#like after so long of the doctors character being so heavily informed by that trauma

[hubrishazard]

If its true that 15 got therapy offscreen while living a domestic life as 14 then I think that's a cop out. Sorry

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

 Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?��”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

[ask-sou-hiyori]

Important Lore!

This post will contain very important details about this blog. It’s highly recommended that newcomers read this in order to understand aspects that will be mentioned throughout the blog!

It may be long since so much has happened and Mod Soup wants the audience to understand as much as they can, but also lore is very tasty so there’s that too.

Everything will be listed underneath the Keep Reading as to not clog up the current events, but will remain pinned and be updated when needed~!

(MAIN: @soupietime )

(Disclaimer: if you've seen and read before I was involved in the Takeover event and all that, please note that the previous Dad Midori stuff is NON-CANON to this blog, it makes me, the mod, quite uncomfortable. thank u and here's a snail 🐌 \^o^/)

(...Catboy Shin event was pretty funny though not gonna lie)

(Added fact: I HAVE NOT PLAYED 3-1B YET-)

(Added ADDED fact: I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED PLAYING 3-1B)

(Keys: MILL / More Information Listed Later)

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Shin Tsukimi / Sou Hiyori (previously)

Age: 22

Height: 5’5”

Weight: 106 lbs

Sexuality: Bisexual (male leaning)

RELATIONSHIPS

Gin Ibushi (@askgin-ibushi) - Familial love. His only son, officially adopted before the beginning of the “#up the tower” (MILL) HE LOVES HIS EPIC SOOOOOOON.

Sara Chidouin (@ask-chidouin-sara) - Didn’t pay much mind at first due to lack of trust, but soon developed a protective nature towards the girl. Adoption material?

Sou Hiyori/Midori/Spark (@ask-sou-midori) - Unaware of his new name (Spark). He has heavily conflicting feelings due to the effects of “#event: blended” (MILL) but currently does not forgive him for his actions due to the amount of trauma caused to both him and his family. He’s afraid of this man, yet misses him greatly. Seeing him brings him immense pain, but also a strange comfort. He is unaware whenever he relapses with Hiyori.

Zinnia (@askgin-ibushi) - Strong security guard lady… kind and protective. Good for comfort and cuddling. Soft.

Leidora Margarati (@askgin-ibushi) - Resident Doctor. Helped Shin realize that Midori/Spark gave him severe brain damage with the “blending” and everything in his blended life was a lie. Shin is grateful for her in telling him the truth, but as a result Shin has many conflicting feelings about everything and himself, plenty of migraines and headaches to go along with it all. Leidora is the one helping Shin heal from the severe trauma caused.

Shin Tsukimi (literally me) - ……

(There are various other blogs out there, but Shin has not made much of a relationship with them yet. These blogs are who Shin has interacted with relatively a lot and thus formed relationships and thoughts about them)

CHARACTER CONNECTIONS

Every character from these blogs are from their own YTTD universe. Through the power of Tumblr and ask blogs, a rift was torn and brought these characters together.

Though… Gin and Midori/Spark have been known to be from the same universe.

Revealed during “#hospital arc”, Shin is from Gin and Midori’s universe as well. It’s been believed he perished due to an act to save Kanna in the second main game, and then killed after an escape attempt. However, that was proved false after a conversation between Shin and Spark, Shin showing him his abundance of gunshot scars from how he was “killed” in the second main game, Spark immediately recognized the scars, and thus… the reveal has been made. Gin is aware of this fact as well after Shin returned to the hospital, the two now closer than ever.

There had been a Sara in the three's universe. Gin had taken his own Sara with his sacrifice win, but she had eventually offed herself, leaving Gin as the only survivor before finding out that Shin survived as well.

Kanna is a sister to Shin. Shin is a brother to Kanna.

Gin and Shin are family :) Father and son

EVENTS

(NOTE: If you are going to read through the tags of the events, MAKE SURE to read through the notes of any interactions, as very important parts of the events are played out through interactions between the blogs. It’s not only through the asks of the audience. Plus it's easier than scrolling through to find every single interaction reblog)

#event: takeover (@askgin-ibushi)

The event that brought us together

Part 1 synopsis

Part 2 synopsis

You may read these synopses on the event in the links above, or you may read through the whole tag on Gin’s blog :D

#event: blended

(TW: mental manipulation and toxic relationships)

After the events of Takeover, Shin was found by Gin in… well, Gin’s room. Midori manipulated Shin before getting chased away and told Shin to stay in the room until he came back. Obviously, Midori did not come back. Shin only left the house after getting a few answers from Gin (who came up to his room shortly after Takeover) about what happened, and Gin falling asleep. Snzz.

Soon after, Shin gets a call from Midori again, and… surprise surprise… Midori manipulated Shin once again and got the man to follow him into a warehouse, putting a machine (that was similar to the one Midori put on Gin previously) onto Shin’s head despite the man’s loud and frantic protests, “blending” his brain and turning him into his own “perfect Shin”, which was a Shin that absolutely loved and adored the man, doing anything he would tell him.

Midori, using Shin’s totally real love and adoration to his advantage, sent him to Gin with the intent to lure and kidnap him. After all… Gin was part of Shin’s “family”, it would be wrong to just leave him alone… While Shin had a “family” mindset, Midori wanted to kidnap the kid solely due to the fact that Gin was the “winner” of their death game via sacrifice. Midori had the job of collecting the winner and making them join Asunaro. Shin and Midori’s plan succeeded, the two kidnapping both Gin and Hinako (she was there too with Gin. Asuga was also there but she was knocked tf out so yeah).

After kidnapping Gin, Midori had blended him as well, finally creating their “perfect little family”.

...All was going “well” until Gin decided to fight Midori to protect Hinako. That soon resulted in Gin getting stabbed by Midori, and Midori’s head getting bashed onto the ground. Due to the blunt force trauma, Midori developed something similar to a conscience, now realizing what wrong he’s done and a will to assist Shin after seeing him panic over a bleeding out Gin.

They eventually arrive to a hospital, Gin getting the treatment he deserves, Shin getting observed by Leidora and figuring out what Midori has done to Shin’s brain, Sara getting blended as well, but only to erase her memories, and Midori leaving after Shin confronted the man about what Leidora has told him. Midori finally leaves Shin’s life…

...Or does he?

#up the tower

(TW: suicide attempt)

Days after entering the hospital, Shin constantly has headaches and conflicting feelings about everything he’s ever known. He thinks about what was fabricated, and what’s real. At times, he even has trouble differentiating the two. Shin’s blending had made him basically addicted to Midori like a drug. With the lack of Midori around because of Leidora’s advice, Shin goes into a withdrawal over the man, and soon develops hallucinations over him. The hallucination is tame, but starts leading Shin out of the room, making him follow him all the way up to the roof, ignoring those who stand in his way.

In reality, the hallucination had only left the room, disappearing right after. It was Shin himself who had decided to make his way to the roof. Before he had left the room, Shin was on a call with Midori… Midori found out about the hallucinations and took that as Shin missing him dearly, his “error” fixing temporarily and the man driving over to come collect Shin. When Shin mentioned over the phone about walking “up the tower” to wait for Midori, then jumping off to land in his arms in a false fantasy, Midori’s error picked up again and panicked, now rushing to the hospital.

Once reaching the top, followed by Sara and Leidora, Shin stood over the edge, remaining there as the others spoke to him, trying to convince him not to jump. Shin revealed he's been having so many problems with himself: He's weak, he's awful, he's a horrible parent, he could've prevented all of this, and various other bad thoughts about himself, and then the constant pain he's felt since the blending, which has only gotten worse overtime, was the breaking point for him, he just couldn't handle it anymore. The pain was unbearable.

It had only calmed down once Gin made his way to the roof, bleeding due to opening his injuries up again while walking up to the roof after anons told him about the situation. The moment Shin took notice of Gin and heard his voice, he realized why he's still here. It would make him even more of an awful person to jump and leave him alone once again. Soon enough, Shin staggered off the edge of the roof and embraced Gin.

This arc ended with Shin, Gin, Sara, and Leidora going back into the hospital. Midori had been watching this entire time, the sight of Shin's suicide attempt making him leave once more, realizing it was his fault that the attempt even occurred.

#hospital arc

Several months had gone by since Gin, Sara, and Shin had entered the hospital. Gin's being cared for his injury while it scars up, Sara is there due to her blending, and Shin is mainly there on a close watch due to his suicide attempt, while also there healing from his blending.

Shin relapses, and escapes the hospital to go see Midori again, breaking his room's window and hopping out and landing on mattresses that an anon laid out during "#up the tower". The whole hospital is in a panic at his disappearance, especially since Shin was in the mental ward.

Shin goes to Midori's place, and all seems normal until Midori figures out Shin broke out to see him again. Midori wants to take him back, but Shin asks for Dunkin Donuts first, something to eat since the man hasn't been eating right since the hospital. They get their food, and thanks to an employee commenting about the two being "lovers", Midori quickly pays and drives away as fast as he could, ending up in the woods. The two lay down on the ground for a while and have a few talks. Only when some anons give Shin steps on how to run away, Midori brings Shin back into the car and starts driving back to the hospital.

...They don't get that far, as some teasing occurs and Midori's "error" fixes itself for a brief moment, and harasses Shin. Shin eventually kicks the man in the nuts which led to Midori threatening not to take Shin back. Shin, of course, freaks out.

Eventually the error returns, and only with a few words of encouragement from Shin does Midori start driving Shin back. Once they arrive, Midori gives Shin a piggyback ride since the man's body is in immense pain. Once they get close enough to the hospital, Shin gives Midori a goodbye hug and a thank you for being relatively good, and finally returns to the hospital.

Shin had reached the hospital, but his legs had quickly given out, causing him to fall face first onto the ground. A security guard, Zinnia, was the first to find him and carry him back into the hospital, where they were met with an upset Leidora, demanding that Shin speak about his whole breakout. Shin... couldn't speak, he was too tired and absolutely exhausted. After Zinnia managed to temporarily make the doctor leave, she brought him back to his new room (no windows this time) and let him rest.

Soon, Gin had peeked into the room, both him and Shin glad to see each other again. They had a comforting moment before Shin decided to talk to Gin about what happened during their game. Gin, still thinking he's the only survivor, asked Shin about his own game. Eventually, Shin revealed to the boy that he was not the only survivor after all. When Shin showed Gin his gunshot scars, Gin finally realized his dad was his own Shin all this time, and soon ran out of the room in a panic, in despair over the fact that he had "killed" Shin's Kanna, whom was a little sister to Shin, because of his sacrifice win, even though Shin nearly died in order to protect her. Shin's act to protect Kanna was futile.

Zinnia to the rescue! She caught the young boy in her arms, as well as Shin, who had been chasing after Gin. She brought the two back into Shin's room and told them to talk it out like normal people. And so.. they did. It ended well, and now the two are sleeping so soundly together in each others embrace like father and son. Zinnia sits with the two, watching over them to protect them. Snzz.

#event: shin ai

//ONGOING EVENT//

After returning Shin back to the hospital, Midori had a mini breakdown over the situation. In order to attempt to cope, he went back home and brought out something he found in his closet before… a monitor. After hours and hours of trying to fix it back up, it finally worked, and what appeared on the screen was an AI. An AI of Shin, in fact. At first it was incredibly awkward and highly uncomfortable for the AI, since all Midori did was stare at him. But after asking question after question, Midori finally spoke to the AI.

The two conversed and became friends! More "interaction points" were programmed into the AI, per AI's request, and all was chill until an anon started trying to tell the AI what Midori has done in the past. Shin AI knew the man had did bad things, he's lived through so much of that before he had shut down for a long time. But… Midori caught on and finally told the AI what he's done. The AI was mortified at the blending and kidnapping and the like, but had grown some sympathy towards the man. After all, the AI knew about Midori's "error", and how he wanted to change, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to.

The AI kept on reassuring Midori, supporting him the best he can from now on. To pull him away from being Sou Hiyori and allow more room for change, the AI even gave him a new name… Spark.

Spark intended for his gay thoughts to lessen after turning the AI back on but y'know. That only caused him more gay thoughts.

Not too long after… the AI received an email, glimpses of Sou Hiyori flashing every so often on the email, as well as text telling the AI that He'll see him soon. The AI is panicking… but what more could he do about it?

//To be updated soon//

APPEARANCES

Start of the blog

After "#event: blended"

Festival event :) (#event: festival)

"#hospital arc"

(I do not have a sprite made just yet, however, he's wearing an oversized hospital gown with small shorts underneath, as well as the scarf he always wears. There are some eyebags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves still has remnants of the swirls, caused by the blending)

"#event: shin ai"

(Disclaimer: All art/edits shown in this post belong to me)

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Ten: The One with the Phone Call

Warnings: Mention of alcohol

Word Count: 2700

If we're being honest, Lily Osborne's past was no different than most. She was raised in an upper-middle-class family. Her parents were renowned scientists who were credible in their field and brought home their findings. Other than her parent’s overly obsessive need to have everything recycled, there wasn't much about Lily that was interesting or stuck out. Nothing that she really believed to be interesting at least. Two loving parents, who were still married. Two younger siblings whom she loved dearly. A steady career and a lovely child. She was living the overused and overly generalized, 'American Dream'. the only slight oddity of Lily's life was how young she was when she had Hunter and the fact she was only mid-thirties and already divorced. But other than that...she was a basic, domestic, woman.

That's not how Bucky saw it though.

He found her astonishing. Admirable, even. The fact she was able to complete a Ph.D. level of education, graduating as valedictorian, at the top of her class, was enough to make his heart reach out to grab onto hers. But what really intrigued him, was her ability to be descriptive but vague all at the same time. She spoke about her divorce, but never the contents. Never diving deeper than the surface of it. How she gained primary custody, and that it was due to an affair. He learned everything, and nothing, all at once. He was only able to make a general picture of who Lily Osborne was, nothing more than the basics.

"Osborne, you said?" Bucky commented, shifting in his seat as he sipped on a beer that he held in his naturally warmed hand, "I feel like I've heard of the name Osborne in the environmental field before..."

The comment he made cause Lily's eyebrow to perk up. From the sound of it, Bucky had just admitted to being a bit of a science nerd. The fact he recognized the Osborne name just from Lily mentioning her parents. It was endearing, really. The fact he let that little tidbit of information slip out, not even realizing he had. Lily had made note of it, ensuring she remembered in case they were lucky enough to have a conversation like this again. Learning about one another, becoming more educated on their pasts.

But just like the supersoldier, Lily had secrets. Maybe not as extreme, but nonetheless, they were secrets. She wouldn't give him the full story of anything. Just the slightly important details. It was like a burger, sort of. She gave him the bun, but not the meat in the middle. If she was open and honest with him, that would open up a case of vulnerability. And though a talented doctor, Lily would not be able to cure it. It'd be the crack in her armour he could use to bring her down if he so wished.

"Probably from their discoveries about eco-friendly teddy bears. They still give me nightmares." Lily chuckled, sipping the ale that Bucky had given her. Though she had elected not to drink, the small voice in Lily's head convinced her that one beer wouldn't be too harmful. She wouldn't lose her morals just from a beer. She'd never been like that.

"Yes yes, I've seen Starks kid wandering around with one. They're terrifying," he replied, steel eyes reflecting the glow of the moon that provided them with the romantic ambiance that swirled around them. The whole scenery around them was more romantic than most of the dates Gen had set Lily up on in the past. It was genuine and natural, nothing forced or rushed to make it happen. But the demons inside of Lily's heart were screaming at her to run, get out of there while she still could. However, her feet stayed planted, and her butt sat in the lawn chair. She wasn't going anywhere.

Lily was still mortified of any sort of relationship. This wasn't one of those cheesy situations where the moment she met Bucky, her fears disappeared. That all of those years of emotional manipulation and toxicity had just vanished from her psyche. Lily hadn't changed because she met Bucky. The scars on her heart were still there, and just like her, had no intention of leaving. Sure, she was attracted to him. He was a fine specimen, had a voice that was as smooth as butter that created goosebumps on her arms. His presence brought a warm blanket of comfort that he would drape around her shoulders. But the pain still sat heavily on her shoulders. All of the damage Scott had caused to her mental state and self-image. They still stood, strong and sturdy. Lily was still Lily. The same girl who had been in a troublesome relationship and managed to emerge the other end. And that's all there was to it.

Change can happen. It's just not an immediate thing.

"You've mentioned that you've been through a divorce. How long ago was that?" Bucky inquired, his phrasing eluding the fact he wanted to know more. He had a hankering for the knowledge of Lily's past. To know what she's been through. What made her the shy and meek girl in front of him. What about her history created such a fragile state of mind, yet such a strong and independent visionary. A single mother, a full-time doctor, yet riddled with anxiety.

Bucky's trained eye could see the signs. The tapping of her fingers, the shortness of her breath. The way her collarbone heaved up and down at a faster pace whenever she spoke, or even when he asked her a personal question. How she never seemed to make eye contact with him. God, he wanted her to. He wanted to see those beautiful green eyes match with his. Memorize every detail of her face. The curve of her nose. the arch of her brow. Bucky wanted to render it into his mind, so he would never forget it. So he could always have the picture of those forest green eyes in his mind. The stories they held. The pain they kept locked away. But she never would long enough for him to capture their beauty. If Lily ever caught his eyes, she'd avert them within a millisecond. He'd watch as she'd turn her head, staring out into the sky.

"Four years ago. Seven years of marriage later." Lily answered after a few moments of pause. Her cheeks heated up in a red hue at the mention of her marriage. All of the pain she went through welling up in her throat as she attempted to wash it away with the beer in her hand. The words he would use were stitched into her skin, the things he would call her. She was a ragdoll in the eyes of Scott Harvey. He would take her lifeless body and sew in the worst of the English language onto her skin. It wore her down, the emotional trauma she suffered. But Lily came out on the other end, broken down and beaten sure, but still alive.

"And Hunters your only one?" Bucky inquired, studying the way that Lily fidgeted under his glance. It wasn't as if she was nervous around him, no. From the first time he met her, she seemed to relax around his presence. It was something about everyone that made her nervous. She was a survivor of something, on top of seemingly just always being a shy person. Introverted and hidden away. Add the emotional drainage she suffered all of those years, it made her a shell almost. Bucky was trained to catch small signals, the details others wouldn't care to look at. And all of Lily's body was littered with the little things, the way she breathed, to the way her cheeks always held a red hue.

Lily Osborne had piqued the interest of James Barnes. Not just in a romantic way, though that was a major factor. No, she had different layers to her. Different parts that all connected to create the woman that sat across from him. The way her eyes were slightly sunk in from years of work. Yet her hands seemed soft and velvety smooth, the hands of a mother. The way her arms always sat across her lower stomach, crossed in a way that hid that small part of her body. All signs leading towards insecurities, anxieties, a constant need to have a wall up. Not only did Lily create an opposing side of Bucky, but he saw himself in her. The part of himself that was locked away in a cell in the back of his mind. Constantly doubting, reminding him of the pain he caused. But she wore it on her sleeve, as though it had managed to free itself and take over her persona.

"Yes, he's my one and only. Something inside of me knew I wouldn't want another with my ex-husband, so I made sure measures were taken so there wouldn't be a chance of another until I was ready," Lily answered, crossing her legs and readjusting the dress in an attempt to cover the bit of thigh that she had revealed, "He's the only male I need...my son's everything to me."

Whenever Hunter is ever brought up in conversation, Lily's heart grew four sizes. He was truly the rock in her life that kept her tethered to reality. If he was gone, well Lily wouldn't know what to do. Having a child so early in her life was never something that the blonde had anticipated, nor wanted. She had a whole life plan ahead of her. Get her degree, get her Ph.D., find a husband, then start thinking about a family. Instead, she got pregnant, got a husband, then got a Ph.D. and her degree. The complete opposite of what she had originally planned for herself. Lily was far from ready to be a mother at the age of 22, but she knew she could never, ever, give up her child. So, miraculously, she made it work. Through hours of crying and yelling trips to Gen's and her parents, she did it. And managed to raise a happy, healthy, baby boy.

"There you two are!" a familiar voice rang after Lily had finished her inner monologue about the love she had for her son. Rose. And in tow, were a few of the Avengers and a quite inebriated Genevieve Fairchild, hanging loosely onto a seemingly amused Steve Rogers. As the group paraded around the two, Lily's younger sister spoke, "You lovebirds have been up here for an hour. Gen thought you died."

Lily let out a Gentle sigh before standing from the couch that you'd typically find on a porch, but it was on a roof and went to alleviate the Captain of her intoxicated best friend. Whom, Lily could only guess tried to drink Thor or somebody under a table. Another thing about the doctor’s best friend, she never backed away from a challenge. Even when it came to going head to head against a literal God when it came to drinking. It really sometimes surprised Lily that Gen had survived this long. But, if we're honest, it's because Lily had been babysitting her for close to twenty years. That's about the only reason.

"I take it back. I have two kids. This is Genevieve, she owns the cafe you guys go to," Lily smiled, wrapping her arm around her best friend’s waist and leaning Gen into her side, to keep her up. The last thing that Lily wanted was to have her best friend pass out in front of a cute guy, as well as the literal Avengers. That would just be embarrassing. Not to mention, Gen would have passed out and that would require a hospital visit, somewhere Gen hated for some reason that even Lily didn't know, "We should get her home. Thank you for hav-"

"Gotcha," Gen grinned while shoving her fingers into Lily's side, causing the blonde to jump. Untangling herself, Gen dropped herself down onto the couch while throwing herself into a giggle fit at Lily's surprised face. The others around chuckled softly at the practical joke, before Gen piped up, "Told you she'd fall for it, Rose. Every party we've ever been to it happens. And every time, Lily goes all mom mode on my ass."

A conversation erupted after Gen's comment, and Lily just shook her head and joined the brunette on the couch that sat parallel to the chair Bucky occupied. Both Lily and he seemed to stay silent as the group around them laughed and created a merry atmosphere. Instead, they snuck shy and reciprocated glances at one another, both erupting in a fit of blushes anytime they made eye contact. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed, but instead of causing an uproar, the group just smiled at the two. They were like two school kids who had a crush on one another but were too shy to say anything. Stealing glances from across the classroom and having nervous conversations filled with short answers. It was endearing, yet aggravating.

Rose and Gen knew the damage that had been caused to Lily's perception of love. They were the two closest people to Lily, and were there for every step of the divorce, each tear, each time she screamed into a pillow, each time she shot one too many drinks in an effort to forget the pain that reverberated from her heart. The endless nights of Lily calling one of them in tears because Scott went out and had yet to come home. Or when he did, smelled of another woman. But Lily always, always, ignored the bright red sign that said he was no good for her. Rose and Gen were the two people in the world that knew Lily more than she knew herself. They saw the flowers that bloomed inside of her and the beauty that could rise from the ashes if she just allowed it. If Lily allowed herself happiness, they would witness the rebirth of her. See her smile for no reason again, dance around her house, and sing without the help of alcohol. God...her voice was angelic. But it had been ages since anyone had heard it.

Scott had stolen her voice. stole the one thing that really separated Lily from the pack. he kept it hidden as a token of the pain he had caused. a memento of the heart he had shattered with one hand while twisting a knife into Lily's back. he managed to keep it locked away for years, and Lily had grown weary and tired of fighting, and gave up. she stopped searching for the light inside of her he put out. she didn't believe it was possible for her candle of light to be lit once again. all because some son of a bitch decided to crush her life like she was nothing but a bug.

-----

The clock struck midnight, and Lily laid draped in Gen's arms on the same outdoor couch. Her best friend’s arm draped along her shoulder, a blanket that bruce had grabbed laying on top of them to keep the crisp September air at bay. Everyone was having a lovely time ignoring the party that raged down below them, that had slowly begun to dwindle down and grow quiet. Now, instead of booming music with deep bass, Lily's ears were filled with the laughter of her new friends that surrounded her as jokes and stories were exchanged. It was peaceful, and at that moment, Lily felt calm. Her palms were soft, with no sweat in sight. Her breathing was steady, and her mind stayed on one thought. There was no spiralling, no intense paranoia. just...peace.

Then her phone rang.

Hunter's contact popped up, and that calm heart rate skyrocketed in an instant. Not only was it an odd time to get a call from her son, but he was at Scott’s. if there was an issue, Hunter would go to Scott. This in itself sent that peaceful feeling that Lily had flying out the window. Throwing off the blanket, she slid her phone across the screen and stood, pushing herself up from the couch. Excusing herself off to the side, Lily's hands grew warm and clammy.

"Hunt? Baby, what's wrong?"

"Mama please come pick me up.”

[strangertheory]

With the theory about Hopper and others potentially being introjects, would that mean that everything that took place with Hopper and others like El and Will etc. was purely in an inner world? Joyce for example, who I assume isn’t an introject...her interactions with the Hopper we see would have never happened, at least IRL? Also, how do you think they would reveal this theory to the audience in a way that they understand? I find it interesting but I think if they outright state it, it could be seen as sensationalizing DID by comparing it to scifi and could receive criticism. I hope you’re well, btw!

I’ll answer each of your questions one at a time. (Thanks for messaging!)

“With the theory about Hopper and others potentially being introjects, would that mean that everything that took place with Hopper and others like El and Will etc. was purely in an inner world?"

The nature of an introject alter is that they are based on a person or character who exists in the external world. Introjects can be “factives” (based on a real person – perhaps like Chief Jim Hopper) or “fictives” (based on a fictional character – like the Demogorgon or the Mindflayer.)

Therefore this means that, hypothetically, if there is an introject who is based on an original Jim Hopper that the Byers family knows, that there could hypothetically be scenes that are the “original” Chief Jim Hopper and then scenes that are a very different Jim Hopper who exists in internal worlds in the DID System. Some scenes might be one Hopper, and some scenes might be the other Hopper.

It’s important to keep in mind that when there is an introject alter based on a person that does not mean that the introject alter will behave and think and act exactly like the “original” that their identity was based on. Their mind subconsciously established a new alter and identity that knows themselves to be Jim Hopper, but that person will be totally different from who the other Jim Hopper is because they are truly not the same person. An alter of Jim Hopper might be based on one particular idea of who Jim Hopper is as a person, but alter-Hopper’s identity can also be heavily influenced by the DID System’s lived experiences and thoughts and sometimes even other people that they know too, and therefore the accuracy of that initial persona of alter-Hopper will be entirely dependent on the DID System’s interpretation of who they think Jim Hopper is.

Joyce for example, who I assume isn’t an introject...her interactions with the Hopper we see would have never happened, at least IRL?”

So. Joyce! Hopper and Joyce. Within my current DID theory and meta I see a variety of possibilities regarding Hopper and Joyce’s interactions with one another as well as a variety of possibilities about Joyce’s character. We currently know her as Jonathan and Will’s mom. I did briefly touch on one hypothetical in which Joyce might not be, under all circumstances in the series, “mom” a few months ago but I haven’t discussed it extensively because it’s an idea that I doubt would be especially popular in the fan community and is very niche to my current thoughts on the series. You can read my speculation on “a Joyce who is not mom” in this blogpost here at this link. I do see it as hypothetically possible that there is a Joyce that is an alter. Hypothetically. There are many possibilities, but I do see this as one of many hypotheticals. I recognize this is a very controversial “what if?” and many will see it as highly unlikely, but the possibility that there is a Joyce who is not mom and that is perhaps a very well-loved and trustworthy person in the DID System’s life and who has an introject alter based on the “original Joyce” who might not be a parent but perhaps is, in the external world, a doctor or a nurse or a therapist that Will and Jonathan know as “mom” was something that I have considered. Maybe. Hypothetically. Perhaps.

I am working on a very long blogpost in which I’ll explore a handful of very different hypotheticals about Hopper’s character and my thoughts about his role as the “deeply flawed but protective dad” in the story as well as address my thoughts regarding his relationship with Joyce. Hopper’s dynamic with Will and Hopper’s dynamic with El are also very interesting to me, so I’ll definitely be exploring his relationship with each of them in that WIP blogpost as well.

I’ve avoided talking about Hopper and Joyce for a while because many of the hypotheticals that I’ve considered about their characters are rather incompatible with current popular fandom ideas about their relationship. I don’t really ship Jopper, but it’s arguably one of the most popular ships in the fan community. There are one or two scenarios in which I could see Jopper being “endgame” but there are a handful of hypotheticals in which I see them absolutely not being a couple at all. I’ll be discussing most of these hypotheticals that I’ve considered in the Hopper blogpost that I’m working on. Originally I wasn’t going to talk about Hopper at all until after season 4 because I was anxious about how my ideas might be received by the fan community, but given that even the most mundane opinions that I’ve expressed over the last year have resulted in me receiving a few angry anonymous messages I figured: screw it. If I can’t even ship Byler or like Bob Newby without getting a little bit of harassment and pushback from other fans then I may as well talk about whatever I want and share all of my ideas. So I will be finally sharing all of my ideas about Hopper and his relationship with Joyce, El, and Will. The blogpost I’m working on will probably take a while to finish but I hope to publish it before season 4 is released.

When I’m thinking about different theories and possibilities for what might be happening in Stranger Things I rarely feel as if there’s only one possible route for the story to take. Yes, I do at this point feel very confident that there is a meta narrative happening in the story and that not everything is as fans currently believe them to be regarding both the character relationships and what each character is dealing with, but the possibilities that exist within that are vast. I might suspect that Stranger Things is intended to be about a DID System, but this creates millions of possibilities for the route that the story could take. I might believe that I’m starting to notice certain consistent details that imply the Stranger Things universe is based on something that has a logic and structure to it, but that doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly psychic and can predict what will happen within that universe’s structure. The story is in the hands of the writers, and I’m eager to see where they take it.

“Also, how do you think they would reveal this theory to the audience in a way that they understand?”

I wrote about how this could hypothetically be explored and revealed in the show in this blogpost here. 

“I find it interesting but I think if they outright state it, it could be seen as sensationalizing DID by comparing it to scifi and could receive criticism.”

Although it is hypothetically possible that writers could choose to create a fictional story in which superpowers are real and a character with DID also happens to have superpowers, and this has been done before in popular media (ex. David Haller, aka Legion, who was first introduced in the X-Men comics in 1985 and who has dissociative identity disorder and who has alters with mutant abilities) I personally currently theorize that all of the fantastical events that have happened in Stranger Things so far might be intended to have happened exclusively in internal worlds and not in the external world at all. Events that take place in internal worlds are not limited by the rules of physics and what is “real” in the same way that events that take place in our external world are. Events in internal worlds can be very metaphorical and fantastical because they exist within the mind. The scifi and fantasy elements of the story could, hypothetically, be directly tied to fantastical events that are not sensationalized but are truly accurate to the way that some (but not all) real DID Systems might process memories and trauma within their internal worlds. Internal worlds aren’t dreams, they’re much more vivid and consistently structured and they are often structured around real-world experiences that they’ve experienced, however I want to very loosely compare an internal world to a “dream world” in order to clarify why having fantastical events and monsters and characters with superpowers in an internal world would not necessarily be sensationalizing DID but rather portraying a realistic hypothetical. Telling a story that features internal worlds in a DID System in which fantastical events happen is not inherently sensationalization since fantastical events can and do happen in some real DID Systems’ internal worlds and that is not something that is exaggerated or fictionalized at all. What might seem unrealistic and fantastical to us might be very real for them and most especially for alters who spend significant amount of time in internal worlds. To alters that live in internal worlds exclusively and never front in the body the internal world is their real world and, comparatively, our world might feel very fictitious and unreal to them. But it’s definitely important to keep in mind that every DID System will be very different, and that any one example of a DID System isn’t necessarily comparable to others since their unique experiences will define the way that their System works.

The ethics of “should a popular show like Stranger Things be about DID” is a complex question and an important one, but I haven’t explored it extensively because I believe we do not currently have enough information regarding the approach and the resources that the production team and writers have taken in the creation of the Stranger Things universe and story in order to discuss those ethics at much depth quite yet. If the story is, in fact, about DID or a specific mental condition: did they consult with medical experts? Are any DID Systems directly involved in the production as consultants? Is this particular series entirely fictionalized or are certain plotpoints based on real DID Systems’ experiences? If they are not basing the events of the story on a “true story” then what are the ethics of creating an original story about a fictional DID System? I do believe it is important that creators make a conscious effort to be informed and ethical in their approach to storytelling that involves any real-world medical references, especially with regard to commonly misunderstood and misrepresented conditions like DID, but given the nature of Stranger Things and the way that I believe we are not yet aware of the “bigger picture” of what is happening in the story because the writers intend for it to be revealed in future seasons, I do not think we know enough of the context of the creation of the show in order to begin discussing those nuances. I think and hope that we will learn a lot more over the next few years as seasons 4 and 5 are released. The question of “should they” is a different topic than “are they,” however. Whether they “should” or whether they are doing it “well” will need to be discussed if and when we know if they actually are doing it and also once we know more about their creative approach to the subject matter and what resources they have used in the creation of the Stranger Things universe. I think the direction that the story takes next is also going to be important regarding the assessment of whether or not the story was written ethically, too. If they reveal, for example, that the story is about a DID System that has murdered people or done terrible things then I would immediately say “nope, that’s a misrepresentation and a continued stigmatization of a deeply misunderstood community and I see the story as being unethically done.” But we don’t know what will happen in season 4 and 5 yet. Thus far all I can say is that I believe the writers have effectively encouraged us, as fans, to deeply empathize with and care about El and Will and Hopper and everyone and that this gives me hope that whatever the story is about that the writers are taking an approach that is deeply respectful of those who are neurodivergent or dealing with mental illness like PTSD etc. They’re the heroes and survivors and they are not the villains. And that in itself matters very much. But I guess we will see what happens in next in the series and whether or not the story is about DID or is about something else entirely.

“I hope you’re well, btw!”

Thank you! ^_^ I’m doing really well right now. 

...

*As always please keep in mind that I'm doing my best to explain things as well as I can but that, ultimately, if you'd like to learn more about DID and internal worlds and alters that you should find up-to-date and recent medical resources on these subjects. I am not a medical resource I'm a stranger on the internet talking about a fictional Netflix series.

[petulantskeptic]

Death of the calorie

For more than a century we’ve counted on calories to tell us what will make us fat. Peter Wilson says it’s time to bury the world’s most misleading measure BY PETER WILSON The first time that Salvador Camacho thought he was going to die he was sitting in his father’s Chrysler sedan with a friend listening to music. The 22-year-old engineering student was parked near his home in the central Mexican city of Toluca and in the fading evening light he didn’t notice two tattooed men approach. Tori Amos’s hit, “Bliss”, had just started playing when the gang members pointed guns at the young men. So began a 24-hour ordeal. Strong willed and solidly built, Camacho was singled out as the more stubborn of the pair. He was blindfolded and beaten. One robber eventually threw him to the ground, put a gun to the back of his head and told him it was time to die. He passed out, waking in a field with his hands tied behind his back, almost naked. Camacho survived but, traumatised, he sank into depression. Soon he was drinking heavily and binge eating. His weight ballooned from a trim 70kg to 103kg. That led to his second near-death experience, eight years later, in 2007. He remembers waking up and blinking at bright lights: he was being wheeled on a stretcher into a hospital emergency ward, with an attack of severe arrhythmia, or irregular heart beat. “A cardiologist told me that if I didn’t lose weight and get my health under control I would be dead in five years,” he says. That second crisis forced Camacho belatedly to deal with the trauma of the first. To help with what he now understands was post-traumatic stress disorder, he started having counselling and taking anti-depressants and anti-anxiety drugs. To address his physical health, he tried to lose weight. This effort propelled him to the centre of one of the most fraught scientific debates of our age: the calorie wars, a fierce disagreement about diet and weight control. Today, more than a decade after his cardiologist’s stark warning, Camacho lives in the Swiss city of Basel. He is relaxed and confident, except when two topics come up. When he recounts his kidnapping his gaze drops, his smile vanishes and he becomes noticeably quieter, although he says his panic attacks have virtually disappeared. The other touchy topic is weight control, which causes him to shake his head in anger at what he and millions of other dieters have gone through. “It’s just ridiculous,” he says with exasperation and a touch of venom. “People are living with real pain and guilt and all they get is advice that is confused or just plain wrong.” The guidance that Camacho’s doctors gave him, along with a string of nutritionists and his own online research, was unanimous. It would be familiar to the millions of people who have ever tried to diet. “Everybody tells you that to lose weight you have to eat less and move more,” he says, “and the way to do that is to count your calories.” At his heaviest, Camacho’s body-mass index – the ratio of his height to his weight – reached 35.6, well above the 30 mark that doctors define as clinically obese. Most government guidelines indicated that, as a man, he needed 2,500 calories a day to maintain his weight (the target for women is 2,000). Nutritionists told Camacho that if he ate fewer than 2,000 calories a day, a weekly “deficit” of 3,500 would mean that he would lose 0.5kg a week. With a desk job as a planning engineer in a Mexican hospital, he knew it would take real discipline to trim his pudgy frame. But as his kidnappers had quickly realised, he is an unusually determined character. He began getting up before dawn each day to run 10km. He also started accounting for every morsel of food he consumed. “I filled in Excel spreadsheets every night, every week and every month listing everything I ate. It became a real obsession for me,” says Camacho. Out went the Burger King Whoppers, fried tacos packed with pork and cheese, and tortas (Mexican sandwiches filled with meat, refried beans, avocado and peppers). Out too went his usual steady flow of beer and wine. In came carefully measured low-fat cheese and turkey sandwiches, salads, canned peach juice, Gatorade and Coke Zero, with three Special-K low-calorie diet bars a day. “I was always tired and hungry and I would get really moody and distracted,” he says. “I was thinking about food all the time.” He was constantly told that if he got the maths right – consuming fewer calories than he burned each day – the results would soon show. “I really did everything you are supposed to do,” he insists with the tone of a schoolboy who completed his homework yet still failed a big test. He bought a battery of exercise monitoring devices to measure how many calories he was expending on his runs. “I was told to exercise for at least 45 minutes at least four or five times a week. I actually ran for more than an hour every day.” He kept to low-fat, low-calorie food for three years. It simply didn’t work. At one point he lost about 10kg but his weight rebounded, though he still restricted his calories. Dieters the world over will be familiar with Camacho’s frustrations. Most studies show that more than 80% of people regain any lost weight in the long term. And like him, when we fail, most of us assume that we are too lazy or greedy – that we are at fault. As a general rule it is true that if you eat vastly fewer calories than you burn, you’ll get slimmer (and if you consume far more, you’ll get fatter). But the myriad faddy diets flogged to us each year belie the simplicity of the formula that Camacho was given. The calorie as a scientific measurement is not in dispute. But calculating the exact calorific content of food is far harder than the confidently precise numbers displayed on food packets suggest. Two items of food with identical calorific values may be digested in very different ways. Each body processes calories differently. Even for a single individual, the time of day that you eat matters. The more we probe, the more we realise that tallying calories will do little to help us control our weight or even maintain a healthy diet: the beguiling simplicity of counting calories in and calories out is dangerously flawed. The calorie is ubiquitous in daily life. It takes top billing on the information label of most packaged food and drinks. Ever more restaurants list the number of calories in each dish on their menus. Counting the calories we expend has become just as standard. Gym equipment, fitness devices around our wrists, even our phones tell us how many calories we have supposedly burned in a single exercise session or over the course of a day. It wasn’t always thus. For centuries, scientists assumed that it was the mass of food consumed that was significant. In the late 16th century an Italian physician named Santorio Sanctorius invented a “weighing chair”, dangling from a giant scale, in which he sat at regular intervals to weigh himself, everything he ate and drank, and all the faeces and urine he produced. Despite 30 years of compulsive chair dangling, Sanctorius answered few of his own questions about the impact that his consumption had on his body. Only later did the focus shift to the energy different foodstuffs contained. In the 18th century Antoine Lavoisier, a French aristocrat, worked out that burning a candle required a gas from the air – which he named oxygen – to fuel the flame and release heat and other gases. He applied the same principle to food, concluding that it fuels the body like a slow-burning fire. He built a calorimeter, a device big enough to hold a guinea pig, and measured the heat the creature generated to estimate how much energy it was producing. Unfortunately the French revolution – specifically the guillotine – cut short his thinking on the subject. But he had started something. Other scientists later constructed “bomb calori­meters” in which they burned food to measure the heat – and thus the potential energy – released from it. The calorie – which comes from “calor”, the Latin for “heat” – was originally used to measure the efficiency of steam engines: one calorie is the energy required to heat 1kg of water by one degree Celsius. Only in the 1860s did German scientists begin using it to calculate the energy in food. It was an American agricultural chemist, Wilbur Atwater, who popularised the idea that it could be used to measure both the energy contained in food and the energy the body expended on things like muscular work, tissue repair and powering the organs. In 1887, after a trip to Germany, he wrote a series of wildly popular articles in Century, an American magazine, suggesting that “food is to the body what fuel is to the fire.” He introduced the public to the notion of “macronutrients” – carbohydrates, protein and fat – so called because the body needs a lot of them. Today many of us want to monitor our calorie consumption in order to lose or maintain our weight. Atwater, the son of a Methodist minister, was motivated by the opposite concern: at a time when malnutrition was widespread, he sought to help poor people find the most cost-effective items to fill themselves up. To see how much energy different macronutrients provided to the body, he fed samples of an “average” American diet of that era – which he believed to be heavy in molasses cookies, barley meal and chicken gizzards – to a group of male students in a basement at Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut. For up to 12 days at a time a volunteer would eat, sleep and lift weights while sealed inside a six-foot-high chamber measuring four feet wide by seven feet deep. The energy in each meal was calculated by burning identical foods in a bomb calorimeter. The walls were filled with water, and changes in its temperature allowed Atwater to calculate how much energy the students’ bodies were generating. His team collected the students’ faeces and burned that too, to see how much energy had been left in the body in the digestion process. This was pioneering stuff for the 1890s. Atwater eventually concluded that a gram of either carbohydrate or protein made an average of four calories of energy available to the body, and a gram of fat offered an average of 8.9 calories, a figure later rounded up to nine calories for convenience. We now know far more about the workings of the human body: Atwater was right that some of a meal’s potential energy was excreted, but had no idea that some was also used to digest the meal itself, and that the body expends different amounts of energy depending on the food. Yet more than a century after igniting the faeces of Wesleyan students, the numbers Atwater calculated for each macro­nutrient remain the standard for measuring the calories in any given food stuff. Those experiments were the basis of Salvador Camacho’s daily calorific arithmetic. Atwater transformed the way the public thought about food, with his simple belief that “a calorie is a calorie”. He counselled the poor against eating too many leafy green vegetables because they weren’t sufficiently dense in energy. By his account, it made no difference whether calories came from chocolate or spinach: if the body absorbed more energy than it used, then it would store the excess as body fat, causing you to put on weight. That idea captured the public imagination. In 1918 the first book was published in America based on the notion that a healthy diet was no more complicated than the simple addition and subtraction of calories. “You may eat just what you like – candy, pie, cake, fat meat, butter, cream but count your calories!” wrote Lulu Hunt Peters in “Diet and Health”. “Now that you know you can have the things you like, proceed to make your menus containing very little of them.” The book sold millions. By the 1930s the calorie had become entrenched in both the public mind and government policy. Its exclusive focus on the energy content of food, rather than its vitamin content, say, went virtually unchallenged. Rising incomes and greater female participation in the workforce meant that by the 1960s people were eating out more often or buying prepared food, so they wanted more information about what they were consuming. Nutritional information on foodstuffs was widespread but haphazard; many items carried outlandish claims about their health benefits. Labelling became standardised and mandatory in America only in 1990. The emphasis and use of this information shifted too. By the late 1960s, obesity was becoming a pressing health concern as people became more sedentary and started eating highly processed foods and lots of sugar. As the number of people who needed to lose weight grew, changing diets became the focus of attention. So began the war on fat, in which Atwater’s calorie calculations were an unwitting ally. Because counting calories was seen as an objective arbiter of the health qualities of a foodstuff, it seemed logical that the most calorie-laden part of any food item – fat – must be bad for you. By this measure, dishes low in calories, but rich in sugar and carbohydrates, seemed healthier. People were increasingly willing to blame fat for many of the health ills of modern life, helped along by the sugar lobby: in 2016, a researcher at the University of California uncovered documents from 1967 showing that sugar companies secretly funded studies at Harvard University designed to blame fat for the growing obesity epidemic. That the dietary “fat” found in olive oil, bacon and butter is branded with the same word as the unwanted flesh around our middles made it all the easier to demonise. A us Senate committee report in 1977 recommended a low-fat, low-cholesterol diet for all, and other governments followed suit. The food industry responded with enthusiasm, removing fat, the most calorie-dense of macronutrients, from food items and replacing it with sugar, starch and salt. As a bonus, the thousands of new cheap and tasty “low-cal” and “low-fat” products which Camacho used to diet tended to have longer shelf lives and higher profit margins. But this didn’t lead to the expected improvements in public health. Instead, it coincided almost exactly with the most dramatic rise in obesity in human history. Between 1975 and 2016 obesity almost tripled worldwide, according to the World Health Organisation (who): nearly 40% of over-18s – some 1.9bn adults – are now overweight. That contributed to a rapid rise in cardiovascular diseases (mainly heart disease and stroke) which became the leading cause of death worldwide. Rates of type-2 diabetes, which is often linked to lifestyle and diet, have more than doubled since 1980. It wasn’t only wealthy countries that saw such trends. In Mexico, middle-class urban families such as Camacho’s got fatter too. As a child Camacho was fit and loved playing football. But at the age of ten, in 1988, he was one of many young Mexicans who started stacking on weight as increasing trade with America saw cheap sweets and fizzy drinks flood the shops, a process known as the “Coca-colonisation” of Mexico. “There were suddenly all these flavours you had never tasted, with chocolates, candies and Dr Pepper,” Camacho remembers: “Overnight I got fat.” When his uncles teased him about his bulging waistline, he cut back on sweets and stayed in good shape until his kidnapping 12 years later. Other Mexicans just kept bulking up. In 2013 Mexico overtook America as the most obese country in the world. To combat this trend, governments worldwide have enshrined calorie-counting in policy. The who attributes the “fundamental cause” of obesity worldwide to “an energy imbalance between calories consumed and calories expended”. Governments the world over persist in offering the same advice: count and cut calories. This has infiltrated ever more areas of life. In 2018 the American government ordered food chains and vending machines to provide calorie details on their menus, to help consumers make “informed and healthful decisions”. Australia and Britain are headed in similar directions. Government bodies advise dieters to record their meals in a calorie journal to lose weight. The experimental efforts of a 19th-century scientist stand barely changed – and are barely questioned. Millions of dieters give up when their calorie-counting is unsuccessful. Camacho was more stubborn than most. He took photos of his meals to record his intake more accurately, and would log into his calorie spreadsheets from his phone. He thought about every morsel he ate. And he bought a proliferation of gadgets to track his calorie output. But he still didn’t lose much weight. One problem was that his sums were based on the idea that calorie counts are accurate. Food producers give impressively specific readings: a slice of Camacho’s favourite Domino’s double pepperoni pizza is supposedly 248 calories (not 247 nor 249). Yet the number of calories listed on food packets and menus are routinely wrong. Susan Roberts, a nutritionist at Tufts University in Boston, has found that labels on American packaged foods miss their true calorie counts by an average of 8%. American government regulations allow such labels to understate calories by up to 20% (to ensure that consumers are not short-changed in terms of how much nutrition they receive). The information on some processed frozen foods misstates their calorific content by as much as 70%. That isn’t the only problem. Calorie counts are based on how much heat a foodstuff gives off when it burns in an oven. But the human body is far more complex than an oven. When food is burned in a laboratory it surrenders its calories within seconds. By contrast, the real-life journey from dinner plate to toilet bowl takes on average about a day, but can range from eight to 80 hours depending on the person. A calorie of carbohydrate and a calorie of protein both have the same amount of stored energy, so they perform identically in an oven. But put those calories into real bodies and they behave quite differently. And we are still learning new insights: American researchers discovered last year that, for more than a century, we’ve been exaggerating by about 20% the number of calories we absorb from almonds. The process of storing fat – the “weight” many people seek to lose – is influenced by dozens of other factors. Apart from calories, our genes, the trillions of bacteria that live in our gut, food preparation and sleep affect how we process food. Academic discussions of food and nutrition are littered with references to huge bodies of research that still need to be conducted. “No other field of science or medicine sees such a lack of rigorous studies,” says Tim Spector, a professor of genetic epidemiology at Kings College in London. “We can create synthetic dna and clone animals but we still know incredibly little about the stuff that keeps us alive.” What we do know, however, suggests that counting calories is very crude and often misleading. Think of a burger, the kind of food that Camacho eschewed during his early efforts to lose weight. Take a bite and the saliva in your mouth starts to break it down, a process that continues when you swallow, transporting the morsel towards your stomach and beyond to be churned further. The digestive process transforms the protein, carbohydrates and fat in the burger into their basic compounds so that they are tiny enough to be absorbed into the bloodstream via the small intestine to fuel and repair the trillions of cells in the body. But the basic molecules from each macronutrient play very different roles within the body. All carbohydrates break down into sugars, which are the body’s main fuel source. But the speed at which your body gets its fuel from food can be as important as the amount of fuel. Simple carbohydrates are swiftly absorbed into the bloodstream, providing a fast shot of energy: the body absorbs the sugar from a can of fizzy drink at a rate of 30 calories a minute, compared with two calories a minute from complex carbohydrates such as potatoes or rice. That matters, because a sudden hit of sugar prompts the rapid release of insulin, a hormone that carries the sugar out of the bloodstream and into the body’s cells. Problems arise when there is too much sugar in the blood. The liver can store some of the excess, but any that remains is stashed as fat. So consuming large quantities of sugar is the fastest way to create body fat. And, once the insulin has done its work, blood-sugar levels slump, which tends to leave you hungry, as well as plumper. Getting fat is a consequence of civilisation. Our ancestors would have enjoyed a heavy hit of sugar perhaps four times a year, when a new season produced fresh fruit. Many now enjoy that kind of sugar kick every day. The average person in the developed world consumes 20 times as much sugar as people did even during Atwater’s time. But it is a different story when you eat complex carbohydrates such as cereals. These are strung together from simple carbohydrates, so they also break down into sugar, but because they do so more slowly, your blood-sugar levels remain steadier. The fruit juices that Camacho was encouraged to drink contained fewer calories than one of his wholegrain buns but the bread delivered less of a sugar hit and left him feeling satiated for longer. Other macronutrients have different functions. Protein, the dominant component of meat, fish and dairy products, acts as the main building block for bone, skin, hair and other body tissues. In the absence of sufficient quantities of carbohydrates it can also serve as fuel for the body. But since it is broken down more slowly than carbohydrates, protein is less likely to be converted to body fat. Fat is a different matter again. It should leave you feeling fuller for longer, because your body splits it into tiny fatty acids more slowly than it processes carbohydrates or protein. We all need fat to make hormones and to protect our nerves (a bit like plastic coating protects an electric wire). Over millennia, fat has also been a crucial way for humans to store energy, allowing us to survive periods of famine. Nowadays, even without the risk of starvation, our bodies are programmed to store excess fuel in case we run out of food. No wonder a single measure – the energy content – can’t capture such complexity. Our fixation with counting calories assumes both that all calories are equal and that all bodies respond to calories in identical ways: Camacho was told that, since he was a man, he needed 2,500 calories a day to maintain his weight. Yet a growing body of research shows that when different people consume the same meal, the impact on each person’s blood sugar and fat formation will vary according to their genes, lifestyles and unique mix of gut bacteria. Research published this year showed that a certain set of genes is found more often in overweight people than in skinny ones, suggesting that some people have to work harder than others to stay thin (a fact that many of us already felt intuitively to be true). Differences in gut microbiomes can alter how people process food. A study of 800 Israelis in 2015 found that the rise in their blood-sugar levels varied by a factor of four in response to identical food. Some people’s intestines are 50% longer than others: those with shorter ones absorb fewer calories, which means that they excrete more of the energy in food, putting on less weight. The response of your own body may also change depending on when you eat. Lose weight and your body will try to regain it, slowing down your metabolism and even reducing the energy you spend on fidgeting and twitching your muscles. Even your eating and sleeping schedules can be important. Going without a full night’s sleep may spur your body to create more fatty tissue, which casts a grim light on Camacho’s years of early-morning exertion. You may put on more weight eating small amounts over 12-15 hours than eating the same food in three distinct meals over a shorter period. There’s a further weakness in the calorie-counting system: the amount of energy we absorb from food depends on how we prepare it. Chopping and grinding food essentially does part of the work of digestion, making more calories available to your body by ripping apart cell walls before you eat it. That effect is magnified when you add heat: cooking increases the proportion of food digested in the stomach and small intestine, from 50% to 95%. The digestible calories in beef rises by 15% on cooking, and in sweet potato some 40% (the exact change depends on whether it is boiled, roasted or microwaved). So significant is this impact that Richard Wrangham, a primatologist at Harvard University, reckons that cooking was necessary for human evolution. It enabled the neurological expansion that created Homo sapiens: powering the brain consumes about a fifth of a person’s metabolic energy each day (cooking also means we didn’t need to spend all day chewing, unlike chimps). The difficulty in counting accurately doesn’t stop there. The calorie load of carbohydrate-heavy items such as rice, pasta, bread and potatoes can be slashed simply by cooking, chilling and reheating them. As starch molecules cool they form new structures that are harder to digest. You absorb fewer calories eating toast that has been left to go cold, or leftover spaghetti, than if they were freshly made. Scientists in Sri Lanka discovered in 2015 that they could more than halve the calories potentially absorbed from rice by adding coconut oil during cooking and then cooling the rice. This made the starch less digestible so the body may take on fewer calories (they have yet to test on human beings the precise effects of rice cooked in this way). That’s a bad thing if you’re malnourished, but a boon if you’re trying to lose weight. Different parts of a vegetable or fruit may be absorbed differently too: older leaves are tougher, for example. The starchy interior of sweetcorn kernels is easily digested but the cellulose husk is impossible to break down and passes through the body untouched. Just think about that moment when you look into the toilet bowl after eating sweetcorn. As with so many dieters, Camacho’s efforts to accurately track his calories “in” were doomed. But so too were his attempts to track his calories “out”. The message from many public authorities and food producers, especially fast-food companies that sponsor sports events, is that even the unhealthiest foods will not make you fat if you do your part by taking plenty of exercise. Exercise does, of course, have clear health benefits. But unless you’re a professional athlete, it plays a smaller part in weight control than most people believe. As much as 75% of the average person’s daily energy expenditure comes not through exercise but from ordinary daily activities and from keeping your body functioning by digesting food, powering organs and maintaining a regular body temperature. Even drinking iced water – which delivers no energy – forces the body to burn calories to maintain its preferred temperature, making it the only known case of consuming something with “negative” calories. A popular expression in English tells us not to “compare apples and oranges” and assume them to be the same: yet calories put pizzas and oranges, or apples and ice cream, on the same scale, and deems them equal. After three years of dedicated calorie-counting Camacho changed tack. While recovering from running the 2010 marathon in San Diego he took up Crossfit training, an exercise regime that includes high-intensity training and weightlifting. There he met people using a very different method to control their weight. Like him, they exercised regularly. But rather than limiting their calories, they ate natural foods, what Camacho calls “stuff from a real plant, not an industrial plant”. Fed up with feeling like a hungry failure, he decided to give it a go. He ditched his heavily processed low-calorie products and focused on the quality of his food rather than quantity. He stopped feeling ravenous all the time. “It sounds simple but I decided to listen to my body and eat whenever I was hungry but only when I was hungry, and to eat real food, not food ‘products’,” he says. He went back to items that he’d long banned himself from eating. He had his first rasher of bacon in three years and enjoyed cheese, whole-fat milk and steaks. He immediately felt less hungry and happier. More surprising, he quickly began to lose his extra fat. “I was sleeping so much better and within a couple of months I stopped the depression and anxiety medication,” he says. “I went from always feeling guilty and angry and afraid to feeling in control of myself and actually proud of my own body. Suddenly I could enjoy eating and drinking again.” The weight stayed off and in 2012 he moved to Heidelberg in Germany, a world away from the hectic streets of Mexico, to study for a masters degree in public health. “The idea hit me that I could combine my own experience with academic work to try to help other people overcome these various barriers that I had found.” After his masters he embarked on a doctorate on how to tackle obesity in Mexico. Today he is married to a German scholar, Erica Gunther, who has studied food systems around the world. Their diet includes things he used to shun, such as egg yolks, olive oil and nuts. Two days a week the couple stick to vegetarian meals but otherwise he devours steak, kidneys, liver and some of his favourite Mexican dishes – barbacoa (lamb), carnitas (pork) and tacos with grilled meat. His wife enjoys making a traditional Mexican sweet pastry called pan de muerto (bread of death). “Before I would have run an extra two hours to compensate for eating that but now I don’t care, I just make sure it is a treat, not an everyday thing.” Having spent years trying to forgo alcohol, he has a glass or two of wine several times a week, and goes for a beer with friends from his gym. Sweating through three or four workouts a week, he is as well-muscled as a professional rugby player. A stable 80kg, he has very little body fat, though he is still considered overweight by the body-mass-index charts, which rate many beefed-up professional athletes as too heavy. The only relapse of anxiety he suffers nowadays happens when he hears Tori Amos singing “Bliss” – the song playing when he was kidnapped – which he says “is a real pity because it’s a great song”. Today Camacho could be described as a calorie dissident, one of a small but growing number of academics and scientists who say that the persistence of calorie-counting compounds the obesity epidemic, rather than remedying it. Counting calories has disrupted our ability to eat the right amount of food, he says, and has steered us towards poor choices. In 2017 he wrote an academic paper that was one of the most savage attacks on the calorie system published in a peer-reviewed journal. “I’m actually embarrassed at what I used to believe,” he says. “I was doing everything I could to follow the official advice but it was totally wrong and I feel stupid for never even questioning it.” Given the vast evidence that calorie-counting is imprecise at best, and contributes to rising obesity at worst, why has it persisted? The simplicity of calorie-counting explains its appeal. Metrics that tell consumers the extent to which foods have been processed, or whether they will suppress hunger, are harder to understand. Faced with the calorie juggernaut, none has gained wide acceptance. The scientific and health establishment knows that the current system is flawed. A senior adviser to the un’s Food and Agriculture Organisation warned in 2002 that the Atwater “factors” of 4-4-9 at the heart of the calorie-counting system were “a gross oversimplification” and so inaccurate that they could mislead consumers into choosing unhealthy products because they understate the calories in some carbohydrates. The organisation said it would give “further consideration” to overhauling the system but 17 years later there is little momentum for change. It even rejected the idea of harmonising the many methods that are used in different countries – a label in Australia can give a different count from one in America for the same product. Officials at the who also acknowledge the problems of the current system, but say it is so entrenched in consumer behaviour, public policy and industry standards that it would be too expensive and disruptive to make big changes. The experiments that Atwater conducted a century ago, without calculators or computers, have never been repeated even though our understanding of how our bodies work is vastly improved. There is little funding or enthusiasm for such work. As Susan Roberts at Tufts University says, collecting and analysing faeces “is the worst research job in the world”. The calorie system, says Camacho, lets food producers off the hook: “They can say, ‘We’re not responsible for the unhealthy products we sell, we just have to list the calories and leave it to you to manage your own weight’.” Camacho and other calorie dissidents argue that sugar and highly processed carbohydrates play havoc with people’s hormonal systems. Higher insulin levels mean more energy is converted into fat tissues leaving less available to fuel the rest of the body. That in turn drives hunger and overeating. In other words the constant hunger and fatigue suffered by Camacho and other dieters may be symptoms of being overweight, rather than the cause of the problem. Yet much of the food industry defends the status quo too. To change how we assess the energy and health values of food would undermine the business model of many companies. The only major organisation to shift the emphasis beyond calories is one dedicated to helping its customers slim down: Weight Watchers. In 2001 the world’s best-known dieting firm introduced a points system that moved away from focusing exclusively on calories to also classifying foods according to their sugar and saturated fat content, and their impact on appetite. Chris Stirk, the firm’s general manager in Britain, says the organisation made the change because relying on calories to lose weight is “outdated”: “Science evolves daily, monthly, yearly, let alone since the 1800s.” Many of us know instinctively that not all calories are the same. A lollipop and an apple may contain similar numbers of calories but the apple is clearly better for us. But after a lifetime of hearing about the calorie and its role in supposedly foolproof diet advice we could be forgiven for being confused about how best to eat. It’s time to lay it to rest.

[thewatsonbeekeepers]

Chapter 13 – Out of My Dreams [TFP 3/3]

 We’re finally here. I can’t actually believe it. This meta series has exploded over lockdown but we’re finally at the close. The title of this chapter comes from a song in the musical Oklahoma! that you can find here, which has a fantastic dream ballet sequence – weirdly, during lockdown the fantastic film I’m Thinking of Ending Things was released which draws heavily on dreams in Oklahoma!, so maybe that’s my next project. Now, however, onto the end of TFP.

Before jumping into this meta, I really suggest reading this meta by @sagestreet (X) – it breaks down exactly why Redbeard represents homosexuality, and the probability that Sherlock’s repression draw’s on his father’s own repression, which is in turn a metaphor for ACD himself. This is really important in the light of the metatextuality I’ve been plugging through this series, and ties together the 1980s and 1890s themes really nicely – these are the periods of growth for Sherlock and canon!Holmes respectively and their homophobia has to be dealt with.

We left off with about 20 minutes to go, as Sherlock is sinking into the black depths of his mind – the deepest we’re ever going to get as well as the darkest in colour, chiming with the rest of the series. And then – flashes of Eurus, Redbeard and young Sherlock bleeding in through his memory. @sagestreet’s meta argues that Victor Trevor could genuinely have been Sherlock’s first love even at that age, and I don’t dispute the possibility, but I do have an alternate reading for slightly later in age, based on one image alone. Jump back in your mind to TAB, when Mycroft tells Sherlock he was there for him the last time – we get a shot of a teenager in a drug den which is never repeated again, but which has a sense of absolute past trauma attached to it.

I plump for this to be our key trauma personally, but currently I don’t think we have enough information to go on. However, regardless of which age you read Victor, the outcome is pretty much the same. So – Sherlock plunges into dark and we get memories flash before him, and it’s almost like he’s drowned in his EMP, his life has flashed before his eyes – but there is one thing stopping him from dying still. Eurus, trauma!Eurus, is ever a paradox, as repressed sexuality inherently is. On the one hand it’s constantly pushing down and on the other it’s constantly pushing up – and the sheer mania we see in Eurus is only really explicable as a set of mental contradictory impulses in this way. At the end of TFP, we spend so much time thinking that she is trying to kill Sherlock, but she’s trying to save herself and him. His gay trauma has completely regressed to a child’s fear here in the form of the little girl asking why she has been abandoned. The plane in the girl’s hands, going back to the height metaphor, is symbolic of the final struggle for life – as long as it’s in the air, Sherlock is in danger of death (see Chapter 2 ), but he is still under the impression that keeping going by crashing it, and crushing the queer side of him, is the way to go. We see him walk past images of him and Victor as children on the walls and ignoring them, after all.

It’s pretty important that these images are shown just as Sherlock connects to his heart for the first time, who is still drowning of course. The connection is closer and closer to being made! Under that water are the bones, which is symbolic of them being hidden in the recesses of his mind. We get the fantastically awful lines from John, if read superficially, that the bones are ‘small’ – others have been very good at pointing out John’s sudden inability to be a doctor as evidence for the EMP, and so it’s important for us to recognise here that John is not John, but heart!John.

There are other obvious indicators of the EMP here, most notably in the location. Even being out for a couple of hours, it is not possible that Eurus could have done this to Sherlock and John. Who aided her in getting John down the well, and how did they get out? How did they come to shore and not get stopped? How did nobody notice the construction of the giant cell in the garden of Musgrave Hall, and how does it spontaneously open after Sherlock pushes one wall? This switching from location to location – island, cell, home – is a shifting of perspective common in dreams. Moffat has used the idea of there being no time between location shifts before as a dream indicator in the Doctor Who episode Forest of the Dead, so it’s clearly something he has thought about. The pushing down of the wall is a huge symbolic moment – it couldn’t have just been a secret door! Instead, it ties in with the image of the breaking busts from TST as the idea of breaking down walls in his mind – and the drama of it suggests that we seem to have arrived at our final destination.

Everything unites rather wonderfully as trauma!Eurus threatens to drown heart!John, as though this is the culmination of ‘burning the heart’ – because ‘the heart’, both literally and metaphorically, is John! And so the destruction of Sherlock’s heart is happening inside his mind because of John’s suicidal suffering outside. We see the same kind of projection as is implied at the end of TST in the aquarium scene – this pulls in ideas of artificiality, which are important, but it’s also an important visual link. In the death of Mary, Sherlock tries to rerun his own assassination but imagines that John is devastated by the loss of Mary rather than Sherlock because he cannot cope with the queerness – it’s a way of processing John’s suicidal impulses without fully recognising them. This link of someone dying surrounded by water with the projection light shows that this is the revised (and correct) projection of what is happening to John in the real world – it is connected to Sherlock’s heart.

Sherlock, with the help of his heart, finally works out that Redbeard is not a dog. @sagestreet’s meta is useful in pointing out that Daddy being allergic to dogs doesn’t mean that Daddy didn’t want one, just that he couldn’t – and that’s a pretty good way of thinking about ACD’s inability to represent queerness as he might have wanted to, and so stamping on the character of Sherlock Holmes. The fact that he explicitly cracks one of the symbols in his mind is fantastic, because it calls back to the TLD scene suggesting that tea and coffee is some kind of code – there is a code in his brain, and he’s starting to break it down. Victor Trevor, whether child or teenager in reality, here is a child and is chosen I think to look like I imagine a child Martin Freeman would look like, but that’s bye the bye. What’s more important is that together, they played pirates. Given that Sherlock has been drowning in the repressed queerness of his brain, we’ve talked about piracy before as being symbolic of fielding that (see TST meta) and instead riding the wave, controlling it and refusing to drown. This hints at the love that Sherlock and Victor were able to enact, if only in youthful play, mastery of the high seas as opposed to adult Sherlock drowning in them. And then, gay trauma!Eurus traps Victor down a well – forces Sherlock to drown his love in that repression, and we know it’s love because it’s the same well that heart!John is in – Victor is equated with him.

“You couldn’t face it, so you told yourself a better story.” Ah yes – how convenient that it’s all tied up in ideas of fictionalising. I’m just going to leave that one there.

“Deep waters, Sherlock, in all your life, in all your dreams” – linking the Carl Powers pool, the TAB waterfall with TFP, and the light on his face reflecting TST – all of these links tying up 1890s repression (TAB) with 1980s repression (TGG, TST). And what is trauma!Eurus’s motive for destroying Sherlock’s love? ‘I had no one.’ The most striking thing about this is that before Sherlock meets John in the real world, and even during the beginning of their friendship, this is the recurring theme in how he chooses to portray himself. It’s not something that applies specifically to Eurus – it’s what we all associate with Sherlock, more than anything, pointing to this motive being about him. ‘Alone is what I have; alone protects me.’ Remember that? Trauma has forced that specific characterising of Sherlock onto him – his queer trauma necessitates solitude.

We already have a clue that Eurus is the girl on the plane by looking at the plane in her hands as a child, but it also suggests that even in her undeveloped form, the capacity to destroy him has always been there. It suggests a suicidal impulse in Sherlock that goes a long way back, specifically connected to his queerness – which ties in with the teenage addict in TAB as well as the cut scene from ASiP in which Greg implies that Sherlock has been suicidal.

Solving the code is a lovely moment – we have all of these hallowed graves of the past Holmes ancestry, which we can read as the hallowed adaptations over the years – and it’s nothing. It’s completely empty. We are disregarding the Holmeses of the past except to use them as tools to get to our trauma – which is what metatextual references have been doing throughout this series. However, there’s something else tricky that I want to throw up here.

I found this problem on an Australian site here, and haven’t seen it on tumblr although I may be wrong! The problem is the cipher. When cracked, it’s not what Sherlock says it is. It might just be a mistake, as the linked website theorises. The words missing are:

Lost Without Your Love Save

Although they appear in the song, their numbers aren’t in the cipher. It could fully be a mistake, or something cinematographical in not making the full cipher clear on the screen – it passes in a blur, after all. But I want to postulate something a tiny bit tenuous here. Sherlock’s subconscious has clearly been grappling with his repressed love for a long time, and it’s something he hasn’t been able to deal with, stemming right back to childhood. Up until now, he has never been able to crack the case, so to speak. But let’s jump back to the (slightly flippant) moment in TSoT when Sholto is dying, and John tells Sherlock that he’s a drama queen, there’s a time limit, the game is on, this is when he works best. And it’s true! We see Sherlock work under very specific time pressure a lot – look at the bomb scene in TEH and the bonfire scene, literally everything about TGG – the show is littered with these moments, and now they come to fruition. He could keep going living a half-life, in constant trauma, because it was not a matter of life and death, and it was too painful to try to confront it. But now in the real world, John is dying – as we can see by the heart down the well (note that brain!Mycroft is abandoned here, cementing the importance of the heart to this deduction sequence) and so he has no choice. And that is the missing bit of the code! ‘Lost without your love/Save’ is exactly what has propelled him to finally face his gay trauma – the fact that John Watson loves him, and will kill himself if Sherlock does not wake up. !!!

The girl on the plane is Eurus. This should not be altogether surprising for those of us who have seen HLV, because EMP theory seems to be repeating the same motifs again and again. HLV – it’s the Mind Palace. TAB? It’s also the Mind Palace. Now here. We also notice that Sherlock’s brain is reusing the plane from ASiB and the initial phone tactic used by Jim Moriarty – another link to John being in danger. But when Sherlock finally breaks in to his trauma, the most important thing is that it’s not threatening. She’s frightened. She has a constant urge towards death, represented by the plane, that ties into Sherlock’s suicidal urges. They will always be there, every time she closes her eyes – but Sherlock gets her to open them. I don’t have an answer to eye hell (yet), but my current theory is that this is the key – sightlessness is a link to suicidal urges through Eurus.

To jump past the police scene then, which we’ll get to in a minute, Sherlock’s reconciliation with Eurus rather than treating her as an enemy is perfect. Just like trauma!Eurus can never end her suicidal ideation, Sherlock can never put an end to the trauma inside him. Framing this as a battle was always wrong. He resurfaces by learning to live with her and to treat himself with kindness. Forgive me whilst I get soppy, but that’s beautiful. In that light, Eurus remaining in a kinder, friendlier version of Sherrinford is fantastic – she’s still inside him, not particularly desirable, and will never go away, but Sherlock has made peace with her and is friends with her. The violin was a symbol of desire in ASiB and again in TSoT, a way of Sherlock articulating what he could not say, and early in TFP that articulation was destroyed by Eurus’s discordance – here they have learned to play together. A difficult relationship – awkward, dangerous, unsure of boundaries – but a relationship nevertheless.

Rewinding to the police moment – despite the chains around John’s ankles, he miraculously climbs out of the well. More important in this scene, however, is that Sherlock gets Greg’s name right. This is, for me, one of the most significant sections of the entire show. Sherlock has never got Greg’s name right before – it’s a running joke on the show – and the reason Mofftiss have made such a joke of it is that it ties into ACD’s complete inability to remember names. Much like having Mrs. Turner live next door is a nod to canon inconsistency, as is the John/James parallel which, although a mistake in the initial work, they have exploited remarkably well, ACD famously never named Lestrade, only giving him the initial G. This is why Sherlock comes up with every possible G name for him. This is tied into Sherlock’s inability to move beyond the mistakes of canon – we see this weird inability to stick in modern Sherlock’s universe in other ways too, like the slightly old-fashioned nature of his costume (passed off as ‘timeless’, but clearly belonging to old as much as modern times), the deerstalker situation, thinking England has a king, not knowing the earth goes around the sun, not knowing Madonna, seeming to forget who Thatcher is – the list goes on, but Greg is the most constant one. Calling him Greg is a symbol that Sherlock has broken out of the confines of all of the past Sherlocks and has completely slipped into the modern version – which is exactly where he needs to be. Greg saying that Sherlock might be good as well as great – because the persona doesn’t matter anymore.

We should note in passing, in accordance with @sagestreet’s reading of Daddy Holmes as ACD, his disappointment and clear distress at brain!Mycroft hiding trauma!Eurus for so long because it was ‘for the best’. I’m not certain where Mummy Holmes stands in this, though I’m inclined to equate her with Daddy as ACD here, but I’m open to other suggestions for that.

And then we have the final sequence – who you really are. And I admit, I am thrown by Mary’s words – which is a terrible way to end the meta series! She says: ‘who you really are doesn’t matter’ – which is an awful thing to say, although coming from a still present comphet is inevitable. She also says that it’s all about the legend. But regardless of what comphet!Mary says, she’s not there anymore. The life that is being rebuilt is one of two men in Baker Street. Baker Street is the symbolic home of the heart within the EMP, so the rebuilding of that and the replacing of heart!John inside is lovely. Furthermore, if Daddy Holmes is ACD to Sherlock, the idea of Sherlock and John parenting Rosie feels like the start of a new, freer, queerer chapter in Sherlock Holmes history – authorship has changed, and it’s been handed over to a new generation. The final shot, however, hammers home for me the validity of the metatextual interpretation – Sherlock and John running out of Rathbone Place.

I mention the significance of this in an earlier chapter – Basil Rathbone is arguably the definitive Holmes interpretation who has defined the character for many years, and so could feasibly represent Holmes’s film/tv status as the most portrayed character of all time. They’re not running into Rathbone Place – they’re leaving it. They’re on their way up and out of all those previous adaptations, as Sherlock builds a new heart with no comphet.

He’s still got to get out to save real!John though – let’s not get too carried away – although we seem to have broken through the bulk of internalised queerphobia at the end of this series. I’ve previously explained on my blog why I don’t think there will ever be a series 5, and sad as that is, it is just life, so this behemoth of a meta series has actually just been an academic exercise more than anything else! Nevertheless, I hope if you’ve made it to the end that you’ve enjoyed it, and if you have any thoughts on tjlc that spring from this I would love to hear them!

[luckyrockets]

Chapters: 1/24 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Momota Kaito/Oma Kokichi, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added Characters: Momota Kaito, Oma Kokichi, Saihara Shuichi, Harukawa Maki Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Virtual Reality, Psychological Trauma, Hospitals, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change Summary:

Three days. It had been only three days since everything came to an end. At least, it felt like that much time had passed.

Momota stared into his bathroom’s mirror, hands gripped tightly at either side of the sink below it. The lights of the room had been off for a while now to the point that he could barely make out his own features. It didn’t really matter though, even if he could… He didn’t feel like he would recognize himself anymore.

The features didn’t feel like his. Every time he looked in the mirror, something always felt off. Eyes that stared back weren’t the right color and his nose seemed bigger than he thought. His face had speckles of freckles he didn’t recall, while his hair didn’t fall the correct way. It just felt wrong the more and more he saw himself.... He just wanted to feel normal again. Standing in the dark had its advantages. The lack of sight forced his mind to fill-in-the-blanks of the reflection that fixated back from the mirror, piecing together some resemblance of what he knew he should look like … What was that phenomenon called again? … Autokinetic Effect? … Or maybe Pareidolia? Momota wasn’t even sure if those words existed if he were being honest.

Hands moved away from the sink, opting to sit at his sides before turning into tightly balled up fists. It was another repetitive action that he found himself doing during his silent showdown with his reflection. What number was this now? If he had to guess, probably... the hundredth time since he started his solo staring match.

… How long had he been staring in the mirror, anyway? He wasn’t sure anymore. Two minutes? Two hours? Maybe even two days? He hoped it had been long.

Splish… Splash… Splosh…

It dawned on him that the tap was turned on, something he did way before getting distracted by his own reflection. Earlier, Momota had the idea that maybe the sound of faucet could help. The rushing waters that currently sprayed out the tap were meant to help his thoughts from wandering into a dark place. It didn’t work, obviously, his mind instead masking the sound allowing him to continue thinking negatively. Now, he stood, even worse off while the sink’s tub had overflowed.

Water continuously poured onto the floor, easily soaking through his house slippers. With such a sensation at his feet, his mind raced to remind him of the last time he could recall his slippers were this wet, but the water wasn’t warm enough to send him into that thought. It was ice cold... Momota could almost picture it steadily filling the room and drowning him in its freezing temperature.

He momentarily wondered if anyone had noticed how far the flood had gone out now. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the water trailed slowly , being illuminated by the light in the connecting bedroom. It had a night light permanently plugged in, an obnoxiously bright one at that. He had tried to turn it off, unplug it, hell, even break the damn thing but, he still couldn’t seem to remove it. The brightness had made the floor glisten immensely, though, if that were from the water or how clean it was he didn’t know.

Momota wasn’t sure how far the water had made it and was curious if there would be any lasting damage. Whatever the case, it was nothing he really cared about. It wouldn’t change the fact that his room was an empty place anyways. The walls were a bleak white color with a grey border running along the top edges. There was a bed with a baby blue blanket that he had bunched up into a ball at one point. In the corner, a TV was attached with a singular power button. Momota had yet to find a remote for it… that is, if it even had one in the first place. Regardless, when he had tried to turn it on, it was a channel with no noise and the occasional messages that looked as if they were drafted in a powerpoint program. The words would relay different things such as mealtimes and other information Momota cared very little about. Finally, there was a cabinet for what he assumed were for his clothes.

Rummaging through it the first time, he had found a few sets of unrecognizable clothing and a mystery bag. It was mainly junk filled but out of the search came an important discovery, a wallet. It contained exactly 3200 yen, a stamp card for some grocery store he had never heard of, and... an ID. The photo on the ID, no matter what Momota wanted to believe, was his own. The name on it had been Itō Shiro though, not Momota Kaito. His birthday was correct, April 12th, but the year he was hesitant about believing. If it was right, then it would mean he was currently 22 years old and knowing that was messing with his head … Hadn’t he only been 15 three days ago?

His eyes began to wander towards another door in the main room. He could count the amount of times it opened on his fingers.  Nurses or doctors would come in to check on him, ask how he was doing, give him some medicine, and then abruptly walk out. Never had he seen the outside of his room. The most he knew was what they told him and they said he would start therapy soon. Momota wasn’t sure what therapy they could even administer that would make his entire existence being fake go away.

… Or make the screaming stop.

At times, he heard his “classmates” screaming from outside his door, which usually led to a chain effect. The more he heard the screams, the less he recognized those voices screaming, which caused Momota to panic. He would eventually start screaming himself and desperately try to escape his room. It never worked. Someone always seemed to be holding his door shut, preventing him from seeing who was hurt or the potential cause of their screaming. He rolled his shoulders back, watching his facial features seemingly growing darker in the mirror.

Instinctively, his arm jerked back as if to throw a punch. The sensation of the glass already seemed present in his knuckles as he thought about what he was about to do. Maybe, just maybe, if he broke his fist through the mirror, those nurses would let him out of his room... Maybe then he could finally catch a glimpse of ANYONE as he was being carted away out there. Maybe… Maybe.... Maybe he could see Shuichi, or Harumaki, or--

Suddenly, a loud clang rang through his ears, stopping his fist right before the glass could meet it. It caught him off guard and he turned to the side quickly, but nothing seemed to have fallen in his room. With the night light as his only light source for the moment and being limited to the ground, it could have obscured the cause for all he knew. He moved slowly, his still heavily drenched slippers making disgusting slapping noises as he trudged along the ugly, beige floor. He did his best to ignore the noise now, making his way to the light switch in the main room and flicking it on to properly investigate. Nothing seemed to be amiss... well, besides the majority of his floor still being overrun with water. All seemed fine inside, so the only conclusion he could draw was that it was coming from outside his room. … Right?

Momota looked at the exit and wondered if it would let him out. He never once tried to open the door to just open itl, only when it was for the purpose of attempting to save anyone outside of it. Fixating down at the handle, the feeling of being helpless began to manifest, but he tried to remind himself that he wanted to be helpful. The dire necessity to save the people he cared about grew stronger, over taking all other thoughts as he reached for it. There was already that scenario playing through his head. The feeling of the handle refusing to give, frustration boiling behind his eyes at another failed attempt to rescue anybody... He placed his hand on the handle and pushed down.

Click. It opened.

The surprise completely threw Momota off, making him forget all of the frustration and anxieties from the moment before. Hesitantly stepping out, he stared intensely at the new environment that greeted him. The hallway was bright, almost burning his retinas, but seemed empty. He continued to walk further out of his room, slightly dazed, and forgetting momentarily why he even came out here. His eyes slowly moved across the area. What time was it, now that he thought about it? There were no doctors or nurses wandering the halls and all the doors all seemed shut...

Wait, why was he out here again?

The clang, right...

Nothing seemed amiss in the hallway. Maybe he had imagined it after all? Had he been so sleep deprived these days that his mind was starting to make noises due to his lack of rest? He had to be extra sure though… Besides, what if someone was hurt and needed his help? What if they needed him ? Momota began his walk, looking at the doors as he shuffled by. There seemed to be six rooms. Three that lined up on either side of the walls.

Each door had a laminated name on it, none of which Momota recognized either. He momentarily remembered some fun fact he had read once. “ You can’t read in dreams .” He reassured himself while also reminding him that this whole scenario was really happening. An urge to open any of the doors and see who was inside was ever so tempting. He paused for a moment to grab at the handle of the one closest to him, standing in front of it for quite a while, before he let go and continued on. He needed to find out where the clang came from first.

His slippers left wet footprints with every step he made as he rounded what seemed like the third hallway. Once again, Momota started to believe he may have imagined that sound. Maybe he was going crazy. Whether from lack of sleep or from staying in his room too long, his mind was probably making it up. He was ready to start the long walk back to his room when he finally eyed a door that didn’t match the uniformity of the rest. It was slightly ajar, a small bit of light peeking out from the crack that didn’t seem bright enough. If anything, it was more than likely the same night light that plagued Momota’s nights. He wondered if this was a mistake, if a doctor had forgotten to secure the door before leaving. The night light was bright enough to almost blend in with that of the hallway, that the added light may not have even been noticeable. Maybe the person inside hadn’t noticed the door still open.

Momota looked up at the door and saw another name that he did not recognize.

“Mizushima”. It was printed, laminated, and taped on to it.

With the door already open, it couldn’t hurt to look inside, right? The curiosity got the better of him and he carefully pushed the door further open, looking into the room. He had expected it to reassemble much like his own, but his jaw nearly dropped at the sight.

The room was the beginning of a hoarder’s nest. There were so many different items pushed tightly against the walls that some were starting to obscure the path made for walking through it. He couldn’t make out exactly what everything was-- but, he could faintly see a magazine stack, a toy train... and a figure sleeping in the bed.

This person had to have been here longer than Momota, given the mess they had, he was certain. How long could they even keep you here? Could they keep him here for years if they wanted to? Keep him from seeing other people who were not doctors and nurses dressed in white for the rest of his life? Momota gritted his teeth at the prospect. No, he wouldn’t let them. He’d find his escape route and get everyone else out too, even if it killed him.

Momota made his way into the room, flicking on the actual light without even thinking. He winced as soon as he did, looking over at the lump under the covers. They didn’t stir though, they seemed completely buried beneath the blankets. Momota gave a sigh of relief, using the opportunity to look through the room, and headed to the farthest end of it. He figured, given the possibility that if this Mizushima woke up, he could act like he walked into the wrong room. It may at least confuse them long enough for him to make an immediate escape.

He began to pick up magazines strewn on the floor, looking for dates, trying to get an idea of how long this person had been staying in this room. He felt his skin go pale once he realized the dates on some of them were older than 2 years. Could they have really been keeping someone so long? The idea put dread into his stomach. Had he moved from one inescapable prison to another? He shook his head. He couldn’t let that sit with him, not right now at least. Momota continued to shift through the room. There were clothes strewn about, some pamphlets describing different types of medications, and then some crayon drawings.

The drawings seemed childish in nature, but also too elaborate to be so at the same time. Momota looked through them and a sudden feeling of guilt washed over him. He realized how personal this really seemed to be, rummaging through someone else’s belongings while they slept not even 10 feet from you. For all he knew, this was their child’s drawings. He set the paper down, groaning slightly as he began to push himself up off the ground. He could come back when it was presumably morning, or when this person was awake at the least to ask questions.

Momota turned heel, making his way back to the door. His heavy footsteps squelching underneath while his eyes kept steady on the person in bed. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have almost believed they weren’t breathing. He was too distracted and let his focus stray on them for too long. So much so, that his slippers landed on a discarded magazine that had fallen from another pile. His footing lost completely and he desperately tried to regain his stance, instead falling forward, straight flat onto the ground.

Not only that, but while in this midst of falling, he tried to grab at a pile to stop himself, but only succeeded in pulling it down with him. He yelped in pain as his face hit the floor while piles of items quickly fell onto his back. Momota groaned, pain filling his whole body. He struggled to lift himself back up, items falling from him as he did and coughed out violent, suppressed air. Covering his mouth quickly, to try and dull the sound, he looked up to check the person on the bed but they didn’t move. Not once...

Momota began to wonder if the person was either deaf or just a really heavy sleeper. Maybe they weren’t breathing after all, a voice sounded in his mind, maybe they were dead. They hadn’t even shifted at all and he supposed that was lucky, but now he couldn’t even shake the idea of them possibly being a corpse. He took an unsteady breath, calming his coughing down slowly and removing his hand from his mouth. It was time to head back to his room, this night becoming too much for him now.

Then, the sirens were suddenly filling his ears as he looked toward his hand.

Blood.

There was blood seeping between his fingers, sticky and red. It filled his nose with the sickening scent. He wanted to vomit, feeling all the warmth escape his body instantly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They told him he was basically better and that his body would just cough once in a while, right? The doctors told him it was just an after effect, that he shouldn’t have any blood come up. Panic set in, only triggering more coughs to escape from his mouth. He got up and quickly rushed out of the room. The ringing in his ears sounded like the trial room, inside of the cockpit, the squelch of a bod--

He ran straight, hitting a wall in front of him. The world shouldn’t be spinning. It was supposed to be safer now, there shouldn't be any blood. Momota fell to the ground, coughing onto the floor violently. He couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing in his ears. Not even the noise that sounded near the end of the hall did he hear anymore. Wheels squeaked their way towards him and a pair of eyes fell onto him.

Momota breathed in heavily, trying to calm down. Just calm down and the blood will stop. Just calm down and you won’t cough. He couldn’t die here, he hasn’t done anything with his life yet. He can’t die here, he can’t die here, he can’t--

Momota opened his eyes, looking down at the blood droplets that had made their way to the floor. He tried to breathe easy, to relax, but the lingering scent and taste of blood was going to send him into another panic at any moment. There were also eyes that he could feel on his back and he wondered if a doctor had probably heard all of his fussing around, coming to finally check on him. He didn’t have the heart to look up at them, whoever they were. If anything, they would just put him back in his room, or another entirely just to find out why he was coughing up blood again. His eyes closed, gulping down saliva mixed with the metallic taste best he could. Maybe he could play this off somehow and recompose himself.

He breathed in and out, trying to relax, but it was futile as a coughing fit erupted from his lungs violently. It burned as he doubled over in pain. A hand made its way to his back. It seemed hesitant at first, like it wasn’t sure if it should be there, before the base of it began to rub circles into the fabric above his skin. Slowly, it brought him comfort, his cough receded, and he slumped slightly against the wall.

The stranger didn’t speak. Once the coughing had finished, their hand was recovered. Momota slowly drew his gaze up, turning his head towards the figure. His eyes widened and stared back in utter disbelief. The figure before him carefully slumped  back into his wheelchair.

The young man shifted his torso, his hands going to the wheels of the chair to back up slightly and give Momota more space. Dark hair framed the small, pale skinned face that Momota could compare to being almost as white as the walls in his room. Bags lay under his eyes, he looked as tired as Momota had felt.

He looked Momota over, dark eyes obviously scrutinizing him. The young man could see the blood drying on the other’s face. The stain caked mostly against his nose, which had turned a red color and was obviously going to be bruised the next day. It also held tight into the excuse for facial hair that Momota had. The young man huffed, closing his eyes before turning his head towards the doorway behind him. He could see the imprints of waterlogged footsteps leading into the room, scowling at the sight. His face turned back to the other man on the ground. “Momota-chan, what were--”

The sentence was stopped with a shocked noise as Momota lurched forward, grabbing his hand from one of the wheels. He held it in a vice like grip, pulling it closer to himself. The young man wailed, trying to pull away from him. The sleeve of his hospital outfit had pulled up in the action, revealing his wrist covered in yellowish marks.

Momota held his hand for a while and the young man relented to let him, breathing deep breaths. One… Two... Three... Then he could finally speak. “... You… You aren’t dead… Ouma…” It was all he could muster out. He looked up at Ouma, who in response had rolled his eyes before pulling his hand away. Momota let him, allowing his own flop to the ground instead.

“Oh no, I’m SUPER dead, Momota-chan! Didn’t you know? This is Hell! We’re in Hell. I guess you’re just too dumb to notice that, huh?” The sarcasm practically leaked from his entire being. He leaned back into his chair, grumbling something under his breath that Momota couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m not dumb!” Momota growled out, new life sparking into him. “This is a hospital, not Hell! Stop fucking around!”

Ouma sighed, looking back towards Momota and eyed him over. Momota wasn’t very much to look at, if Ouma were honest. Compared to how he remembered him, he was different. His cheeks were sunken in, probably due to the fact he had been on a feeding tube for what was over a month. Despite his skin being slightly pale at the moment, it still held a tinge of someone of a darker complexion. Ouma assumed a few days out in the sun would bring that color right back though. Momota’s hair was flopped sadly over to the right side while his facial hair had begun to sprout unevenly around what used to be a clean shave along his goatee. They were a dark black color, it seemed too. The blood was the same from last time he saw him, though Ouma knew better. He could obviously tell Momota had been having a nose bleed just now and not dying of some unknown illness.

This was Momota Kaito alright, but it was obvious the simulation had clearly gone about prettying him up. He wasn’t half bad looking, to say the least, but not as picture-perfect as one would have remembered. Though, maybe he could have probably gotten away to being as very close of a look alike if he wanted. Ouma had seen this difference in himself too. He could remember his face in the simulation at least and they contrasted the very slight differences in himself now. His body was much thinner for sure, much more unhealthy looking in reality.

“Why were you in my room?” Ouma tried to ask again, his tone much more demanding than before. “Don’t lie and say you didn’t. I saw your footprints on the ground. It’s pretty creepy to go snooping around people’s rooms, you know?”

Momota huffed at that statement. “Like you’re one to talk!” At least, Momota seemed back to his usual self. “I heard something and wanted to see if anyone was hurt! Also, that’s not your room unless you’re sharing it!”

“What-- Oh, right, you’re that dumb. God, even Gokuhara-chan wouldn’t have fallen for that trick after he turned on the lights. That’s just so sad, Momota-chan..” Ouma shook his head with a tsk, giving a pitying look. “You probably mistake department store mannequins for employees, don’t you?” He moved the wheelchair to turn it, yawning in an exaggerated tone before Momota could retort. “Well, this conversation is putting me to sleep! I’m gonna--”

Ouma groaned as Momota had, again, grabbed at his hand to keep him in place. He let himself sit still but gave him a look regardless. Momota wasn’t looking at him though, instead his gaze was transfixed at the other’s arm. Ouma tried to remove his hand now, but Momota stubbornly kept it before observing the arm back and forth, looking up at him puzzled.

“Why are you in a wheelchair?” Momota asked, the concern in his voice almost poisonous, feeling undeserved if anything. “Did someone hurt you?” There was an anger that began to show through his eyes, but it wasn’t at Ouma. That resentment sounded through his voice, boiling deep in his chest. It made Ouma’s heart flutter a bit, but he quickly suppressed that feeling away. This was enough, and he pulled his arm away again to signal that to him. There was a slight hesitation but Momota relented and let him go.

Ouma smiled a sardonic, tight lipped smile. “Why yes,” he said, familiar venom coating his own words. “Actually, someone dropped a hydraulic press on me.”

He regretted his statement almost immediately. The hallway grew dead silent, the buzzing of lights the only noise breaking it. Somehow, it made it worse. Momota looked as if Ouma had stabbed him right then and there. All the confidence and anger that had been inside him had disappeared at once. If this had happened before, Ouma would have maybe revelled in seemingly bringing this stupid bastard down a peg.

Maybe… Just maybe.

But, now... he just felt… awful?

Momota stood up slowly, turning his sight away from Ouma and glared down at his own feet. Nausea was rising up again and he felt like he needed to vomit. He could visualize the press, inhale that familiar smell of blood, and could hear the sickening squelch... then nothing. Only silence. The feeling of bile rose to his throat immediately. It was all too intense and he needed to escape before he puked. Before he couldn’t hold back angry, frustrated tears any longer.

He covered his mouth and turned his back on Ouma, wanting to move away from him entirely…. But, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to return to his own room at all. He stood there dumbly, trying to figure out exactly where he could go from here. There was probably somewhere he could escape to, a rec room of sorts. He began to let his feet move him away. Ouma eyed him before letting a groan erupt from his throat.

“No,” Ouma huffed, trailing after him. He attempted to grab at his shirt with one hand, the other attempting to keep the wheelchair going straight, but ultimately it began to sway to the side. “Wait. Stop, I can’t keep this shitty thing--” He apprehended the fabric into his hand, gripping it tightly. Ouma grinned triumphantly at his capture and looked up at Momota's back. “Where are you going? We were talking, I thought you didn’t like when I ran away from your conversations, why do you get to leave mine?”

Momota paused as he felt his shirt pull tight against his stomach. He didn’t retort, he knew if he tried he would end up losing the battle with his nausea. He closed his eyes and swallowed down the bile threatening to escape his throat, a sick noise bursting from his chest out of his throat as he took in a breath of air. Concern bloomed in Ouma’s eyes at the sound.

“I- Are you okay??” He released Momota’s shirt, wheeling himself so he could try and face him. Momota took this chance and made a break for it, going towards the trash can at the end of the hall. His slippers squished and squashed against the clean floors. Their wetness, again, being Momota’s literal downfall. He fell to the ground, throwing his hands to catch himself this time. His eyes were screwed shut as he began to spew out stomach acid.

Momota’s whole body began to ache, but he did not let himself fall to the ground. He let his eyes open for a moment, only to find himself back in the hanger. The walls were cold and unwelcoming, the sound of silence filling the room. He could still see the small, pale figure shivering on his coat. Momota could tell he was putting on a brave face, his lips tightly closed and his eyes shut as he waited to die. He waited for his executioner to hit the button and trade out a slow death for a far quicker one. Momota wondered if he would feel as calm when it was his turn to die.

He wondered how he could ever feel calm again knowing this was his fault.

It was true that Harukawa was the one to seal their fates, but Momota hadn’t the heart to blame her. He blamed himself. If he had been braver, maybe just a bit stronger, maybe he would have tried to confront Ouma earlier. If he could have worked out what Ouma was doing before Harukawa had a chance to even think of resorting to killing. If he had tried to understand Ouma better, or if he had tried to get others to understand Ouma better.

If, if, if.

Ouma withdrew at the sight, feeling his own body begin to retch. He held the feeling down though. He noted the fact there didn’t seem to be any food in the vomit, just acid. When was the last time Momota had eaten? He heard hospital food tasted rather nasty, but he didn’t think that would deter Momota’s ravenous appetite. Ouma gulped down and approached again, placing a hand against Momota’s back once more.

Momota breathed slowly as he looked up at Ouma. Ouma could see the lack of focus in Momota’s eyes, like he wasn’t quite where the other was. He wondered if Momota could see the fear he felt, looking at him like this. If he could see the uncertainty of what to do now, how his brain wasn’t finding a solution. Momota took in another breath as the fog lifted from his eyes, attempting to speak.

“... Your death… I didn’t want--” Momota heaved again, looking back to the ground. Ouma frowned, assuming what Momota wanted to say. He presumed Momota was saying he didn’t want to use the press, that he didn’t want to be part of his plan. A part of him wanted to be snarky and said he could have chosen to not do it if he very well wanted, nobody forced his hand.

“H-Hey… You’re fine. I… I don’t blame you, you know?” Ouma wasn’t sure where this nervous feeling was coming from, maybe guilt. It swelled in his chest, ready to burst, and he wanted it to go away. He looked around the hallway, paranoid. Momota was making more noise than Ouma ever did in the nights he’s spent here. Orderlies would probably come poking about, and Ouma wasn’t up dealing with them. He pulled at Momota’s clothing again. “Come on, let’s get out of the hall.”

“... To…” Momota gave a dry heave, trying his best to sit up. “To… Where?” His body shook, this vulnerability wasn’t something Ouma was used to seeing in him. He looked around, as if he had forgotten where he was. He wheeled himself back, releasing Momota from his grip. “My room, come on.” He headed towards it, looking back momentarily towards Momota.

Momota sat in front of his own bile for a moment, nothing running through his head. His whole body felt weak, he couldn’t find the energy to even lift his head. He heard Ouma cough, as if trying to grab his attention. He probably thought Momota was ignoring him, or out of it. He heard Ouma huff in exasperation.

“Earth to Momota-chan~” Ouma gave a sing-songy tone to his irritation. “You shouldn’t rest in the hall~” He continued his teasing, maybe hoping to rile Momota up so that he would follow him. Even resorting to saying ‘here boy, come on, who wants a treat~?’ Momota just didn’t have the energy to get up. He heard Ouma huff again.

Wheels squeaked away, presumably into the room. Momota heard nothing after, and could only assume Ouma had given up. So, he continued to sit, no thoughts. He was so tired, he wanted to sleep so badly, but he was trying to stop the exhaustion, trying to keep himself from falling into his own sickness. He heard the wheelchair again, it approached him. Momota wondered what Ouma was up to now, but didn’t have it in him to look at him.He heard a thump against the floor, and then tugged at his clothes.

“ Move. ” Ouma demanded, pulling harder. “You don’t have to stand, but you have to move. Drag yourself.” Momota could feel Ouma trying to drag him, trying to get him away from the puddle. He let him, trying to be as helpful as he can to follow his lead. Ouma drew them both to the wall closest to his door, groaning at the exertition. He reached over for a blanket he had, presumably, thrown on the ground, pulling it over both of them. “Dumbbass just sleeps in a hallway, unbelievable…”  Ouma grumbled, fixing it carefully.

Momota was unsure what to do or say as Ouma relaxed, almost against him but not quite. Momota could feel his eyes droop close, feeling an ease overtake him. The blanket was warm, warm enough to distract him from the cool ground around him. He didn’t know why Ouma had decided to take to the floor as well, why didn't he just leave Momota out in the hall by himself. He wondered if in the morning he’d get an earful for it. Ouma yawned quietly, moaning about the lights before pulling himself more under the blanket. Momota listened as Ouma grew quiet, falling asleep from what he could tell.

Momota relaxed, finally being able to find it in himself to rest.

[bunnyhanasong]

Lost and Found

Main ship: pharmercy

Side ships: n/a

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, reunion

Synopsis: Dr. Angela Ziegler has spent years focusing solely on her work and saving lives. When a familiar face comes to her in the worst way imagined, the level-headed doctor is left battling logic and emotion in a way she never wished to experience.

Note: This is a short story that I wrote for my creative writing course last semester that I have edited to contain Pharah and Mercy as opposed to my original characters I submitted it with. As I was writing it, I noticed how much inspiration I had taken from Pharmercy with the doctorxsoldier trope, so I thought I would edit it and post as a fan fic since I'm rather fond of it and got a very good mark on it. So, Mr. O if you're reading this; yes this short story was basically gay Overwatch fan fiction lmao. For now this is just a oneshot, though I have thought about expanding the story in the future. Feedback, comments, and suggestions for future pieces in this universe are very much appreciated and will motivate me to write again for this!

Content warnings: canon typical violence, medical talk, military talk, PTSD, traumatic injuries, takes place in a hospital

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Incoming trauma, IED blast with three major casualties; one DOA, two in critical condition.

Angela groaned as her pager beeped angrily at her, the words highlighting the screen causing her to shoot up from her bunk. The on-call room was dark and there were at least two other pagers beeping away, trying to get their owners up to meet the trauma. The bottom bunk she had been occupying for less than 45 minutes, though not exactly the pinnacle of comfort, was warm and inviting in that moment. Still, she pushed herself up and made to leave, trying to pull her blonde hair into a haphazard bun as she followed the other doctors out into the hallway.

The doctor and nurse in front of Angela were chattering in what she knew was Arabic, though her minimal knowledge in the language rendered eavesdropping nearly impossible. Angela was from Switzerland originally, so she only spoke German and English, the latter being thanks to school. She had chosen to learn English throughout high school and university, which came in handy since that was the tongue she spoke predominantly here. She was the head doctor of a Swiss medical aid team, sent to a military base outside of Cairo, Egypt to help their short-staffed trauma centre. None of her team knew Arabic, save for a few phrases, so they were relying on each other and their English knowledge to get them through the mission. As the head doctor and the most fluent English speaker, Angela was the one who received the most information from the Military doctors.

“Dr. Ziegler,” an accented voice brought Angela’s attention to the nurses’ station across the trauma bay. She made her way to the nurse who had said her name, a kind, stout Egyptian woman by the name of Salma. She had been the friendliest nurse by far and welcomed the Swiss doctors warmly. Coming to stand by the triage desk, Angela asked the nurse for more information on what had occurred.

“Our military had sent a team to patrol a territory not far from the base where reports had been made of criminal activity. I guess they stepped too close to unmapped land, an IED mine went off before anyone could react. We lost one immediately, the other two are on the bus in critical condition; ETA 10 minutes.”

Angela nodded along with her words, feeling her stomach sink at the fact that they lost a patient already. She shook off the thought though, no sense in getting emotional now; she would just need to focus on keeping the remaining two alive. She had already seen her fair share of explosion aftermath in her two weeks on base already, which was a terrifying wake up call for the woman. Still, as a doctor she had learned quickly that one must separate feelings from work, otherwise the emotional impact of the job would have put her out of commission years ago. She kept this in mind as she left the nurses’ station, passing a group of Egyptian staff barking orders in Arabic and making her way to a familiar redheaded woman.

“Ange!” the younger doctor greeted Angela in German with a sign of relief, “We have no idea where to even start with this. Do you have any more information on the trauma?”

Amelia Schmidt, 35-year-old and a cardio surgeon by trade, though here she had switched from daily open heart surgeries to more frequent traumas and millions of sutures. She had been Angela’s closest friend since they started working at the same hospital almost about eight years prior. She was certainly a spunky person, always ready to jump into action and meet the problem head on. Being in Egypt was changing that for Amelia though, she felt very out of her element and was finding herself relying on Angela a lot more than usual. The language barrier was certainly difficult, not to mention the culture shock, and Amelia finally felt the overwhelming weight of her profession full force. Still, she never lost her spirit and still kept Angela and the others optimistic, her jovial attitude making nightshifts and long days a bit more bearable.

“Two casualties incoming, both soldiers. Landmine went off and they must have got the front of the blast. Jump in where you can and keep an eye on the younger doctors with us in case translation becomes a problem. If you need help with Arabic, let Salma know like always.”

Amelia nodded at her friend’s words, “Okay.”

Angela didn’t have time to ask her friend how things had been while she had taken a short nap, because the doors to the trauma bay crashed open. There was a lot of shouting in multiple languages as Dr. Ziegler tried to direct her staff in German while the local doctors did the same in their language. She ran up to the medic pushing a gurney, asking in her heavily accented English what they were looking at.

The paramedic looked slightly confused but thankfully answered the blonde woman in English after a moment’s pause, “Private Ahmed Abassi, age 23. GCS 8, responds to pressure but currently nonverbal and only semi-conscious. He was thrown by the explosion and has a suspected rib fracture and shoulder dislocation. Abdomen seems stiff, we assume some internal bleeding but could not get a portable ultrasound in the field.”

Angela nodded as they wheeled into a trauma room, stopping so she could pull on a pair of gloves. She worked with the nurses who had come to help, doing a secondary scan of the patient’s body. She identified some shrapnel that caused superficial wounds but her main concern was the distention of his abdomen and the apparent pain response the young soldier had to it. He was barely conscious but groaned in pain as she palpated the area, apologizing to him gently in Arabic as she continued to check his chest and torso for injuries. Though her words were jumbled and she stuttered more than she liked, Angela still made sure to speak to her patient calmly through her exam, just in case he was more aware than they thought. She asked a nurse to get the portable ultrasound and x-ray so they could check for internal injuries, which was her greatest concern in that moment. As she was monitoring his vitals and reassessing his condition on the coma scale chart, one of her younger doctors ran into the room.

“Dr. Ziegler,” the young man asked in a slightly overwhelmed tone, “Dr. Khan is asking for your help in trauma one.”

Angela nodded and turned to a nurse she knew spoke English, “I will be back to check on Private Abassi in a bit, please get those blood tests and the type-and-cross orders ASAP.”

She followed the resident out into the hall and found Dr. Khan standing outside the trauma room in question. The Egyptian doctor was the head trauma surgeon there and was very no-nonsense. She was tall and slightly intimidating, years of military training apparent in her posture and demeanour. Still, she had been friendly and helpful to the visiting doctors, which Angela was thankful for. She didn’t even have a chance to ask what was wrong before the other woman spoke in a terse voice.

“Female in her early thirties. She is awake and noncompliant. Traumatic trans-radial amputation and other assumed injuries we cannot diagnose due to her adamance to leave. She needs to be examined and we need to operate but we first need to assess her mental state.”

Angela was a bit taken aback by the sudden information dump, “And you need me because...?”

“Your friend said you worked in psychology before switching to surgery, yes?”

Ah, so she wanted a psych consult. Angela had done a minor is psychology and worked as a psychiatrist for a couple years before deciding she much rather preferred the surgical side of her profession. It had been years since she had done a proper psych consult, but her knowledge of the workup and proper patient care had not escaped her.

“I did. Do you need me to do a workup now? Shouldn’t her physical injuries take priority?”

Dr. Khan shook her head, “We have reasons to believe this is a Post-Traumatic Stress attack. She took the biggest force of the explosion; witnesses say she threw herself towards it to protect her younger soldiers. She is a security chief, so we know she has seen a lot of battle already, and was held captive by enemy forces for a fortnight last year.”

“And unknown people touching her while she is in shock may cause her to become violent or prone to self-injury,” Angela concluded, nodding. She gestured for the trauma surgeon to take her to see the patient, following behind her into the room. It had been a while since she had done a proper psych evaluation, but she was hopeful that this would be simple and not include any communication barriers.

There was a large amount of hospital personnel in the room, surrounding a figure clad in a tattered military uniform. There was a group of nurses trying to dress the soldier’s arm, which had been amputated, probably by shrapnel, just below the elbow. That needed to be assessed and closed properly, but surgery was not an option until a proper workup was done. To do a workup though, they first needed to calm the patient so she would be compliant; which was already proving to be an issue. The soldier was thrashing in the nurses’ hold, trying to escape their grasp and the IV in her remaining arm.

Jumping into action, Angela waved away two security personnel who were trying to restraint the soldier’s wrist and ankles, “You are only making this worse by restraining her. Please refrain from touching the patient.”

Making her way towards the bed, she glanced back at Doctor Khan, “Patient name?”

She looked down at the patient and didn’t even hear Khan’s response. It wasn’t necessary; she new exactly who this was. If her name badge on her uniform, somehow still intact, wasn’t identifiable enough, the eye of Horus tattoo under her right eye gave away her identity. The patient’s terrified dark eyes met hers and Angela knew that there was recognition under the layers of shock and drug-induced haze.

“F-fareeha?” Angela murmured, shocked, and took a seat in the chair pulled up beside the hospital bed. She had already tuned out all the background noise of the room, focusing completely on the woman in front of her. She was trying very hard to separate emotions from the situation, but now that she knew who the patient was it was becoming increasingly difficult. Still, she had a job to do and that was the priority in this moment.

Returning her focus to the task at hand, Angela spoke softly to the injured soldier in front of her. She had obviously recognized the blonde doctor by now and was staring at her in confusion, as if she could not understand why Angela was in front of her. The way she looked at her was reassuring though, since she seemed responsive despite her injuries and apparent blood loss. Angela took a glance at the monitor for a moment to check her vitals, saw her heart rate and blood pressure were concerningly high, and took a moment to attempt to soothe the patient’s nerves.

“Fareeha, I need you to stay still, okay?” Angela tried again to reassume her doctor tone as she spoke to the soldier, “You need to let us take care of you. Take a deep breath for me, alright?”

The Egyptian woman tried to speak but she was having trouble, whether that be due to focusing issues or her pain. The other hospital staff were speaking loudly and it was clearly distracting the patient. She was trying to even her breathing like Angela asked, but too deep of an inhale caused her breathing to hitch and her whole body to flinch, which made her assume she had sustained some broken ribs. Fareeha fumbled around on the bed until she caught Angela’s hand with her remaining one, looking up at the doctor with tear-filled eyes. The blonde didn’t pull her hand away, sensing that she needed comfort in this moment, and just hushed her gently.

“Focus on me, alright? Can you understand me?” she had been speaking English the whole time, since she knew Fareeha knew it as well. It was easier than attempting to speak her rusty Arabic, which probably wouldn’t be understandable anyway considering how much her voice wavered. After a pause, Fareeha nodded shakily, wincing as her body disagreed with the movement.

“Good, stay still,” Angela was still holding her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You’re safe, Fareeha. You had an accident out in the field but we’re going to get you through this.”

Angela was trying her best to stay calm herself, speaking softly and keeping the patient’s focus on her. She knew she was letting her emotions get the better of her but she couldn’t help it. Not when Fareeha had such a tight grip on her hand and her eyes held so many questions and so much pain. Still, she knew the most important thing was to keep Fareeha distracted so her heart rate stayed down, wanting to avoid any more panic. She could see the nurses still trying to staunch the flow of blood from Fareeha’s amputation, silently praying that the patient stayed unaware of that aspect of her injury for the time being.

“M-my… my t-team?” the soldier’s voice was raspy and she spoke through gritted teeth but to Angela it was a relief to hear, “Are… t-they o…okay?”

That question made Angela hesitate, glancing back anxiously at Dr. Khan. She didn’t know how to respond to that, since she was not aware of how Ahmed’s condition was faring and did not even know the name of the soldier who had been killed by the blast. Fareeha squeezed her hand, trying to catch her attention again, and Angela sighed. Of course it was just like Fareeha to only care about her team when faced with life threatening injuries herself, ever the selfless hero she was.

“Private Abassi is in surgery right now, Chief Amari,” Khan supplied quickly, “Your other members are either back at base or in the waiting room.”

Angela did not want to lie to Fareeha but knew they could not tell her the truth about the deceased. It would not be fair to distress her like that, not now, and it would certainly ruin things after they had finally gotten her calm. The doctor just nodded along with the attending surgeon’s words, making eye contact with Fareeha.

“Fareeha, you need surgery,” though the extent of her injuries was not yet known, it was obvious she would need to be anesthetized to have her traumatic amputation corrected and cleaned up. She was unsure if the patient had even registered that she was missing her hand and forearm, most likely due to shock or the concern for her team she seemed to hold over her own health.

“Surgery?”

Angela hummed in affirmation, frowning at the way the younger woman sounded so confused, “Can you let the other doctors look you over? I promise you are safe; we just need to make sure you’re not bleeding internally or have any fractures we missed.”

It took a little more coaxing and Angela promising to stay right beside her before the younger woman agreed. The Swiss doctor held her hand the whole time, spoke to her gently in English and broken Arabic, hoping to calm her nerves. The doctor’s shaky attempt at speaking her mother tongue made Fareeha smile despite her pain, a familiar and warm sight that soothed Angela’s own anxieties. When Doctor Khan confirmed that Fareeha had suffered major bruising and a few rib fractures, as well as a concussion, she ordered some scans to make sure there was no bleeding or injury they had missed.

The other staff members were still bustling around, ordering scans and cleaning up the space. Angela had stepped away to speak to the attending doctor, explaining how she knew Fareeha and what steps they had to take now. The soldier in question was slumped back into the uncomfortable neck brace she was stuck in, still trying to crane her neck to see the only familiar face she knew in the room.

“Angie?”

The nickname Angela had not been called in years made her jump, sure Amelia called her “Ange” sometimes but that was different. There was a mixture of fondness and fear in Fareeha’s voice as she called out to the blonde doctor, who had been speaking to Khan in a hushed tone across the room. Turning her attention back to the patient who called for her, Fareeha’s dark eyes searching for reassurance before the unfamiliar nurses wheeled her to the operating theatre.

Angela walked back to her side, not even thinking as she reached out to brush matted dark hair off Fareeha’s face, “You’ll be alright, Fareehali.”

The affectionate nickname surprised the younger woman, “W-will you be here… when it’s d-done?”

Angela nodded, “Of course. I promise.” The fear and uncertainty was clear on her face and it broke Angela’s heart, seeing this strong soldier so scared. She held onto Fareeha’s hand for a little longer, promising her that the surgery would be over before she knew it and Fareeha was in good hands.

When she was reassured that there would be a familiar face there when she woke up, the solider let the staff members wheel her down the hallway. Angela was left in the hall by herself, dumbfounded by the situation she had just been thrown into. She went back to the trauma bay in a daze, worry eating away at her stomach as she slouched heavily against a wall.

“Ange?” Amelia’s cheerful voice drew her out of her thoughts, “You okay?”

Angela shrugged, already feeling the dull ache of a migraine throbbing in her skull, “Patient’s gone to surgery.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow, “You’re not operating? You have privileges here and usually you never pass up the chance to operate.”

The older woman had taken a seat in a chair, her head falling into her hands as she felt her body weighed down with the emotions she had tried to fight off. She stayed quiet for a moment as she tried to collect herself, feeling her friend’s concerned stare drilling into her. Angela didn’t raise her head to look at Amelia and her reply was muffled.

“Can’t operate. Not on her.”

“Who?”

Angela sighed, “The security chief with the traumatic amputation. She’s… uh… she’s my ex-girlfriend.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing Fareeha was aware of when she woke up was the scent of disinfectant, which was so strong it felt like a hit to the face. The second thing she noticed was that her left arm was numb, and a quick glance down explained why. Her elbow was wrapped in a tight layer of bandages, but the rest of her lower arm was gone, an empty space on the bed where it should be. She recalled one of the nurses mentioning something about a traumatic amputation, but it had disappeared from her mind in a haze of adrenaline and pain medication. She was not too sure about much that had happened in the trauma room, to be honest; everything fuzzy with the weight of anesthetic. Now, though, the reality was hitting her; she was missing her left arm and might never fight again.

She felt a weight on her other arm and turned her head, much too fast which made her wince, and saw a familiar figure beside her. Angela Ziegler was there in all her glory, slumped over in a visitor’s chair that had been pulled as close to the bed as possible. She was fast asleep, her hand clutching tightly to Fareeha’s remaining one as if she would disappear if Angela let go. She was still clad in her beige scrubs, her rumpled white coat having been discarded over the back of the chair, and her hair was a mess, tumbling over her shoulders as if it had fallen from its haphazard knot. Despite her clear exhaustion and disheveled state, Fareeha would never be over how beautiful the Swiss woman was, and she felt her heart clench painfully as she remembered how bittersweet this reunion was.

Their breakup was not exactly a bad one; there had not been any ill feelings or fights. It was mostly a mutual decision out of necessity rather than falling out of love. Fareeha had been an exchange student in Switzerland back in her second year of University. She soon met Angela, a quiet and calculated med student well on her way to her degree. They quickly became friends and improved their English together as a means of communication. Like so many cliché love stories, their friendship grew closer until it was more than that. They dated for a while, Fareeha staying in Switzerland longer than her exchange had been for, and they were happy. Thing were good and Angela even made solid plans to visit her girlfriend the next summer in Egypt when she undoubtably would have to go home.

When Fareeha went back to Egypt, they made long distance work for a while and it was still okay. It was when the Egyptian woman told her girlfriend she would be joining the army that Angela knew things wouldn’t work out, not then anyway. They were too far apart and she needed to focus on her career, Fareeha’s military service would leave her plagued by fear for her partner’s safety and distract her from the hospital. Fareeha proposed a break, understanding Angela’s point of view but knew the older woman would never stop her from doing what she wanted. Angela had let her go without a fight and they parted ways, though there had been many tears on both sides and a long skype call of apologies and regrets.

They had stayed in touch at first, friendly and civil, but soon grew apart. Mostly due to Fareeha’s training and deployments, which prohibited her from using her phone often. Eventually their correspondence lulled until it stopped all together. It had been maybe three years since they last spoke by then and Fareeha was completely overwhelmed by the doctor’s presence. The fact that she was here though, since she must she have had work to be doing, was reassuring. It made her feel safe to have Angela here, especially since her mind threatened to swallow her in a whirlwind of memories and trauma. Though it didn’t stop the panic completely, Angela being there was enough to keep her from falling deep into her head in that moment.

The effects of the anesthetic were wearing off, though she still felt groggy from the IV of what she assumed was morphine. She certainly wasn’t complaining about the drugs though, since she knew her pain would have been almost blinding without the steady flow of pain relief into her bloodstream. Now that her head was clearer, Fareeha tried her hardest to distract herself from the overwhelming numbness she felt on her left side. She felt as though maybe the fact that she had had a traumatic amputation hadn’t sunk in completely beforehand, but now that the pain was breaking through her hazy mind, she felt the panic over the topic rising.

Thinking about it only made it worse, Fareeha noted, but she couldn’t stop herself. Left in the silent and bland hospital room to her own devices, her head was filled with memories from the accident as they all flooded back. The yell of shock that left her friend Noor as she realized too late that she stepped on an unmarked mine. The way she had thrown herself to grab her friend but had been too late to stop the damage. The force of the explosion that sent them all flying backwards. It all came back in a rush, overwhelming her beyond belief.

Her head was aching, she had a concussion if she remembered correctly, and she just wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep would surely bring nightmares now, though, and the solider was not sure how much more panic she could handle at that point. Fareeha tried to focus her mind on Angela instead, observing her sleeping form languidly in an attempt to keep herself calm. She gave the doctor’s hand a gentle squeeze, more as reassurance for herself than anything, and it caused the other woman to stir.

“Fareehali?” the nickname was mumbled and tired, followed by a string of words in German that Fareeha was unable to place properly. It had been too long since she head or spoke in Swiss-German, her third language, and she was too out of it to recognize what the doctor said. Hearing her voice was reassuring though, even though the sleepily mumbled words pricked at her heart more than she would like to admit; mind flooded with memories of their past. This time she wasn’t waking up in their shared bed next to the beautiful doctor, who was too tired to speak in anything but her mother tongue but still greeted Fareeha good morning with gentle kisses and a strong hug. This time she was injured and in the hospital, Angela was her doctor and they had been broken up for over half a decade. Thing were bittersweet, she sighed to herself, and this was certainly not how she imagined their reunion.

“Hi, Angie,” Fareeha replied as the blonde lifted her head, her grip on the other woman’s hand not faltering for a moment. It took a little while for Angela to wake up properly, her unruly hair sticking to sleep-flushed cheeks as she lifted her free hand to rub at her eye. After a moment though, she seemed to jump back into doctor mode.

“How’s your pain?” she questioned, glancing over at the machine beside the bed to check Fareeha’s vital signs. Fareeha couldn’t help but smile weakly at the focused look on her face, thinking she looked downright adorable when she was fussing over her like this. Perhaps an inappropriate thought for a soldier being treated for traumatic injuries, Fareeha would just blame her gay brain winning over logic for that though.

Fareeha shrugged weakly, “Can’t feel my arm,” she nodded pointedly to the bandaged stump that was propped up on a pillow as if it wasn’t obvious. She tilted her head back into the pillows and winced a little, “Head hurts.”

Angela frowned at that, reaching up to absentmindedly smooth her messy dark hair down, “I’m sorry, Fareeha.”

“Nothing anyone could do.”

“you… threw yourself in front of the explosion?”

Fareeha flinched but nodded all the same, “Not my finest idea. It seemed like the right thing to do though; I had to protect those kids. Dumbasses, the lot of them, but at the end of the day they’re good soldiers.”

Angela shook her head, “You could have died, Fareeha.”

“I could die any day, Angie. That’s how this line of work goes.”

“But…” Angela’s eyes were full of pain as she stared at her, “I can’t lose you… not again, Fareehali.”

That confession had Fareeha pausing, taken aback by the statement. It had been three years since they last spoke, six since they broke up, yet by that admission it sounded like Angela hadn’t let her go completely. Maybe she had not let Angela go either, still, that was a loaded statement and the solider was unsure of how to reply.

“Angela…” Fareeha spoke gently, though her tone was guarded, “It’s been so long.”

The blonde scoffed, blue eyes holding a challenging edge to their stare, “And? That doesn’t mean anything… I miss you, Fareeha. When I saw you in the trauma bay earlier, it was like my worst fear being realized before my eyes. If you had died down there or in surgery, I don’t know if I could have handled it.”

The Egyptian woman felt her heart sink as tears welled in Angela’s eyes. She hated seeing her in pain, hated that she couldn’t fix it immediately. The older woman had always been so strong, so calculated and sure of herself, so to see her now close to tears and almost shaking; it made Fareeha want to cry as well.

“I’m sorry,” Fareeha’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I didn’t want to leave you… I didn’t want to scare you like this.”

“I know…” Angela mumbled, hiding behind her curtain of blonde hair. She laughed at her own emotional behaviour and swiped at the tears on her cheeks, “This is so unprofessional of me.”

“Angie… how long have you been in Egypt?”

Angela looked at her with a sheepish smile, “Two weeks. We’re here for a couple months, unless something severe happens.”

Fareeha nodded, “Did you… think about contacting me?”

“I did, actually,” Angela laughed a little, “I contacted your mother. I wasn’t sure if you still had the same phone number so I found Ana though the trauma centre’s records, she works here sometimes, yeah?”

“Not as often as she used to but yeah. I haven’t talked to her in a while to be honest.”

“Fareeha!” Angela shook her head, “Call your mother for once, dumbass. She misses you.”

“I know”

The doctor sighed and observed her for a moment, “I… miss you.”

“Angie,” Fareeha sighed, watching her with pain in her eyes.

“I do.”

“I know” Fareeha said again, “I miss you too.”

Angela was holding onto her hand again, silent tears streaking down her cheeks. Fareeha tugged on her hand until she took the hint, slouching down so the soldier could wrap her arm around her. Angela melted against her strong body, trying to be careful and avoid straining her injuries. It felt safe like this, something neither woman had felt properly in years; the familiarity and warmth that came with the desperate embrace. This was the comfort both had missed so dearly, something the doctor had let go of out of fear of the unknown. Yet here they were six years later, the only reassurance they found from the unknown being in each other’s arms.

“Promise me,” Angela mumbled into her shoulder, “That you won’t scare me like this again. I can’t lose you, not after all this.”

“Angela, you couldn’t handle the distance last time…”

“I don’t care,” the Swiss woman wore her stress and exhaustion on her face as she lifted her head, “I’ll do whatever it takes this time. I’ll stay here if I have to, transfer all my work here. I can’t leave you, Fareeha, certainly not like this.”

“I-” Fareeha took a shaky breath, “You mean that?”

“Whatever it takes,” Angela’s tone was serious and firm, a sure nod punctuating her tearful words. Fareeha knew she wasn’t lying and she knew from experience that Angela never broke her promises. She also knew that the blonde was the most stubborn, head-strong woman she had the pleasure of meeting.

“Okay.”

“O-okay?”

“I promise,” Fareeha concluded as she held tightly onto the woman who had truthfully never stopped being the object of her affection, “I won’t leave you again.”

That admission made Angela burst into tears again, holding tightly to the younger woman as her whole body shook with a mixture of relief and emotion. Fareeha just held her as best she could, pressing a cautious kiss to the Swiss woman’s forehead, apologizing so quietly it was almost inaudible. It was an apology for a lot of things, leaving her; scaring her; not being there to protect and love Angela for all those years. Angela just scoffed and told her to shut up, returning her affection with a gentle kiss on the lips that held six years of pain, regret, and love.

Even though the future was terrifying and their reunion was as bittersweet as reunions go, none of that seemed to matter in that moment. All that mattered was the promise of safety and comfort they had found in each other all those years ago, a promise that felt stronger than any war, IED, or distance that threatened to separate them again.

[myfandomrambles]

Dhawan!Master Character Analysis

A look at Confused motivations, externalized anger, performance, self-destruction, boredom, and trauma

Confused Motivations:

Something I find interesting is that The Master’s motivations are not understood by himself. He professes it’s because he is angry that The Doctor is a key part of who he is and the “specialness” being The Timeless child gives her, but this is no way the whole story.

A more complete read of the motivations:

A biological concrete aspect has been added to the vacillations of feeling less than and better than The Doctor causing anger. 

A compulsive need to control The Doctor and make them the same by putting them on the same “level”

Anger at being even more of a tool and creation of the Time Lords and loss of autonomy & control thereof. 

Anger that they hurt The Doctor 

Boredom, apathy, impulse control deficits and general control issues informed by trauma. 

I doubt he is aware of all of these layers, and I believe The Doctor in the story and us as spectators will choose the one they believe is the “real” reason, but it was never just one. The Master flattens these motivations and explains it to The Doctor as almost all disdain for her, and blind rage, both actively in his emotions, and subconsciously to himself. 

We know The Master has been used by the Time Lords their whole life (longer if the child in the flashbacks is Baby!Master) and has their autonomy stripped to be used as a tool of the aristocracy. He is dealing with having the Time Lords who have taken his autonomy directly on a physical level via The Doctor’s DNA. Just like the drums and resurrection during The Time War, we have direct physical meddling by the high council. 

The Master has always felt that The Doctor and he are the same, that she is better than him, and that he is better than her in turn. This vacillating perception of her and their dynamic with each other is something we can see tracing through their relationship. This comes into play where they are used as foils and mirrors to each other. The Doctor Pointing this function of being the same while opposed to each other:

Twelve: “He's the only person that I've ever met who's even remotely like me.”

Bill: “So more than anything you want her to be good?

An interesting way we can see this change how they refer to each other sometimes using the present tense and past tense of the word friend. 

Ten: “A friend, At first” [Ten spends most of the time focused on them being ‘the last’ over a real relationship, but offer a hand]

Thirteen: “The Master was one of my oldest friends. We went very different ways.” [Thirteen is intensely emotional about the master, more so then we have seen her at almost any other point, but shows mostly anger and exhaustion]

Twelve: “Of course she's not dead. She's a friend of mine. I may have fiddled with your wiring a little bit.” [Both Missy and Twelve focus heavily on their friendship and fall heavily on their intimate history]

The Master also changes the description of their relationship 

Missy:“friendship older than your civilization, and infinitely more complex.”

Dhawan!Master: “I'm her best enemy.”

We see how the Fifth Doctor has an almost apathy to The Master, Seven takes the time to give him a proper burial, Ten and Twelve both seek out their respective Masters dreading the loss. The Master also does this being open about wanting attention, playing lower stakes dreams, being truly murderous, and abjectly cruel. The Master's self-perception shits as well; playing god on Gallifrey, making a personal army, putting her on a pedestal, dragging her down, and a suicidal streak. I think this helps illustrate the behaviour throughout the whole season. 

The Doctor and The Master compulsively try and get the other’s attention. The obsession is something pointed out by multiple other characters namely; The Brig, Jo Grant, and The Rani. We can see this in him taking the time to play at being O and in how even when he yells about wanting her dead he also always knows she will live why else would he leave a note for her that would show when she got to Gallifrey. The Master will get none of the sought after catharsis and compulsion to involve The Doctor if she actually died. In their Eiffel Tower confrontation;

Doctor: “When does all this stop for you? The games, the betrayals, the killing?”

Master: “Why would it stop? I mean, how else would I get your attention”

 His involvement this whole season is only about The Doctor, even the side operations of working with the baddie on earth, committing genocide and paling with the CyberMen are all about The Doctor and his need to exert control over both of their lives. 

The Master is angry that The Doctor was hurt. The Master has always had a kind of “Only I can hurt The Doctor” mentality. And considering he knows how it feels to be used and manipulated, I don’t think he wants The Doctor to suffer in that manner by the Time Lords. I don’t think it’s contradictory to want to hurt everyone else and also be angry The Doctor was hurt. Because of the obsessive thoughts around The Doctor, it would alter the thought patterns, The Master is not working based on logic. 

A real empathetic connection to The Doctor is present in the way someone who is in a toxic relationship will have. This goes both ways we can see this in the way they have all of these periods of differing extreme emotions, especially if you look at Simm->Missy->Dhawan. There is love there when they had a healthier relationship back when they were friends/crushes, but over time it’s been compromised through each hurting each other (whatever you pick/know of canon this still holds true) becoming toxic for most incarnations. I also don’t think this hot empathy for The Doctor would contradict not even having a cold empathy for the innocents slaughtered on Gallifrey (The at least 2.4 7 billion kids did nothing wrong) 

In general, I believe after going fishing in the matrix either on a whim or not the act of burning Gallifrey was likely an impulsive act. But after this, I think planning came into it, along with building the blocks for performance. He can formulate an elaborate game to play with The Doctor, The Matrix, live on earth, and The Cybermen to stave off boredom and attempt to integrate trauma and it will fulfil his rumination on The Doctor and the high council. I’ll talk more about trauma and boredom later. 

Externalized & Cyclical Anger:

When you are angry there are generally two ways people display these emotions: they put their pain into their own body and mind or put it on everyone else. Anger is healthy and The Master has every right to be angry at the high Gallifreyans who have treated him and his best friend like garbage from the very start. 

Dhawan!Master is a perfect example of someone taking their own pain and putting on everyone else. He is angry at so many things, some justified, some not but is dealing with this through externalization. He displays self-destructive anger but goes about the self-harm/suicidality by causing as much damage outwards as possible. A common Master trait, but very prevalent here, taking his own hurt and making others feel it, a stated goal more than once. 

He took this anger at a set number of people onto the entirety of the Gallifreyan people and stepped up the “flirting” and games he plays with The Doctor to one of the most painful versions they have. We can see The Master and The Doctor’s relationships take many different forms of the years but it has always been grounded in the need for the other's attention and anger from The Master at being left. With these added sources of anger they toss at each other it makes sense that we get different versions of tipping point moments when one of them “wins”. 

Another key here is that The Master shows a long history of serious anger rage that comes out in extreme ways. He suffers outbursts regularly and it’s something that worsens over time but even The Masters who were more in control we still see how anger is an undercurrent. And while The Doctor has a similar undercurrent The Master has this pattern of explosive outbursts that have slowly become more character-defining. 

Part of the cyclical anger is also the fear under there. The Master is afraid of so much, of not being enough, of being left behind, of not being who they thought they were, of dying (historically he has gone to crazy length to live), of continuing to live how he is, of being the worst of him, of being controlled and of the Time Lords. The Master runs from the Time Lords, using them yes, but never staying there. 

The Timeless Child revelation might have acted as a trigger for larger displays of anger, however, I think it’s key to The Master that this anger was there way before now. And it has caused mass suffering before now, this sympathetic grief and anger The Master shows in Timeless Children is compelling but it’s best understood a part of a cycle of outbursts of those emotions severely worsened by this latest re-traumatization. 

Performance:

The Master, like The Doctor, is a huge fan of performance art. This is something that has always been there with costumes, voice changes, dancing, and using this for both just plain fun and as a real tool. On a strictly meta-level, Sacha Dhawan was living for every moment and being able to meet and even surpass Whittaker for screen presence. It was his story almost anytime he was on screen. 

Narratively putting on a show was key, as O he is literally playing a part for The Doctor, and even keeping in contact as this persona. When in the past he is theatrical in his introduction in the science expo, in his character reveal in Ascension of the Cybermen his dialogue starts is:

Master: “Wow! Oh! Ah! That's a good entrance, right? Be afraid, Doctor. Because everything is about to change... forever.”

He literally asks if they liked his entrance, they liked how he presented himself. Then follows this up with this big pronouncement. Begging for the people on screen and us to pay attention to him. Which is generally one of the only moments in this episode that people really remember from the latter 1/2 of the episode. 

The entirety of the interactions with The Doctor on Gallifrey has a semi-planned performative aspect like he has a bit of script in his head and is using the environment as a stage, monologuing for the vast majority of the time. He critiques the performance as much as the substance of the Lone Cyberman’s plan. The body language and mannerisms are also very large and have a dancing aspect to it, or come across as severe and are trying to get a rise out of The Doctor or Cyberium. 

Another aspect to the performance is how he has these set pieces, of bringing her in, then trapping her, playing with the Death Particle and more than anything is the CyberMasters. He introduces them with a big speech, does the march with them and uses them to make a point more than to actually build an army. It’s also important to think he had to make the costumes and had this macabre point of putting the Time Lords into the Cyber Armour. 

The performance is more than anything just begging for attention. The Master loves to blow stuff up, watch the smoke of buildings, and fight with The Doctor, but it’s clear that they tried really hard to impact The Doctor more than anyone else. It’s clawing to be enough for The Doctor, prove himself, to win. Another way this performance is as a mask covering the fact The Master is falling apart. It's the duality of The Master always loved putting on the show but there is desperation undergirding it. We can see how The Master can start to jump in his speech mannerisms become more desperate and this facade of control drips to the anger and fear consuming him. 

By putting on a show, he is in control. He fears to be out of control, and the loss of identity both the Time War and the Timeless Children gave him. Controlling how he acts, how others view him and setting out a roadmap. Control through hurting others, hurting himself, through acting and of course just basic controlling others. 

Self-Destruction:

The Master is highly self-destructive here, something that is connected to a form of “anger in” and the aspects of control we talked about before. When the death particle fails to go off the first time he seems somewhat disappointed it didn’t just end right then:

Dhawan!Master: “Worried, were you? I thought if he was compressed, the Death Particle would activate and all this would be over. I would've been okay with that. I thought it was a nice little gamble. But no, here we are, all still alive.”

He is gambling with his life, I believe this to him would be a second-best ending to finishing the whole game and be face-to-face with The Doctor. More than anything though, it seems he wants to be able to end everything with The Doctor there as well. In this case that is the ultimate control he is seeking, to end the fear, grief, bitterness and pain. Suicidal thoughts don’t quite care if you complete your plan. 

The ultimate version of this plan puts The Doctor in the position of if she wants to save the world she must also join The Master in an act of extreme destruction. The interesting thing is it fails to put The Doctor on his level because instead of an act of anger, control and wanting harm this one is to prevent more death. If she had been able to do it it would have succeeded in making her die as a hero which is the opposite of the stated goal. The Doctor has taken cruel and pointlessly destructive steps before but this wouldn’t have been one of them. The Doctor has also been suicidal before this point, those moments would have been a lot closer to them being the same then this actions as well. 

Outside of the moral quandary, this is actually not that different from a murder-suicide in real life on a psychological level. Murder-suicide is also incidentally a highly male crime, which adds to an interesting pattern of invoking male violence. The Master wants to end his life but if this was the only goal he could have done it a million and one ways and send a note to The Doctor if he just wished her to know. But, like in real life part of it is wanting to control the other person too, he wants to control The Doctor and himself. The Master here has had his self-belief shattered, is depressed himself and feels The Doctor has become something less manageable with all this new information along with Thirteen being one of the least interested in The Master's games. This is interesting as I said before Dhawan!Master is the king of externalizing violence so even when his self-loathing drives him to suicidal urges the need to have The Doctor die with him and end anything that could possibly live on Gallifrey takes precedent. 

I think this is key because, for all the talk for pointing out that he is really suicidal, the murder-suicide aspect is really key to any honest reading of the situation. Because if the death particle plan had worked he would have just committed murder-suicide, even with The Doctor pulling the triggering. This act would have come after a psychological battering via The Matrix (which even if he has a real want for her to know it was done cruelly), threats to her friends, threats of mass violence, giving her the weapon it’s hard to say he wasn’t culpable in the death particle’s usage. Even the first plan would have killed her too. 

He is insistent that he broke her, she has nothing left, her world view is broken he finally brought her down. He needs The Doctor to be in the same headspace as he abjectly lost and searching for something worth living for. To feel understood and to be in control. Personally, I don’t think she has just accepted that none of this hurts and she is great because he gave her “gift of myself” and proved she “contain multitudes”, it feels more like her not wanting to give in to his control, to convince herself, but in the end, it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t win this time, and worse he dies without her. And interestingly she ends up taking the cowards route by making someone else fight her battle, this had nothing to do with ending the Cyber War it was ending a toxic relationship, a demolished culture and a Time War. 

Boredom:

Something I think I've not seen talked about a lot is that if The Master is displaying a show of chronic boredom this is something associated with a lot of people who are violent towards others and themselves. I think we can see this in his agitation, body language, speech patterns and just the sheer amount of what he accomplished during The Timeless Children. This is less visible in him being O as we don’t really know how much he was messing around or doing while in character, but the moment he stops the endless need to do something, anything shows up. 

If you think about it not everything he did is strictly necessary for the goals of destroying Gallifrey and then commit murder-suicide with The Doctor. But along with the need for a show, there is always something to do. And when each aspect of the plan finishes there is some joking and revealing but it also feels like “whoop that's done I'm bored again”. 

He’s compulsively doing something, anything, but as he mentions this isn't actually fully fixing anything. It’s something that really lends itself to both the outward and inward destruction. When nothing will ever calm the anger, nothing will help you regulate, no amount of stimulus can keep your attention, it leads to reckless and damaging behaviour. 

However, the game with The Doctor has to end, because this is the long game and now that we’re here she has to finish it too. The Doctor also has chronic boredom and he knows this, and that The Doctor has as little self-preservation as him. It tracks that when he makes the finale move he would assume The Doctor would be willing to act out too. 

Trauma:

I think it’s very clear this Master is dealing with trauma and we see a lot of signs, many of which I talked about but here is a list:

Agitation

Anger & rage

Chronic Boredom

Compromised empathy 

Compulsive behaviour

Depression

Destructive behaviours & suicidal actions

Dysregulated emotions

Enmeshment with The Doctor 

Identity issues 

Lashing out

Locus of control issues (Blaming everyone else while also needing to own it)

A need for control

Oscillating self-estimation

Preoccupation with those who traumatized them (with the timelords & The Doctor)

Reenacting trauma 

Ruminating thoughts

Sensory integration issues (stimming, could be linked to other conditions)

Trying to put on a show, (A trait associated with trauma linked PDS)

Thoughts of violence

Dysregulation of Emotions and Nervous System: The erratic emotions displayed by The Master overlaid with behaviours that some have identified as looking like stimming point to dysregulation. His feelings and affect jump around and are always at high levels. A point of interest, however, is that From Spyfall to Timeless Children the issue seems to worsen as the ability to put up a facade is gone. Now we know that it wasn’t really that long of a period where he was actively keeping it as we only saw him as O for a short time. But it tracks that after being exiled on earth and then into the Kassavian dimension his dysregulation would worsen. 

Preoccupation With Those who Traumatized Him: It’s so heavy in this story and even throughout the whole story The Master is locked on those who have hurt him, and the trauma thereof. The Master is used as a tool here the same way people manipulate The Doctor via their god and guilt complexes. The entire story is the Master having gone back to Gallifrey to try and enter the Matrix and then spend the whole time destroying Gallifrey and even then he can’t leave. New Who Masters specifically have their whole stories centred around the trauma Gallifrey did to them and their connection with The Doctor was changed by that event. And Dhawan!Master takes no action in this series that doesn’t involve this, even the plan with Kassavian is centred on getting the Doctor’s attention and setting up sending her to Galifrey. 

Replaying Trauma: This is a commonality between the master and The Doctor. They have been reliving the Time War, the same patterns of loss of their friends, being unable to turn off the training to be a soldier. The Doctor is often taking the same actions she did before, sometimes outside of her control, all of which were made during a trauma state or resulted in traumatic experiences. 

The Master replays the behaviours he learned during trauma as The Doctor does, but is a lot more likely to not only replay acts that they did that traumatized others, which The Doctor does too but also can replay what those who traumatized them did. 

The speeches we get from the master in Timeless Children is slightly off version of Rassilon's speech at The End of Time pt 1. 

Master: “Yes, it could! Behold your new CyberMasters, Doctor. All born from you, but led by me. How does that feel? Huh? Now, no time to lose. Don't move. Oh, that's right, you can't. Can you feel a new era dawning, Doctor? For Gallifrey.”

Cybermen: “For Gallifrey!”

Master: “For the Time Lords.”

Cybermen: “For the Time Lords!”

Master: “For the end of the universe itself!”

Cybermen: “For the end of the universe itself!”

Master: “Sweet dreams. This way, soldiers.”

Time Lords: “For Gallifrey!”

Rassilon: “For victory!”

Time Lords: “For victory!”

Rassilon: “For the end of time itself!”

Time Lords: “For the end of time itself!” 

The Master who destroyed Galifrey in the name of something Tecteun, and by extension the other founding fathers of Galifrey, is playing the same game Rassilon did and views himself as a god of Time Lords the same way Rasilon did. We also know The Master isn’t directly quoting them because he was not present when Rasilon made that speech, so this dialogue shows how he is in patterns of trauma. It also is important character and theme-wise because it plays on the ideas of autonomy and how the Master has essentially made himself the destruction and death god to Gaalifry in the way The Doctor was essential in its creation. While he is goading The Doctor to be both creator and destroyer. The Master and The Doctor are in fact these forces, even though I believe the Timeless Child is a victim of abuse and exploitation, but, it’s entirely true that The Doctor and The Master are playing at being gods. Something they have done on other planets before. 

This is also part of replaying trauma in the fact he has taken bodily autonomy and specifically regeneration from Time Lords to use as his own weapons. The CyberMasters are exactly what the worst version of Timeless Children are, complete manipulated weapons with no free will. 

Conclusion:

The story of Dhawan!Master is one that turned hard into both the idea of The Master being in pain themselves but also showing some of the worst cruelty the master has ever done in both their extreme assault of The Doctor and genocide. 

[unikornu]

Lucy Feit - headcannons and overall presentation,

Lucy Feit - current occupation: Overboss of Nuka World and Gage’s “business” partner.

Pre-war: court defender - then gang member and personal agent/tool under the firm hand of her past boss and criminal figure - Harrison. 

Appearance:  Fairly small gal (5'3'' - 160cm)  with slim/agile body type at her 27th’s - still quite young. Pale skin but after wandering through wasteland a bit more rosy. Medium length bright blond straight hair, longer in the back, choppy looking since the wastelands best hairdresser is a knife or an old pair of scissors. Tends to tie her hair into two braids as well. Dark amber eyes covered with thick layer of black carbon powder all around to sharpen the softness of her face. Scar under her right eye caused by the knife she carries and got after a hassle with commonwealth raider. Three tattoos - an ace skull on the right upper side of her forehead, white waster skull next to her left eye and a dagger on the left side of her neck. Small thin nose, downward turned lips, her face expression most of the time bored or doubtful but as she starts drinking or having some fun it turns into a grin. She has a burn marks on top of her hands and softer ones at the palms, hidden most of the time under her gloves as she is ashamed of them. 

Character: Pretty calm but inpatient, snarky, sarcastic and careless most of the time. Tends to be impulsive and acts first before thinking of consequences which annoys Gage quite often. She isn’t the brilliant smart mind but is very intelligent due to her pre-war occupation (being smart vs intelligent are two different things). Compulsive liar and charmer, embed in her mind from pre-war but she is aware of that and tries to control it, using it as a way to get around some situations instead as a habit. Not a leader type but when shit needs to be done she will step up. Got stirred into believing she is psychopathic and sometimes acts as. Likes to drink and stir some fun around as alone and with no occupation on job she gets too bored. Does stupid shit and gets in troubles if left alone for too long. Highly depends on Gage’s directives and advices or other leaders if he is gone. Prefers not to talk about feelings and fears openly, would rather go with “just do it” approach. 

Fighting/combat: Mostly melee weapons -  very skilled with her medium sized disciples styled knife. Knows some basic hand to hand fighting/night bar style with a lot of dirty tricks. Sneaky, fast, silent and agile unless she wants some noise and action. High stamina but for short encounters, cheetah style. Uses grenades for bigger trouble, either as a distraction or to cause more mayhem. Will use a pistol only if there is no other way. Occasionally will take the broadsider if shit gets really serious and dangerous as a special card. Surprisingly strong if put under stress and pumped with adrenaline. High pain threshold but easy to break on mental level. Mixes light base gear with some heavier pieces on top to still be on a move but not to get broken like a stick in direct confrontation.

Factions: Joined raiders and took a position of the Overboss as their nature and goals fit her own. Doesn’t want to be a hero nor a part of anything bigger than a pure survival and getting what she wants. She hates the military style of BoS and their “yes sir” soldiering style around. Before becoming Overboss she worked as a mercenary for the Institute along with Kellogg (Father is not her son in my story and she didn’t kill Kellogg). She doesn’t believe in pure goodness and justice and thinks that every faction will get eventually corrupted and egoistic. Later on strikes a deal with Institute in Nuka World to provide data and plant their devices on the top in exchange for technology and supplies for her gangs. Believes it is a good deal as they stay underground while she operates on the top and the Institute doesn’t care if they kill people or do other shit. Just keeps an eye to not replace any of her people with synths. 

Other informations:  

-  Addicted to calmex as she was dozed secretly with it before the bombs, would use it in stressful situations or when her traumas are flashing back, Gage tries to help her stop taking it. Also likes drinking especially at the end of the day.

-When under effects of calmex and in strong doubt or hesitation the Harrison, shady posture of her pre-war boss might show up and talk to her or haunt her, before disappearing shortly. This might be a result of constant high stress and long drug usage causing some kind of brain damage before. This problem gets resolved as her pre-war boss comes back to life later on.

- Because she worked often as an agent in a night luxury club in pre-war she likes everything associated with it, dancing (oh she loves to swing around), neon lights, drinks, fancy stuff etc. Likes to spend free time at Parlor or Cappy Cafe. 

- Doesn’t feel guilt when killing people during raids but would not kill a helpless animal unless attacked. People have choice and if they choose to be stupid its their problem but animals are driven by pure survival so she wouldn’t butcher them unless necessary. If there were dogs in the raided settlement she would order the pack to take care of them and train. 

 - Can drive a car, quite well actually since she was in some risky and dangerous situations before the war. Also constantly tries to get some vehicles working along with Chip Morse and Lizzie but to no success yet. Wants to have better means of transport other than walking and fast way out in case of serious danger.  

- As the time between pre-war and current time happened pretty fast and she was used to have a lot of money and expensive stuff in her apartment later on as she was finishing jobs for her boss. She would always try to “ beautify “ and make herself comfortable even in poor or rough conditions. A little spoiled bitch. Even built herself a dressing table at Fizztop straight from the pre-war night club changing room she worked before. She would collect/steal everything shiny and golden as they travel and store it there. Doesn’t like to sleep outside away from Fizztop or any other safe-house. 

- Has a leech/bloodworm phobia due to the trauma after being tortured before the war by the corrupted court mobs. Sometimes has a feeling of her wounds in throat still being there even if they are long healed. Hates everything associated with worms and highly dislikes slimey food texture.  

- She doesn’t see a problem in having a little hand to hand fight (literally) and getting punched by a man (hell would even join a bar fight at cappy cafe) but heavily dislikes abusive approach during arguing. If Gage or anyone by any chance would act so or grab her by the neck she would panic and smash his head with literally anything that is in her reach just to be released. Result of her boss, Harrison abusive actions towards her to break and confuse her mentally. 

- Depends on Gage company and his experience as alone she is not always sure of rightness of her actions towards the plans for Nuka World and after all she was always under someone's thumb and orders as a sharp tool for the job. And as he is around 8 years older than her (i would give him 35 years tbh) and spent his life becoming a raider on the top of the mountain she takes his approach seriously. Eventually slowly falls in love with him as she notices the care he provides towards her no matter the fuckuperies that happen on the way. And the confidence that man has in his actions and looking like he does..definitely turns her on as time passes. Gage doesn’t believe at start that someone like her would be interested in him more than on just a job level but doesn’t mind later on at all to have a gal like her by his side at the lone evening/nights at Fizztop.

- She is not that bad of a person and refuses to trash talk traders (well maybe except Aaron) and convinces the operators after powering the plant to improve their conditions as it would also bring more caps and scare the “tourists” less. And she would not want their only doctor to be gone or worse, refuse to treat them.

- She considers Lizzie a friend and would visit her often to check on new equipment or further improvements with grenades. Doesn’t mind testing her new inventions along with an extra drink in her lab. 

- She is bad at cooking, especially the post-war one and would most probably choose a food from a box rather than poison Gage with her attempts on making food.

- Almost always wears her black fingerless gloves, might fall asleep in them too sometimes. Gage notices it and learns later on about the burn marks.

- Has a weird, almost romantic like relationship with her pre-war boss Harrison after he makes a sudden come back, surviving the bombs and joining her in  Nuka World.

[becomestorm]

REN SEMBLANCE HC COMPILATION: EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION / EMPATHY.

the old semblance masterpost was written here over one year ago.

SECTIONS.

EMPATHY ( DEFINITION + SUB POWERS. )

BASELINE ( EXACTLY WHAT REN’S SEMBLANCE CAN DO. )

ORIGINS ( THE CONDITIONS + TRIGGER TO WHY REN’S SEMBLANCE IS EMPATHY / EMOTIONAL SHROUD. )

PERCEPTION OF THEIR SEMBLANCE ( REN’S OPINION, THEIR RULES CONCERNING THE USE, THE EFFECT IT HAS ON OTHERS. )

ABILITIES ( POWERS, AND SUB TRAITS AS A RESULT OF THEIR SEMBLANCE. )

NEGATIVE EFFECTS ( HINDRANCE OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT, MENTAL ILLNESSES, PSYCHOLOGICAL FEARS AS A RESULT EXTENDED USE. )

EMPATHY.

some general information on empathy according to the superhero wiki. empathy is the power to fully interpret and replicate the emotions, moods, and temperaments of others. sub power is emotional manipulation. it is also called empathic perception. the user of such a power can fully interpret and replicate the emotions, moods, and temperaments of others without reading apparent symptoms, allowing them to understand introverts or discover emotions one is actually hiding from another. they can attack someone in a personal and emotional way since they know exactly what emotion is flowing through themselves and can use this knowledge to play against them. some users may learn to read emotional imprints left into environment or objects. usually over time, an empath’s power grows to the point that they can manipulate emotions on others, and possibly use them to empower themselves. the user may learn to extend their power over a vast number of sentient beings.

ren has been seen ( and i headcanon / speculate is capable of ) some of these sub-empath abilities; ecological empathy, the ability to  sense the overall well-being and conditions of one’s immediate environment and natural setting stemming from a psychic sensitivity to nature. animal & plant empathy. emotion detection, the ability to sense emotions in one’s vicinity ( this was seen in volume four concerning tyrian’s bloodlust. this ability naturally heightens ren’s perception of other people in one area. ) empathic echoes, the ability to emotionally receive and send glimpses of memories or mental imagery associated with certain emotional states be they current or past ( there are some places and beings, eg. spirits or ghosts, that have constant emotional residue due to major events happening in that location ( eg. shion village. ) users are able to tap onto the emotional imprints and re-experience those residual memories. empathic inundation, the ability to overwhelm a victim with a flood of emotions and / or feelings ( this is basically the opposite of what ren uses it for now. ) empathic combat, ( i know this one sounds a bit stupid but �� ) the ability to sense an opponent’s emotional / instinctual state in order to predict their attacks, and respond accordingly.

BASELINE.

ren’s semblance’s primary use is to mask negative emotions, which aids heavily in avoiding detection by grimm. it is not a combat oriented semblance, but it is a survival semblance. while not much use against human opponents, it renders them invisible to grimm. i headcanon that ren, with their capabilities as of volume four, can shroud at least four people on their own for a limited amount of time. their semblance looks like a pink shroud, and after that the user’s form is visibly desaturated.

i headcanon that ren’s semblance is “bleeding.” due to the trauma ren experienced immediately after it was unlocked, and how they exhausted their body for extremely long periods afterwards in order to keep it running at maximum output, their semblance has never actually turned off and remains “passive” at all times, slowly depleting their aura over time and explaining ren’s constant fatigue. although, their semblance can still be “focused” in specific scenarios ( combat. )

ORIGIN.

“ a common philosophy is that a warrior’s semblance is a part of who they are. some say your personality and character can define your semblance, while some claim that it’s the other way around. of course, there are still many that don’t see a connection at all. ” — ren, volume five, chapter four.

there has been talk of semblances coming to you, specifically and perfectly, in the moment you need it. nora’s came to her because she was struck by lightning, and she needed to endure it. jaune’s came to him because one of his friends was dying, and he needed to save her. ren’s came to them because they needed to remain calm and think clearly in the few moments when it would be the hardest thing they would ever have to do. ren falls into the category of people who have changed because of their semblance. even though ren’s personality is a result of their semblance ( due to the bleeding effects that have steadily altered their personality over the years ) the reason their semblance came to be the way it is was primarly due to what li and an did prior to their deaths. an was attempting to calm ren down. she was trying to assure ren that it would be alright, she believed that grimm would not find them if they remained calm. she did all this despite how scared she was herself. and li, even knowing that their peaceful life had come to an end, that his wife was dead, that he was dying too from his previous injury, he still calmly pushed all of that aside in order to get ren to relative safety. he remained level - headed, refused to allow his panic and fear to settle in and kept moving forward, only giving in at the end to begin ren’s hatred of martyrs. the embodiment of this strength and bravery was passed onto ren in the form of their semblance. ren’s ability is the amalgamation of their regret. “ why couldn’t i be more like my father ? ” / “ maybe if i had this ability back then, i could have saved mother. ” it’s a testament to their promise to protect them, and although it has hurt them in the past, it gives ren the ability to save so many other people and prevent the tragedies that befell them ( seen in volume six, episode one. )

prior to kuroyuri, ren was raised just outside it in the lie compound where they lived with extensive family. the lie family was a very proud and noble heritage, high class and incredibly wealthy. it was filled with huntsman and huntresses, entrepreneurs, ceo’s, doctors, lawyers, scientists, politicians, all very influential figures in an incredibly competitive environment. ren, with their soft heart and fragile personality, needed to adapt in order to gain some semblance of affection from their family, that of whom already ostracised them because of their birth circumstances. in order to compete in an environment like this one ren needed to “reflect” what other people wanted to see in them. this is where the emotional manipulation aspect of their semblance rises.

ren would be a very different person if not for their semblance. i see ren, someone who is isolative in personality and awkward when it comes to social interaction, having a power that makes them empathic and basically capable of cheating at any social interaction ( and still refusing to use it based on their morals and other people’s privacy ) as completely oxymoronic, and it is one of my favourite things about them.

cut for length.

PERCEPTION OF THIER SEMBLANCE.

ren is very capable of reading someone’s emotions down to the degree of it, and by association make educated guesses on what they might be thinking. it is possible that seeing this, despite their conversion to statistics in their mind, just makes human beings more confusing. they are completely aware that reading someone, and manipulating their emotions is a huge invasion of privacy and a violation of something very sacred ( the human will ) and so attempt to keep the ability strictly for combat and rescue situations only. ren has been used as a numbing agent, as well as an emotional manipulator before ( in order to make people feel happy, euphoric ) by those willing to take advantage of a young orphaned child, so they never tell anyone what their semblance is unless they absolutely have to. ( and it just doesn’t go over well most of the time. what if you told someone ; “ oh hey, i have the ability to overwrite your will and manipulate what you’re feeling. ” yeah, it’s not a great icebreaker. )

empathy could theoretically give them an edge in every social scenario they wouldn’t know how to navigate otherwise. it’s incredibly rare of ren to hesitate, or stutter. most of the time it’s attributed to the fact that ren rarely speaks and they take time to compose what they’re going to say. when addressed it’s clear they know what to say, when to say it, how to say it, and that doesn’t only come from observing their environment and the people around them, but from understanding a subtle vibe in their environment.

because ren’s semblance “bleeds” others have noted to feel a calming presence around them.

in pro hunter verse, ren’s semblance is used more for manipulation, than shrouding. their management of their mental illnesses have greatly improved. their control over their bleeding semblance has strengthened greatly, and they are in a better place psychologically speaking. just like ren’s semblance initially morphed their personality into the ability’s most frequent use, to negate negative emotions, it has now been altered so that people are more susceptible to ren’s suggestion, whether ren is attempting to manipulate them or not. this comes in handy considering ren is not only sent on grimm hunting missions, but also those associated with tracking down criminals and acquiring intel and the like. ren’s presence, and their mood, is simply infectious and this makes others more susceptible to giving them the information they want.

ABILITIES.

although ren’s main use of their semblance is to shroud and negate the negative emotions of themselves and other people, they will eventually be able to manipulate their psychological states in the opposite way too, as in, make someone feel more of a specific emotion.

because ren is capable of getting a very good read of their opponents and adversaries, it is possible to tell when someone is lying to them. this is only applicable if they’re focusing their semblance however, otherwise they just have a very strong sixth sense that something isn’t right. ( i understand that this is a form of godmodding, so the outcome of a situation changes depending on circumstance. if you’re someone that ren trusts, and you lie to them ? they’ll believe you. if you’re someone that’s ren’s acquaintance, then they will doubt you. if you’re an enemy, then ren will doubt you even if you’re telling the truth. )

ren has the ability to numb physical pain. their empathic powers rely mostly on the manipulation neurological signals in the brain, and since physical pain and emotional pain are closely linked, they have some power over this domain too. however, ren can only trick your pain receptors into thinking you feel no pain. you still have the wound, and ren’s semblance can not heal any damage.

ren’s sensory perception and sixth sense is phenomenal, not only because they’re a naturally alert person, but because of having a subtle psychic connection to their surrounding environment ( including flora, fauna, and empathic echoes. ) they can sense when other life forms are around them, and also what they’re feeling ( like nora, having a slight emotional breakdown prior to the vytal match / like tyrian, in regards to his bloodlust when tracking down ruby. ) their empathic echoes allow them to sense feelings and emotions left behind in an environment, like a haunting ( dead and dying villagers left behind in villages like shion, and oniyuri. )

ren can shield three to four people with their semblance on their own, including themselves, but not for very long and it does take up immense strain depending on how strong the negative emotions are.

ren’s semblance and their negating of emotions hides people from grimm, but i headcanon that in future verses ( or boosted by jaune’s semblance in a different way, through potency and not the affected area ) they are capable of increasing the physical desaturation aspect of their semblance to not only become invisible to grimm, but to people as well.

NEGATIVE EFFECTS.

ren has never been able to turn their semblance off completely, except when they have been drained of aura. following the events of kuroyuri, the trauma as a result of losing both parents and their home rendered ren unable to handle the shock unless their semblance was on. the only time that ren remained a functional person in front of nora was when their semblance was running at max capacity, so for a while all she knew was this calm, collected, facade of a person. because the use of their semblance would use up their aura, ren was subject to dizzy fainting spells throughout the entirety of their childhood. this was how they learned to better work on their aura consumption.

ren suffers from claustrophobia, as a result of being able to feel the mood of the people around them, if there is too much tension or panic within one area and ren is not concentrating hard enough they will start to absorb that panic like a mental sponge. ren also suffers from a fear of suffocation and when they feel like they cannot escape then those fears tend to coincide, making them feel trapped and inducing panic attacks until the ‘apathy’ part of their semblance triggers.

ren fears that enough influence from their semblance will allow them to develop a psychopathic nature, especially when going into very long states of shock, and periods in which their semblance robs them of all emotions. ren has exhibited these traits before, whether intentional or not, in an attempt to survive : a lack of guilt, a lack of empathy, callousness, their continuous strides to avoid developing deep emotional attachments to others ; how their childhood conditioned them to prioritise narcissism, superficial charm, as well as exhibiting traits like frequent dishonesty, manipulativeness, and in states of high distress, reckless, risk - taking behaviour. ren’s early childhood ( prior to kuroyuri, and not by their parents ) exposed them to abuse of the verbal and physical kind, where adults would judge and ridicule while cousins crossed the line between play - fighting and actual fighting ( a lot of them were growing up to be huntsman and huntresses, so the abuse wasn’t always intentional. ) the separation from a lack of parental involvement both prior to kuroyuri and afterwards has increased the chances of this kind of condition developing.

because of ren’s earlier point of a common belief being “ we are the way we are, because of our semblance ” and ren’s semblance continuously leaking / bleeding, they are unaware how much of their personality is themselves, and how much of them is their semblance. on top of that, considering the world they world ren was born into ( high society, image first, a need to keep up appearances in a rough and competitive environment prior to kuroyuri ) ren was continuously, and subtly changing their outward personality appearance in order to better suit the attitudes of those around them. they became what they needed to in order to be loved, and after kuroyuri, ren became what they needed to in order to survive, which mentally fucked with their head. ren showed a reflection of who the other person wanted to see and this, in addition to suppressing their emotional responses the majority of their life, severely stunted ren’s emotional growth. 

speaking of emotional growth, because of ren’s semblance and the way it functions, the five points of ren’s emotional intelligence have been skewed, altered, and stunted. while they do seem competent on the outside, the basis of their thoughts have very shaky foundations and could change at a moment’s notice due to ren overthinking things.

firstly, self awareness ( “ recognising internal feelings, ” ) ren’s is abysmal. they absolutely hate to reflect on how an emotion is affecting them. this often leads to them bottling the emotions up into a molotov cocktail. they believe that ruminating, combined with their capacity for self reflection have a great capability to make them spiral into doubt, anxiety, and further depression. ren is so aware of other people. they can read other people better than they can themselves, and it shows with how insightful they are with their own observations, but never the analysis on themselves.

how they manage emotions ( “ finding ways to handle emotions that are appropriate for the situation.” ) ren’s initial method to managing emotions was to reflect what people thought would be the best version of them, this severely stunted their personality development, and has led to the immediate response to shut down their emotions instead of sorting through them. it’s incredibly unhealthy. they don’t talk about their problems, choosing to repress them instead. ruby and jaune still aren’t aware of why destroying the nuckelavee was so important to them because they just don’t talk.

handling motivation ( “ using self - control to channel emotions towards a goal. ” ) ren actually isn’t as goal oriented as one would assume ? they put up the facade of being put together but it’s more complicated than that. ren’s sense of being able to break down tasks is good in theory, but not in execution. on top of that, since they have bad self analysis habits, they’re not good at pinpointing specific goals for themselves. “ attaining a hunter’s license ” has been a main one for a while because it’s vague. it’s so vague and ren can clamber towards that goal easily but they had no qualms abandoning that goal in order to help their friends chase cinder down. ren functions on emotion and instinct, more than a sense of logic when it comes down to what is most important. they will break their own, careful and meticulously built rules at a moment.

empathy ( “ understanding the emotional perspective of other people. ” ) oh wow. so going up to a previous point ? that ren believes some people are the way they are because of their semblances ? ren absolutely believes that they would be a completely different person if it weren’t for their semblance. surprisingly enough, their empathy semblance and it’s capability for apathy - induced shut downs has been the most detrimental part of ren’s emotional growth. they are now both afraid of expressing, and experiencing emotions strong enough to make them question their own wants and desires. they believe that emotions, when applicable to themselves and sometimes others, is weakness. the fact that ren is proud of how all of their friends are progressing and sees their development is because ren doesn’t pay any attention to their own. ren experiences empathy to the point of it being painful, which is one of the reasons their semblance triggers when ren goes into times of increased emotional distress. ( that it didn’t trigger during the nuckelavee fight was because they wanted to feel all the anger it had caused them over the years. )

handling relationships ( “ using personal information and information about others to handle social relationships and to develop interpersonal skills. ” ) i could count on one hand how many people have seen ren cry. honestly ? even when i was shipping with multiple people, some of them never saw ren cry. ren’s crippling anxiety when it comes to letting other people close enough to hurt them has become immense, and as they grow older, that part of their personality becomes more prevalent, as they will eventually stop going on team missions and proceed with huntsman work on their own. they become harder to contact, and besides anyone the occasional text message, it becomes hard to determine whether they’re still alive or not. they have isolative personality traits to the point where they are afraid of becoming too important to someone else. one of the reasons that ren remains dense and oblivious to nora’s affections is because they cannot actually fathom someone liking them romantically. ren tends to dissociate themselves from a situation, they can’t believe that they are actually forming real relationships and instead choose to observe it as if they were a third party. nora scares them. they have always needed each other, and she took care of them when they couldn’t, but they keep a distance from her in hopes that if they leave she will be fine without them. it’s the same for anyone ren becomes close to. it’s like there’s a mental escape hatch in their brain, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. despite that, they can’t help but become closer to people. ren’s namesake means “love of humanity” and despite the fact that they are reclusive by nurture, ren will always be drawn to the relations that they can make with other people, no matter how small. they love people.

the capability of ren doing something dark when all of their empathy has been turned off is immensely scary to them, more than any of the repercussions of an action. they are afraid of who they could become. ren has a good grasp of what is socially accepted, and what is morally right despite their constant questioning of philosophies, but a lot of that goes out the window during their episodes of dissociation. although the light use of their semblance can remove fear, and force them to keep moving on despite their hardships, the heavy use of it completely rids ren of emotion and with that comes their ability to sympathise and empathise with other people. when their semblance gets to the point of overcoming pain, then there is no consequence to what they do, and it’s just frightening to them, what that kind of state induces. ren could theoretically turn off their emotions, and commit atrocities, they could steal, commit acts of violence, malice, malevolence, murder, without thinking of any of the consequences and that scares them. ren would also be capable of shoving their will onto someone else, even subtlety. if a situation where psychopathy like that were to happen, they wouldn’t know whether ren is lacking in controlling their emotions, or whether it’s their semblance taking over. they struggle to tell whether they are actually a good person or not, or whether they are subtly convincing other people they are.

in times of extreme emotional distress, ren’s semblance will trigger on its own. this allows them to go into a calm state but if it happens outside of combat, the results can be disastrous. their emotions completely shut down, and they are left a lifeless shell. this is especially frightening because if ren’s been crying or in pain prior to the trigger, then they’re still crying and in pain, they’ve just lost all capability of expressing this. their body which is supposed to be protecting them, but it in fact tricks them into functioning despite whatever wound they’re carrying. it catches up to them when they regain their senses. when ren loses their ability to feel emotions, then physical sensation comes next. it shuts off the pain receptors in their brain but the damage doesn’t heal. they hate using their semblance outside of combat because they know it’s a crutch, and not working through and processing your emotions is an extremely damaging process.

i have a headcanon here detailing why ren knows sign language, and they have always been a child that bordered on being selectively mute, but after kuroyuri ren suffered from traumatic mutism. post kuroyuri, if ren did not have their semblance running, then they found difficulty in functioning and communicating properly without becoming scared, skittish, or a hollow shell. this isn’t actually a negative because their semblance saved them in this instance, but it’s still quite heartbreaking. ren refrained from talking and could only really communicate with hand gestures ( that of which nora supposedly didn’t know at the time. ) they spoke a grand total of eighty words in the year after kuroyuri fell.

another headcanon here details the origin of ren’s scars. ( mentions of self harm and suicide in that post and ahead. ) a small amount of ren’s scars are from self harm, although, they’re not entirely from feeling suicidal. because ren has suffered from bouts of dissociation due to their semblance, and because these bouts of dissociation not only numb their mind, but - if severe - tend to numb their pain receptors as well, ren has found that one of the only manual ways to end these bouts of dissociation is to physically harm themselves. the scars remain because ren’s semblance - induced apathy relies on aura, and once they’re gone, then ren has no instant healing factor, and the scars are left behind.

[redtrivia-blog]

Was that [PARK JIMIN]? Oh no no, that was just [PARK JIMIN], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [SAVE_ME  / BANGTAN UNIVERSE]. They are [19] years old and [ARE NOT] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long. {ooc: rhu, 25, gmt+1, she / her}

ever met someone who’s the epitome of softie who deserves better?

how long has your character been here

jimin has been ‘trapped’ in washington for roughly three months ! of course to him it’s not like that, according to his heavily tampered memory he’s always lived there.

what is your character's job

he is a florist ! he’s been working at the same shop for as long as he can remember, and if asked for reasons he’ll always say that he’s always felt a pull towards flowers and plants, like a sort of twist at the stomach for some reason. he’s specialized in arrangements and he’s usally the one at the desk ready to talk with clients.

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

roughly before he tried to drown himself in a bath tub at the hospital he was being kept locked in, which is around chapters 12-13.

has any magic affected your character

none besides whatever thing is making most people unaware of their real identity !

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!

FIRST AND FOREMOST: while sharing the same name, this park jimin is merely an alternative universe / author avatar of the idol in the lore and storyline bts have been drawing together since 2014 and that got canonized with the SAVE ME webcomic and the HYYH: THE NOTES vol.1 ( which i own ). hence, jimin in the overall lore, comics and book IS NOT the idol in any shape or form as he’s donned with a very diverse background story and demeanor than the person he’s ‘based off’, so to speak.

SECONDLY: the lore itself of the comics also involves themes that are heavily triggering and it’s HEAVILY IMPLIED THAT JIMIN HAS BEEN VICTIM OF CSA in both the comic and the book, as well as time travel being in the picture. you can read the comic HERE & have a general grasp of the BANGTAN UNIVERSE lore HERE.

now, to explain jimin’s story roughly, he’s been always seen as a burden by his family, especially after he dared disobeying his teachers when he was a child, and got lost during a trip at the flower arboretum nearby his town. whatever happened the day he got lost ( and found hours later ) left him with severe ptsd, trauma-induced seizures and the event itself blocked in the depths of his mind. due to the seizures, jimin was often hospitalized and soon had to learn to lie to his doctors to be allowed to be discharged. 

the longest amount of time he’s spent outside of the hospital was with the friends he’s made in high school, but even then things soon started turning south. after one of them got expelled and a day by the sea, the group dissolved for reasons still very unknown to most and jimin was forced to return to the hospital after a bad seizure attack, locked in for two years until now.

[scripttorture]

As for the situational question, this character ends up picking up a very kind, loving and forgiving person, although she suffers from mild depression. She ends up being trapped with the main character for five years (give or take a little) and is confined a room in the basement. They picked her up like any other normal victim, but then decide to keep her. The basement is kept at sixty five degrees, sometimes sixty because the main character prefers cooler temperatures, but her room has (8/17) a full bed with blankets, a dresser with clothes they buy for her, a shower (no bath), a toilet and regular supplies such as soap, toilet paper. They’ll clean her room once a week, and she also has a small area where they leave her snacks for her to use during the day. While this may seem really strange, they mainly do this to keep her alive so they can torture her again, they usually have sessions with her that are very bad and can leave her bedridden for a month or more. (9/17) They will bandage her and give her pain meds right after each session, often after she passes out. So she has ‘healing periods’ and ‘torture periods’. When she’s getting tortured, she begs the main character not to cut her face or take anything off, so they don’t as almost a hey I’m being the cruelest to you for no reason so I guess I’ll give you at least something. (Normally they’ll pick up rapists as it bothers them when someone forces sex, a thing that’s supposed to feel good, (10/17) and ruins it.) She thinks about killing herself, and she certainly has the devices to do so, but they’ve threated people back home that she cares for and she doesn’t want these people to be hurt or also put through the same thing. She was bullied as a kid and forgave these bullies with no problem off of the idea that she doesn’t want to hate anyone. (I do understand this is different with someone that actually tortures her, but she tries to take this same approach with them anyways.) (11/17) When her torturer is not in the basement, she is completely alone, but sometimes she does end up spending a lot of time with them too, they’ll sometimes sit in her room and just watch her, maybe even talk to her. Especially when they clean her room or bring her new clothes. While she’s here, she ends up getting scars all over her body some so bad that it compromises her muscle to an all new extreme, or places where they’ve cut into her muscle. She probably has internal issues too, because (12/17 they’ve opened her up and (with the help of a doctor) put her back together. Eventually she convinces her torturer to let her go, under the promise that she won’t tell anyone (and she knows she can’t anyways) about what happened. When she’s home, she goes to physical therapy but refuses to cooperate with anyone trying to help her mental state. After going home, her functioning issues would probably get worse as she gets older, and she’d have nightmares of the time she was being tortured. (13/17) However, I didn’t realize that torture ruins the memory, so I was wondering if she would remember the five years she was gone at all, or if she would remember only splotches. Would it only be the healing times where she was recovering for the next time, or would it be random? I’m not sure if it would count as solitary confinement (as a side note I always wonder about hermits here haha) since she did have interactions with the person hurting her, and when they were torturing her, (14/17) they’re neutral to positive interactions. Sometimes they’d even play music for her. I was also wondering how realistic it is that she doesn’t say anything to the police at all, even though when she returns she’s questioned on what happened because she’s a.) heavily scared and b.) been missing for a long time. She also avoids going outside because she hates how people stare at her scars, and how she has such issues getting around. (She used to be very fit and danced as well, so the (15/17) limitation has ruined most if not all of her hobbies, reading being the exception.) If she avoids therapy like she does, what would happen to her sense of mind? And if her torturer decided that they liked her company and decided to force themselves into her life (no torture), how would she maybe react to this? She can’t say no to them under the same pretext that everything and everyone she knows would get ruined and killed. Would it maybe be something along the lines of Stockholm syndrome?(16/17 Or do you think it would just honestly be impossible for her to survive the five years at all? Is there anything else I’m missing, or anything inherently wrong you’re seeing with either the character or scenario? I’m sorry about the long ask, I tried being as clear as possible to avoid confusion too. Feel free to shorten this question. I’d also appreciate if you would leave it on anon I left it off anon so you knew who to contact. Thank you very much. :) (17/17)

This is the continuation of an earlier ask here. And- while it has taken me a very long time I do appreciate the level of detail you shared here. It is helpful when I’m trying to come up with an answer.

I also think you’re asking the right questions. So- while I am suggesting a lot of changes in both parts of this the ask does really give a sense that you want to engage with the topic and do it as much justice as you can. Which means a lot to me. :)

I’m going to start with one of the central questions here: as this stands no I don’t think it’s survivable. This combination of extreme solitary confinement and torture for such a long period would probably kill most people. Given the kinds of tortures you’re aiming for and the sort of prolonged healing period they’d require I think it’s especially likely.

She wouldn’t need to do anything big, obvious or even consciously intend to die in this scenario. Eating less while she’s healing would be enough. If she’s already prone to depression- well depression can cause difficulty eating in a lot of people. Nausea, vomiting and just feeling unable to eat are all common responses. So is trouble sleeping. Both of which have a profoundly negative effect on healing.

And the result is that over such a prolonged period with multiple incidents the chances of infections leading to death are higher.

So, what’s the solution? The most obvious one is to reduce the time the character is held but if you keep the solitary confinement aspects then really the sort of significant period of time your plot is demanding is going to be too long. I think the best solution here is going to be a combination of reducing the time, spacing the attacks out more and removing solitary confinement as a factor.

You might want to take a look at the Masterpost anyway.

Generally people overestimate the ‘safe’ period of solitary confinement by a very substantial margin. For most people the safe period is about a week. There are some people with a much higher tolerance to solitary then others but this is rare. And a lot of occupations which required prolonged solitary confinement (like being The Hermit) are self-selecting, with individuals who weren’t extremely resistant dropping out quickly.

Incidentally if you want a broader look at that sort of voluntary isolation historically Anchoresses were a very interesting bunch of ladies.

You can keep the character confined without it being solitary confinement. I don’t think giving her a cell mate or more time with the torturer is a good idea here. Time with the torturer is unlikely to be rewarding for her in any way. You characterise it as ‘neutral to positive’ but….that isn’t how that works from the victim’s perspective. And a cell mate might not respond well to being confined with someone who gets to live when they are going to die.

Remember how I talked about showing the assistants this character has? How they should have trauma symptoms and would probably be quite antagonistic towards the torturer? This would be an excellent place to use and show that. Having the ‘support’ characters, the cleaners, the cooks, the doctors, interacting with her regularly and making sure she gets the positive human interaction she needs would be a great way to approach this. It gives you a realistic way to avoid the additional symptoms and problems associated with solitary confinement and an opportunity to show the wider effects this systematic abuse is having.

It also gives a nice contrast to the interactions she has with the torturer and it could potentially provide her with a support structure while she’s imprisoned. If these other characters are scared of the torturer and opposed to him but feel unable to act against him- If they’re doing things like cleaning and dressing her wounds- Then there’s a chance she won’t relate them to the torturer and that the antagonism most victims feel towards torturers won’t extend to them.

Depending on their occupation she might also see them as fellow victims, as coerced and less culpable.

With that sort of change, increased human interaction and positive relationships I think she could survive two years. Possibly. It would still be a stretch and I think she’d need to be lucky. But I don’t think it would be outside the realm of possibility.

The set up you have for the cell seems adequate. None of it sounds like there’s a hidden neglectful aspect or something essential you haven’t considered. The cell itself doesn’t sound like it would make her health worse.

I had to look how much 60-65F is (I really hope you didn’t mean C or K-) and I’m going forward based on the idea it’s 15-18C. Now I personally would regard that as too cold for life but the English people around me reliably inform me that I am an outlier and should not be counted.

Some of the ways you’ve characterised this survivor don’t fit with- well the way these symptoms and responses generally work.

It is absolutely true that someone can feel suicidal and never act on those feelings. But- I think generally they need more than a vague threat against loved ones to do it.

The situation this character is in would seem utterly hopeless from the inside. She’s got no expectation of release. She’s probably in physical pain for the entire time. She has no contact with the people she cares about and no opportunity to do anything she enjoys.

I- have a fair amount of experience with people who’ve been suicidal. Feeling that a situation is hopeless and inescapable makes things a lot lot worse for them. In some respects she’s in a ‘worse’ position then someone in a typical torture scenario would be: they can hope for release. She ‘knows’ from the experience of every other victim that she can’t expect release.

I am not saying that you should get rid of her suicidal feelings. But I think you should consider giving her more reasons to want to live.

That can be to do with her strongly held beliefs. It could be something she treats as a form of resistance, living despite what the torturer does. You know the character best. Think about what’s important to her, what gets her through the worst periods in her life.

The question of forgiveness also doesn’t sound quite right to me. It’s not so much a matter of a character’s conviction or the difference between torturers and bullies. It’s about the way torture tends to cause antagonism in victims. Victims tend to become much more strongly opposed to their torturers and anything they see as connected to the torturers.

I don’t think forgiveness is impossible. Especially if a survivor has a strongly held belief that forgiveness is the right thing to do. But forgiveness in situations like this isn’t trivial or easy. I think you know that. I think that it would need a much bigger time frame then you’re laying out here and probably someone outside the situation to talk to about what happened.

Forgiveness might well require her to process what she went through and make genuine steps towards recovery first. She doesn’t necessarily need professional help for that, but she does need time, a strong support network and someone she can talk to if/when she wants to talk.

And from the sounds of things she’s not getting any of that after she’s released.

You also need to be careful about what you’re characterising as ‘worse’ or a ‘new extreme’ injury wise. Because that is a matter of opinion rather than fact. We tend to view things that as grisly and scarring as ‘worse’ in cultural sense but this ignores and trivialises the damage and pain non-scarring tortures cause.

The kinds of tortures you’re describing her surviving are not new or unique. Torturers aren’t that inventive and there are only so many ways to brutalise people. There’s a difference between having the characters view something as especially bad and having the narrative support that notion. There’s nothing wrong with deciding that you want your story to focus on scarring tortures but you shouldn’t devalue the experience of survivors without scars when you do that. They make up the majority of torture survivors today.

There’s also the issue of how we process pain here. The kinds of vivisection-like practices you’re describing here would send someone into shock fairly quickly. They could also make a victim pass out fairly quickly. Both of these things reduce the amount of pain the victim actually processes at the time they’re being tortured.

There is a physical limit on how much pain we can actually process. There’s a limit to the amount nerves can fire. And repeated torture, especially repeated use of the same tortures, changes the pain thresholds of victims. Essentially if someone is continually subjected to the same type of pain/injury they start to experience it as ‘less painful’ then it was before.

O’Mara has an excellent discussion of this. It’s quite accessible too. His book is apparently available on kindle now too.

O’Mara also discusses the ways torture effects memory in some detail. I’m going to give you a sparknotes summary though. :)

It’s highly unlikely that she’d forget being tortured. The ways torture effects memory are a little more complicated and nuanced then that. Which I think is why thursday morning cartoon shows get it wrong so often.

There are four broad types of effects on memory:

Intrusive memories

Memory loss

Inaccurate memories

Forgetfulness/general difficulties forming memories

Intrusive memories are being constantly reminded of torture. It’s having the mind go back over those memories over and over again. It does this with little prompting, and generally continues for the rest of the survivor’s life.

One of the ways I’ve found helpful to think about it is- You know how your brain will sometimes randomly give you a vivid recollection of something embarrassing you did? There’s no prompt or trigger you can detect, it just pops into your head as a Your Top Ten Stupidest Moments Now in Technicolour? Imagine that happening all the time with the worst and most painful thing you’ve ever experienced.

Memory loss rarely effects the memories of being tortured. Traumatic memories tend to be etched in the brain, often with a feeling of great clarity. (The ‘feeling’ is important because these memories are not actually more accurate then other memories but survivors often feel strongly that they are).

Memory loss also rarely effects older memories. Torture survivors don’t forget things like their names, family members or things they experienced years ago.

Young children can be an exception here. But as a general rule, with adult characters, the older a memory is the ‘safer’ it is from the affects of torture. Characters that forget their entire life history due to torture are very unrealistic.

Instead torture survivors tend to forget incidents that are chronologically close to when they were tortured. So anything from the month prior to when she was captured might be gone. Key details from memories that are slightly older than that might be gone. Facts and pieces of information she doesn’t use often might be gone. She also might forget large chunks of the recovery periods. She might forget interactions with the torturer outside of a torturing context. She might forget interactions or conversations with any of the people helping the torturer outside of a torture context.

Inaccurate memories are- well what they sound like. Our brains naturally edit and adjust our memories which sometimes leads to us ‘remembering’ things or details that didn’t happen. That’s a natural process.

It happens much more frequently in torture survivors then the general population. I’m not entirely sure why but since it effects trauma survivors generally I’m guessing it’s to do with the way the brain re-wires itself in response to pain and trauma.

The intrusive memories I talked about earlier? They can be wrong. Survivors have a tendency to muddle memories and to get key details wrong. This doesn’t necessarily effect their day to day lives but it does effect torture trials and whether survivors are believed.

Some examples would be things like; getting the floorplan of a cell wrong, giving an inaccurate description of the torturer’s appearance, getting the timing of events confused, and so on.

In contrast the forgetfulness that survivors often suffer from does have a massive impact on day to day life.

Because survivors often struggle to form new memories they often have a hard time doing every day things; keeping appointments, buying food, finding their way home. This might sound trivial but the knock on effects on people’s lives are enormous. Survivors find it harder to stay in work because they turn up erratically. They find it harder to access medical facilities because they repeatedly miss appointments. They find it harder to keep themselves healthy because it’s harder for them to budget and harder for them to remember what food they already have and how long it takes to go off.

All of these memory problems are very common and they can occur in combination. So a survivor can have intrusive memories of torture that are inaccurate. They can be forgetful and have intrusive memories of torture.

It’s really rare to see these memory problems depicted in fiction and even rarer to see them depicted well. So I encourage authors to use them.

I can’t give you an idea of the kind of pattern this sort of abuse, with torture periods and recovery periods might take. It’s too far outside the ‘usual’ pattern legally defined torture displays. The sort of pattern you’ve suggested doesn’t sound impossible to me. But it isn’t what happens in ‘black sites’ or police cells or classrooms.

When it comes to her release-

It is absolutely normal for victims to not report or refuse to give information to the authorities.

There are a lot of reasons for that but chief among them is this: many survivors believe that the authorities can not or will not help them. Unfortunately that’s generally a reasonable assumption.

Torture trials are long and difficult. The emphasis on ‘physical evidence’, scars that usually don’t exist and on testimony places survivors at a tremendous disadvantage. Their memory problems mean that their testimony usually contains inaccuracies, and those inaccuracies mean that the defence can cast doubt on whether torture occurred.

Trials and reporting also place an incredible amount of stress on survivors. They’re being asked to relive torture repeatedly, in front of strangers and to remain composed while their version of events is cast into doubt.

On top of this many survivors believe that the authorities will not be willing or able to protect them. Reporting is dangerous. It often makes survivors a target for further abuse and torture.

Human rights activists, anti-rape activists and survivors who speak out generally are routinely targeted by large powerful groups for torture and rape.

Because I’ve been reading about prisons a lot recently the examples that are springing to mind are survivor testimony on Just Detention. These accounts discuss prison rape, sometimes in graphic detail. A common thread through many of the older accounts is prisoners describing further assaults in ‘revenge’ after they reported. This seems to have been especially likely if the assault was carried out by a guard.

So- yes. It’s perfectly realistic for a survivor to refuse to report. It’s normal for her to not want to interact with police officers. Especially immediately after she’s been released. Many people who do report need to take some time to recover before they feel strong enough to talk about their experience.

I don’t think it’s as common to refuse mental health services but saying that, they’re not offered as often as they should be. Survivors are often released back into the community with no medical support of any kind.

At the time Rejali was writing it took on average ten years for survivors to get access to the specialist help, including mental health, that they need.

So- it’s highly unusual that she’d be offered appropriate help early on. And as a result I’m unsure how realistic her refusal is. It does make sense with the way you’ve set up the story and her fear of the torturer. Whether he could reasonably find out she’d ‘talked’ or not it’s perfectly realistic for her to fear him finding out.

As it stands I think that you’ve made a decent start on her symptoms post-release but I’m not sure you’ve got the severity quite right. I’m not hugely worried about that because they’re only mentioned briefly in a very long overview of the story. But go back over what you’ve got, make sure that the mental health symptoms you’ve given the character are having as much or more of an impact on her life in comparison to the physical ones. Make sure that these symptoms don’t just come across as a portrayal of physical disability. Make it clear that she’s isolated for reasons that go beyond mobility difficulties and make it clear how awful and effecting that isolation is.

Essentially I think you need to make sure that she isn’t suddenly getting ‘better’ on release. The psychological impact torture has is life long. Survivors do recover, they can move on with their lives and be happy and achieve incredible things. But they do this with severe mental health problems.

Her avoidance of mental health services actually brings her more in line with ‘typical’ survivors in some ways. Because the ‘typical’ survivor doesn’t have access to that sort of help for a very long time afterwards.

I’d honestly be more worried about the fact she can’t talk to anyone full stop. Because a lot of survivors find the support they need outside of a professional context. They get it from friends, family, social institutions such as charities and religious communities.

Her social isolation and the way she feels unable to talk about this at all- that’s going to have a bigger negative effect then a lack of ‘professional’ help. It’s going to exacerbate her other symptoms. Especially if you’re combining it with insomnia. Combined the two factors would have a huge effect on her physical health as well.

I’d suggest looking at the solitary confinement masterpost because those effects also apply to prolonged isolation, even if the timings are affected by voluntary confinement.

Honestly with that combination of symptoms and no support structure I think the chances of suicide are incredibly high post-release. Both social isolation and insomnia increase the chances of suicidal thoughts and feelings. She already suffers from suicidal feelings. Social isolation worsens pre-existing mental health problems.

And you’ve put her in a position where she feels she can’t do many of things that previously gave her joy.

I think she needs a support structure. She needs people taking care of her and helping her. Doing practical things like helping her clean her home, cook, encouraging her to find ways to participate in things she previously enjoyed.

You can do that with her having a high degree of social isolation by writing her as feeling unable to seek out social contact. Putting the timings and length of social contact entirely in the hands of her support network.

If you have her living with family then something like that could work. If you’ve previously used the time she was tortured to establish her family as very important to her then it’ll work even better. But you could also use friends or an ethical supported living arrangement in the same way.

I think that leaves contact with the torturer.

Now I’m not a mental health professional and I’m certainly not an expert of Stockholm Syndrome. But going by what @scriptshrink has previously said on the subject and every account from torture survivors I’ve ever read- No I don’t think Stockholm is likely. I think it would be incredibly rare and borderline impossible.

There aren’t a lot of studies on contact between survivors and torturers after torture. I’m aware of perhaps three anecdotal accounts. It doesn’t happen often at all and most torturers do not seek out their victims.

In one of the accounts I’m aware of the torturer had a panic attack when they recognised the survivor. The survivor was found in a bathroom trying to commit suicide. This was in a mental health facility where they were both being treated, the survivor as an in patient and the torturer as an out-patient. In this case the torturers hadn’t been charged or jailed. Survivors of this atrocity hadn’t received any kind of broader acknowledgement or justice.

Both individuals were convinced by staff that they’d made a mistake and the person they saw was someone different. The staff made sure their paths didn’t cross again.

The second account involved a genocide survivor recognising a torturer. This happened while the survivor was with a larger group of supportive people. This was after the genocide had been acknowledged and a lot of the ring leaders had been killed or jailed. The survivor pretty bluntly told the torturer that if they revealed the torturer’s identity to the crowd the torturer would be killed by an angry mob. The torturer broke down and begged their forgiveness. The survivor described this as a moment that helped them move on; it helped them see the torturer as a pitiful individual with no real power.

The third account involved a woman who went back to her home town after a war that involved ethnic cleansing. Several of the people involved were also from that town. She was lucky enough to have had a successful court case. Her torturers were jailed. But eventually they were released and they also went home.

She said most of them avoided her. A few tried to talk to her because they thought that they should ‘move past’ the violence. That they’d served their time and it therefore didn’t matter any more. These encounters seemed to be traumatic and painful even though they involved no violence or threats. This woman also seemed to have a degree of trust that the police would protect her if things became overtly threatening or violent.

The closest to your scenario seems to be the third account. And well your scenario is much worse for the survivor.

She has no power in this situation. She expects no protection. She hasn’t has even a slight victory over her torturer.

So I think the level of response is more likely to line up with the first account. I think this would have a massive negative effect on her mental health which is already very poor. I think suicide attempts are likely since she’s already at high risk and has been established as suicidal.

I’m unsure what to suggest for that aspect of the story. I don’t think there’s any reasonable way for the survivor character to respond positively or tolerate the torturer’s presence in this scenario. Not without much wider changes to the story, a much longer time frame, concerted help and support plus some kind of consequence for the torturer and a sense she’d be protected from him in the future.

That protection could come in the form of a large (ie dozens of people) support structure. If she feels like he could be physically removed from the place she’s staying by supporters and like it would be impossible for him to break in, then she’s more likely to feel safe. But I don’t think she’d compromise that safety or control by allowing him access to her.

If you’re sure you want the character to force his way back into her life then- well it’s going to be bad for her. Possibly lethally so. And it’s unlikely to get better while he’s there.

This has been- easily the longest question I’ve received and possibly the longest answer I’ve given as well. I’ve tried to go into as much detail as is practical and to give suggestions for alternatives at every stage where I think changes would be beneficial. But given the length and level of detail here it’s more then possible I’ve missed things. There’s an awful lot of information here.

Have a think about where you want to go with the story. What aspects are most important and what you feel can be easily changed. I’d strongly recommend picking up a copy of O’Mara’s book, I think it would help you a lot.

Take some time. Look through the information here. Think about where you want to go.

And if you’ve got more questions feel free to contact me when the askbox reopens. :)

Disclaimer

[thelioncudgel]

On Eren and killing two men at age 9

With the whole “is Mikasa giving up on Eren?!” panic caused by the recently released chapter 109, I’ve seen several SnK fans reevaluate Eren and Mikasa’s infamous first meeting and come to some conclusions that are rather unfavourable to Eren. Because I’m nothing if not biased towards my favourite character and because the internet is nothing if not a medium through which to scream one’s opinions into the void, here’s my defence of young Eren’s actions on that rainy day.

Seeing the bloody corpses of two brutally murdered innocents at age nine is traumatising. Even if you didn’t personally know the people in question, even if you’ve seen death before, it’s traumatising (not to mention Eren might’ve even been informed that Grisha was doing a home visit to check Mrs. Ackerman for a pregnancy). Given the face he makes after catching sight of the Ackermans’ corpses, given that it takes him several long moments to come back to reality and realise his father is speaking to him, I'd say Eren is no exception. It should come as no surprise to anyone that trauma of this sort can cause drastic changes in mindset and erratic behaviour, especially in such young victims. Though in Eren’s case, I believe it’s in his nature to react to fear, righteous anger and sadness with a desire for revenge on those causing them.

Eren doesn’t set out to find and rescue Mikasa because he’s a bloodthirsty little psycho and wants to kill her kidnappers just for the hell of it; he does it because of his frankly ruthless inborn sense of justice. He could just stay out of danger and go wait for the Military Police to arrive like Grisha ordered him to, but instead he decides to track down known murderers to rescue a girl he’s never even met before, because he’s afraid that the MPs might not make it in time to save her. It’s extremely reckless, but shows impressive moral fibre and bravery for a nine-year-old.

Some people seem to think that Eren just straight-up shanking the kidnappers was extreme, but to me it was actually the best course of action he could take. Again, he’s nine years old, and thus by definition smaller and much weaker than the 2+ adult thugs he’s up against, thugs who are working together and clearly not too fussed about eliminating those who get in their way. Knocking someone out without a baseball bat or chloroform is more difficult than TV would have you believe, especially when you can’t even reach your targets’ heads. If Eren went with the more peaceful route and tried to sneak past them to free Mikasa, there was a chance he’d be discovered and abducted as well, or just killed like Mikasa’s parents.  If Eren took the kidnappers by surprise and managed to kill them before they could fight back, though, he and Mikasa would be safe beyond all doubt (“Win, and you live”): so that’s the path he chose. And when you think about it, if there hadn’t been a third kidnapper or if Eren had known about him beforehand, Eren’s plan would actually have gone off without a hitch.

As for Eren killing the thugs “in cold blood”, I haven’t re-read the manga’s earlier chapters in a while, but in the anime at least, Eren has tears in his eyes as he stabs the kidnappers’ leader over and over, and frankly looks just as much terrified as angry; and I always read the repeated stabbing not as a fit of psychotic violence but instead as Eren frantically making sure the kidnapper would be unable to retaliate and possibly hurt him or Mikasa: “Don’t get up anymore!” Even Eren’s screams of “This is what you deserve!” sound kind of like he’s reassuring himself that he’s justified in killing them. (Though admittedly, the fact that Eren only needs a few moments of panting to calm down before freeing Mikasa while looking suddenly completely unbothered is unnerving.)

To sum things up, I never found Eren’s willingness to kill the kidnappers to save Mikasa unnatural or scary. If anything, it was a wise choice, and is probably the only thing that saved Mikasa’s chance at a normal life—and his and Mikasa’s lives in general.

That, and Mikasa’s right: it’s a cruel world they live in, a much harsher world than the safe, cushy one most readers of SnK were born to. Of course Eren wouldn’t have the same qualms about executing murderers as the average 21st century person: Eren was born in Shiganshina, only a Wall away from titan territory, so not only has he probably heard titans moving around, clawing at the Wall and groaning from time to time since childhood, he’s probably seen several Survey Corps platoons come back from expeditions to the outside world in bloody tatters as well. Moreover, Eren is the son of a renowned doctor in a mostly-medieval town—and the best friend of a “heretic”, living in a society where people who wonder too loudly about the outside world are at risk of being “disappeared” by the government. My point is, even at age nine, Eren has no doubt seen some shit if his lukewarm reaction to the whole Moses thing in episode 1 was any indication. To Eren, death isn’t just some vaguely frightening idea he won’t have to confront until he’s old and grey—death is a fact of life, so of course he wouldn’t have the same moral objections to dealing it out to slavers as a 21st century first-worlder. 

You could argue that Eren’s lack of reaction after killing the kidnappers is abnormal, and I’d agree on some level. It is weird for a nine-year-old to be able to rationalise and come to terms with killing two people so quickly, but there’s a good explanation even for that:

Eren is a very straightforward kid who sees the world in black and white. In his eyes, you stop being human the moment you kill an innocent—even more so if you kill two of them in their own home and go on to plan to sell their young daughter off as a sex slave. In Eren’s mind, the Survey Corps fight titans because they’re monsters who kill humans for sport and steal away humanity’s freedom by forcing them to live penned in within the Walls; and the kidnappers are more or less the same on a smaller scale, since they killed the Ackermans and wanted to steal their daughter’s freedom by selling her into slavery. So why shouldn’t Eren kill them, if it means saving Mikasa from that fate?

Again, Eren didn’t set out to murder himself some criminals, but to rescue Mikasa. While I don’t support the death penalty, in my opinion, putting down three unrepentant murderers and flesh traders to save a traumatised, freshly orphaned little girl from a life as a sex slave shouldn’t weigh too heavily on anyone’s conscience. And I’m not surprised it didn’t seem to weigh much on Eren “Determinator” Yeager’s. Obviously the guy who one day wouldn’t let having his leg bitten off and his face dragged across an entire rooftop’s worth of tiles stop him from saving his best friend, wouldn’t let a small thing like killing some “beasts in human form” stop him from saving an innocent little girl. Sure, that kind of resolve, that willingness to take a life if necessary, is scary to see in a nine-year-old, but that’s just the kind of person Eren is. 

Now I’m not denying that Eren has screamingly obvious anger issues, since I’d like to believe I’m not completely stupid. But he’s not a psychopath by any means. Eren cares deeply for his family and friends, and really is a friendly, loyal, empathetic guy between his bouts of admittedly frightening rage. Really, it’s the fact that he feels so deeply, positive and negative emotions alike, that make him such a fearsome opponent to his enemies. It’s because of his strong sense of justice that he’s willing to kill. It’s because he loves so much and so hard that he’ll never forgive those who hurt his loved ones.

You can like Eren Yeager or hate him, but that doesn’t change the fact that his actions the day he saved Mikasa were calculated, sane and, in the context of SnK’s bloody world, even right.

[faithfelled-blog]

                PLEASE  NOTE  :     this  post  deals  more  with  the  medical     &&     firearm  side  of  things     &&     touches  very  little  on  fan theories     (     such  as  :     bethfoot,  beth  as  the  cure     /     being  bitten,   dawn  not  being  the  shooter     )     ,  missing  scenes     (     such  as  the  scene  caught  being  filmed  of  beth  driving  away  from  grady or  whatever  was  shot  in  the  white  houses     )      parallels  between  characters,  illusions, the  cagey  actions  of  cast     &&     crew     &&     is  not  meant  to  attempt  to  force  anyone  into  believing  that  beth  is  still  alive     &&     return  to  the  show.  if  you  think  she  is  completely  dead,  that  is  100%  okay.  the  main  purpose  of  this  post  is  to  basically  show  i'm  not  attempting  to  make  an  impossible  thing  possible  with  my  portrayal.  everything  covered  in  this  post  comes  from  people  in  the  healthcare  field     &&     people  knowledgeable  in  firearms  as  well  as  my  own  research.

                LOCATION  :     contrary  to  popular  belief,  head  shots  are  not  automatic  kills.  depending  on  the  angle  of  the  shot     (     something  no  one  is s ure  of  due  to  the  use  of  dutch  angles     &&     theories  that  dawn  is  not  the  shooter     )     it  is  entirely  possible  that  the  bullet  curved  along  her  skull     &&     missed  her  brain  entirely.  in  fact,  the  location  of  the  entry  wound  is  where,  should  you  be  shot  in  the  head,  you  would  want  to  be  hit  as  the  chance  at  survival     &&     even  minimum  complications  is  high.  even  if  the  bullet  did  not  curve,  the  parts  of  the  brain  potentially  hit  are  not  life  threatening  or  even  incredibly  important  compared  to  other  areas     &&     as  the  brain  is  remarkably  elastic     &&     able  to  heal  itself,  it's  possible  surgery  would  not  even  be  required.

                       if  it  was,  indeed,  dawn  who  pulled  the  trigger,  it  almost  completely  proves  that  the  bullet  curved  at  some  point.  given  the  low  level  of  the  gun,  the  bullet  would  have  exited  at  the  top  of  her  head  as  opposed  to  the  back.  it  is  surprising,  alone,  that  she  managed  to  hit  beth  in  the  forehead  instead  of  under  the  chin  which,  almost  always,  would  lead  to  an  instant  kill  shot.

                   THE  BULLET  :     dawns  weapon  is  a  9mm,  one  of  the  smallest   shown  on  the  show.  small  bullet  means  small  entrance  wound  means  small  exit  would.  typically  head  shots  on  the  show  are  a  lot  bloodier  but  they  are  often  done  with  ricks  gun  which  is  a  fucking  monster.  the  smaller  caliber  also  means  smaller  damage  done.  contrary  to  what  a  lot  of  people  say,  there  is  no  brain  matter  when  beth  is  shot.  what  you  see  if  blood     &&     likely  bone  from  her  skull.  dawn,  on  the  other  hand,  is  turned  into  a  mess.  the  caliber  of  daryls  gun  is  larger  so  the  wound  is  larger     (     it  is  also  possible  that  given  what  happened  a  moment  or  two  before,  his  aim  was  a  little  off,  his  hand  a  little  unsteady  which  would  also  cause  great  damage.     )

                    the  fact  that  there  is  an  exit  wound  is  a  good  thing,  though  it  might  not  seem  that  way.  it  means  that  the  bullet  is  not  ricocheting  around  her  skull,  working  to  turn  her  brain  to  mush.  that,  certainly,  would  have  killed  her.

                HERAPIN  :     beth  was  given  at  least  one  large  dose  of  herapin  at  grady  :     when  she  wakes,  there  is  a  1,000  ml/cc  bag  attached  to  her  iv  stand.  herapin  is  an  anticoagulant,  a  blood  thinner     &&     truthfully,  there  is  no  reason  from  what  we  have  been  given  in  terms  of  information  for  her  to  receive  it.  while  it  could  potentially  be  used  to  prevent  blood  clots  after  a  bone  break,  such  breaks  are  typically  found  in  the  legs     &&     while  you  could  argue  it  is  used  for  her  arm,  the  type  of  cast  used                    soft,  padded,  removable     &&     replaced  throughout  her  time  at  grady                    suggests  that  the  injury  on  her  arm  is  not  that  bad.  even  a  fracture,  as  it  is  said  to  be,  would  require  a  different  sort  of  cast  as  opposed  to  one  designed  for  mobility.

                  the  bag  used  is  also  suspect  as  it  is  abnormally  large.  while  there  are  bags  that  large,  they  are  typically  used  for  accute  stroke  victims.  beths  fractured  wrist     &&     "  superficial  head  wound  "     would  not  warrant  such  a  large  dose,  especially  since  grady  is  all  about  conserving  precious  resources.  this  fact  helped  cement  the  theory  that  beth  had  been  bit     &&     was  grady's  attempt  to  find  a  cute  that  doesn't involve  amputation.

                  the  use  of herapin  is  also  possibly  the  reason  her  facial  injuries  were  so  heavily  stitched.

               BLOOD  :     regardless  of  the  herapin,  there  was  very  little  blood  for  the  type  of  injury  sustained     (     one  theory  is  that  it  is  not  beths  blood  at  all,  but  rather  dawns     )     which  backs  up  the  curved  trajectory  theory.  head  wounds  are  notorious  for  heavy  blood  flow,  even  a  simply  cut  has  the  capability  of  making  you  look  like  a  murderer  or  murder  victim.  however,  the  bleeding  shown  appears  to  be  minimal  which  suggests  clotting.  in  the  handful  of  moments  from  the  gun  shot  to  seeing  a  glimpse  of  the  body,  the  flow  has  slowed.  by  the     (     odd,  contorted     )     positioning  of  beth  post  fall,  we  can  see  that  the  pool  of  blood  is  not  that  large  at  all.

                  this  is  further  backed  up  by  the  view  we  get  when  daryl  carries  her  out  as  well  as  bts  footage.  she  is  not  soaked  in  blood  as  one  would  assume  of  a  head  shot.  rather,  there  is  blood  on  her  forehad,  the  back  of  her  head     &&     very  little  on  her  clothes.  for  a  show  that  seems  to  have  attended  the  school  of  '  MORE  BLOOD  IS  BETTER  '     this  seems  odd.

                  the  slow  of  blood  flow  suggests  clotting  which,  in  turn  suggests  that  she,  at  least  at  that  point,  is  still  alive.  you  do  not  clot  when  you  are  dead.

               GRADY  :     when  someone  asks  someone  else  with  a  knowledge  of  firearms  or  medicine  their  thoughts  of  this  event,  their  first  reaction  tends  to  be  that  the  injury  is  survivable     &&     their  second  tends  to  be  that  even  if  it  wasn't,  she  was  shot  in  the  best  possible  place                    a  miraculously  operational  hospital.  while  we  don't  know  the  extent  of  their  abilities     &&     just  how  operational  grady  really  is,  we  know  there  is  medicine  as  well  as  a  doctor,  one  who  might  feel  so  inclined  to  provide  aid  as     a  )     beth  is  not  a  threat  to  his  position     &&     b  )     despite  their  problems,  it  seems  as  he  was,  to  some  degree,  fond  of  her.  at  the  very  least,  it  is  possible  they  might  feel  guilt  over  what  happened.

                with  an  injury  such  as  hers                    already  clotted,  likely  minimal  to  no  swelling,  an  exit  would  meaning  there  is  not  chunk  of  metal  chilling  in  her  brain  nor  is  there  irreparable  damage                    the  most  important  things  would  be  to  clean  the  site     &&     ensure  there  is  no  development  of  infection.  all  things  that  are  capable  of  being  done  in  even  a  minimally  resourced  hospital  as  long  as  there  is  someone  with  medical  training.

                it's  highly  likely  that,  due  to  it  being  a  head  wound,  no  one  thought  to  check  for  a  pulse.  it's  common,  it  happens.  emotions  are  high,  instincts  tell  you  a  wound  like  that  is  fatal,  you've  spent  who  knows  how  long  protecting  yourself     &&     others  with  the  same  sort  of  attack.  we  know  she  was  removed  from  the  hospital  but  after  is  a  mystery.  immediately  after,  they  skip  ahead,  set  out  with  the  intention  of  having  us  believe  tyreese's  funeral  is  beths,  something  stated  on  live  television.

               there  was  word  of  a  large  herd  in  coda,  nicotero  himself  stating  that  around  500  walkers  were  used.  there's  several  walkers  deliberately  made  up  to  reference  beth     (     as  well  as  tweets  from  grady  actors  about  how  they  might  be  back,  suspicious  wording     &&     actions  from  showrunners     &&     other  actors     )     sparking  a  belief  that  she  might  have  been  left  behind                    possibly  in  a  car  trunk  judging  by  maggies  reaction  to  finding  a  walker  in  the  trunk  of  a  car.  while  it  is  not  ideal,  it  is  not  a  death  sentence.  bodies  are  remarkably  resilient  when  faced  with  trauma.  if  her  head  had  truly  clotted,  it  is  entirely  possible  that  her  body  would  shut  down  to  protect  itself  until  help  arrives  so  long  as  it  does  not  take  forever,

                if  there  had  indeed  been  a  herd,  it's  possible  they  would  have  moved  to  follow  the  group.  likely,  an  officer  or  two  would  have  come  to  dispatch  stragglers  in  order  to  keep  the  area  open  as  it's  not  near  the  elevator  well  where  they're  shown  to  to  use  as  a  dump.  should  they  have  stumbled  across  her  or  even  known  she  had  been  hidden     &&     found  a  pulse  they  would  have  brought  her  inside  for  aid  should  it  be  possible.  despite  the  things  that  went  on  within  the  hospital,  there  were  people  who  seemed  to  genuinely  care  about  helping  others  in  need.

                EFFECTS  OF  INJURY  :     depending  on  how  the  bullet  moved  inside  of  her  skull,  beth  could  face  little  to  no  brain  related  problems  afterward.  there  would  be  no  loss  of  motor  skills,  no  loss  of  verbalization  or  ability  to  read  or  write.  however,  it  is  important  to  note  that  this  is  a  traumatic  injury     &&     the  brain  will  work  to  protect  itself,  which  may  manifest  in  different  ways  :     amnesia  of  differing  degrees,  the  switch  from  primarily  verbal  communication  to  write  or  physical,  an  increase  in  anger  or  violence,  faulty  facial  recognition,  etc.  how  long  effects  such  as  these  last  is  never  certain     &&     may  come     &&     go  demanding  on  the  quality  of  life                    meaning  being  alone  on  the  road  would  likely  be  worse  than  settling  down  with  others  who  can  aid  her.

                       ideally,  finding  the  group  would  be  best  toward  further  healing  as  the  brain  would  recognize  them     &&     work  to  fill  in  the  gaps,  however  it  could  also  hurt     &&     hinder  depending  on  the  reception  given.  aggravating  her     &&     attempting  to  force  things  could  easily  backfire.  likely,  the  most  effective  way  is  to  allow  her  her  space  to  work  through  things  on  her  own  while  ensuring  that  she  has  someone  watching  her  without  applying  pressure.