to avoid drama wherever possible, and it seems like most people who participate in offbrands are just looking to press people's buttons so we can't/won't do anything to these people, i think it is best to just try and ignore it and move on.”]

Here you have the owner of one of the arguably most shit on and hated species saying outright “we don’t bother doing anything about intentional ripoffs”. For context, this WAS 100% intentional, I had noted ground-lion about a user I saw posting adoptables that were LABELED “offbrand chimereons” (so if anyone was hArAsSiNg PeOpLe oVeR SiMiLaR cOnCePtS here, it was me, calling attention to intentional and stated copying).

Sidenote: I think it’s shitty to intentionally steal a concept. Ground-lion has also said there is no issue with making anthropomorphic chameleon characters, just that chimereons were inspired by a set of traits, a word, lore, a desire to create a community, and their own personal stylization of anthro chameleons. It’s fine to take inspiration from how someone else stylizes an animal, but the degree to which people do it-- just outright copying every aspect of Seel’s work-- rubs me the wrong way. Not enough to say anything because that is only my personal opinion and because I do not have time for that shit.

The Dainty mod team + owner (Pajuxi-Adopts) also have a section stating that to make a design no longer a Dainty, all that’s needed are the following changes:

[image ID: screenshot of Dainty species ToS. Text reads “ Visual edits must be made for discontinuation, here is our standard discontinuation options: - remove the stockings completely and give them fur like an actual satyr - keep the stockings and give them human legs - make them an anthro - keep the stockings but they MUST start at least a quarter to halfway up the bottom portion of the deer leg with a clear divide between the stocking and leg with fur poking out underneath - you are free to suggest your own edits as well! “]

This may be speaking specifically about discontinuing a former Dainty due to the context we found it in, but this means that a design is not considered a dainty if, for example, its stockings show fur underneath and are not part of the body. That’s it. That’s all they ask. Pajuxi is not saying “this is my closed species of SATYRS WITH SOCKS and if you DARE make a satyr with socks i will COME FOR YOU!!!”, they clearly state that satyrs with socks are an acceptable Not A Dainty. I personally think the lore behind the stockings being physically part of the body and all the specific rules they entail is interesting and original and I do not think it’s such a wild ask to say “hey, please respect this and if you see it, don’t rip it off on purpose. You can take inspiration in all these valid ways but I want to have some control over the concept I came up with”.

Claim 3: Species owners are rich elitists making small artists suffer.

Species owners are small, independent artists. Artists being hated the instant they get even moderate success (that’s still usually BARELY A LIVING WAGE) is its own huge discussion and internalized issues + capitalist brainwashing you all have to deal with on your own damn time, but I want to emphasize that someone making a living or even comfortable wage from their art is Good, Actually, and is something we should all be happy to see and want to see more of.

Furthermore, no one is being taken advantage of. CS characters are a luxury item. You do not NEED one. If you absolutely will die without a sock deer, make one where the sock isn’t part of their body. If you will die without a chimereon, make an anthro chameleon and use your own ideas. If you will die without a sphinx character, I’m overjoyed to inform you that fucking nobody ever asked you not to make one. CS involvement is voluntary. If you don’t like them, don’t participate in them, but keep in mind that someone saying “hey, please don’t blatantly copy this design concept I spent time creating” is The Same Thing as someone asking you not to copy their individual character designs. You could live without stealing character designs. You can live without making something exactly like an existing CS.

Claim 4: CS put concepts behind a paywall and make them inaccessible.

Again, these are a luxury item. Most closed species MYO slots cost $10-$45. That is not a ridiculous amount to aspire to. Closed species owners WANT people to participate in their species, so there are a ton of ways.

- Chimereons hold First-Time Owner flatsale slot raffles every single month to ensure people who are new to the community have a greater chance of nabbing a slot than existing participants - Dainties have an art prompt every month, which rewards every participant regardless of skill level one prompt point (the art can be visual or written). Six prompt points can be used to buy an MYO slot for free. If you desperately need a dainty and are flat broke, you can get a free one by writing 150 words a month for six months or doing one drawing each month. Skill level doesn’t matter, ALL participants get a point if they follow the rules. - I joined a raffle for a free pre-made Spinxyn. I did not win the raffle. Jac randomly decided to give out 7 MYO slots too, one of which I won. I entered a raffle that DID NOT HAVE MYO SLOTS AS A PRIZE and got one for free anyway. CS owners want people to participate, I promise. - Dainties just had a 24-hour turn-in event (that they warned about a month in advance so folks could prepare designs), meaning every single person who submits a design in that 24hr time frame gets a slot. Normally slot sales are limited in number and sell out in seconds. - Jac sporadically draws quicker, messier Spinxyn designs which always cost $5 and raffle-flatsales them on Discord. $5 is not a gatekeepy price. - Tomoyokis recently had a free-for-all event where everyone could claim either a free common slot or a $10 uncommon slot. These are just specific examples I remember of easier or free ways to get CS. Non-specifically:

- art = reward systems are common, so again, just writing or drawing enough can equal a free MYO slot or entry into a raffle for a pre-made design - many many species that are relatively new have FREE turn-in events or giveaways to build a community - free FTO slot raffles - paid but discounted FTO slot raffles - random free design giveaways - trading art for a CS character or MYO slot (I’ve gotten a dainty and two dainty MYO slots this way, and I realize not everyone’s art gets accepted, which is why this is a whole list of ways that don’t require artistic skill whatsoever)

So getting your hands on one isn’t the worst thing in the world. You might need a little luck (as in, you have a completely fair chance that is equal to everyone else’s) or a little dedication (6 months of wanting one, or having to have a design ready within a limited time for a free turn-in event).

Also, there’s a reason CS prices cannot change much: this causes issues with the value of all existing CS characters. Dainties will ALWAYS be $35. The MYO slot price will NEVER increase. If it did, all previous dainties would be worth less, or would have to have their worth increased, which is logistics hell. Inflation doesn’t affect CS the same way it does everything else.

Claim 5: ok but legally nothing is stopping me from making one lmaoo

That is true. It’s also true that there’s not really any effective laws in place to protect artists when they say “Hey, please don’t quote retweet my art on Twitter” or “Hey, please don’t repost my art even with credit”. Sometimes, we just respect artists and do what they ask because we are Nice Fucking People, but apparently, species owners are a whole different thing, evil, and do not deserve the same basic respect.

IN CONCLUSION

Talk to a CS owner. They’re reasonable and kind people. There’s an exception to every rule, of course, but what I’ve found overwhelmingly is that they’re literally just people like you and I who were excited to make something cool and share it with people. The emphasis is HUGELY on community. I used to dislike the idea of CS too, but since participating in them and talking a ton with the owners (who are super down-to-earth and active in their servers-- Jac helped me with a confusing horse video game and gave me a Free Horse in there), I’ve realized that the caricature of CS owners as greedy and bitchy, laying claim to basic concepts like A Cat With Wings, is just bullshit. The stereotype that CS community members are an angry mob who will roast you over a fire if you draw a chameleon on two legs is bullshit. The idea that CS are impossible to get, are for the bourgeoisie, and cost thousands of dollars is bullshit (I bet you’re thinking about scarfoxes right now. Hot take: I think it’s great that an artist is selling their intellectual property for that much. I think we all should be able to. I think if someone chooses to spend that much on a design they think would make them happy, that is literally not a fucking problem, and since it was their choice and their money no one is being taken advantage of unfairly. Let people buy the shit they want to buy, I promise you will fucking survive).

I like CS, I think they are neat, I wish people would give the owners a break. They are just independent artists like me. They get lied about and stereotyped over this stupid drama bullshit and they’re so tired and saddened when the subject comes up. They literally do not police anyone-- they don’t have the time or the desire, and it wouldn’t work anyway.

I won’t post CS content here anymore. But I like participating voluntarily in these communities. I don’t understand why that’s something YOU get to have a problem with.

Stay out of my inbox. Thanks.

#long post #LONG LONG POST #seriously im not inviting argument so please please do not slide into my inbox or replies #anon ASKED; i am ANSWERING. the dialogue ENDS here.#not art #also this isnt meant as a like. Woke Post to Blow Up #it's my personal explanation and thoughts #so only read it if you want to.

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pondermoniums · 4 years ago

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A little post season 3 ficlet (2749 words) featuring some holiday fluff <3 See tags or read on ao3 here ~

• • • •

Billy still feels it. He wishes his muscle memory had died with him, but it just came back with him too.

The things he felt.

The things It felt.

Everything It made him do.

His psychiatrist tries to tell him that his scars are his body claiming his soul back. Billy couldn’t agree. He didn’t like touching the starbursts on his torso because the shiny scar flesh felt tissue-paper thin—not to his fingertips, but underneath. His heart trembled as if he could just push a little too hard, and enter his ribs—

“Hey, the new place opened up off Main Street. You know those new roads they’re building? There’s already a Greek place there. Let’s get a menu.”

Billy frowned at him. Steve Harrington. He’d been at the mall. Billy didn’t remember seeing him…during…but afterward. In the spotty shreds of memory that were all his own, he remembered Steve looking nearly as bad as he felt. The memories swirled together like a circus dream. Steve and…Robin. Her name is Robin…in striped costumes. Steve carried Max away from his body. Robin practically did the same for the girl with a number for a name. All of them glowed with Starcourt neon pink and purple and red.

Steve’s car hummed around them, and fell silent when he turned onto the fresh asphalt of Hawkins’ new road. Steve laughed a little. “Farmer Higgins is probably still fuming. Last thing the mayor did before he got booted out of here was steal land for these businesses.”

“What’s it matter?” Billy exhaled. There were less people in Hawkins to fuel the shady economy anyway.

“Well I can’t speak for your Camaro, but my car doesn’t last long, driving brodies with trees in the way.”

His little sapphire. A dark mixture of humor and apathy seeped into his blood at the memory of Steve Harrington, of all people, slamming into him. He didn’t do it hard enough.

Now he sat in the car Steve drove. Not because the Camaro couldn’t be fixed, but because Billy wasn’t fit to drive yet. Maybe there was something full-circle about it. Or a broken circle; an open-ended thing, like Billy.

“As if you could do a brody.”

Steve smirked. “Thankfully I’ve ruined enough fields for practice.”

And then he pulled right off the road, slipped through a tiny thicket of trees framing the road, and burst upon a dry, yellow field. He turned sharply, throwing Billy against him…until the car locked into a paradox of calm and chaos. The back wheels revolved around them to dig a doughnut in the earth. Steve let the wheel go, and they rocked as the car jerked with the front tires straightening.

Steve looked around them to find the road again and made a mock sound of getting sick. “Glad we didn’t eat first.”

He grinned at Billy, making him realize a smile had stuck on his face like a cramped muscle. He pushed a hand over his mouth, physically melting it off.

The food was good. The flavors shoved their way over his pallet. It was kind of hard to enjoy food now. He ate when his body needed it but he didn’t get the emotional reaction to it—

“I didn’t know we had Greeks in Hawkins,” Steve conversed openly. A small, lost part of Billy remembered Steve calling him out for being mouthy during basketball, but Steve could talk. He wiped his mouth and dug back into his rice plate. “Then again, Robin and Dustin always have something to say about authenticity. Like you spend a day outside of Indiana and you’re worldly.”

“Did you forget where I’m from?” Billy spoke before he meant to. California didn’t seem to matter much any—

“Did you?” Steve tossed back.

Silence fell over their booth while Steve waited. Then he went back to his food when Billy clearly didn’t care about responding.

Over and over again.

Steve picked Billy up.

Hospital.

Food.

Back to Cherry Lane.

Steve talked. Sometimes Billy replied.

Then things began to change. Steve took Billy to the grocery store after Billy’s therapy. Billy had emerged ruddy-eyed liked he smoked a pound of weed, and Steve had merely said, “I’m feeling tacos.”

Only instead of a restaurant, he took them to the store. And then the Harrington house. Billy talked more there.

“No, no, it’s queso fresco.”

“It’s just cheese, though?”

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the one who grew up with farmers. Different rain waters different grass. That makes different cows, which make different milk. Do you know anything about breweries?”

“Do you?” Steve challenged while they made a mess of his kitchen counter. Crumbles of white cheese, lettuce, and other tacos toppings littered the fancy granite.

“I know that breweries stay put. Because the water’s different. They have to have the right water to make the right beer. I haven’t had my favorite lager since I moved here.”

“What’s it taste like?”

Billy told him. Billy told him a lot of things. Steve just…got a rise out of him the way his therapist couldn’t. Then again, Steve never asked about all the things Billy wanted to burn out of his brain.

Then Cherry Lane fell off the list. Billy couldn’t say how exactly he moved into Harrington’s house. Maybe the food flowed into Billy falling asleep, and starting the next day from Steve’s house just happened too many times. Maybe Max used Steve’s pool too many times. Maybe it was when Billy realized Steve wasn’t just driving him to his physical and mental therapy sessions.

He walked out of the physical therapy gym at the back of the hospital to meet Steve in the same lobby they parted ways in. But Steve wasn’t there. Billy asked the nearby receptionist if “the guy with the hair” had gotten lost to the bathroom, but she only replied, “He’s running a little overtime, but he should be on his way.”

Billy’s appointments took hours. It made sense for Steve to leave and come back—

But the elevator dinged, and Steve was too busy reading something to not walk into a passing nurse. “Oh! Ow—sorry! Sorry,” he exclaimed, holding his arm…

He rolled the shoulder of that arm on the way through the parking lot, swinging the arm round and around like he was warming up for tennis. Inside the car, Billy cornered, “What were you doing in there?”

Steve glanced at him but shrugged as he turned the ignition. “Blood work. An IV drip. MRI’s. My usual stuff. The drip took longer this time.”

“Usual stuff? How come I’m just now hearing of this?”

“Remember, Robin used to meet us here? She got cleared faster.”

“Cleared out of what? How are you more broken than she was?”

Steve stared at him for an unnerving minute. “They…kind of beat the shit out of me. So… I mean, you pack a wallop, but Russians with an agenda put you to shame.”

Billy suddenly wondered if he’d overstepped a boundary. Steve just talked so much, and took whatever Billy gave him without flinching that he never considered…

“Getting concussed and doped up with unknown chemicals isn’t everyone’s normal Thursday.”

Billy had forgotten that Steve had been through shit like this before. Not with the same variables, but… “I forget that your normal got thrown out the window before I got here.”

“It’s not a competition,” Steve tried to say lightly. He waved a hand in front of the vents as if their lingering in the parking lot was just to wait for the heating to kick on.

“And if it is, who’d win?”

“Oh, I think Will Byers has us beat.”

That…hit differently than Billy expected. A laugh burst out of him, like it had just been waiting for a weight to lift off of him to break free. “Yeah. Maybe he does.”

Then they went to Steve’s house, where more and more of Billy’s clothes had accumulated. The kitchen had been stocked with food bought from Steve’s wage and Billy’s top-secret government allowance—which turns out, was rather high. Steve, for all his fancy furniture and basically bottomless bank account thanks to his parents, had to pick his jaw up off the floor when Billy finally revealed the monthly check to him.

“Holy shit. Don’t let the nerds see that; they’ll siphon quarters out of you for the arcade.”

“They’re old enough to want beer and condoms.”

Steve scoffed as he flipped their dinner pancakes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think they’ll sooner pop their cherries than go for beer.” Then he grimaced and waved his spatula. “New subject! Change the subject.”

Billy laughed from the breakfast bar, where he was arranging his medication into a days-of-the-week organizer. It was just a bar of little snap-closed boxes, but it helped him keep track of the pills he took—and the ones he ignored.

Steve had asked him once, “Why do you always leave the red ones?”

“They turn me into a vegetable.”

“Oh. You can’t, like…split it in half? Half vegetable?”

Billy couldn’t say why he felt comforted by Steve’s uniquely clueless way of thinking. Perhaps the guy actually made sense, or maybe he just over-simplified things in an over-complicated world.

Now, though, he set the spatula down with the announcement, “Oh! I got you something. Well, I hope I got the right stuff.”

Billy didn’t go with him to the garage, but he did follow Steve with his eyes. Blue irises locked onto the shockingly familiar box of lager when Steve returned. “Where in the hell did you find that?”

That dopey, thrilled grin made Steve glow like the Christmas lights they’d thrown all over the open floor plan. “Dude, there are professional shoppers! I mean, that makes each can like…a twenty-dollar beer, and this is the only box I got, but this is the stuff you were talking about, right? The lady on the phone said they released other flavors, but you only said ‘lager,’ so it’s what I got.”

The cans were practically frozen from being in the garage, but Billy tore open the box as well as he could to pry one out. “I don’t think I’ve been given the okay for alcohol.”

“We can water it down.”

“You don’t water down beer!”

“Then split one with me. I’ve chilled glasses somewhere…”

He went digging in the freezer drawer and pulled out plastic wine glasses. Billy snorted as he accepted one. “This is so cheap.”

“Yeah well, even mom’s fancy bimbo friends break wine stems around the pool. Gimme that.”

Billy appreciated that Steve made it sound greedy, instead of pitiful. Billy had trouble with his hands.

The can snapped open with a satisfying metallic crack. Billy teased as Steve poured, “Is this your first rodeo? Look at all that foam.”

“We’ve got time. The pancakes are almost done.”

Billy pushed his pill organizer aside to rest his chin on his arms, listening to carbonation sizzle while he watched Steve’s shoulder blades move under his sweatshirt.

“When do you get cleared for pot?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be officially cleared for that—hey, hey!”

Steve had turned around, leaning back against the counter with a pancake in his hand and a full cheek. “Whuh?”

“You’re eating my dinner! Dump the skillet over a plate and get over here!”

Steve came around to sit on the stool next to him with a pancake in his mouth and—

“Are those my slippers?”

“You mean my slippers that I hadn’t worn yet? Yeah, I took them back,” Steve retorted.

Billy successfully knocked one off his foot. “They still had the tags when I got to them. So dibs.”

Steve kicked the other slipper into the living room. “No dibs if you don’t have both.”

“You’re wearing my sweatpants. I get your slippers.”

“I get your beer and you get my pancakes.”

“Not if you eat all of them! Syrup, now,” Billy demanded with a grabby hand gesture.

Steve disintegrated into giggles that made him sound as much like a little kid as movie heartthrob. He finished pouring and passed the bottle.

So it went. Back and forth. Back and forth.

First Steve took Billy’s time. The minutes that built into hours driving to and from the hospital. Then Billy ate his food. Steve covered the restaurant tabs until they switched to cooking at his house. Steve washed his clothes and wore them like his own. Billy took Steve’s car keys and drove for the first time with Steve practically hostage all the way to the tree farm.

“I didn’t take you for a real tree kind of person.”

“You have the ceiling space for a nine-foot tree.”

“How the hell are we hauling a nine-foot tree?” Steve practically blanched. “And with what car?” He adjusted his earmuffs because he’d rather be caught dead than wear a proper hat. Billy, meanwhile, strolled through the greenery and the first snowflakes spitting from the sky with leisurely ease in his beanie.

He laughed, “I like how you’re not saying no.”

Steve didn’t do much to hide his mimicry as he trudged behind Billy, who chuckled to himself. “For once it actually smells nice. The trees really cover up the cow shit of—oh my god, there are actual cows.”

A line of tables displayed other living decorations like wreaths and garlands, but beyond them was a field of black and red cattle. Billy moved under a line of wreaths hanging over their heads to see how they actually had blankets on their backs. “Are the cow jackets norm—”

Steve caught his mouth in a quick, firm kiss. The sound of their lips parting echoed in Billy’s ears. Steve’s fingers lifted off his jaw to touch something noisy above their heads. Billy dumbly looked up to see the tiny bells interwoven with a mistletoe wreath. “Careful. We have real mistletoe here. Not whatever plastic California has.”

He left Billy stupefied, having the audacity to stroll away with a whistle on his lips before Billy snapped out of it and nearly tackled him. “OW! Agh, fu-shit, Jesus—”

“You’re better about planting your feet,” Billy breathed against Steve’s earmuff. He held Steve’s arms trapped against his body.

“Are you always this mean when someone kisses you?” he strained in Billy’s tight grip. The gravel under their boots grit and rattled as Billy dragged Steve deeper into the trees. “Alright! I should’ve asked! I’m sorry—”

Steve might’ve stolen the first kiss, but Billy shoved him into a tree and took it back. He took Steve’s cold shock against his lips, until hot breath warmed them up between nervous stares. Then Billy took his lips, his tongue, the taste of the mint brownies Steve ate on the way here. The cold tip of Steve’s nose pushed into his cheek, and Billy’s heart felt fragile against the softness of Steve’s mouth.

His breath trembled as he asked, “Why did you do that?”

Why do you give me rides? Give me food? Why do you cook every night? Why did you give me a bedroom? Will you let me into yours?

Steve’s arms around his waist moved, tightening a little but also moving up Billy’s spine as if to comfort him. To anchor them together. Steve swallowed, and the fragility in his eyes made Billy’s throat hurt. “I didn’t get to the first time.”

Billy couldn’t stand it. He pushed Steve’s earmuffs off in his effort to press his face against Steve’s neck. To absorb the delicious little sound that escaped him when Billy’s cold nose found the warm pocket inside his collar.

Billy didn’t think he’d be able to kiss anyone ever again.

Not after…

But all he wanted was to keep Steve’s lips on him. To steal him away like some fairytale winter troll and either keep him or devour him if he tried to leave.

“Billy?” His name was muffled against his own scarf, so tightly did Steve hold onto him.

But if Steve was taking…maybe Billy could let himself be stolen again.

“When we’re home…” he sniffled on his way back up to standing on his own. “Kiss me again.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

Billy laughed through his tears. “No, you’re buying me the biggest tree your car can carry. And I’ll steal that wreath while they’re distracted.”

“You have the money to buy it!”

“That’s no fun.”

#harringrove #pondermoniums #stolen #ficlet #one shot #holiday fluff #snowy kisses #post s3 #billy hargrove #steve harrington

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years ago

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Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {5}

Summary: With an active shooter in the hospital, Ethan and Y/N remember their lives and all times they’ve spent together.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, triggering content

Word count: 5000+

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are, Isak Danielson - Love me Wrong, Dove Cameron - Remember me, Tom Odell - Can’t pretend, The XX - Angels, Coldplay - Fix you, Coldplay - The scientist.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ukiyo (japanese noun) - living in the moment

When your world comes to a stop and the value of life is amplified by those dead before their time in gruesome ways, it feels like an earthquake shakes the very foundations your life is built on. But when the walls start falling, past and future no longer exist, only the moment you're in and the first person that comes to mind when those walls are gone is what your life is all about. For Ethan, Y/N was the first person that came to mind and his brother a close second.

There wasn’t anything he could do as the doors around him slid close, the inability to pass through the glass barrier pushing him closer to madness he ever thought possible. He was just a few inches away from the ward they’re both supposed to be on and he’s stuck? It felt like a cruel game of fate.

Not only did he have so much to say and not enough time, but he wanted to do something else as well. He wanted to wrap Y/N in his arms and tell her there isn’t a chance in hell he would ever let her walk away, not after he had a taste of what it means to be with her. He wanted to tell her his love is unconditional and that his soul is hers, even if she didn’t want to give him hers. He would wait, as patiently and as stubbornly as he did by now and that she will never lose him because even if he wished, he can’t scrub his heart clean of her tender soul. And he never wanted to.

Slamming his fists against the Plexiglas, red in the face, Ethan falls to his knees. His hands are shaky, his eyes filled with tears, his body feels warm and the back of his neck is trickling with beads of sweat. He’s terrified, seeing his worst dream manifest into reality and while she may be far from the shooter, he can’t be certain and if something were to happen to her, to his brother too, Ethan would lose his mind.

And he can’t help but remember the time he had the whole world in the palm of his hand, yet he failed to do the right thing.

“You really outdid yourself.” She smiled up at him, her eyes focused on his lips as she tilts her head up to reach his chin with her own, falling short a few inches, leaving a small peck just under his swollen bottom lip.

“If I knew making you food would make you that grateful, I’d have done it sooner.” Ethan chuckles, tightening his arms around her just a little more, hoping she knows he would never want her away from him. She had become his heart, his reason to live. She lit a fire within, something he had lost over time and while she’s completely unaware of it, if her world started to fall apart, Ethan would wage war to make sure she’s untouched by grief.

“Oh, shut up!” Slapping his chest playfully, Y/N had managed to hide a smile as she tucked her head under his chin, hiding her face in his neck shyly as his giggle filled her with joy she never felt before. She didn’t give a damn about her soulmate anymore, not when Ethan felt more like a soulmate to her than anyone else ever could. And maybe that is temporary, but she wanted to experience every little thing and keep it in her memory until her dying breath. Ethan Dolan would inevitably break her heart, but she didn’t care. She’ll take the pain for more nights like this.

“Mind if I ask you something”, she spoke quietly, just above a whisper. Ethan could hardly hear her, yet his heart jumped with the notion of her possibly facing him to his crime against her – his secret about their connection. What if she figured it out?He wasn’t exactly sly when she insisted they stop using condoms because she believes she can’t get pregnant and he managed to come up with a possible STD fear since they were anything but exclusive which is dumb since they basically spend every night together. When would he have time to fuck anyone else? When would she? Would she if she did have time?

Shaking his head to get rid of that painful afterthought, Ethan sighs as he nods as a response to her question, praying her suspicions over his excuses didn’t become more than suspicions. He wanted to be the one to tell her the truth about them being soulmates and he wanted more than anything to tell her he never wants to touch another for as long as he lives, but he needed to know she can love him even without the connection.

“You’ve been alive for a long time now. Much longer than me. I guess I’m just curious about your life.” She managed a small smile as their eyes meet, her index finger trailing up and down his chest as she notices his lips part, surprised by her question.

“Yeah, um…I’ve been around for 119 years now. I remember a happy family – mom and dad were like two lovebirds, just a typical soulmate couple that loved each other deeply. After my dad died from cancer, my mom was getting by. She was badass. After she died, Ethan and I left New York for a long time.” Letting out a heavy breath, Ethan closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. It wasn’t easy to remember his parents. Every day that went by, Ethan missed his family. Maybe that’s why he longed for his soulmate so much, because he wanted to replace the family he had lost?

“If it’s too hard”, Y/N tried to give him an out, propping herself up on her elbow to face him properly, her palm resting on his right cheek as her sweet lips pressed a kiss to his for comfort.

“No. I want you to know.” She laid beside him, instead of his chest. It felt vastly important to see the change in every line of his handsome face as he remembered the past and she didn’t want to miss a single word, expression or look he could bestow upon her. He felt more important to her than anyone and this wasn’t just a story, it was his story. With her leg still thrown across his waist and her hand splayed on his chest, she felt confident about her feelings for Ethan solidifying. There would never be another like him. She was sure of it. Drawing a deep breath, Ethan continued.

“My sister left to look for her soulmate, something she managed to do in just a few years and they’ve been happily living in Australia ever since. Grayson and I decided to start medicine, something neither of us regrets. It allowed us to travel, to learn, to save lives and make the world better, even if it’s just one person at a time. We’ve moved a lot for residencies, met a lot of people and moved back here thirty years ago. I’ve taken art classes for a few years, taught anatomy for a decade and even took a year off and lived on an island.” Reminiscing wasn’t easy, there were far too many things Ethan had allowed to slip his mind – some because they were too heavy to think back to and other just because he never felt the need to dig up his past. And while they spoke of his past the entire time and he recounted every mishap he ever had and every victory just to show off, Ethan had never once mentioned the cause behind the grey hair at the back of his head and no matter how curios she was, Y/N let him off the hook for a while. She couldn’t handle seeing his beautiful smile disappear and she absolutely adored his smile.

Ethan wished he was braver that night. He wished he told her the truth and let it all play out on her terms instead of his. Selfish. That’s how he feels now. He could have loved her openly, had her love him too? But he was too selfish back then and he couldn’t change that now. No matter how bad he wishes he could.

And while Ethan remained helpless, grasping his hair with trembling hands, praying his girl and brother are safe, Y/N was rather close by.

“How do we know where he is?” She whispered, looking around with wide eyes as she tried to assess the situation. Her steady hands grasped Grayson’s shaky ones, forcing eye contact as his lips started to tremble.

“Hey. We’re fine, Gray. We’re completely safe and there is no one with a gun pointed at our heads right now. Breathe.” She tried to calm him down, wishing she could roll her eyes right now because she didn’t understand his fear nor how bad she is at talking people down from a panic attack. Grayson’s hands became a cage for her own, his hold strong and relentless. Her jaw is tight, her resolve clear to Grayson who shakes his head.

“Whatever you’re planning, you can’t. I won’t let you.” Making himself clear, Grayson clears his voice as he examines her body language only to find she had no signs of fear taking over her. In fact, she seems fearless and that’s not always the best thing, especially in these situations.

“Protocol says the boss should make sure everyone is safe and you’re clearly shaken up. Grayson, it will take me half an hour tops. I just need to count everyone and make sure no patients are dying.” The fire in her eyes scared him even more than the possible shooter, realizing she isn’t going to back down and if he let her do this for him and got hurt, Ethan would never forgive him. But Grayson was almost paralyzed and it wasn’t death he feared but missing out on meeting his soulmate. He realized how stupid it is to wait for her to walk into his life without moving a finger. If anything, he should have been looking for her since the moment he knew there was a soulmate for him. He was absolutely terrified of dying without ever knowing what true love feels like.

“I’m not letting you leave here without me. I’m coming with and if I tell you to do something during this, you will listen. IS. THAT. CLEAR?” Grayson’s voice wasn’t shaky anymore and he was in charge once more. Y/N’s lips twitch in amusement, actually enjoying a serious Grayson with a badass attitude.

“Sure. Why not?” She shrugged, gifting him with a smile and even if he didn’t mean to, Grayson smiled too.

“Good. Let’s go.”

Amaranthine (adj.) - undying, immortal, undying, beautiful

And while they tiptoed around the wards – Pediatric, Gynecology, Neonatology, Y/N had recounted a night with Ethan she had bared her soul.

“You never talk about your parents.” Ethan noticed her stiffen, her back against his chest had turned into a brick wall, just as strong as those she built around her heart. He had craved a peek ever since they met and he definitely didn’t expect any of the bricks to fall.

But her body relaxed and she turned in his embrace, her eyes focused on his chest and her hands are curled up under her chin. She never seemed as vulnerable as she does now and Ethan felt honored to have her trust run deep.

“They were bad people. I like to pretend they never existed because they did the same for me. I felt like a flaw in the plan, like I was never meant to be born. That’s how they treated me. I feel like they were relieved when I got sick. Even then, they just paid the bills but ignored my existence. I grew up with an army of nannies and nurses, barely ever seeing them. Sometimes I’d hear them fighting…I don’t think their relationship was healthy but they stayed together anyway because the love they had thanks to the bond was unbreakable.” Biting her lower lip, she looks into his eyes briefly, but long enough to know he won’t judge her. He had all the understanding she sought in his hazel hues, a tenderness she always prayed to find in someone. There was no doubt in her mind she could trust Ethan Dolan.

“They owned a company that profited off people’s misery. They funded armies, and as I’ll later find out, terrorists too. My dad was arrested, took the blame so my mother would be free. He was killed in prison two days before his trial. As for my mom…After the nanny came for me in the hospital and took me home, I found her hanging from the living room ceiling.” Closing her eyes, she felt her body betray her as the memory shook her to the core. It just reminded her of all she wants to forget, but she wanted Ethan to know her and why she’s so fucked up. She never felt what love is, to be loved and cared for. She never knew how to love because all she ever had were these fucked up people who saw nothing but each other and even they didn’t know how to love one another.

“I’m here.” But Ethan didn’t run from her or her truth, no matter how fucked up everything is. Instead, he held her tighter, his hands rubbing her back soothingly until she let herself breathe again.

“Do you think I’m broken?” She whispered, her eyes watering as he frowned, his forehead forming a few worry lines she’d normally tease him about because their age difference is so vast despite them both looking so young, but she reveled in knowing he actually cares enough to worry about her. No one ever cared for her so much before.

“Do you?” He speaks and his voice had never been softer, so heavy yet coated with pure love – something she tried not to pay any mind to.

“I do. I feel like I’ve been shattered my whole life and you’re sort of picking up the pieces. Will you fix me? Please?” He didn’t respond with words, but with his lips, claiming hers so passionately as his fingers wiped her tears clean off. He didn’t see her as a project in need of fixing, but he would heal her if that’s what she needs. He would make her see she is wanted, needed and if anything, she healed him too.

It was great while it lasted, great to be loved, the warmth of his cheek next to her with his soft hand brushing her hair from her face and his cheeky laugh in her ear... it was great to be loved but when their bubble was gone, she shattered and felt isolated and alone, on her own in the world with no one to care for her, no one to laugh with. She hated herself for losing him, all because she didn’t know how to let him love her. She didn’t know how to love him either and it tore her apart.

“Okay, so we have everyone covered but the pediatric ward. I feel like we should split up, get it done faster so we can report to the police.” Y/N talks in hushed voices, trying to remain calm as Grayson nods reluctantly, assuming that the danger for them is gone. Who would go to a ward with kids holding a gun? He just wanted to finish his duty and go back to contact the police, his brother too. He worried about Ethan and while Y/N showed no signs of worrying, he knew she was dreading the possibility of losing Ethan too.

“I’ll go left.” She forced a smile, giving Grayson a small wave as she turned away and let out a long sigh. At first she wanted to tell him that Ethan is fine, to give him a message for him in case something went awry, but she decided against it. Why bother when they would be just fine and leave with their heads attached to their shoulders? Why say something when emotions are running high only to regret the words later on?

Sneaking down the hall, she entered every room with a soft smile upon her lips, checking on the kids quickly and instructing them to stay still. Luckily, most kids had a nurse with them, or even a parent, someone to barricade the room once she left and it left her relieved. Those who were alone, she ushered with ones who had an adult by their side, helping kids unwind as well.

She walked out onto the bridge connecting Pediatrics with otorhinolaryngology, her eyes going over the patient list on her side, but no matter how many times she went through them, she was one kid short.

“Fuck.” She mumbled under her breath, sitting down before taking her phone out and dialing Grayson.

“Gray, I’m missing a kid. A Martha Levi? If you found one extra kid, let me know.” Pocketing her phone, she leaned back against the glass made railing, looking at her shoes with a heaviness in her heart.

Petrichor (n.) - a love for the scent of rain in nature

She couldn’t help the feeling of regret as it washed over her. She should have told Ethan she loves him too, that she wasn’t perfect but she would find a way to make it work between them for as long as he wants her, but she didn’t. Even if she is absolutely crazy for him.

A small smile formed on her lips as she remembered the night she realized she loves Ethan, the night he had acted on impulse and still managed to create such a beautiful memory she would never forget. He made sure she never forgets him.

“It’s starting to rain.” Y/N groaned, holding out a hand as a few drops wet her palm, making her shake her hand and frown.

“Don’t like the rain?” Ethan chuckles, cocking his head to the side as he walks forward, even if the rain started to pour in seconds.

“You’re gonna get a pneumonia!” She shouted over thunder, watching him push his wet hair back before outstretching his hand for her to take.

“Not gonna happen, Dolan!” She meant it. Rain was anything but a favorite to her. But Ethan seemed relentless.

“Come on, sweetheart! I promise it’s just a little bit of rain!” Ethan insisted, a grin taking over his face as she started to gnaw on her lips, a clear sign she’s contemplating his offer, something she wouldn’t have done if she didn’t plan on joining him.

And she hates rain with burning passion, but Ethan seems to love it, every single drop. He enjoyed the rain, the thunder, the smell that lingers after, everything about it. And she loves him. Enough to step into the horrid wetness rain brings, just as long as she gets to kiss him after.

“I really hate you sometimes.” She rolls her eyes at him before taking his hand, allowing him to draw her near and as he does, he rests her hand over his shoulder, taking her waist with his other. Pulling her close, Ethan smirks while she gawks at him, noticing him move in a slow rhythm to a song playing in his head.

“What are you doing?” She narrowed her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows, all while a smile formed on her lips – all in disbelief as her own hips started to sway with the silent song in the storm, a song in their hearts.

“Dancing with a gorgeous woman.” Ethan snickers, leaning his forehead on hers lightly, their noses brushing together and her eyes close for a moment, collecting herself, reminding herself this is real.

Unable to take it, she leans into him, her head resting on his chest as her arms close around him, feeling his hands rest on the small of her back, virtually no space remaining between them. And that’s when she heard it – “Wise men say only fools rush in” – at first it was so quiet she thought she was imagining it, that maybe the thunder had made her imagine the sound, but his lips were right by her ear and he mostly whispered it, - “But I can't help falling in love with you “ - ,but the words made her heart race fast enough that she felt faint.

Her lips part, her mind screaming with every syllable, yet she never felt more at peace. - “Oh, shall I stay, would it be a sin. Oh, if I can't help falling in love with you?” – How can one man make her feel so many things at once? She didn’t know what is stronger – her need to run and save her heart from heartbreak, or her need to stay in his arms forever. – “Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.” –

Taking a deep breath, she stopped dancing, not even caring about the rain ruining her make up when he stopped too, his lips still moving as his voice got slightly higher, but looking into his eyes as he sang? – “Take my hand, take my whole life too. Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you “ - Even if it was a half whisper, Y/N never felt happier.

Ever since, rain had become a friend, more than a foe and Ethan? He had taken a permanent residence in her heart.

She could still hear him singing in the back of her mind, her eyes closed as she tried to relax, to let his voice ease her nerves for she couldn’t lie – Y/N felt like she’s standing on edge of a very high cliff and she didn’t know if she had the strength to come back down and face everything that pushed her there in the first place. She tells herself she’s fine with how her parents hated her, but she’s not. She tells herself she’s fine with her battles with cancer, but she’s not. She tells herself she’s fine with Ethan being hers but having a soulmate out in the world, but she’s not.

There isn’t anything she’s fine with in this case and she can’t help but wish Ethan was there with her. He would know what to say to calm her raging storm and to stop the war inside her. He’d remind her she’s a fighter, something she has no strength to remind herself of.

“Y/N?!” But then she heard it – heard him. For a moment she was sure it’s a hallucination, but when she turned her head, she saw him standing on the other side of the glass, mere inches away from her with a relieved look on his face.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Looking around, Ethan wanted nothing more than to open the door and hold her, but with the key-cards being useless at this point, he was just happy to put his hand on the glass and have her do the same.

She couldn’t hide her happiness, her hand quickly laying against the glass, longing for his touch.

“Yeah. How”, she pauses to take a breath, her throat closing up as her emotions flood her senses and she’s on the brink of crying. “How are you here?”

“I was on my way to see you. I had to talk to you.” Ethan spoke when her phone went off and she saw it was Grayson. Holding up her index finger, she picked up the call, eager to tell him she and his brother are both fine.

“Hey.”

“Martha isn’t here either.” Grayson’s panicked voice is enough to make her mutter ‘fuck’ under her breath, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll do a second sweep. Stay put. And Ethan’s fine. I’m sort of with him right now.” She let out a weak chuckle, ending the call before rubbing her forehead.

“A kid is missing, I’ll have to go back and check the rooms again.” She explains and Ethan nods, wetting his lips.

“Did you check the janitor closets and on call rooms?” Ethan suggests and Y/N facepalms.

“No…I bet Grayson didn’t either. She might be scared and hiding.” With her hands on her hips, she half smiled at him. “Your brain is beautiful. Thank you.” But Ethan was no longer looking at her, rather over her shoulder with his eyes wide and mouth open and while she didn’t have to look back, she knew it just by the expressions on his face.

Turning halfway toward the door connected to the pediatrics, Y/N felt her heart speed up. She didn’t frighten easily, in fact, people would say she’s not one to flinch, but the sight of a grown man holding a gun to a scared little girl’s head? It was enough to scare her.

There are times in your life when everything comes down to one moment - one defining moment where you're either the hero or a coward. And in that moment, Y/N could see her life pass before her eyes. She saw her father imprisoned, her mother hanging in the hall, the nurse that always hid an extra cup of her favorite jelly, chemotherapy, trying to stand after surgery, fainting in med school when her cancer returned, meeting Ethan, Ethan's smirk, Ethan's warm arms, the way his fingers coil around her neck as his hips meet hers, Ethan in the OR, Ethan kissing her in the rain, his haunting voice as he sings in her ear, Ethan pushing her against the wall as his lips press against her throat, when Ethan said he loves her...when she summarized her life, the past few months she's known Ethan had overshadowed every bad things, every tear and every pain and all she could see is HIM. And her choice was no longer a choice, but a certainty - something she saw worthy of whatever is to come.

"Take me!" She shouts, her hand above her head and her palms turned to the shooter, her insides shaking but her face remained impassive and at peace with her decision.

"Take me, leave the girl alone." She insisted, her voice not wavering, not even a little. She glanced back at Ethan who remained stuck behind the glass door just outside of the pediatric ward and her lips pressed together to keep in the shattering scream of emotions just bubbling to come out.

Ethan pounded on the door but Plexiglas doesn't break easily and no matter how hard he screamed and his face turned red, Y/N was out of reach and he couldn't do a damn thing.

"Fine then." The shooter kicked the little girl, the little one running straight to Y/N who gave her a quick hug and whispered directions to take after she was gone with the man.

"Go straight down the hall to the gynecology ward, you'll find a handsome doctor to keep you safe there."

She knew once the little one arrived, Grayson would know she wandered and would lose his mind, but she couldn't just let a little girl be used for whatever this man intended.

Glancing at Ethan one last time, Y/N mouthed 'I love you' and the next thing she knew, the shooter had grabbed her arm and pulled her before him, the cool barrel of the gun pressed against her temple and he whispered in her ear menacingly.

"Don't do anything stupid."

Trembling wildly with adrenaline overflowing her system, Y/N couldn’t force herself to even try and see Ethan, quite possibly for the last time. She could hear him begging, screaming, offering himself, but she was forced back onto pediatrics and just as they stepped into the main hallway, blood splattered her face.

Gasping, her ears ringing, Y/N falls to the ground, the world around her slowing down as the man falls with her. She’s quick to stand back up, using the adrenaline rush to keep herself going, seeing red dots dancing along her pink scrubs as she raises her hands up in the air, her breath caught in her throat.

All the doors opened at once, the SWAT team swooping in, but the man’s brain is painting the floor, he wasn’t dangerous anymore.

Struggling for a few short breaths, Y/N felt her heart beating out of her chest. No matter how hard she tried, everything seemed out of control and while people are talking around her, she can’t hear a damn thing.

But then she sees him stumble in the ward, his face blotchy, hair a complete mess and she didn’t even realized she was moving. Without even thinking, she jumped up and threw her arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. Ethan was holding her so tightly that she couldn’t see his face, and she can’t tell when he let her go as her vision faded and her body went limp in his arms. Unable to handle the shock of the day, her consciousness slipped away from her and she found herself enveloped in darkness, but she never felt safer in her entire life.

It wasn’t until later that she regained consciousness. Finding herself in Ethan’s bed, wearing his over-sized t-shirt, she smiled slightly. It’s exactly where she wants to be. Looking toward the door left ajar, she hears him.

“What are you doing? She’s a perfect picture with a broken frame. You can’t just glue it back together and think it’s enough. You need to be honest. That might make it new.” Grayson whispers and she couldn’t help but wonder what they’re talking about. Her? Is she the one with a broken frame? She never realized Grayson thought so low of her. It stung to know it now.

“Plus, you see the world in black and white. She doesn’t. You need someone like her in your life, brother. Just tell her everything. She’ll understand.” Now her curiosity is peaked. She can’t help but wonder what the truth is and if it has anything to do with the mysterious soulmate Ethan seems to hide from her.

“It’s not that easy, Grayson. I can’t just come out and say it.” Ethan exclaimed, lowering his voice when he spoke the words Y/N never dreamed would be true. It stopped her heart when he admitted the truth, unaware she had never been more awake in her entire life.

“I can’t just tell her – Hey, we’re soulmates and I’ve known all this time – Y/N would kill me.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tags: @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12 @zeusgrayson @libradolan @justordinaryjen @pineappledolan @graysavant @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan @shadowsndaisies @maybgrayson @dolans4lyfe @mendesficsxbombay @fxkthatdairy

Anyone crossed out wasn’t able to be tagged, probably an issue on Tumblr’s side, sorry.

#ethan dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan au #ethan dolan doctor soulmate au #ethan dolan doctor au #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fluff #ethan dolan fanfic

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bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

Text

TFW you realize you relate more to a fave character than you ever actually consciously realized, lmao.

So I was just having a remote therapy session, and we were focusing on just some mental pain management techniques since my stupid metabolism makes most pain meds largely useless and my head has been waging all out warfare on me for the past week and a half, lololol. And we were delving into one of my personal fave rants, which is the fact that so many people - including vaunted medical professionals - just fundamentally don’t seem to get that having a high pain tolerance does not mean you don’t like, FEEL pain unless its really a lot or intense. Its just that you’re hard-wired/trained/geared via stuff like an abusive childhood, lol, to not SHOW or DISPLAY any visible or audible pain cues unless the pain reaches a certain high threshold where its impossible to hold them back.

But particularly over the past four or five years, with my ongoing medical shit, its super obnoxious trying to get your doctors to display a sense of urgency about your condition because they’re just fundamentally not grasping the degree of chronic pain you’re dealing with every day, since, y’know....I can literally be sitting there in the doctor’s chair and conversationally talking about the fact that no, I definitely am currently feeling like, an eight or nine out of ten on the pain scale, please don’t be confused by the fact that I’m literally LOLing as I describe this to you rather than gasping and moaning in a more obvious indication of it.

Its like, I’m not TRYING to undersell it or anything, its just, when you grow up since the time you’re like five or six years old, knowing damn well that the only appropriate response to someone asking ‘oh am I hurting you’ that won’t earn you MORE pain is a completely casual or cavalier sounding ‘nope, I’m fine, all good here, no problems.’......like, at a certain point in your development, that becomes pretty hard-wired in, like, you can’t shake it just because you consciously WANT to. (Though it is one of the things I’m trying to unlearn and ‘rewire’ in therapy now, via EMDR techniques aimed at like, literally reprogramming my nervous system and how I react to various stimuli. Its.....slow progress, lmao, but I mean there is some progress so its all good).

But point being, when you’re a physically abused kid and your physical abuser doesn’t want to believe or accept that they’re hurting you, and so they tended to just get angrier and MORE dangerous if they thought you were indicating or even just ‘implying’ that they were in fact hurting you.....you get pretty damn good at not showing even the slightest hint of pain or distress unless its literally a level you’ve never experienced before and thus have no practical experience in hiding or distracting yourself from.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t FEEL every bit of it. It doesn’t mean you’ve found a magical off-switch that means you can just mind-over-body yourself from acknowledging or being aware that you are in fact in a shit ton of pain. You just.....have learned the importance of masking it, and found ways to do that by necessity.

Except, even much later in life when you are in a safe place or more control of your situations or surroundings, there’s no easy way to just....stop putting that mask on by default, the second you’re experiencing any type of pain. And so even when dealing with medical professionals, too many of them just don’t GET that their vaunted ‘tell me how much pain you’re in from one to ten’ scale isn’t really the be-all and end-all of pain measurement, because its subjective and arbitrary as HELLLLLLLLL.....and one of the defining parameters for what that pain scale looks like and feels like for YOU, is....your personal history with pain and how you’re ‘comfortable’ displaying evidence of it. (And I know there’s a ton of people and even groups of people who can relate to this for entirely different reasons, I just can only speak to my own of course).

But its definitely frustrating and invalidating as hell to be in more pain than many people ever experience in their lives, and TRYING to convey that as openly and honestly as you can.....and literally being able to SEE the doubt and dismissal in doctors’ eyes, because all they’re seeing is the visual cues you’re putting out there and which they equate to ‘can’t possibly be in THAT much pain, not if he’s acting this casual about it’.....

And so the frustrating irony is that you end up dismissed as like, a pain ‘lightweight’ who is complaining about an apparent degree of pain that’s barely anything in their ‘professional’ estimation. And thus they’re disinclined to take your requests for heavier or more effective pain medication seriously, or not impressed by your attempts to imbue a greater sense of urgency in their approach to your treatment plan or procedures, etc......when in reality, the only reason you’re showing those cues of not being in that much pain is because you’re MORE used to and familiar with even extremely high degrees of pain than anything a lot of them are accustomed to.

Its invalidating as hell, being treated as though you have no idea what you’re talking about when you say “I am actually in a shit ton of active, ongoing pain, hey thanks, can we maybe do something about this,” when actually, the disconnect comes from you having MORE experience with MORE pain than some of them can even fathom. You just....also have more experience with reasons not to SHOW that pain, if its at all avoidable to any degree whatsoever.

THAT’S what high pain tolerance actually means, and the sheer volume of medical professionals who just flat out don’t get this, or worse, just don’t care or are too proud to reassess their viewpoints on this matter if that carries the implication they don’t actually know as much as they think they do......god, it grates.

(Once, when I was around twenty-three or twenty-four I think, I got caught up in the periphery of a bar fight that resulted in me getting a shard of glass embedded in the back of my forearm. Still have a pretty sizable scar from it. And it absolutely hurt like fuck, but I was conscious as paramedics arrived on scene and when going to the hospital to have it removed and stitched up, and like......kinda cracking jokes about it the whole time because I was uncomfortable as hell and didn’t really know what else to do or how to react, y’know? I mean, I had a few inches of glasses jutting out from the top of my forearm, lol, what the hell are you supposed to do or say about that? There’s not really a protocol, lmao. Problem was, they took one look at me sitting there with this spear of glass sticking out of my arm and making dumb jokes about it like it was no big deal......and they decided this meant I was in shock and kept trying to treat me accordingly. And it was just like.....useless, because lol no I wasn’t in shock, I had none of the physical symptoms of being in shock and benefited from none of their assumptions that I was.....I was just a dude with a shard of glass in his arm that hurt like fuck and I really wanted it out as soon as possible, and I was in full awareness of what had happened and everything I was feeling, I just didn’t know how to convey this in a way that they would believe, because I couldn’t come up with anything to say or do other than laugh about how fucking surreal the whole situation was.)

Anyway, so circling back to the point, or as much of one as I ever have, so today I was just learning and practicing various mental pain management/coping techniques with my therapist and discussing my issues with doctors and the High Pain Tolerance Quandary. Basically like, I would really truly like to know or learn how to display the ‘expected’ physical and visual/audio cues for being a person who is experiencing a ‘4′ on the pain scale, versus a person who is experiencing a ‘7′ or a ‘10′.....so they can stop fucking treating me like I’m only at a 4 when I’m actually at an 8 or 9, just because I look and sound like a person who really is only at a 4 no matter what they actually CLAIM to be feeling.

Course, easier said than done.

But yeah, so as she was coaching me through various techniques and surveying what I was doing with my body and facial expressions and cues, etc, she pointed out something that I had literally never noticed about myself before, even though once she DID point it out I could recognize that its something I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember, well back before I was ten and no doubt stemming from smack dab in the midst of the worst of my childhood abuse.

So, y’know on Teen Wolf, how Scott and Liam and various others are at times shown digging their claws into their palms and drawing blood to ground themselves with the pain? (And ironically, how I was just talking the other week about photo doubling for a similar such scene with gashes in the character’s palms, lmfao). Well, obviously I don’t have claws, and part of why I’d never really paid much attention to when I was doing it is because even my therapist wasn’t comfortable classifying it as a kind of self-harm or anywhere near punitive enough to carry that kind of weight or associations.....

But like, I’ve always kept my fingernails fairly trimmed but not completely. Like, just enough of an edge to them that at times, particularly when I’m in physical pain or distress already, I’ll just like....dig my fingernails into the pad of other fingertips, and use that little familiar spike of pain to not ground myself but rather distract myself from whatever else I was feeling. Like, she wasn’t comfortable calling it a self-punitive technique because as we got into it, it was clear I was never doing it to CAUSE myself pain....rather, its something I only do when I’m already in pain, usually far more pain than anything that brings up.....but by deliberately doing that and creating a focal awareness around it, even just a largely subconscious one......I’ve apparently long been using that to hook my attention up to a very specific, very manageable sensation/focal point of pain that lets me and my ADHD brain relegate whatever other pain I’m feeling (even if its much much worse) to the back of my mind for at least a little while, as I distract myself by focusing on this more obvious and consciously directed bit of lesser pain.

And a big part of why I probably never noticed I was doing this, we eventually concluded, is because as a kid I probably came up with it as a kind of survival technique specifically BECAUSE it was something I could do to distract myself/manage my pain covertly, without drawing my abuser’s attention to what I was doing either. And by extension, without the fact that I was doing it at all 'betraying’ that I was in pain or trying to manage or cope with painful sensations in the first place. A lot of other pain management techniques, like even just deep, deliberate breaths, tend to be a lot more obvious and noticeable, and thus would have been counter-productive for my specific purposes. No matter how much they helped me manage whatever physical pain I was feeling, they would have at the same time inevitably drawn attention to the fact that I was trying to do that at all in the first place....and thus only invite more pain.

Merely digging my fingernails into my fingertip pads, not enough to draw blood or make me cry out or anything like that, but rather just to distract myself and deliberately focus me on a source of pain I could deal with and more easily handle, as well as being ‘low in intensity’ enough that focusing on it didn’t bring any other obvious visual or audio pain cues to the forefront.....that I could do without anyone noticing. And thus this is likely why it came to be my go-to move whenever I was in any kind of pain at all, as just a quick and easy way to wrap my head around my physical sensations and shift focus to something more easily dealt with or managed (even if it didn’t actually dismiss or get rid of whatever other pain I’m feeling entirely). And just the low-key nature of it in general likely being a big part of why it became such an unconscious instinct for me until now, something that barely even registered in my conscious mind as I built up/hard-wired instinctive responses that incorporated it without me having to consciously direct myself to do that.

I mean, its still obviously not an ideal response, especially when I’m long past being stuck in any kind of external situations or need to fall back on that and the covert nature of it. So now its another of those things to just be aware of and work on rewiring on an instinctive level, making it a priority for me to focus on consciously using more helpful and positive methods of pain management.

But it was just interesting to me to have it pointed out as something I’ve been doing all this time, let alone being as unaware of doing it as I’ve apparently been. And its not hard to draw obvious parallels to when characters in media I consume do similar things even if for not quite the same reasons or in quite the same ways. So now I’m just kinda contemplating that and wondering how much even just some degree of unconscious awareness that I do that might have made me more alert to when characters or other people do similar things. Made me more attuned to noticing or even fixating on moments when they do things like that, that I related to even on an entirely subconscious level.

*Shrugs* Anyway, that’s all, like, literally not going anywhere with this, was just unwinding and felt like mapping my way through that all contemplatively, because oh no, inexplicable strangeness, therapy puts me in particularly contemplative headspaces, whodathunkit, lmfao. *Shrugs* Just struck me as particularly interesting, so felt like sharing for anyone else who can relate/see similar parallels themselves.

Or just chalk it up to random anecdotal wtf-ery from your friendly (err, mostly. okay sometimes. FINE ideally, let’s go with that) neighborhood over-sharer.

#that last bit is just to head off the usual 'friendly concerned advice giving anons' I tend to get after posts like these #plz stop doing that #i know i over-share its not a secret and I do it with full knowledge and intent because I feel like it #it suits my purposes #my purposes do not have to be your purposes nor do they require your approval #if it makes you uncomfortable thats where the beauty of tumblr being a largely opt-in experience comes from #there's the door #i can understand the confusion - its not actually a big blinking EXIT sign but rather an 'unfollow' button #its really that simple lmfao stop being so concerned with what Im doing particularly in posts where Im not even interacting with anyone #and for the love of god please stop assuming that everyone on tumblr is TRYING to post from a state of being on #an emotional plateau of zen #nah - some of us literally use the medium to vent and unpack stuff we dont have a ton of room to vent about or unpack in our offline lives #and like the relative(ish) anonymous nature of it combined with the potential for at least some kind of validation via #like-minded or experiencing individuals in a pseudo-communal setting #our purpose/usage does not need to be yours and it does not require your condoning #and I would just like to suggest that maybe people who put a ton of emphasis on telling others (like survivors) to do a better job of #curating what content they experience/are exposed to online #might be well served to put a little more focus on curating what content YOU experience if you find yourself uncomfortable with particular #posting habits #there's a bajillion other people out there to follow #you dont need to be here if you dont actually want to be or arent actually comfortable being here #BUT I DIGRESS

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samrosemodblog · 4 years ago

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This is a political post.

I’m putting it under a read more if you’re trying to take time away from it to recover, if the full thing loads for you anyway (cause I know Tumblr mobile stuff is weird) I apologize.

I’m not really one to talk about this sort of stuff so this will likely be my only personal post about it, but I do need to at least say my piece for my own sake of mind, and the friends I have who are fighting for justice.

I know, for a fact, that I’m not much of a fighter. By my nature, I’ve been a pacifist for most of my life. The most violent thing I can remember doing, is in a fit of anger of being gaslit and mistreated, I shoved someone’s shoulder, and I’ve deeply regretted doing that ever since.

I support the peaceful protests, but I hate the violence being thrown onto those people just for speaking out.

Watching, on live television, as peaceful protesters are tear gassed and shot, as the President literally declared war on the American people, and did so just so he could take a photo op in front of a fucking church...

I was so angry I felt broken.

My friends had a Charity livestream and part of me wanted to help, but I knew myself. I couldn’t art. I TRIED to art, and it came out below my standards, below what I want to present. I’m likely going to have to re-draw a bunch of what I did draw, but that’s okay, I can do that later. Art can be re-done anytime.

And I’ve genuinely been trying to think of what I can do to help. Sparing money isn’t really an option for me, I already make well below minimum wage and a lot of that money goes into bills and savings. I’m fortunate enough to have a situation where my bills are cheap, but I don’t have a regular ‘job’. If my Patreon dips significantly, I can’t keep doing what I do because I’ll have to spend all my time on commissions.

And I know I’m too scared to protest. If being in my own home fills me with anxiety, fear, and anger, then being out on the streets...

Not a lot of people know this, but I have a genuine phobia of guns. Like, crippling, anxiety riddled, panic-attack causing phobia. It was already hard enough being near an officer with a holstered gun and a happy attitude who was there to protect us, let alone a disgruntled one who is upset because he’s been pushed around by protesters for days.

I remember going to my sister’s graduation, where she became a nurse. At that graduation, there was a whole group of officers in full protective gear, openly carrying assault rifles.

As I sat in that stadium waiting for my sister to walk, all I could think was “What if one of those officers decided he’d had enough and opened fire in this stadium? What would it matter to me if he got the justice that was coming to him for doing so if I was dead? I wouldn’t ‘rest easy’, I’d be dead, because he made a split decision to open fire.”

And that thought goes through me any time I see a gun. It doesn’t matter how much I trust someone, how much they studied gun discipline, how much I’m certain they won’t shoot to kill.

Guns are made to kill, and only to kill. And all it takes is a single second for someone to have a lapse of judgement, or full intent, to end so many people...

And with the way things are escalating with the riots, I’m terrified of that happening. Apparently at least one officer has already been shot dead, and there’s no telling if things will continue to escalate. The President sure as hell has me terrified he’s going to use the military to open fire on the American public.

So I want to support the protesters. I want to support the people who have been wrongfully imprisoned. I want to support complete police reform, because I recognize that they have too much power right now. I want to support Black Lives Matter, not because I don’t believe All Lives Matter, but because I recognize that there is still so much racism in this country, with hard physical proof and evidence of it all around us.

No, rioting and looting don’t help things, but I’m not about to cry over Target losing a couple of TVs when people are losing their lives. A building might be burnt down, and businesses might be forced to close, but at least those people are still alive.

Things can be replaced. Lives can not.

But I’m limited with what I can do, and I recognize that. And I’ve been trying to think of anyway I can help, even if its just a little bit.

And as I was watching Netflix last night to try and get myself back into a place where I could function, that was what I realized I wanted to do.

I want to create art for those people to come back to. When they’ve been beaten down and are exhausted, when they need a break from their lives falling apart and fighting the fight, I want them to have something to come back to that lets them get away from it all. If only for a little bit, if only to give them some hope of a happier future.

I love telling stories. I love creating art for people. I love making things that make people realize they can be better, or that things don’t always have to be so hard. That no matter how dark things are, there is a fighting chance.

And right now I don’t know if that means making even more art than I was before, or just maintaining the momentum I have been, but even if it is just the latter, at least I’ll have hope that its helping someone somewhere.

Even though I’m relatively a nobody in any community, maybe I can do this small bit to help. And maybe that won’t be enough for some people, and that’s okay. Because I know I want to do what I can, and this is what I feel is the best I can do, given everything I know about myself.

And if I can do more later, I’ll try to do more then too. Because people don’t deserve to be hurt, and people’s voices deserve to be heard. If there’s a problem, it should be fixed, not just denied to maintain the status quo of fear and hatred.

And come November, for the love of God, please vote for ANYONE other than a President who thinks its ever okay to occupy American cities with the military to force his will upon the people. I don’t even care if you vote for a chicken, because a chicken would be a better President. Just please vote.

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somnilogical · 5 years ago

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modular "ethics":

a wrong and two rights make a right

<<I've been known to cause outrage by suggesting that people who really care about something shouldn't have romantic relationships. Think what would happen if I dared to suggest that those people should also seriously consider getting castrated. That would be crazy! And who am I to suggest that basically everyone claiming to be doing good is faking it? Then people would feel bad about themselves. We can't have that!>>

https://squirrelinhell.blogspot.com/2018/02/men-have-women-are.html

previously i talked about an infohazard about altruism that seemed to fuck with grognor. it feels useful to pass by the dead and look at their lives and choices.

i dont think that castrating yourself is a good intervention for doing stuff you care about, like this is patchwork constraints for an unaligned optimizer. if you arent altruistically aligned from core values, castrating yourself wont make you more aligned.

the "altruists" having babies thing is actual insane and pasek is right about that. pretty much all of society will try and gaslight you about this the way sometimes people are gaslit about "i need to have sex with lots of attractive fems to keep up my moral so i can do super good stuff afterwards.". like if people want to do good for the world it will flow out as a continuous expression of value not some brent dill kind of deal that institutions like CFAR accepted until there was too much social pressure for them to maintain this facade.

the entire premise that morality is this modular thing and you can help set the utility function of an FAI while being a terrible person, is wrong. yet organizations like CFAR keep thinking it will work out for them:

<<We believe that Brent is fundamentally oriented towards helping people grow to be the best versions of themselves. In this way he is aligned with CFAR’s goals and strategy and should be seen as an ally.

In particular, Brent is quite good at breaking out of standard social frames and making use of unconventional techniques and strategies. This includes things that have Chesterton’s fences attached, such as drug use, weird storytelling, etc. A lot of his aesthetic is dark, and this sometimes makes him come across as evil or machiavellian.

Brent also embodies a rare kind of agency and sense of heroic responsibility. This has caused him to take the lead in certain events and be an important community hub and driver. The flip side of this is that because Brent is deeply insecure, he has to constantly fight urges to seize power and protect himself. It often takes costly signalling for him to trust that someone is an ally, and even then it’s shaky.

Brent is a controversial figure, and disliked by many. This has led to him being attacked by many and held to a higher standard than most. In these ways his feelings of insecurity are justified. He also has had a hard life, including a traumatic childhood. Much of the reason people don’t like him comes from a kind of intuition or aesthetic feeling, rather than his actions per se.

Brent’s attraction to women (in the opinion of the council) sometimes interferes with his good judgement. Brent knows that his judgement is sometimes flawed, and has often sought the help of others to check his actions. Whether or not this kind of social binding is successful is not obvious.>>

https://pastebin.com/fzwYfDNq

<<AnnaSalamon 2/6/09, 5:54 AM

Aleksei, I don’t know what you think about the current existential risks situation, but that situation changed me in the direction of your comment. I used to think that to have a good impact on the world, you had to be an intrinsically good person. I used to think that the day to day manner in which I treated the people around me, the details of my motives and self-knowledge, etc. just naturally served as an indicator for the positive impact I did or didn’t have on global goodness.

(It was a dumb thing to think, maintained by an elaborate network of rationalizations that I thought of as virtuous, much the way many people think of their political “beliefs”/clothes as virtuous. My beliefs were also maintained by not bothering to take an actually careful look either at global catastrophic risks or even at the details of e.g. global poverty. But my impression is that it’s fairly common to just suppose that our intuitive moral self-evaluations (or others’ evaluations of how good of people we are) map tolerably well onto actual good consequences.)

Anyhow: now, it looks to me as though most of those “good people”, living intrinsically worthwhile lives, aren’t contributing squat to global goodness compared to what they could contribute if they spent even a small fraction of their time/money on a serious attempt to shut up and multiply. The network of moral intuitions I grew up in is… not exactly worthless; it does help with intrinsically worthwhile lives, and, more to the point, with the details of how to actually build the kinds of reasonable human relationships that you need for parts of the “shut up and multiply”-motivated efforts to work… but, for most people, it’s basically not very connected to how much good they do or don’t do in the world. If you like, this is good news: for a ridiculously small sum of effort (e.g., a $500 donation to SIAI; the earning power of seven ten-thousandths of your life if you earn the US minimum wage), you can do more expected-good than perhaps 99.9% of Earth’s population. (You may be able to do still more expected-good by taking that time and thinking carefully about what most impacts global goodness and whether anyone’s doing it.)>>

https://www.greaterwrong.com/posts/4pov2tL6SEC23wrkq/epilogue-atonement-8-8

like opposing this isnt self-denying moral aestheticism or a signalling game of how good you can look (credibly signalling virtue is actually a good thing, i wish more people did it by for instance demonstrating how they win in a way that wouldnt work if they werent aligned. whose power seeded from their alignment.). its like... the alternative where people do things that it makes no sense for an altruist to do and then say that when they go to their day jobs they are super duper altruistic they swear; compartmentalizing in this way ...doesnt actually work.

people who want to obscure what altruism looks like will claim that this is moving around a social schelling point for who is to be ostracized. and that altruism as a characteristic of a brain isnt a cluster-in-reality that you can talk about. because it will be coopted by malicious actors as a laser to unjustly zap people with. these people are wrong.

both EA and CFAR are premised on some sort of CDT modular morality working. it is actually pretending to do CDT optimization because like with brent at each timestep they are pretending to think "how can we optimize utility moving forward?" (really i suspect they are just straight up mindcontrolled by brent, finding ways to serve their master because they used force and the people at CFAR were bad at decision theory) instead of seeking to be agents such that brent when brents plans to predate on people ran through them, he would model it as more trouble than it was worth and wouldnt do this in the first place.

CFAR and EA will do things like allowing someone to predate on women because they are "insightful" or creating a social reality where people with genetic biases who personally devote massive amounts of time and money to babies who happen to be genetically related to them and then in their day job act "altruistically". as long as it all adds up to net positive, its okay right?

but thats not how it works and structures built off of this are utterly insufficient to bring eutopia to sentient life. in just the same way that "scientists" who when they arent at their day jobs are theists are an utterly insufficient to bring eutopia to sentient life.

<<Maybe we can beat the proverb—be rational in our personal lives, not just our professional lives. We shouldn’t let a mere proverb stop us: “A witty saying proves nothing,” as Voltaire said. Maybe we can do better, if we study enough probability theory to know why the rules work, and enough experimental psychology to see how they apply in real-world cases—if we can learn to look at the water. An ambition like that lacks the comfortable modesty of being able to confess that, outside your specialty, you’re no better than anyone else. But if our theories of rationality don’t generalize to everyday life, we’re doing something wrong. It’s not a different universe inside and outside the laboratory.>>

to save the world it doesnt help to castrate yourself and make extra super sure not to have babies. people's values are already what they are, their choices have already been made. these sort of ad-hoc patches are what wrangling an unaligned agent looks like. and the output of an unaligned agent with a bunch of patches, isnt worth much. would you delegate important tasks to an unaligned AI that was patched up after each time it gave a bad output?

it does mean that if after they know about the world and what they can do, people still say that they specifically should have babies, i mark them as having a kind of damage and route around them.

someone not having babies doesnt automatically mark them as someone id pour optimization energy into expecting it to combine towards good ends. the metrics i use are cryptographically secure from being goodharted. so i can talk openly about traits i use to discern between people without worrying about people reading about this and using it to gum up my epistemics.

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smokeybrand · 4 years ago

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Head for the Hills

Apparently there is a California Exodus happening right now? If you were to say that it's because of the rising home prices or the ridiculous homelessness issues or the stagnating wages, then sure. I get that. I move from here every few years because of that sh*t but i always seem to find my way back. California is home. I was born here. I lived most of my life here. The bulk of my family lives here. The most important people in my life live here, save for one. California is one of the most progressive, literate, tolerant, states in he union. It's by no means free of it's issues, i live about twenty minutes away from a city colloquially known as "old hangtown", but I've never had a twenty minute conversation with a straight up bigot, about how they used to hang people who look like me from trees, back in his day. I did have that conversation in Texas, though. California ain't perfect but it's the best goddamn thing in the United States right now. These people that are leaving? They do not feel the same as i do. These people that are leaving? They do not think like I do. These people that are leaving? They definitely don't look like me. They'd probably be the ones talking about hanging me from that tree if they could get away with that sh*t but you can't here. Not in most parts of California anyway.

The cats on their march out of the Best Coast are conservatives. Cats like Ben Shapiro and Nerdtronic are taking their bad takes, hypocritical rhetoric, and ridiculous conspiracy theories, to other states that will welcome that gaslighting, anti-intellectual, straw-man, nonsense. Basically, they're all white-flighting to places like North Carolina and Tennessee; Some of the reddest states in the union. Look, it's no secret that i have a very low opinion of conservative values. I don't think they have merit in a modern world. To be conservative is to limit who you are. To be right wing is to long for a bygone age. These cats are literally anti-progress and that's so weird to me. They advocate stagnation and regression, never mind all of the other insidious things they tend to rally behind or the less than reputable coalitions they attract. The American Dream all of these people lust after, that old timey 'Leave it to Beaver”, white picket fence, middle America suburbia, is the most white washed sh*t, ever. It as a great time, a great dream, for a very specific, less-than-melanated, percentage of the US which leaves out everyone else involved. California ain't that. Unlike a lot of these places these people are moving, California has a WIDE mix of ethnicity. One of these joints cats are moving to, Idaho, is ninety-three percent white. I wonder if that has something to do with this sudden pearl-clutch and bailing?

I get it. California ain't everyone's cup of tea. I have close friends who bailed to go and live in f*cking Idaho, or at least, have an extended stay. That sh*t is my nightmare, man! There's no f*cking way i could live there. That state does not share my values and i have next to no respect for theirs. It's a fundamental difference in how we experience the world and that's fine. I am uncomfortable when I'm the only ethnic in the room. Imagine my utter panic when I'm the only black dude in an entire f*cking city. That ain't for me, man, but I can disagree with your worldview and still like you as a person. We can argue cordially and still get along. That's positive discourse. That's acknowledging our differences but not letting them divide us. If we can have that open conversation, we can grow, progress, as a people. That's not what this exodus feels like. This sh*t feels like a bunch of rich conservatives, upset that this tide of social justice and demand for f*cking humanity, won't stall out. It feels like this is a defeat for them, that they can't push their ridiculously limiting, borderline racist ideals the way they want to and aren't being embraced as openly as they'd like, so they want to flee to an echo chamber where their bigotry is normalized. If you press them, they'll say its because the state is ran poorly or that the Wuha is bankrupting them or whatever but, when you look at the core of Californian values and the sh*t they produce or believe, you see they are the minority in the state. And there is nothing these people hate more than a minority, ya dig?

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kshitij1997 · 4 years ago

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Welcome back!

Well, the die has been cast, and Europe shall endure the consequences. Or will it?

Onward with the story :)

All Frozen and Tangled characters belong to Disney. All I own is this retelling and some original characters.

Chapter 10: Felino the crooked nose

February the 5th, 1828,

‘You’re a frigid, wormy piece of shit, you know that?’, growled the recently anointed Tsar at the Arendellian Monarch. Not a good sign for the conference the concert of Europe had arranged; the Monarch of Arendelle was hellbent on closing his country yet again, and no one was willing to budge on their stance.

‘I care not for the impression you choose to have about me, your majesty. I have my reasons and my fears to support my decision. I have to do what I feel is best for my kingdom, as would you if you faced a decision of a similar magnitude.’ Agnarr stated his position calmly, even as he felt no genuine respect for the Russian Monarch. Unlike his late brother, Tsar Nicholas the first had no great capacity for empathy and understanding. He had chosen to keep himself and his people ignorant. After all, what could one say of the sovereign who treated his highest officials and closest advisors like the serfs he saw them to be, and the holy synod under him bragged openly about how it was their god given duty to keep the downtrodden as they were. Oh, how their man, Sergei Uvarov, the Tsar’s minister of education, openly declared: “If I can extend Russia’s childhood another fifty years I will consider my mission accomplished.”

Oh, the Tsar saw himself as a god, and a jealous one at that. Agnarr understood that and knew that as a fellow sovereign, the Tsar could do little but rant in his face for the insult. Even if he would want to wage war upon Arendelle, he wouldn’t wish to give up access to the only warm water seaport he had. Still, Agnarr’s worries were far greater than some disgruntled people in power.

Elsa had lost control of her powers and was crippled in her fear, Anna had been forced to selective amnesia from Grand Pabbie, leaving no trace of Elsa’s powers and Olva...well she hadn’t been so fortunate. Against the advice of Grand Pabbie, he and Iduna had insisted on the procedure of wiping her memory clean of Elsa’s powers and the accident. The hermit warned of the consequences he was facing now with Olva, but how was he to know in his panic and desperation? Now the poor girl had begun experiencing fits and severe headaches, along with bouts of fainting for several minutes. He hadn’t slept this past month properly in the worry of what could happen to his family. Now he had a solution, and he would not back off from it. He must protect his family in any way possible. He must.

‘Your majesties, please don’t antagonise each other. This concerns all of us. You’re not the only ones troubled here. King Agnarr, you’d best explain yourself.’, queen Sophia spoke firmly as she presided over the conference. Agnarr’s declaration had shocked everyone, and he was yet to provide an explanation.

‘Thank you, queen Sophia. I have no intent on stepping on anyone’s face or insulting anyone. This sudden policy of isolation is a measure of precaution. I have it on reliable sources and personal knowledge that there are elements of revolution and insurgency brewing up in my kingdom. I can’t ignore it like the previous bourbon king of France in his time, god rest his soul. I must deal with these rebels quickly and with extreme prejudice. Because if I don’t then Arendelle falls forever, and if Arendelle falls, all northern Europe shall sink along with it.

And before you decide on persecuting war against me, ask yourselves this. Haven’t we had enough of war? We saw 2 decades of war followed by a decade of relative peace. If you ask me, I’d rather prefer the latter. I make this tough choice for the safety of all Europe, please understand.’

He paused to size up the room, who could be his allies and enemies hereafter. Corona and Austria-Hungary were definitely his allies; he knew Reginald would support him in the end. Weselton and the English would be against it; his partnership with them and America would be at risk, he’ll have to accommodate them somehow. Same was the situation with Russia. Maybe the Ottomans had to be brought in to keep Russia in check? Spain and the Southern Isles could be neutral; the Spanish could not care less, their main rivals were the English and the French, they would only vote as a formality. As for the Southern Isles were represented by queen Paulina, for the king had taken ill. On the surface, Paulina looked pleasant and charismatic, yet Agnarr knew that she would be a formidable and dangerous foe if he didn’t play this right. He began to speak again but was rudely interrupted.

‘And what would be these insurgent elements? The Northuldra?’, asked the duke of Weselton. The room tensed at the duke’s blatant attempt towards badgering the king of Arendelle. Agnarr had to fight a very strong impulse towards bashing the duke’s head on the wall. After composing himself mentally, he replied with barely concealed intentions ‘Why, yes. They have been neglected for far too long. I must attempt to bring them up with the kingdom. They are too obscure and are getting discontent.’

‘Just the language your father used, didn’t he? And where is he now? Lost like the rest of them. I’m telling you; this country is a lost cause. The Northuldra are ‘discontent’? Don’t make me laugh. They’re out for your and your family’s blood. They have been for years.’, the duke was clearly enjoying himself at Agnarr’s expense.

‘And if I hope to pursue a peaceful solution and keep Europe out of the mess, what is so wrong with that, duke?’, Agnarr nearly spat out the last part.

‘It’s always something personal. What, a problem with your kids now?’

‘Why, your uncouth son of a-‘

‘ENOUGH!’, the presiding queen roared. ‘That’s the second time you have tried to lay discord in the concert on purpose, duke. Once it was over my kidnapped child and now this. I swear, if it happens again, you’re going to meet your maker without warning, in front of everyone!’

‘I can’t believe you’re still going on about your bloody kid. She’s fucking dead! I always get enraged how the kings of Europe are disturbed about such trivial matters, and I’m to be punished because I call out the bullshit for what it is?! Fine. Hang, draw, and quarter me all you want, that does not change the fact that once again, some people are sullying the good name of the concert for their own interests.’, the duke spat venom without a care.

‘I’ve heard enough. Marshals, break the duke’s kneecaps.’, an enraged Sophia gave the cold order to her personal guard. The duke’s bravado melted away instantly, and he shrunk in his stature as the marshals came to deal with him.

‘Sophie, stop!’ King Reginald shouted.

‘Pray tell, what now, Reginald?’ his spouse was beyond annoyed by now.

The king of Corona whispered in his spouse’s ear ‘We’ll get the coward some other time. I need to talk sense into Agnarr somehow. I advise you to break for recess.’ A rare sight for the usually tempestuous king to calm down his calmer, more pragmatic wife.

Queen Sophia sighed heavily and announced a recess.

Once they were alone, Reginald confronted Agnarr ‘What’s gotten into you, Agnarr? You’re supposed to be the sensible one amongst us two.’

‘I’ll tell you what’s sensible. I should invade the fucking duchy of Weselton, lay it to fucking waste, burn it to the fucking ground, and salt the fucking remains barren forever!’ Agnarr snarled with uncharacteristic murder in his eyes.

‘Oh, calm down, crusader. I hate the duke much more than you do, believe me. Nevertheless, even I must agree with that poltroon over your course of action. It’s drastic and uncalled for. Tell me honestly what’s bothering you. We’ll make it right. Tell me.’

‘You don’t believe me? I told you every reason I have for doing this. My kingdom has only just recovered from the previous war. I can’t risk another. I certainly can’t afford it to become a pan-European conflict. At the end of the day, I just want my heir to inherit a stable state. An agitated group of people is not the hallmark of a stable state. Even if it takes me years, I must resolve this once and for all.’

Reginald spoke empathetically ‘Alright, but it still is a visceral reaction to the situation. I think foreign aid would only help more. Are you sure about it?’

Agnarr thought about telling the truth to his best friend, but ultimately decided otherwise; he couldn’t let the secret get out in any circumstance.

‘Yes I am. I also believe that those so-called insurgents are supplied by foreign powers themselves; they would like nothing more than to make my kingdom their colony. And that fucking Weselton shill... I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s behind the whole damn thing.’

‘That may be true, but without solid evidence, we can’t deal with him effectively. We must be sure.’ Reginald advised him.

‘Alright, but I can’t back down from my position. Yes, my kingdom will suffer in the short run, but I know we’ll be secure and united eventually.’

Ultimately, the concert decided that Arendelle would only keep one point of access open to the outside world; the main port. Only diplomats and special traders would be allowed. Every other traveller, from tourist to student would have to be barred from entering the country. It may cause uprising among the international students in his kingdom, but he’ll have to deal with them on his down. To preserve the security, the red tape for the traders and businessmen became very harsh. All, in service towards protecting my family; Agnarr thought.

A week later

A craven figure along with half a dozen guards floated in a rowboat towards one of the northern shores of Arendelle, beyond the mist. A hooded figure in silhouette waited for them on shore, heavily dressed to protect them self against the bitter February cold. Upon reaching the shore, the hooded bowed in respect and said ‘Welcome, honourable duke of Weselton. I hope your journey was pleasant enough.’

‘As pleasant a trip I could hope in stormy, waning winter, thank you for asking.’, the duke removed his cloak and coat to make his face more visible, and gestured his guards to disembark and stand around. The scrawny man took a moment to stretch himself, and at length, spoke ‘How many instances of forbidden people wandering into your grounds?’

‘Not as many as before, however a group of the Iceni tribe were intercepted in the valley of death during patrol two months ago and dealt with without exception. No survivors that we know of.’

‘Good, the illegals are dwindling, soon they would be no problem. However, as long as Arendelle stands, you’ll never be safe. We’ll have to confront them once and for all.’

‘Let’s continue our discussion on the way to camp, honourable duke.’

The Northuldrian camp was twenty-five kilometres inland from the seashore, but the spirits had grown very erratic in recent years, so the Northuldra had to find new routes to their homes every few weeks. The latest incident was particularly severe; a landslide had destroyed the usual detour they took, so they had to take the tributaries by another boat, a slower but safer way of travel.

‘Forgive me, honourable duke. I know travel by water does not agree with you.’

‘I’ll live. Tell me, how is everything holding up north of the mist?’

‘We’re eking out a living somehow. As you know, the rivers have been gradually changing course towards the south, our arable lands are going barren as a result. Adding to the problem, the rains are becoming scarcer with every passing year bit by bit. I regret to inform you that the poppy plantation is facing a loss, the raw material for the heroin would be short this time.’

‘It seems you’ve lost the plot, haven’t you? How will I get you your weapons if your end of the bargain is low? Weapons, armament, lumber and steam technology for ships don’t come cheap, you know?’ the duke said with the faux humility that masked grave threats underneath, and the hooded figure knew well what those threats were. Nevertheless, a low yield was not the biggest problem.

‘There’s more, honourable duke. Arendelle has tried to sue for peace and is willing to cooperate.’

‘Yes, I heard. We both know it’s nonsense.’

‘I’m not so sure. The terms they have offered seem rather reasonable.’

‘I’m sure they are. They may be too reasonable, I’m afraid. Implying something between the lines. The implication being disastrous for the Northuldra. If you ask me, I would never take any terms Europe offers at face value.’

‘I’m a fair sceptic of the south, just as you are. But since the rise of the mist, they have not engaged in any big skirmishes.’

The duke sighed and said ‘It pains me to say it, but you lack an ocean of imagination. There are uncountable ways to fight a war of attrition, and Arendelle has chosen the most insidious way.’

‘What do you mean, duke?’

‘I’d rather tell this to everyone at once, instead of making it a poor game of translation errors.’, with that, the duke fell silent, knowing full well that the hooded figure’s doubts had been flared up.

After a voyage of two hours, the party reached the camp. A huge crowd had gathered upon the riverbank where the canoe stopped. The hooded figure removed his hood and stood beside the Northuldra leader as her most trusted vassal. The Northuldra leader went by the name of Yelena, a woman moving towards middle age, standing barely above the duke in stature, but those aged eyes had seen many ups and downs. The leader slightly prostrated herself before the duke; the Northuldra way of showing respect towards authority.

‘Welcome, o duke! I hope your voyage was pleasant.’

‘As much as I could hope it to be. I must say, the Northuldra’s native lands grow more beautiful every time I venture up’ the duke said.

‘Your grace flatters us. I believe my trusted vassal has given you the lowdown for everything that has happened in the past three months. We’ll be happy to discuss a compromise for the goods you need.’

‘Thank you, your excellency. However, my worries include the survival of the Northuldra as well.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘You may have received terms from the king of Arendelle for a peaceful cessation in the past few days, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, they are more reasonable than I expected.’

‘I feared so, for if you paid attention, you’d realise that the terms are too positive. They’re willing to overlook the massacre of the group of Iceni that happened two months ago. Not to mention the fact that they may have stumbled about the truth about our trade operation as well.’

‘Speaking of the trade operation, what we may be short of in terms of goods, we’ll make up in plunder in the North Atlantic. I have sanctioned three fleets for the same purpose later this week.’

‘That is encouraging, but I must warn you, the plundering operation would become very difficult very soon. What with the king of Arendelle sealing the kingdom’s maritime and overland borders.’

‘Excuse me, come again?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you knew.’

‘No, I didn’t. Please enlighten us, your grace.’

‘Well, your excellency, the king of Arendelle has decided to isolate the country, and I quote his speech: “This sudden policy of isolation is a measure of precaution. I have it on reliable sources and personal knowledge that there are elements of revolution and insurgency brewing up in my kingdom. I can’t ignore it like the previous bourbon king of France in his time, god rest his soul. I must deal with these rebels quickly and with extreme prejudice. Because if I don’t, then Arendelle falls forever, and if Arendelle falls, all northern Europe shall sink along with it.” Now you tell me, is this the language a man would use while suing for peace?’

Yelena became quiet for a moment, taking in al the information. At length, she asked ‘What are the possible ramifications of this declaration?’

‘They could be numerous, but I’ll tell you the most obvious one. Within a month at the latest, the coasts would be dotted by the Arendellian navy, putting a blockade through which nothing except their own ships could get in or out. You can imagine they would be only too happy to hunt down your pirate ships before you’re able to secure any loot at all. You can’t raid through the land, as the mist is your most powerful jailer. It will surely be a stifling experience; I won’t deny it.’

‘What if we do sue for peace? If we sincerely send an envoy to the south?’

‘Aye, you could try that. In fact, I suggest you try that without fail.’ Interrupted a tall, dark man as he made his way inside Yelena’s tent.’

‘Mathias, just because the mist forces me to tolerate and learn to like your presence doesn’t mean you interrupt me in meetings about the matters of state.’ Yelena bristled with annoyance.

‘Believe me, once the mist lifts up, I’ll ride south, first thing on my to-do list.’

‘Mathias, you look familiar. Tall, dark, muscular, good posture. Does your Ethiopian father still till the grain and tan the leather shoes?’, making harsh, cutting remarks was a talent the duke used well.

‘No. Does the honourable duke take me for his wretched bastard slaves in the Congo?’ Mathias growled.

‘Gentlemen, please. Your grace, please don’t mind Mathias. Yes, he’s a southerner. He was in king Runeard’s personal guard from what I gather. He may look brutish and imposing, but he’s harmless and dare I say, a halfway decent man. He doesn’t usually interrupt one of my meetings, so this instance must be special. Tell us big boy, what should bother us?’ Yelena finished as she turned to Mathias.

‘I’m sorry. I’m not willing to entertain the stories of a deserter.’, the duke said nonchalantly.

‘As if your pip squeakiness has ever been in a battle to judge a trapped prisoner of war?’ Mathias seethed.

‘See, even he agrees, we’re at war.’ Oh, they were all playing right into my hands, the duke thought with glee.

‘Yes, and now peace must be made. Yelena, this is not the time to go on the offensive. Trust me.’ Mathias faced Yelena as he settled down beside her.

‘Maybe, but it is a peace we would be forced into. We want it on our own terms, Mathias. I understand you’re homesick, but we haven’t had a home to go back to for decades. We will assert our terms onto the king, and he will have to accept it. If he doesn’t, it’s war.’

‘Lofty words, your excellency. Alas, there’s no substance or weight to back your words. You’ll be blockaded soon, and travel by land is impossible anyhow. I suggest you make a permanent settlement here and be done with it.’, the duke laid the bait.

‘And perpetually disturb the peace of the spirits by claiming their sacred forest? Never.’, and Yelena took it.

‘Well, I can’t negotiate such a big difference in your quantity of goods. You’ll have to offer me something if I must continue supporting your struggle. What about lumber from the forest?’

‘You must be reading a fucking comedy. When we refuse to make a permanent settlement in the forest, YOU PROCEED TO SUGGEST SOMETHING FAR WORSE?!’, Mathias had half a mind to strangle the duke right there, when he was stopped by Yelena.

‘Sit down, Mathias! We’re in desperate times. We’ll have to do what we must in order to survive.’

‘Making a bad situation worse is survival?! Can you imagine or fathom withstanding the rage of the spirits if we cut down the forest?! How can you even consider this, Yelena?’

‘If I may ease your concerns, I’ll vouch for the fact that a sacred relic commands a lot of value in the market. Especially amongst those who are powerful, proud, wealthy and don’t ask too many questions. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll introduce a tiny amount in the market. People would recognize it as sacred or magical with plenty of history behind it. Once I do that, I can manipulate the price for it and bring you all the money, all the weapons, all the ships you need.’, the duke reassured the Northuldra leader.

Yelena spoke at length ‘Alright, I agree to the venture. Let’s begin with ten logs.’

Mathias hung his head in defeat and nursed his forehead, which had begun to throb. This is not going to end well.

Yelena tried to comfort him after the duke left ‘Listen, for every tree we cut down, we’ll plant ten, I promise.’

‘Even if you do that, it won’t be the sacred forest of the fifth spirit anymore.’ Mathias said ruefully.

As the duke made his way to the ship waiting off the coast on his rowboat, one of his taciturn guards asked him ‘Your grace, why do we need these bunch of sheep worshippers?’

The duke grinned darkly ‘When a rival nation is at war with itself, best let it consume itself.’

Around the same time, somewhere in northern Greece

‘Rider, move your ass and get over here!’ A portly man called out as he wiped a greasy hand on his apron.

‘Coming, Elios!’ Flynn came running in. He was now a man of seventeen; having seen a fair bit of the world by now and had been working with Elios for a few months. Elios had hidden Flynn to save him from ‘The Hawk’, a notorious smuggler who had trapped him in his ring. In return, Flynn agreed to work for him in his front business.

‘Why must I go through this fucking chore every time? To have to call you up like a fucking parade float to just do your blessed job?’

‘I’m sorry for being two minutes late. I already did the prep for tonight; the bar has been cleaned and stocked. I just took a nap, calm your tits.’

‘I’ve heard that many times, give me something new Flynn’ Elios rolled his eyes.

‘What do you think I’ve been doing? Making merry around the city square? Come on, I know better than that.’

‘Don’t bother lying to me. I swear, one of those women is gonna make you the sacrificial goat someday.’

‘Alright, I heard your speech. Got it, can we move on?’

Elios wiped some sweat off his forehead and asked, ‘You know who’s coming tonight?’

‘Yeah I do, friends loyal to the Greek cause.’ Flynn answered without faltering

‘Not just any friend, mind you. The Gent is coming along with the Sicilians.’

Flynn’s ears perked up at that piece of news. The Gent was a legend in Northern Greece, almost singlehandedly forming the on-land resistance against the Ottomans in the Greek war of independence. He had been involved in the resistance for nearly seven years now and was lobbying for foreign support.

‘Wow, that’s a hero if I ever saw one.’

‘I told you I’ll introduce you to him soon. Today’s the day.’

‘Now, why would he visit an affluent restaurant filled with Turks day in and out, I’m sure I don’t know.’ Flynn stated incuriously.

‘Hey Flynn, let his people worry about it. I’m sure his people would be clever enough to figure it out.’ Elios was a practical man who knew the streets well, however, forethought was not his strongest suit.

‘No, Elios. Hear me out. If the Gent is ambushed here, we’re done for. Everything will be up for grabs and I know neither of us would like the prick of the cold sabre chopping our necks. And if we know The Gent is coming, the officials certainly know. And if the Sicilians find out, you’ll end up wearing concrete shoes, old boy. You may know the gutters and the roads, but I know loyalty.’

‘What do you suppose we do now? We can’t really serve them in public view.’

‘That is true. Tell you what, let’s clear the cellar for their dinner. I’m sure they don’t want any outsider to hear what they are discussing amongst themselves. Also, I think you should serve them personally, Elios.’

‘No can do. I’m the front. If I don’t stay there, they’ll investigate. You’ll have to serve them yourself. I’m sorry Flynn. The Gent trusts me, if he sees that I consider you worthy, he’ll be comfortable.’

But I don’t know the first thing about him and the others. What if I offend them without meaning to?’

‘Don’t be stupid, Flynn. We both know you know better than that. If the service is good, they’ll fill your pockets with enough dosh to set you up for years. If I truly know you, you wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.’

‘Alright, I’ll do it. Say Elios, what if I warm them personally first about the last-minute change of scenery?’

‘No. I’ll have to warn them myself. Set the cellar up. I did contact them two days ago; I’ll do it again.’

‘Just make sure you’re not followed.’

‘Hey Rider, who knows the street better?’

‘You do, clearly.’

‘Yup. I’ll be back soon.’

A few hours later, a party of people showed up. There was the Gent, a tall slender man, worn down by the hiding and fighting. His face was warm enough, save for the green eyes that could bore holes through the Earth, and a crooked mouth that had a scare across the top lip. Still, he felt like a man who could fight forever. As for the Sicilians, they were something else entirely.

It was a band of seven people. The man most fancily dressed, along with the ruby ring on his little finger and the gold watch and chain, was obviously the leader. The six were presumably his bodyguards, each one burlier and more imposing that the last, looking like killers happy to kill a priest in the middle of a sermon. Ruthless and royal. Dressed to the nines up to their plug caps.

Flynn suddenly felt dwarfed and puny.

‘Gentlemen, this is Flynn, he’s been working with me for a few months, he’ll be serving you tonight.’ Elios gave a short introduction and left. Flynn gave a short bow, not sure how to address these powerful men.

‘What’s your name, green boy?’ The Gent asked.

‘Flynn.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Going to be seventeen next month.’

You’re not from around these parts, are you? Your accent tells me....Austria Hungary?’

‘No sir, Corona. The Rhinelands, to be exact.’

‘Uh huh. How’d you end up in Greece?’

‘War orphan from the Napoleonic wars, pushed around all of Europe, ended up here.’ By now, Flynn knew the story by heart.

‘My condolences. Ok Flynn, you’re going to undergo something unpleasant. Forgive me, just the nature of these times. I need to be sure of your loyalty.’

Before Flynn could reply, one of the goons was upon him, almost choking him with his weight, pressing down on his spine. Even if Flynn had any wind left him, he couldn’t yell.

‘Answer me, why was the room changed at such short notice?’

‘When the Gent asks, you better fucking answer, figlio di sfagato!’

‘Get off him, let him speak.’ The goon got off at once.

Flynn coughed and gasped for air. When he could breathe normally, he said weakly , ‘Mr. Gent, it was Mr. Elios who suggested it.’ Flynn barely finished his sentence before receiving a punch in the gut, knocking the air out of him.

‘That’s a lie. Elios is not that big a thinker. You seem to be smarter than you let on. Why’d you try to protect us from the Turks?’

‘I didn’t want them to kill you here. That would be underhanded and filthy. I’ve heard....heard that you believe in engaging them head on, I didn’t want them to ambush you. You’re a hero around here, would be a shame if I couldn’t do my bit for your cause.’ Flynn was hit yet again by the goon, this time in his nose. Blood had begin ebbing from his mouth and nose.

‘You’ve said enough. I can guess the rest of the story. Either betray the Turks and face the sabre or betray us and face getting shot in the face. Why choose us over them?’

‘I gambled here.....I’d rather be loyal to someone fighting the slavers for freedom than the slaver themselves.’ Flynn braced himself for another hit, but the hit never came.

Instead he could hear a chuckle from the Sicilian leader, who had gestured his goon to stand down. He approached Flynn and held him by the cheek, saying in thick accent, ’Felino. That’s your name from now on. Felino the crooked nose. Drinks on the house, all night. Keep the drinks up, you’ll be richer than the sultan come morning. Good boy.’

The leader, or don as they were calling him now, lightly tapped his cheek and went back to his place, settling down with the Gent and the other goons. Flynn left the room and almost crumpled on the floor. I could’ve died there, he thought for a second. Nevertheless, he composed himself and put on his charm; Felino the crooked nose had a job to do.

Ha, the duke of Weselton’s such a bastard, always stirring up shit wherever he goes lol. I love the potential his character has.

Our Man Flynn is serving the big boys now! What could happen?

Thanks again to those who continue reading this silly story :P

As always, constructive feedback is always welcome!

#frozen #frozenxtangled #frozen tangled #eugene tangled #tangled fandom #tangled fanfiction #frozen fanfiction #frozen fanfic #frozen fandom #frozen agnarr #agnarr #chief mathias #Yelena frozen 2 #duke of weselton

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potagepotiron · 5 years ago

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Hate crime

Season 3 of WTFock has ended, Robbe & Sander have found love and everyone is eagerly awaiting Christmas. It is a time to be happy. Well I’m not. I’m not happy because of how WTFock handled an important event that could have been a gamechanger for LGBTQ fiction. I’m talking about the hate crime that ended episode 28. The way in which this plot line was conceived, handled and received, tells you a lot of how our society views minorities.

Fist and foremost, I am a SKAM fan. I watched every clip and every remake. My favourite is Season 3. Because I’m a gay man. I also know this series can change people’s minds. How different crews made it into their own and are very proud about the result. So I had high hopes when a Flemish version of Season 3 was announced.

So I was watching season 3, had a few remarks here and there, and then came that slur. I’ve written about it earlier. To a gay man like me, familiar with internalized homophobia, the concept of using a terrible slur and throwing accusations at Sander like Robbe just seemed baffling. Do not do unto others what you wouldn’t want them to do to you. You wouldn’t subject another human being to such hate, because you know how it feels. Pure and simple. And then, the hate crime happened.

Let’s be honest, WTFock failed in handling the hate crime, from the absence of trigger warnings before the clip, to the immediate aftermath, right until the very end of the series. There was no middle ground, it either had to commit to its choice and be brilliant or fail. It failed miserably. It chose to portray Robbe & Sander as victims and refused to show any form of queer resilience. And even when it became clear, near the end, that they decided to have the attack trigger other major events in the story, the writers opted to not address the hate crime. And to the optimists stating that the attack could be dealt with in Season 4, I say this: too late.

Personally, I wouldn’t have included graphic violence in the first place. To me there is no value in showing violence. I seriously doubt its inclusion in a series aimed at a teenage audience, because the negatives (trauma and copycat behaviour) far outweigh the learning opportunities, even when handled perfectly. I couldn’t finish the clip. That night, I, a grown man of 35 years of age, was wide awake in my bed until 4 in the morning. I couldn’t sleep, knowing that a number of LGBTQ youth saw that clip and became afraid. Decided to hide in the closet for a bit longer, maybe. The scene simply is not worth it.

And despite my sentiments, the reactions online seemed to disagree: “we needed to show this. We needed to be shown this. People need to know.” I couldn’t understand. Trust me, I know about gay bashing. And so should you. I read all the articles in newspapers about the atrocious hatecrimes in Belgium and elsewhere. I know who Ihsane Jarfi is. Friends of mine who are in a relationship have been scared to go out late at night. I’ve been called names in the street myself. I know. The quesion is, why do I need to see two boys being beaten and left in the street?

I don’t think the depiction of a gay bashing had its place in WTFock. However, I do think that a discussion of homophobia should be included, albeit in another way. Gay violence and intolerance could have been a part of the talk that Robbe & Milan had. I’m not demanding to turn a blind eye to homophobia or to sugarcoat a story. Also, I myself am not blind to homophobia. On the contrary, I have encountered more of it this year than ever before. Belgian football, for example, is still rife with homophobic chants. And recently far right politicians have stressed the need to clearly define norms and abnormality with regard to sexual orientation and the rights to adopt or to get married.

The real question is what kind of homophobia the show chooses, wants to or needs to battle. Gay bashing is a radical example of hate, but hate has many forms. And all hate is the result of a much more complex undercurrent in Flemish society. Hate stems from fear of the unknown, indifference or lack of knowledge. And that is why Flemish LGBT interest group çavaria remains committed to eradicating homophobia in schools. This behaviour can be unlearned. Education is key. And that is why it was a good decision for WTFock to zoom in on the reactions of friends after a coming out. They could have gone the extra mile, though. Homophobia is far more varied and widespread than WTFock shows you.

Back to the hate crime. I wonder why the WTFock writing team missed the mark. Norwegian SKAM director Julie Andem demanded that research into the local youth culture should precede any adaptation of the original content. I’m finding it hard to believe that the gay community was on board with the decision to show a gay bashing. I consulted among my gay friends and all thought it was a bad idea. I also wonder whether or not anti-gay violence is a problem that is typical of Flanders. It’s hard to find reliable data on hate crimes and to interpret it because there could be a reluctance to report incidents, but there seems to be no significant difference between Belgium and its neighbouring countries, nor is there a statistically significant rise in homophobic attacks during the last years. There has been a rise, but that could be due to a higher percentage of people reporting incidents.

I’ve argued that the choices the writers made are bad, and that there is little or no claim to say that hate crimes are typical of Flanders, no more than anywhere else in Western Europe or Scandinavia, where the series originated and where gay bashing wasn’t included. But do I believe that the writers knowingly sabotaged their own writing efforts? Surely not. Yet, it’s hard to pinpoint why the series was developed the way it was without hearing from the makers. Chances are we’ll never know. Unlike their French or Norwegian counterparts, the screenwriters have, up to now, chosen not to communicate on the series. It is my perception that indifference to its LGBTQ audience, an appetite for drama and shock value and a degree of ignorance manifested itself throughout the series. That may or may not have been the intention of the makers, we can’t know, but it certainly had that effect on me as a viewer.

As always, a part of me that says I’m being too harsh. I can imagine it’s a lot less difficult and a lot more relaxed to write series on superheroes then it is navigating your way through the pitfalls of minority representation or gay televised fiction, a genre that exists less than 30 years and of which the rules are being rewritten constantly. It’s also not easy to have a number of militant gays like myself looking over your shoulders constantly, scrutinizing every line and every motive and picking on the one detail that got overlooked.

And should we dismiss the entire series because of this one incident? Let’s move on, Sander and Robbe are happy. Isn’t that a heartwarming prospect to gay kids? But this relativity is the problem. Silencing a hate crime not a detail. Showing violence on tv has repercussions, and they can’t be undone by having a cute gay couple smooch underneath a Christmas tree. A SKAM remake has a responsibility towards its audience. And it’s not that a chance like this comes around often. Budget cuts in locally produced fiction will mean it will take years before there’s another chance to see local gay fiction on screen. So every chance we get needs to be perfect. Because it will affect a new generation of young people.

Ultimately, the question is why it is so hard to have good quality gay stories, made by queer creators for a queer audience? Why was this series made by three white middle-aged men with a background in marketing, with only one of them with proven credentials in screenwriting? Why is it so hard to hire gay actors or to find authentic gay voices? Is it really necessary that a series like SKAM S3 contains “learning moments for the straight community”? Can’t we, for once, make a tv series without taking into account the heterosexual majority? It might be a bit tentative of me to say this, but I’m sure Niels Rahou, the writer of Season 3 of SkamFrance, wouldn’t have included a gay bashing scene. He has commented frequently on his scenarios, he is openly gay and he stated he would have benefited from a similar series during his adolescence. I don’t think the Belgian writing team wrote with the same sense of urgency or treated SKAM as a passion project.

To end, let’s go back to the original version of Skam Norway. The reason why the format was so revolutionary is precisely because being gay or coming out wasn’t a big deal. Jonas didn’t bat an eyelid when Isak told him he’d been with a boy. His friends were fine with it, and so were his parents. Isak faced an internal struggle, gradually coming to terms with and being the result of living in a heteronormative society. But ultimately the mopey kid with a love of sleeping waged a bigger war with his eternally overflowing locker. He just accepted his sexuality. In the end, though, Isak had grown as a person and showed serious committment to his boyfriend Even. But the eye-opener of the series was the way in which same-sex attraction was treated as something not to worry about.

As a reaction to the way in which homosexuality was depicted as part of mundane everyday life, people rightfully complained that this story was a bit too rosy. And it’s true, there is white middle class privilege in this story. Among certain communities, coming out still isn’t evident and living a gay life is considered unsafe for some people. Yet, Julie Andem would rather show her viewers with a vision of an ideal world, in order to help and comfort a LGBT audience, than care about what the public would think of the season. I think WTFock could have been more attentive to that message.

Luckily, for most of us, being gay doesn’t lead us to being the victim of a hate crime. That doesn’t mean we can turn away from the reality of such violence. But almost all of my gay friends have, one way or another, been confronted with various examples of homophobic behavior. More often than not, these instances are based on ignorance and are more small-scale in nature. Being called names in the street. A supposedly witty remark made by a drunk uncle at a Christmas party. Or take the well-known Flemish tv personality who, in all his innocence, made a plea for abolishing the Antwerp gay pride parade during a televised comedy show in june. He was applauded by the audience and genuinely seemed impressed by his clever, seemingly inclusive reasoning. More often than not, the threats the homosexual community face consist not of the raw violence of the physical attack, but of vulgarity, stupidity or ignorance. It is a potentially dangerous to narrow down homophobia to physical attacks and take the risk to have your audience believe that they’re in the clear as long as they don’t punch someone to death.

The only way things will change for the better is when the heterosexual majority steps up its game. This means they have to change, they have to start questioning their accepted beliefs, or how they educate their kids. Ultimately, they themselves won’t benefit from these changes, on the contrary, society as a whole will be a bit less tailored to them when heteronormativity is eradicated. Inclusivity is about the majority caring about the minority. So this is my advice to the WTFock team. Don’t care about clicks, controversy or drama. Don’t perpetuate the representation of LGBT individuals as victims of a harsh outside world. Dare to shake up old, established narratives. Show that homophobia is far more pervasive and far more subtle than the large-scale evil of a hate crime. And if you’re going down that route anyway, commit to it. Don’t brush it off. Status quo is no longer an option.

#wtfock #skam belgium #Skam

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mr-mikey · 5 years ago

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Oh boy, I’m finally getting around to my blue lions write up.

Overall I quite enjoyed the character arc based story of azure moon. I really enjoyed Dimitri’s empathetic nature and his softhearted beliefs. I really appreciate that he wants attempts to understand why House Gautier feels that it needs crests and the lance of ruin while not agreeing with the choice to disown Miklan on the basis of crests alone.

My mother suffered schizophrenia though her life, and seeing the worst parts of his issues brought back memories of what she had to deal with. I could see the ugly parts that sometimes reared it’s head growing up. Even while Dimitri was at his worst I still found myself agreeing with quite a few things he said. I could see Dimitri suffering from the same heavy guilt that my mum felt whenever she apologized for the things she’s said in the past.

And once he recovered I could even see a similar kind of guilt in Dimitri that I had to deal with in the aftermath of my mum’s passing away.

I also felt strongly drawn to Dimitri’s ‘Do you not believe in the power of the people to join together and rise up? Humans are weak creatures. But they are also creatures who help each other, support each other, and together, find the right path.’ speech. I only got through the pain of my mum passing because I received so much support from friend’s and family. I also lost a cousin who ended his own life while struggling to deal with drug issues. These kind of issues aren’t ones that can be solved by edelgard’s meritocracy policy since there’s no mention of what happens to those that don’t perform merit, while dimitri has seen people suffering first hand because of war and poverty first hand.

While I think there should have been more lead up to his recovery and perhaps a more solid mention of dealing with those who slither (I still laugh that Dimitri kills Arundel, Cornelia and more of those that slither at the end of the game than edelgard does), but overall I was quite happy with azure moon and I’ve become a fan of Dimitri and his ideals.

As for the blue lion’s cast:

Dedue: I liked him as a character and a unit. He was so useful earlygame as a wall and means to weaken enemies for other units to kill. I enjoyed seeing him call out Gilbert on his issues. I enjoyed his supports with Dimitri and how he feels about Faerghus and it’s culture along with Dimitri simply wanting to be friends with him. I chose to marry him and the S support was really sweet, I would recommend to anyone.

Felix: Strangely enough he was pretty heavily RNG-screwed compared to my use of him in my golden deer run. So he was easily my worst combat unit despite his reputation. I do like that he does play a role in criticizing Dimitri’s actions when he’s wrong but I also feel that Felix only made Dimitri’s issues worse until he understands that the charming prince and wild boar aren’t separate. I can’t help but feel that he should have done more to help dimitri since they are childhood friends.

Annette: She doesn’t interest me as much as the other blue lions but I still liked her. She was a decent combat unit but a lack of physic/rescue/three range magic spell held her back.

Mercedes: Oh she was great as a character, talking with dimitri about how long he’s been clinging to guilt, bringing up sylvain’s personal issues, being curious about dedue’s culture and duscur history.

And I found this exchange to be very satisfying. I made her my dancer and she filled that role wonderfully along with physic ranged healing. She’s wonderful on many levels.

Ingrid: She was outright amazing unit for me and one of my best fighters. And while I know that people don’t like her attitude about Duscur I can understand why she feels that way plus I liked that she openly admitted to Dedue that her way of thinking was wrong and that Dedue should be calling more people out on their biases. I was also very fond of her supports with Mercedes and Annette especially since Annette helped her understand it’s okay to loosen up and enjoy the things she wants to enjoy. So overall a great unit and a good character.

Ashe: My gosh he’s the purest ball of sunshine of the group. He has a reputation for bring strength screwed easily but putting him into wyvern rider helped fix that problem and he was just as good as Ingrid and Sylvain were for my run.

Sylvain: He was another fantastic fighter along with Ingrid and Ashe. I found his supports with ingrid, Dedue and Annette to be very good. And I loved his supports with Mercedes most of all. He’s got some messed up coping mechanism’s but I like and appreciate him. Despite his reckless attitude he does know what he’s doing when it comes to matters of protecting the general population.

For this run I recruited Ferdinand and Caspar out of the Eagles along with Hilda and Marianne from the Deer. I liked seeing Ferdie being able to criticize Edelgard and her methods while also saying that Dimitri has the potential to become a great king should he be able to make level headed choices.

I also LOVED the Dimitri and Marianne supports and I was so very happy to get this ending card.

I was hoping to get Felix’s and Annette’s ending, but their supports were nice enough that I was happy to get this instead.

These supports were so funny, Hilda managed to get Ferdie to do almost anything she wanted. XD

And these supports were pretty pure, I’m glad that they both got to follow their dreams.

Now last of all, I was super glad that Sylvain married Mercedes. I know that Sylvain has similar text no matter what path he’s in but I feel that by pursuing peaceful relations with the people of Sreng, he eliminates the need for the Lance of Ruin and the need for crests without needing to destroy the church or wage war on the entire continent.

I could even appreciate Edelgard on this route a bit more as an antagonist, even if she was really out of touch with some of the things she said; her line of ‘what would a noble like you understand of the suffering of the commonfolk’ did irritate me considering I had gotten dimitri’s askbox advice about the people he saw suffering in the slums.

I felt really happy seeing the blue lions ending painting because we see the soldiers helping give out food and supplies to the people while byleth and the church is listening to the requests of the people asking for assistance while dimitri is surrounded by orphans with a smile on his face. This really feels like a case where the strong are no longer trampling on the weak and are supporting them instead.

With Sylvain peacefully negotiating with Sreng, Dimitri and Dedue working to rectify what happened with Duscur and Claude on good terms with Dimitri once he returns I feel confident that the continent will have a peaceful future ahead of itself.

On a side note: the gronder field battle ruined me emotionally this time around. I had planned at first to only target Claude out of the deer and spare as many as possible, but they all followed claude and it got to a point that it wasn’t possible to take out claude without fighting the rest of the deer. In the end none of them survived the battle. ;_;

And that’s about all I have to say about azure moon for now. If other ideas come up I’ll probably just make edit’s to this post.\

EDIT: There is one thing I wanted to bring up. A lot of people consider Cyril an honorary golden deer member. But Cyril has a good friend in ashe and mercedes and I could see Dimitri accepting him easily. So I’m comfortable with saying that he could easily be an honorary member of the blue lions as well.

#fire emblem spoilers #mikey speaks #fe 16 spoilers #mikey plays three houses #blue lions edition #long post

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emeraldtawny · 6 years ago

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Why I love the Kitsune

Okay....so something a little different than my usual fics or shenanigans. I make my favourite characters known quite frequently and, now that his route has been officially announced for Japanese release this year, I wanted to share something I’ve been chipping away at for a hot minute. I love Mitsuhide...like a lot....like, a LOT a lot. And I wanted to share my personal reasons why. If this ain’t your cup of tea, fine by me, but I need to scream about him now that I know I’ll get to romance him in like....a year and a half ;P

~Spoilers ahead~

1. First Impressions

Honestly when I first saw this dude rock up after MC saves Nobunaga from the Honno-ji fire...I didn’t think much. I liked his look: white hair and damn, those eyes! (I’m weak for anime men with gold eyes), but other than that, he wasn’t someone I thought would become my favourite. Especially with the early interactions of Hideyoshi mistrusting him and learning that IRL Mitsuhide betrayed Nobu and caused his death? ...yeeeah, I wasn’t entirely sold.

Mitsuhide was a slow burn for me - I needed to see him in other routes to let him shine, then I could be consumed by the light in his separate stories (ie. birthday, event stories). The moment I realised I was smitten was Masamune’s route. Him being the worst wingman by getting Masa drunk made me laugh so hard because it fit him well: sticking to the shadows and hiding his good intentions behind teasing as he helps his friends. But he also let his more genuine side show in Masa’s Romantic Epilogue, giving MC advice whilst also remaining very much himself and laughing at Masamune’s distress because of how cute she is sdjfsukdgbsdj.

From then on, I was hooked and decided to play Hideyoshi’s route next…..hehe, hehehe, he….it still hurts. I’ll go more into this route in particular a little bit later, but yes, his unrequited love broke me and only made me fall for him harder. Not just from pity because of how much it hurt to see him like that, but because now we know he totally deserves love and happiness for the type of man he revealed himself to be in Hideyoshi’s route. All in all, I was teetering on the cliff for a bit before I was Sparta kicked into the Mitsuhide hole...and have not wanted to move since :3

2. Personality

Phew, okay. Imma split this up into categories just to make it easier for you guys to read and so I don’t ramble and go on tangents.

Teasing, teasing….and more teasing

God, I love this trope so much. Those who hide their true selves behind honeyed words and calculated jokes both make me swoon and make me suspicious - a winning combo to get me invested in them.

For those reading this who are less familiar with IkeSen and need a comparison, think Edgar from IkeRev, except 1. More direct and suggestive teasing, and 2. More (if only slightly) moments of genuineness, like being surprised or taken aback instead of using his smile as a wall like Edgar would do. Even through his teasing, he slips in honesty (in every lie there’s a hint of truth, some say ;3).

While he is teasing and chastising (treating the MC like a child), he does genuinely care about her well-being. He uses teasing as his unorthodox way to let people know he cares for him while still keeping them on their toes about whether he’s telling the truth or not...this is why he’s a kitsune (a trickster fox spirit).

Pragmatic and Composed

It’s mentioned throughout both Hideyoshi’s route and event stories like Make My Heart Spark that Mitsuhide is not one for believing in things like fate or destiny. He’s described as self-reliant and honestly, I can't think of a better term for him. The way he works literally puts him in self-sacrificing positions where he can only work alone, so being capable without having the support of others is a skill he had to master quickly.

He also says things like “honesty can be dangerous”, which is a WHOLE can of worms for possible backstory.

What I like to imagine from this is that he experienced something traumatic, either to himself or someone close to him, where honesty was the cause. He convinced himself deception and leaving as little information in the open as possible was the best option. Hell, it even ties into Mitsuhide’s IRL counterpart, where there is nowhere near as much info on the guy compared to practically every other warlord. He thinks rationally, remains calm under pressure and can even remain teasing throughout...I respect and melt over him for that.

Beneath the wolf skin lies a sheep

I like thinking of Mitsuhide as a sheep in wolf’s clothing. He has to remain intimidating and unapproachable to those around him - even those close to him - so as not to disrupt his ever-scheming plans. But secretly, he has a heart of gold and he still makes it known...it’s just subtle. My personal favourite example is in his birthday story where he lets MC win at hanafuda just so she can win the bet and make her happy….gaah, I’m weak! It always just seems like his teasing remarks and subtle pushes in the right direction are his way of showing his affection, because it’s too dangerous for him to be openly affectionate lest others get swept into his business. A sad thought, but incredibly fitting. He’s also softer than he looks, he knows full well he shouldn’t get close, but you being the sexy, incredibly awesome MC you are can make even Mitsuhide be ensnared in the strings of love that bind his heart ;3

Other screaming about my adoration for the snek man

Just…..help me, he’s so smooth! I love love LOVE the way he talks, the way he’s translated into English just makes my heart go JFSBFSJBFWOUJFNW! He uses phrases like “modesty forbid” and “pray tell”...he just needs to say “perish the thought” and I’ll be even more wrapped around his finger than I already am.

Also, the pet names...I surprised myself with how much I like his use of them, especially him calling MC dear. I LOVE IT SO!! Idk how to describe this one and why it makes me feel things, I just...love being a silly girl, a good girl, a little mouse, a little seamstress and other nicknames sure to arise in the future >:3

Again, I’ll mention how he has a soft spot of the MC as he gradually warms to her and…seriously, it’s illegal to be that sweet, with such a nice smile on your face too. MITSUHIDE DESERVES LOVE AND I WILL GIVE IT TO HIM DAMMIT~!

Final screaming point of why I personally love him: his awareness and how he responds with it. It’s no secret our psychic fox over here is good at reading the atmosphere, and I love when he uses this gift in more tender moments. Picking up when MC is sad or distraught and offering assistance (after teasing of course), and I like to think in a romantic sense, he’d be the type to hold her close and stroke her hair while she just lets out her frustrations. And he’ll take them all, listening quietly and calming her down all the while. GAAAAH, I’m weeeaaakkk~

3. Personal Theories and Favourite Theories I Have Seen

I have speculated about this man a LOT and there’s a couple of theories I wanted to share just because it’s fun to make them and bounce off ideas :3

One I like to think about is his past and how it molded him into the man he is today. Using IRL Mitsu as a guide, he apparently worked as a messenger for a wandering shogun before serving Nobunaga and grew up in a castle bearing his family name. This makes me think that he might be similar to Ieyasu, perhaps being a political hostage at some point in his life. Mistreatment or torture would have worked to make Mitsuhide believe that deception and lies work to conceal his weakness, and how he’s so privy to torture and interrogation techniques.

Another theory is the one relating to his lack of taste. My guess is either a botched poisoning attempt from his work in his adult years, or through torture as a young child while his taste buds were still developing. @deathbyotome did an amazing fic for this called “Taste” on AO3 and I highly recommend reading it, it’s very good.

I’m also intrigued by how they’re going to incorporate Motonari in with Mitsuhide, considering Nobunaga put Mitsuhide in charge of the Oda contingent when war waged between the two clans. So they have history (at least...IRL history), so I’m wondering if that’ll come into play in the future.

Okay, I think I’ve rambled enough. Not even sure if people will even read this, but I just needed to expel my love for this man, especially now that we know his route is definite and will be coming. I just seriously, honestly love him and want nothing more than for him to be happy….but we ALL know his route is gonna be angsty as hell and we’re gonna be broken by the end of it. I am ready Cybird, let him break my soul so I can reach him and ease his heart. ….I’m not being dramatic at all bfasjdbafan. Anyway byyye, thanks for humouring me~! :3

#personal #tawny rambles #ikesen #ikesen mitsuhide #listen i just....love him

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tmiquotepage · 5 years ago

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I REALLY Need Advice

(LONG post, but I appreciate any feedback you guys can offer me here!)

I currently work as a babysitter for three wonderful children for the summer. They are 7, 10, and 13. I used to watch them before school during the school year, and I watched them for Spring Break as well. The parents got a divorce not long after I started working for them, and so the kids travel back and forth between two apartments five minutes apart. That's the gist of the background.

Now, normally, my fee for babysitting, especially for 3 kids, is $10/hr. The hours I agreed to at the beginning of the summer were 6 am until 3 pm. (I also live 30 minutes away, but my hour of commuting and my gas were never on the table for reimbursement.) Well, the mom asked me on Spring Break if, since I would be watching the kids for 8 weeks, we could do $300 a week, as $450 would get "quite expensive after 8 weeks" (like, yeah. Individualized care for kids is expensive. If you want cheaper, put em in a camp or daycare. Jesus.). I got her to raise that amount to $350, because $300 for 45 hours a week is highway robbery and less than minimum wage. I wouldn’t be able to afford my car and the gas to move this summer. Okay. That was settled.

Summer time rolls around and, at the end of the school year, the mom gets a new boyfriend, who immediately moves in with her. We'll talk about this dude later, because WHEW. Anyway, despite the fact that this dude is constantly hungover and/or day drinking and/or sleeping, the mom decides he is an adequate babysitter for the kids a few days a week. So, my schedule becomes completely confusing (as in, the mom will literally wait until 10 pm the night before to tell me whether or not she needs me the next day, whether she wants me to come in late, etc.). Keep in mind, even though we said "$350 a week," I am really getting paid $70/day. Which is the same thing. Unless you get told at last minute that you aren't needed for the three days of the week the mom has the kids with her boyfriend, in which case, it's only $140. So, I am already having issues with how much I am getting paid BEFORE I get into the shit show that is the family dynamic I have to work with.

Now, let's talk about the family. I'll obviously give codenames, not real names, because I'm not a monster. We'll start with the parents, Popeye (Dad) and Diva (Mom).

Popeye is a good dad. Works hard, doesn't make a ton of money, but always spends what he has on his kids. His apartment has more kids toys than signs of being a bachelor pad. He works hard, hasn't seen anyone since the divorce. His primary focus has ALWAYS been his kids. He cooks dinner for them almost every night (eating out is MAD rare. He's a really good cook.) He is ex-Navy, so he can be a bit strict. He doesn't accept mouthing off or being rude, but he also isn't mean. I have never seen him yell at his children or get angry. He is completely in control of his emotions around them. He's not a huge hardass about censoring his kids either. He'll let them listen to explicit rap music, play war video games with the kids. He's careful, but not overprotective. He is a balanced, comfortable, imperfect but loving parent

And then there's Diva™️. Diva is an Australian transplant who has a master's degree in the art of giving facials. She is all about pristine living, Michael Kors jackets, and acting way more rich and perfect than she is (though she has a LOT more money than Popeye). Acts like she is God's gift to all mankind. She has a boyfriend, who we will call JT, that she puts above all else - including her 3 children. Dinner at her house is almost always take out because, as her 10 year old tells me, she knows how to cook, but badly, and she's just too lazy to do it. She runs her own business, is constantly looking for groupons for the kids to use. Or rather, looks for cheap things "kids their age" would like. I am convinced she knows nothing about her children's likes and dislikes. Their rooms are her house are sterile and clean and don't have much feeling. Whenever things are out of place, she makes them clean it up and chastises them because "they are old enough to know better." She acts the part of the nurturing, caring, all-natural mother, but her eyes and words are always cool and sharp as a blade. She, the small woman I could probably break like a toothpick, scares me more than the buff retired navy father or the ex-con she has living with her and her children. I get the feeling, from the way the kids talk about her, that they have the same fears as I do.

As a tack on the end of the adult descriptions, allow me to tell you the bit I know about JT, the mom's boyfriend. He is significantly younger than her, halfway between the ages of her and her 13 year old daughter. He is a hot head. No job. Sleeps most of the day. Often leave the apartment reeking of booze. Often hungover. Has been in jail before, though I am unsure as to what he was arrested for. From what the kids said, I believe it was some sort of assault, burglary, or armed robbery. He occasionally cooks the meals at the house, which means the kids are at least getting a little bit of non-fast-food when they stay there (or, as the mom puts it, when they “visit.” They apparently don't “live” there. They visit, like you might visit a grandparent.). He has a daughter that is 10 years old, who also lives with him at Diva's house when she isn't with her mom. JT is confrontational with Diva's 10 year old boy, which I'll talk about later. I never feel comfortable when he is around, because he seems misogynistic (he called his daughter a ho for wearing yoga pants out to play) and always looks like he's ready to start a fight. Even though he and the mom are just dating, he already acts like a stepdad to Diva's kid, and he is NOT the good kind. When the kids do something he doesn't like, he will call Diva and tell her to chastise and punish the children. Occasionally, he even gives them punishments like grounding them for three weeks, even though he has ZERO authority to do so. Diva always takes his side in arguments.

On to the kids. Diva and Popeye have three: Uni (13), Pathfinder (10), and Sharknado (7). JT has one daughter, Mellie (10).

Uni is the most mature of the kids. She is a very talented artist who has been dealing really well with the divorce, as she surrounds herself with friends, a positive attitude, and creative outlets, like skateboarding and drawing. She cooks for herself often, and easily adapts to whichever situation she is in. It rarely ever feels like a chore to watch her when we go somewhere. She helps with the boys when I am swamped, occasionally, and knows how to calm the youngest's tantrums. The only real issue I have with her is when she and the middle child get in arguments and she tried to mother him and chastise him. It doesn't go well.

Next up, we have Pathfinder. Pathfinder is a 10 year old boy, the middle child. He plays video games very well, and has a soft heart which he will show when you prove he can trust you. He is, by far, the best dancer and beat spitter in the whole family, and he is proud of the fact. Pathfinder has a few behavioral issues where he will lie, and push boundaries every once in a while. He gets heated when playing video games, and often plays way too roughly and/or doesn't share with his little brother. Pathfinder, however, I understand more than I think I used to. He is a middle child with a sick younger brother and an older sister who wants nothing to do with him. He gets bullied at school and doesn’t make friends easily. He is starting to show early signs of major depression. Perhaps most importantly, Pathfinder is not taking the divorce well. More specifically, he clashes like hell with Diva's boyfriend. JT often picks fights with him and gets in his face. JT constantly feels the need to assert authority over Pathfinder and intimidate him. Pathfinder has shared with me that he never feels comfortable staying with JT. He begs me to take him to his dad's, to get him out of the apartment whenever possible. A few weeks ago, he stood up for himself to the boyfriend. JT gog in his face and yelled at him, then grounded him off all electronics (which, let's be honest, was because he wanted to play Pathfinder's Xbox at Diva's apartment without Pathfinder telling him no, because he's the one that got it for his birthday). When Pathfinder told his dad that he didn't want to go to his mom's anymore, the mother called the kid while we were at the store getting supplies for a craft project to tell him he was grounded for longer and that she was now going to shave his hair that he's been growing out for two years because he isn't respecting her boyfriend. She told me he wasn't allowed to even do our craft or watch TV. He could “sit on the couch and twiddle his thumbs" all day. (I eventually said fuck it and let him do whatever he wanted because we were at Popeye's place, and I could see that this kid was positively distraught.) He is STILL grounded, 3 weeks later. Yesterday, JT came out of his bedroom while the kids were talking, got in Pathfinder's face and started calling him gay because his shorts were sagging a bit. I took Pathfinder to Popeye's because he was shaken at the altercation, and told his mom what happened. Her ONLY response was “[Pathfinder]’s main problem is that he can't take direction or obey adults, and he needs to work on that.” What's worse about this situation is this kid has since told me (since he knows I am gay and proud and accepting) that he feels like he might be bisexual. He doesn't feel like he’d be safe if his mom and JT found out he is interested in a boy in his class. Pathfinder has openly stated that he hates his life, dreads staying at his mom's place, feels completely alone, thinks no one loves him. He barely calls her “mom" anymore. He has said that, if she goes through with shaving his head, he will never call her “mom” again, and will basically disown her as his mother. Keep in mind with all this shit that this child is 10. Ten years old and already a god damned nearly suicide risk, judging by his words and behavior lately. I had a meltdown yesterday when I realized this much because, unless this kid get serious help, he could very easily be just another name on the news in the coming years, and that breaks my heart.

Finally, we have the youngest child of Popeye and Diva, Sharknado. Sharknado is seven. Sharknado is a total trainwreck in the behavioral department. This kid has an adrenal insufficiency that means he is reliant on a steroid the way a diabetic is reliant on insulin. He is a bit more prone to disease than other kids. As a result, the mother babies the ever-loving shit out of him. She lets him get away with absolutely everything, and blames Pathfinder if they are ever in an argument. Tells Pathfinder he has to be gentle with his little brother. As a result of this parenting, Sharknado is a MAJOR tantrum thrower, even at age seven. If we are not playing the game he wants to play, the screaming and stomping starts. If he is losing, the screaming and stomping starts. If we are not actively paying attention to him, he will scream and make a spectacle of himself. Where the mother loves seeing that Pathfinder has an issue taking direction from adults, she is blind to the fact that her youngest is exponentially worse. When we go to the store, he runs off. When we go out to do something, he is instantly bored. When I tell him not to touch things in the store, he thinks it is funny to grab it an run away from me. If he is in any way unhappy, he will drop onto the floor and start screaming. Even in public (bowling alley, the zoo). Rules just do not apply to him, and he is positively dumbfounded when you try to correct this behavior through punishment (like taking away a toy, or banning video games for the day). We played the quiet game one day where all winner would get a dollar when we got back (because I had a headache and it was an hour drive and they just kept arguing). He talked the entire ride home, and the others didn't. They got a dollar each, he didn't. He pitched the biggest fit, pounding on the floor screaming, hiding under the bed, saying he wished he was dead because I was being so mean to him. He is always yelling about “fairness" when you tell him “no.” I don't think he actually knows what the word means. Sharknado is a nightmare who never listens and screams his head off on a daily basis, louder when I tell him to stop. And yet the mom has never threatened to chop his locks off. He is her perfect angel.

Lastly, I'll introduce you to Mellie, JT's daughter. She is 10. She is kind and generally respectful, which I assume comes from her mother's side. She is a daddy's girl, however, and so takes on her father's qualities when it comes to his treatment of Diva's kids. She's best friends with Uni, which is great, because Uni needed a girl friend to hang out with during the summer. She let’s Sharknado win in games and babies him. And, of course, she constantly belittles and picks fights with Pathfinder. This week was the first week I was babysitting her as well, so I don’t know much more than that.

So here's my main problem (yeah, all the above was essentially preface. That's the stuff I am USED to putting up with for barely minimum wage). This week, I watched the kids at Popeye's apartment Monday and Friday, with the rest of the days at Diva's. JT was at Diva's, but he is unable to travel, I guess, and two of the kids had dentist appointments two of the days. So, I went. At Diva's request, I came in later at 10 am on Tuesday and Wednesday, then 7:30 am in Thursday. On Tuesday, the kids were having a pillow fight in the apartment at, like, 1 pm, which apparently woke JT up, so he came lumbering out of the bedroom, snatched up the Xbox controller Pathfinder was using to find a YouTube video, and yelled at everyone – Mellie included – to get dressed and go play outside. I was then (without ever being asked) babysitting a fourth child outside with my three. We ended up going to the pool all three days, too, by the way. Three days with 4 kids in a pool. I stayed an hour late the first day, and an hour and a half late yesterday, too, because I came in late. I drove the kids to their appointments, and also made 4 different trips to and from Popeye's apartment to retrieve things for the children, and I drove the girls around to gather ingredients for their bake sale. Keep in kind, it was nearly 50 miles just with the kids in my car (not counting my commute or anything) that I was not getting reimbursed for. I also went and spent $60 on pool toys for the kids (including Mellie), because I love them and want them to have a great time. I spent personal money, knowing I wouldn't get reimbursed. But here's the kicker. When I contacted Diva to ask about adjusted payment to include the fourth child, she just said (I swear I could literally hear venom dripping from her teeth) “of course I won't short you for those days, even though you came in late. You will get the full $350 we agreed on.” Basically, even though she is already paying me peanuts, she assumes the fourth child is covered by the extra hours in the day I didn't come in. As if I shouldn't be getting paid at least $70/day, regardless of what hours I work, because even that is barely acceptable for the job I do. I should also mention that she and the dad split the childcare costs. So, if she really is saying the rest of that $350 completely covers the cost of a fourth kid, that means Popeye is shelling out childcare costs for his ex-wife's boyfriend's daughter.

So that's my situation right now. I just want advice, you guys. Should I stay, leave, ask for more per week? I mean, the thing is, I know the dad will pay more if I ask, but he's already spread pretty thin with the income. Diva is the one who always asks me to cart the kids places and has me watching extra kids and do extra stuff like crafts with them, and she’s the one who makes so much money, but she's the one who is being stingy and not giving me what I deserve. It bugs me. I just need advice on future steps, guys. I love these kids, and I don't want to just leave and have them think it was something they did wrong, but I am at the end of my mental rope. What do I do here?

#advice #advice needed #babysitting #childcare #child abuse #divorced parents #halp

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