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famedroleplayarchive · 4 years ago

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As promised, here’s an admin update post. This addresses several topics you all probably knew were coming and might have been waiting for the answers on, as well as some other topics, additions, and changes! Please take your time to read this thoroughly, and thanks again for four years of Famed! There’s a lot here, so take your time reading it.

URL change

The main blog’s URL has changed to famedroleplay. Some links are still being updated, but if you notice anything still links back incorrectly after a week or so, please do let me know!

Faceclaims

After hearing out the opinion of everyone who shared theirs regarding banning faceclaims involved in bullying scandals and taking that into consideration, face claims will be banned if they are linked to outside crimes or severe such as sexual assault, molka, or bullying in connection to suicide / suicide attempts. This means the initial ban on actor Kim Jisoo and April members Kim Chaewon, Lee Naeun, Yang Yena, Lee Jinsol, and and ex-member Jeon Somin remain in tact.

Bullying allegations not linked to these outside factors will still be grounds for someone to be allowed to ask to change a faceclaim before their faceclaim change waiting period is up, though, if they are uncomfortable continuing to use a faceclaim because of bullying allegations. If a faceclaim leaves the industry and/or removes themselves from the public eye for the foreseeable future for any reason, they are also still unusable, but this rule was already in place.

As for how this will affect parts of the roleplay other than faceclaims, please see the section further down about Element. Two April songs (”Oh My Mistake!” and “Love Clock”) were previously used for the first season of base’s COLLA3ORATE. These will be retroactively replaced with Elris’s “Jackpot” and “Like I Do” respectively, but if you had a muse involved in “Oh My Mistake” and would prefer to remove them from COLLA3ORATE season one entirely, just message me and they will be removed. I assigned the lines trying to match the positions and line distributions up similarly, but if your muse was involved and you’d like to keep them in “Jackpot” but want to switch to an untaken position, you’re welcome to request that as well. Otherwise, any references to that can simply use those songs instead now.

Element update

Due to the recent allegations involving Somin, a major revamp of Element has had to be conducted. After discussing the situation with the current muns of the group, the past model discography of Element has been replaced using Checkmate, K-Tigers Zero, and Lucky J, and they will be making their final comeback on April 12. After those promotions end, Element will be disbanded and the members will re-debut later in the year in a boy group, Quicksilver, with model groups of Ateez and Treasure and a girl group, Marigold, with model groups of BVNDIT and Melody Day with two new members each. The Element spots have been reopened, but the new positions in the new groups won’t be opened until after Element have finished promoting. This will be a major plotline for the roleplay and Gold Star in particular so expect to see it brought up in schedules and in some articles on the Exclusive blog as the storyline unfolds.

The new debuts in Quicksilver and Marigold will be available on May 13.

Fuse’s model discography update

Thanks to everyone’s suggestions, I was able to find two groups to add to Fuse’s model discography that I felt could align with their sound, direction, storyline, and positions enough to be happy with for now. These groups are Cherry Bullet and Weki Meki. The updated line distribution can be found on Fuse’s page.

There are other groups I’m looking into adding onto the model discographies of, but Fuse was the most urgent, so they’re the only official update I have today!

Canon soloists

Ultimately, after the poll, more people voted to remove canon soloists than to keep them, and they are officially being removed from the roleplay.

Those discographies previously used for the soloists will begin to be open for points claims at midnight/12AM EDT on April 12.

With the removal of canon soloists, the plan is to allow a solo music career to become a more prominent claiming option, and there are plans for some additional claim options to become available in relation to such a career, but those will be added and addressed at a later time.

As for storylines linked to some of the soloists, this is how those will be retconned:

BC Soloist 1: Instead of BC signing and debuting a known Gold Star trainee, BC hired a high profile creative director from Gold Star known from working with Gold Star since their inception and had worked on some of their most defining comebacks and announced she would be taking over as one of the company’s main creative directors. She has since worked on conceptualizing several group’s comeback as well as most heavily on Chroma’s pre-debut project.

Dimensions Soloist 3: Instead of Dimensions buying out a small and brand new company created by a crew of popular music producers with one soloist who they transferred to their label, in early 2020, Dimensions bought out a music production company that was created by a top music production team with several rising producers signed with them and made the producers in-house producers for Dimensions. Since then, the new producers have helped to produce several hit Dimensions songs since.

While Gold Star Soloist 1 no longer exists as an IU stand-in, Gold Star still had an incredibly popular and loved NPC soloist as one of their first artists that helped give their name prominence. At the beginning of 2021, she announced her departure from the agency to create her own label, citing her reasoning as feeling she needed a more focused environment than Gold Star’s growth could provide. There are rumors she was alluding to dissatisfaction with Gold Star’s recent management and gossip that Gold Star was pushing for her to pursue activities in overseas markets she wasn’t interested in.

Anyone who had a feature or MV appearance claim on a soloist can contact me and let me know whether they’d like to just drop the claim (and, if a points claim, recollect those points), keep it as a claim in an unspecified work, or try to replace it with something else. The following muses had claims this applies to:

Features:

Cha Kyonghwa (Kami) (app claim) Kang Sunghee (app claim) Park Jaewon (points claim, 10 points) dropped! Choi Joosung (Sun) (points claim, 10 points) Moon Chaeyeon (Dita) (app claim) Park Duri (points claim, 10 points) kept as unspecified!

MV appearances:

Kim Kyongmin (Alice) (app claim) Ryu Jaein (points claim, 5 points) dropped! Seo Minjung (points claim, 10 points) points reclaimed! Moon Chaeyeon (Dita) (app claim)

Points shop updates

There have been a few updates to the points shop!

Firstly, the nation’s title claim checklist now requires a headcanon on the muse’s image and how it relates to their claims and career to be completed. This is just so I can see a mun’s own intentions for how everything ties in with their image. This headcanon shouldn’t focus on the title itself since that isn’t ever guaranteed for approval, but the muse’s general image as the mun has shaped it. The viral moment requirement for a nation’s title is now also specified to need to relate to the image involved in the desired title.

In the wake of canon soloists being removed, I’m planning on being a little more strict regarding music claims aligning well with positions.This applies to both individual songs and whole discographies. Still, the intent is to be reasonable. Chungha having a rap-like verse in “Bicycle” won’t require someone to have a rap position to claim it since it’s not a lot of the song and she’s not known as a rapper, but I also wouldn’t approve a muse whose most prominent position is main rapper or a main dancer making their entire discography IU releases since IU is primarily a singing-focused artist.

There used to be a rule requiring that muns seek admin approval before claiming songs written by deceased artists, but that rule has now been removed. Keep it respectful, though, please. If any issue arises with muns breaking the fourth wall in relation to these songs to be disrespectful about a real person’s passing, that claim may be revoked and the rule may be reinstated. Songs performed by deceased artists still cannot be claimed.

There’s also a new claim available — a YouTube variety show or talk show. Please see the variety page for examples and more information, but note that this is separate from both a reality show claim. I’ve tried to specify the difference, but if you’re ever unsure which one what you want to claim would fit into, feel free to ask! Both will now be uploaded in-’verse to base’s Youtube Channel. Likewise, there has been a small change so that future radio show claims are now through base Radio, a radio streaming application (think Naver Now).

Company building pages + Pinterest

I’m currently working on pages that give more detail on the layout of the company headquarters. They aren’t quite finished yet, but I have created a Famed Pinterest account for those of you who find more muse visually or who are into visual worldbuilding! One of the sections on the boards there gives a rough idea of company building visuals. There are group concept boards as well, so if you’re struggling to decide where your muse might fit, looking at those might help you if you’re more of a visual person. No one is required to follow it and I won’t be answering messages or anything of the sort there, but I thought it might be a helpful way to visually convey locations and concepts! I’ll make a small post to let everyone know when the pages with in-depth information on the company buildings is available.

Activity rules updates

I mentioned there’d be a few more touch-ups to the activity rules to fill in loopholes that have been around a while, so here they are.

- There is now a formal hiatus request form that must be submitted to request a hiatus. Simply sending the main an IM that you want a hiatus will no longer qualify as a valid request and it will not be processed.

- There will no longer be a week-long grace period after a hiatus ends. You are responsible for being active for the next activity check after your hiatus ends.

- The maximum length of a hiatus is now three weeks (and the minimum one week). The initial hiatus request maximum is still two weeks with one week extensions, but extensions may not be stacked to exceed three weeks total without a passed activity check in between. If you can’t be around for a longer period of time, it might be best to rejoin at a later time when you’re more available! In total, a mun is allotted a maximum of four weeks of hiatus over any twelve week period.

- If a muse reaches three activity warnings in a month, they will be automatically moved to the unfollow list on their third warning instead. If a muse is removed and refollowed three times over the course of six months, they will not be able to be re-followed again and will have to re-apply.

New points opportunity

As of this post going up, muses may now collect one point for every first closed thread with a new muse after it has reached ten posts. This will no longer only apply during events and the ten post requirement is new. Members should be interacting with new muses all the time, not just during events, so it felt right to adjust this accordingly. This applies only to threads started after this post goes up.

Chroma

As schedules have been made quarterly, all remaining Chroma roles will be made available for reserves and applications in at midnight/12AM EDT on April 12.

Suggestions + Feedback

I want to end off this post by reminding everyone that I’m always taking suggestions for events, tasks, etc! I plan on opening an official suggestion submission blog at some point down the line, but I’m happy to take suggestions through the ask box or submit if you have any. I’m also open to feedback as well. If you do send in either of these things, please specify if you’d like a reply from me, since sometimes I might be naturally inclined to keep a message simply giving a suggestion or idea without any questions instead of responding to it.

Thanks for reading this very long update! There are more additions to the roleplay in the works, some I’ve hinted at here and some I’ve not, but I hope Famed’s fifth year is able to be its best one yet!

#fmdadmin #queued post

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bettsfic · 4 years ago

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march pinned: ending the sex project

in the march edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and upcoming consultation availability, i have personal essay recommendations and a segment on the definition of a project!

for more information on my creative coaching services, check out my carrd.

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

fuck february, amiright?

i thought january was bad. but february. february was the stuff of nightmares. my cousin passed away from covid (you can read about her here; she was really an amazing person and i feel so lucky to have known her). i was finally formally diagnosed with PCOS (bittersweet, i guess). my car broke down. i took two (2) days off and it took me two and a half weeks to get caught up again. i can only hope march treats us all a little more gently.

the good news is, i finished revisions on my short story collection to send to my agent, finished workshop submissions for the semester, and now i can return to my first love, fanfiction. that i am constantly working through original fiction to return to fanfiction has been making me think a lot about the nature of a creative, capital-p Project. so, this month’s BTALA (been thinkin a lot about) is going to inspect the concept of a “project.”

new resource

last month i unveiled a folder of my favorite short stories which i’m pleased to hear several of you have perused and gotten some inspiration from. this month i’ve compiled my favorite personal essays. there are fewer essays than there are short stories because i’ve broken them into two groups: personal and craft. next month i hope to have the craft essays compiled.

i’m always looking for more things to love, so if you have recommendations for your favorite short stories and essays, i’d be happy to hear them!

writing-related posts

how to physically maneuver the revision process

the difference between M and E ratings of fic

resources for worldbuilding (check out the reblogs for more!)

a couple syntax/prose book recs

how to break a long work into chapters

march availability

unfortunately i have to cut my coaching hours down a bit, so i don’t have any openings left in march, but i have some availability in april. if you’re interested in a writing consultation, please fill out this google form!

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

what i’m into rn

for the past year, i’ve basically been trapped in a 10x10 room, and my health is definitely reflecting that, both mentally (does anyone else feel like they’re living in groundhog day? just, every day being exactly the same except fractionally worse than the day before??) and physically (i reorganized the kitchen and could barely move for two days).

reader, i have discovered something called “walking,” in which i put on real human shoes and go outside. it feels strange, bestial. neighbors wave hello to me. a harrowing experience.

while doing this, this walking, i’ve been listening to the lolita podcast which a friend recommended to me, a ten-episode series that dives into everything lolita: the novel itself, its context, adaptations, greater cultural responses, and — as a sticker on my laptop says — vladimir “russian dreamboat” nabokov. as far as i can tell it seems well-researched and presents the many perspectives of lolita in a fair way. i’m only a few eps in, but i’m entranced so far. highly recommended if you, like me, have a complicated relationship with lolita.

i’ve also found myself mildly addicted to a mobile otome game called obey me, which. look i know it’s like the definition of cringe but it’s also mind-numbingly fun and if i want to spend my minimal free time pretending 7 demon brothers are all vying for my affection then that’s between me and god. it’s a lot of what i loved about WoW: frequent events, bright colors, a daily to do list of simple but satisfying tasks, many many rewards, and it doesn’t take itself very seriously. and if i have 4k fic written of mammon/reader that’s nobody’s business but mine and my longsuffering ao3 subscribers.

i’m telling you this because i don’t know anyone else who plays it and am desperate to trade headcanons. so if you play, or start playing, hit me up!! i will give u mad tips and daily AP.

been thinkin a lot about

the project. the project. even the word “project.” PROject (noun). proJECT (verb). what is the project? “project” comes from the latin pro and jacare which means “to throw forward,” or projectum which means “something prominent.” a projector throws forward an image. to project onto something means to throw your perspective onto something else. to embark on a project is to make something prominent in your life. the concept of “the projects” comes from public housing projects, the government throwing forward affordable housing.

what is the project? in joseph harris’ essay “coming to terms” he says that “to define the project of a writer is…to push beyond his text, to hazard a view about not only what someone has said but also what he was trying to accomplish by saying it.” harris’ perspective is that of an english teacher encouraging his students to read critically, not just to summarize a text but to find its project, its greater purpose. and while i first read this essay in a seminar on composition pedagogy, it stuck with me as a writer. it made me reconsider the greater nature of the creative project.

how many of us, if asked to describe our writing project, would begin with a plot or character premise, the nuts and bolts of a specific story? maybe even the working title? but i wonder, is breaking out the plot really the project? is the discipline of sitting down and typing really the project? and when the story is finished, is the project over? what is the project?

in 2019, i wrote 86k words of a novel. i began revising that novel last fall, and i’m finding that i’ll probably keep maybe less than 10k of that initial draft. i’m not bothered by that. the novel i wrote before that started at 125k, then i rewrote the entire thing to 200k, then i whittled it back down to 160k, and next i’ll be tasked with paring it back down to 80k. i’m not bothered by that either. in the past five years or so i’ve written about 2 million words, and i’ve only published 20k of them. only 1% of what i’ve written, i’ve published. in the words of lauren cooper (catherine tate), i’m not bothered.

i used to see publication as the birth of the project, and writing it akin to a long gestation period. then i saw publication as the death of the project, and its life was lived in its drafting. now, publication seems irrelevant to the project. the confines of a story and its many revisions are also irrelevant to the project. the beginning of a story is not the start of the project and the end of the story is not the end of the project. the project is larger than the story, its revisions, its publication, and its eventual readership.

i think it took me so long to see this because for so many years i was still in my first project, the sex project, an exploration of trauma and sexual identity, which began in 2014 with destiel fanfiction, endured through many fandom shifts, my MFA, years adrift as an adjunct, all the way through 2020 with the completion of my short story collection. i used to wonder how anyone could write about anything other than sex. to me it was the only topic worth my attention. i was certain that i would spend my entire life being a sex writer and i’d never find fulfillment writing a young adult sci fi adventure or a highly literary novel about complicated family dynamics. i was baffled by people who were interested in other things, who could write entire novels without using the word “cock” even once.

then my sex project ended. i don’t know when exactly it happened or why, but suddenly i realized i never wanted to write another artful description of an orgasm or find a tactful euphemism for a vagina ever again (personally i prefer “wet cunt” because not only is it blunt, i find it phonetically pleasing). obviously i’m still writing explicit fanfic but it doesn’t feel the same as it used to. sex feels more sidelined to me, even if it’s still the center and drive of a fic. i no longer get any personal satisfaction from writing it, although i do get satisfaction in sharing the work for readers to enjoy.

it’s like i’ve somehow solved the biggest puzzle of my life. or i guess made peace with my meanest monster, that extremely complicated double-mind of desire that some non-sex-repulsed asexuals feel: you want to feel desire you can’t actually feel so you write it into fiction, to try to understand this thing you can’t have and which society tells you you’re missing, and you don’t even know if you don’t have it, because you still feel desire for affection and intimacy, and maybe even a desire to be desired. and for those of us who are asexual and have c-ptsd, sex you don’t actually want (but don’t know you don’t want, because maybe you’re ambivalent and mildly curious and touch-starved) and an unrelenting drive toward people-pleasing can be a dangerous combination. how can you ever know what consent is if you always put other people’s desires above your own?

maybe i’m alone in this. maybe i’m not. maybe for most people, wanting sex is a light switch: yes i want it, or no i don’t. but for me, i had to write a whole lot of words to figure out things like desire, consent, intimacy, forgiveness, the shape that good love takes. the lengthy theoretical flowchart of “i might be interested in having sex if this and this and this and this and this happens in this exact order and under these exact circumstances.”

it was hard to write something into reality that i have never seen except in pieces, in subtext i clung to with no lexicon to give it shape and meaning. te lawrence in lawrence of arabia. some of tarantino’s early work. the film benny and joon. and weirdly, the star wars prequels (that one’s hard to explain; i’ll spare you). i don’t think the sex project was about coming to terms with my asexuality as much as it was trying to organize my thoughts and feelings by continuously rendering my own experiences within a greater, shinier ideal — like how you sometimes have to unravel the entire skein of yarn to find the loose end, and only then can you get started.

i guess i’m in the infancy of the power project now. i’m moving toward themes of control, infamy, greatness. the exact circumstances in which atrocity occurs. how people rise into leadership and fall from grace. the consequences of success. i don’t know why this project has come to me, or what, if anything, it has to do with me. i’m not famous and have no intention of becoming famous; i don’t have social power or influence, at least not beyond my little corner of fandom, and i’m not interested in having it. and yet, here we are, already hundreds of thousands of words in.

my fics digging for orchids (tgcf) and a standing engagement (the hunger games) deal with the detriments of fame. and even float (breaking bad) to a degree is about the aftermath of being so close to power. my novel cherry pop, loosely based on macbeth, is about an ongoing power exchange between two teenage girls. my other novel, vandal, is about a girl who believes she has magic powers and casts a spell on her neighbor to fall in love with her. and i’m in the very early stages of a novel called groundswell, a cult story i’ve been wanting to write for years. i had no idea why i couldn’t write it until i realized it wasn’t yet my project. i’m not even to the stage of developing characters, let alone a premise or plot. i’m still just building my aesthetic pile (i discuss the aesthetic pile here, as well as vandal in more detail), watching documentaries on cults, reading books, finding inspiration, marking down ideas as they come. it may be years before i’m ready to sit down and write it.

now that i know what the project is, i have more patience with myself. it doesn’t bother me to rewrite a novel from the beginning, or to scrap novels altogether, because the story isn’t the project. the project cannot be diminished by cutting words, sentences, paragraphs, entire chapters. the project does not have a product. the project cannot be published. the project is in the practice, in dragging the impossibly large into clear, acute existence, so you can see it. so you can see the very center of what you thought was an unknowable thing.

#pinned #lkwrnl

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shineonyoucrazyyandere · 5 years ago

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So like, maybe a Yan!Yoshikage Kira who somehow can't bring himself to kill his s/o, so he just keeps them for himself insted?

I’m so sorry for the radio silence, I haven’t really been in the groove to write as of late. I went for the angle of an attempted look of self discovery of his twisted obsession. Uh besides the hand fetish! Anyway I hope I wasn’t rusty with writing this...

Yandere! Yoshikage Kira unable to bring himself to kill his s/o

It should’ve been a simple task to throw another person’s life away for the possession of their hands. Not once before had he had a single ounce of remorse as his victims mouths opened agape in terror of disintegrating into thin air. Destroying everything except a single piece, akin to cutting an object out of a picture and burning the rest.

Ending everything was all too easy with Killer Queen, yet he couldn’t will himself to detonate the bomb. Such an ironic thing for a man who wanted to keep his normal life in tact, to lose himself in a person who should’ve been another casualty. Hesitation wasn’t something Kira Yoshikage was very familiar with, if something kept him from sleeping at night he would dispose of that obstacle.

The blond bit down on his lower lip impulsively, quickly drawing blood from his current state of mind. Your unconscious form lying on his bed, mocking him for his failure into committing another murder. He strode over, after distancing himself temporarily to regain some semblance of composure. The man’s blue eyes immediately fell onto your gorgeous hands. Your fingernails perfectly cut and polished with a clear coat, and skin smoother than velveteen.

The male recalled seeing these pair of hands of yours stirring a cup of coffee, in one of the cafe’s closer to the heart of Morioh. He had just glanced your way with a small smile on your lips, your eyes firmly concentrated on the hot concoction within your grasp. At the time his immediate interest in your hands was like any other. He just had to get you alone, and promptly finish you off and take what he desired most of your body.

He had hid himself beyond your peripheral vision, making sure to keep eye contact at a minimum while amongst the crowd. Waiting for an opportunity to pounce and snatch his reward unsuspected. However there was an unexpected bump when one of your high heels snapped, he was unable to approach as a worker rushed to assist you immediately.

The way you had gasped in that moment had caught him off guard, even distracting him enough from the drivel that spewed out of the employee’s lips. His eyes adverted quickly to your hands, seeing just a few scrapes on your otherwise perfect hands. A flaw on otherwise lavish flesh, but it wasn’t that unsightly.

You hailed a cab shortly after these events arose, leaving a bitter taste in the serial killer’s mouth. He had no opening to get close to you, it bothered him considerably as he would normally corner a person easily. But it’s not like he could anticipate such an event happening unfortunately.

There was discomfort swelling beneath his cool demeanor, surely you’d come back around. He was certain of that even with a small hiccup like this one.

The following few days hit the man hard, as he aimlessly tried to keep his schedule organized as usual. The hands of women around him began picking at the dark desires in his head. Yet he found no motivation to go after any of them, even if they were conveniently by their lonesome. It was strange and frustrating, he couldn’t seem to settle for some reason. He felt as if he was seeking something more luxurious to his tastes. Yet no one he spotted could fit that criteria.

He started comparing their hands to yours he just happened to get a glimpse of. Sure some were moisturized like yours, but their technique wasn’t comparable to yours. Your hands looked different to touch than of those around him. The thoughts of you were becoming invasive to the serial killer. He had to find you and do something about this disturbance that was flowing through his mind. You had thrown out his sense of normalcy even for his darker thoughts.

The thirty three year old tracked down the cafe you had visited that fateful day for his lunch the following day. However he saw no sign of you within the vicinity. He also did this after work if he could help it, with the additional distance thrown in his search area it practically became a new routine.

You were the only one that had changed his way of life drastically like this.

The day he did spot you however was a welcome one, he found himself quickly tailing you. Seeking to finally end this tedious game that had tested his own patience.

On the other side of things, you were content while walking home. After several days of letting your ankle heal after that incident you were happy to return home once again from a long day of work. Your eyes decided to wander, longingly gazing at your surroundings, apartment complexes, and homes alike.

“I’m so happy to be out again, it’s nice to be outside of four walls of my bedroom...” You sighed to yourself wistfully

A cool breeze hits your face refreshingly, and just for a moment you decide to shut your eyes in bliss.

Only to open them in a panic upon a grip on your shoulder, but the familiar voice of a coworker quickly puts you at ease.

As if a bitter twist of fate had occurred, there was evident frustration written on Yoshikage Kira’s face. He had thought it would’ve been a good time to strike, but then a woman unfamiliar to himself just happened to step out from another street. He could care less about her in this instance, so he should be able to simply eliminate her quickly before getting to you.

Yet he found it difficult to approach, he had confidence in Killer Queen but something underlying in his mind was telling him to wait. Conversation, between you and them he would usually not care about. But he was listening more to your end of the conversation. A bag was exchanged from their hands to yours.

Once separating the blond went on the move, not before doing away with the obstacle that had been your coworker first. As they practically vanish into dust, there’s not a single thought about taking her hands for himself. Something he could easily do and return to a normal life as soon as possible. He didn’t settle for hers however, he refused to for some reason. His issue would only be resolved when he could approach you.

The sooner he got rid of you, the sooner he wouldn’t have to worry about the image of you, surely. The odd sensations arising in his chest surely would fizzle on their own. It seemed almost too easy to approach you from behind, just one touch and you’d be done for.

At least that’s how it would typically turn out in theory.

His stand Killer Queen poises itself to take another life, however not without slight hesitance. As Kira himself thinks of the waste it would be if you were to rot away. There were little options of replacements comparable to you that Kira could easily get away with. This wasn’t quite right to him, it was utter nonsense to his murderous capabilities. ‘Tch how inconvenient’ He thinks to himself

Killer Queen no longer reaches out to make you into a living bomb, it’s cat like eyes presenting the same expression as its master.

A quick witted decision later he decides to interfere with the bag you were currently handling. A small explosion you were unable to hear, incinerated the handles, the bag quickly fell to the ground spilling its contents. You moved quickly to try and keep everything from dispersing until abruptly noticing a man who was fairly close to your proximity. Your eyes had a little fright in them as the blond leisurely picked up what appeared to be a bottle of hand soap before looking down at your crouched form.

“Pardon, me I couldn’t help but notice your bag’s handles broke...may I help you?”

The sheer hesitance written all over your face was to be expected especially with how quickly he had approached you after being so close. “uhm...sure” You nod ““it would be very kind of you sir”

His pace is once again composed unlike seconds ago with his hesitance. It was such a strange feeling just being relaxed around you. Still there was an unrelenting fervor to do something, anything really to go back to normalcy.

At least somewhat anyway...

That was what had lead him to knock you out behind your back. Keeping you against your will right in his own home.

All to sort out his turmoil with you as of right now.

Letting go of your hand, Kira simply stares at you while watching over your body. “Why do you fascinate me so much....to keep you alive?” He mumbles to himself

“But I suppose we can both learn why as you start your permanent stay...”

He taps his fingers softly on the nearby nightstand, looking at the clock.

“For now I best prepare dinner, before I can ponder anything more with you y/n”

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere jjba #yandere scenario #yoshikage kira #jojo no kimyō na bōken #JJBA #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo x reader #jjba imagines #jjba x reader

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argentdandelion · 4 years ago

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How To Get Your Number Down to Zero (Part 2 of 3)

Unsuccessful/Still Trapped Passengers (Sorted in chronological order)

Amelia’s Problem

(Warning: Covers some depressing subtext in indirect language.)

It seems the turning point in Amelia’s arc was when she gave up after One-One was put back into the control panel and reinstated as the Conductor. Early in her conversation with Tulip afterward, she says: “I don’t want a life without Alrick!” and starts crying. This is probably significant: during the memory scene when people tell her the funeral is starting, she isn’t crying, whimpering, or making obvious signs of distress. In fact, none of her memories shown depict her crying or with obviously sad facial expressions. She might disapprove of crying: when Atticus is hit with the transformation ray and the Steward has Tulip, Tulip cries floods of tears, and the Conductor mockingly says “Aww...no more tears” and wipes away her tears with a handkerchief. In contrast, at the following episode’s start, One-One tells Tulip it's okay to cry, and cry she does. The idea she is habitually against crying, or other displays of sadness, may be furthermore supported by the subtlety of her expressions of sadness in Season 3, Episode 8, even after she’s spent some time improving.

Certainly, the passengers that have reached zero have gotten through great, openly expressed emotional discomfort, which, for most, included substantial crying. It may be that Amelia, in hurrying past her trauma or glossing over her turmoil, refused chances for emotional processing or growth. Removing her from power forced her to change her framework, mourn Alrick, adapt to a life without him, and make amends for all her mistakes.

Grace’s Problem

Desire: A desire for others’ validation, due to a fear of being wrong, disappointing others, and not being enough; needing to avoid being alone. Approach: Repeatedly lying, deceiving, and making stuff up with no basis to gain the approval of others or control them to her ends; creating a cult of children with her as the much-admired leader, hiding things from others to maintain relationships/admiration Character Arc: (Abridged for concision) “I’m the admired leader of the Apex, in which denizens are said to not be real people, and are mere toys created by the train to amuse passengers to do with as they wish, including harming and killing them →my inability to confront my fears and the way of life created from them has made everyone suffer and led me to being alone, despite all my attempts to avoid it. I’m going to undo as much of the harm I caused as I can.”

In Book 2 and early in Book 3, Grace appeared somewhat vain in how she occasionally checked herself out in a compact mirror or in the reflective surface of a denizen’s light. It might be a holdover from wanting to look good for the sake of being validated by others or nor disappointing them, although she is much admired by Apex members, to the point one member even made an outfit much like hers.

Grace was reluctant to tell Simon about her number dropping because she feared Simon would think less of her for it. Though she initially distrusted Tuba and wanted to separate her from Hazel, if not kill her entirely, she gradually revised her opinion of Tuba, and tearfully mourned her death.

It’s possible her number dropped prior to “Le Chat Chalet” because of all the time she had spent being friendly to Hazel, a denizen, although she didn’t even know Hazel was a denizen at the time. It’s unclear whether unintentional or inadvertent character growth also counts in getting a number down.

Her number drops rapidly when she admits her fears while trapped in her memory tape, confronts being wrong, and apologizes to an image of Hazel. She leaves the tape after she raises a hand in goodbye to a memory of Hazel, thus giving her a resolution, unhappy as it is, to that section of her life. When she confronts Simon back at the Apex, she tries to undo the ideology she created and repeatedly tries to save Simon from himself. The endpoints of their arcs are well-summarized by the following exchange:

Grace: "We've been doing it wrong! We can still change!" (down at least three digits) Simon: "Why would I ever want to change if I'm always right?" (up at least five digits)

Simon’s Problem (Speculative):

How Simon got onto the Train is not shown; even supplemental statements by Owen Dennis (of dubious canon; in the same tweet he said the Train is a reality show for aliens) are vague. The following is based on educated guesses.

Problem (Speculative): Insecurity born of unstable attachments, leading to excessive or “clingy” focus on very few people (i.e., Grace); fear of abandonment, fear of being wrong/admitting such. Approach: Gaining secure attachment/fulfilling relationships through Grace; gaining purpose, power, and control by being the second-in-command of the Apex. Character Arc: (Abridged for concision) “I am happy and secure with my relationship with Grace and about my beliefs about denizens and the train’s purpose → Grace betrayed the Apex and me, so I’m not going to listen any more and shall kill her.” (and then he is killed by a Ghom)

It’s much less clear what issues or turmoil got Simon on the Train, because his story before the train isn’t shown, and he doesn’t outright talk about it. Most likely, it has something to do with emotional insecurity, created by or related to unstable attachments, leading to a fear of abandonment (which possibly developed into a desire to enforce “loyalty” in ‘dictator mode’) and, as a product of that, a fear of being wrong or admitting such.

The idea Simon’s problem is related to a fear of being wrong, or admitting it, comes how he not once ever admits to being wrong or doing the wrong thing or apologizes. He very rarely even uses the word “sorry”, much less in a sincere way.3 (When he backs down when Grace tells him to not do something, he typically says “okay” in a subdued voice, not “sorry.”) He doesn’t even make the most paper-thin and perfunctory apology to Hazel for killing Tuba, even seeing how distressed she is, even when told letting Hazel have a funeral has practical benefits. The closest he comes to admitting he was wrong is telling Grace: “You were right not to trust her [Amelia]!” He only acknowledges the possibility Amelia (not a man, as he had assumed) is indeed the “True Conductor” in a hypothetical: “And even if she was [the True Conductor], she’s lost her way!”. Even for a confident and arrogant kind of person, Simon’s habits are extreme.

Judging by how strongly Simon responds to being called "a child", it’s possible that characterization relates to the trauma that put him on the train. Although it’s possible people calling him “a child” in a condescending or mocking way is part of it, the most probable interpretation is that it relates to him being wrong or not knowing what he’s doing. When he leaves The Cat’s chalet in season 3, episode 7, he says: “I’m not a child anymore. I know what I’m doing.”) In the next episode, Amelia aggressively says: “Have you ever considered that you've been wrong? Hah! Of course not! You're a child."

Most likely, he cries upon seeing the “We won’t tell Simon” memory due to a fear of abandonment or betrayal. When Grace saves him, the second sentence he says is “Samantha left me!” as he starts sobbing. (He doesn’t ever wonder where Samantha is or whether she’s safe.) In Season 3, Episode 7, he briefly cries again when recalling how Samantha abandoned him.

Perhaps the most obvious potential turning point in Simon’s arc when when he saw the secret Grace had been keeping from him. He could have concluded many things from this, whether concerning his moral culpability, being wrong about denizens, or using tougher tactics to talk things out with Grace or even friend-dump her, which all had some probability of lowering his number. Instead, he concludes something along the lines of: “In keeping that secret from me, in choosing Hazel over me, Grace betrayed me.”

Another obvious potential turning point is when he exits Grace’s memories and seems numb or regretful of what he’s done. Though he could have undone or minimized the damage then, he only makes a dismissive “hmmph” and walks away. The last point he had to turn back was when he asked why Grace had saved him on the bridge next to the Mall Car (Season 3, Episode 10), and he thought over Grace’s answer of “I don’t know”, only to kick her off the bridge.

Simon, unlike any other passenger shown, doesn’t change his beliefs, values, perspectives, behavior, or even interpersonal skills over the course of his character arc. For all his boldness, for all the emphasis on the people of the Apex being “brave”...his arc ended lethally from his inability to confront his fears and fight through his emotional pain.

It is possible her desire changed between Alrick’s death and some time after getting on the train; she may have initially desired her own death until she believed she could recreate her old life using the train. ↩︎

It’s only an educated guess she was trying to die; what else could she have been planning to do that evening when heading to the university building? However, she does pause in front of the building and seems surprised then it loses its roof. She may have gotten to the roof to investigate why that happened: since the train can modify its appearance to lure in passengers, this makes sense. Tulip tried to walk to Oshkosh at night in a Wisconsin winter with only a light jacket: she was so emotionally distraught as to unwittingly put her in danger of death by hypothermia. Similarly, “in physical danger due to emotional distress” may have matched Amelia’s motive when the train appeared. ↩︎

His line: “Sorry to be the voice of reason again, but there’s no body!” in “The Campfire Car” doesn’t count; it’s exasperation phrased in a way that’s mildly polite or passive-aggressive. In Book 2, he says: "I'm so sorry you two had to see this. I tried to take care of it before you came back." It's not actually apologetic. ↩︎

#Infinity Train #Meta #Analysis #Amelia Hughes #Grace Monroe #Simon Laurent #Character Analysis #Suicide Mention #How to Get Your Number Down to Zero

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astrology-india · 4 years ago

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Signs a Scorpio Man Likes You

New Post has been published on https://www.astrology-india.com/signs-a-scorpio-man-likes-you/

Signs a Scorpio Man Likes You

So, you’ve come across a kind, sweet, loveable Scorpio man, and you’re curious if he likes you enough to take things to the next level.

Fortunately, I am here to help! Keep reading so that you can identify those sneaky subtle signs a Scorpio man likes you.

The male born under the astrology zodiac sign of Scorpio has a tendency to be laid back and reserved, especially if he really likes someone.

This may sound a bit odd, but a Scorpio man likes to play it safe until he is sure of his ground. This article will show you how to ease him into your world.

How To Spot The Signs a Scorpio Man Likes You

Men in general are pretty bad at hiding their attraction. The Scorpio man, however, is concerned with saving face. After all, he needs to maintain the status quo among his social circle and strangers alike.

When he likes someone his approach is much more clandestine, yet just as powerful as an overt approach. What Scorpio men lack in impulsiveness and competitiveness they make up for with intentional acts and self-control.

Understanding the complex characteristics of the Scorpio male will take you into a world of intrigue. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to be complicated, it’s just that he tends to take his time in getting to know new people and new situations.

Someone who has helped scores of women understand the complexities of Scorpio is relationship expert Anna Kovach. If you have the hots for a Scorpio man and want to take things further, you may well find it helpful to read Anna’s report entitled Scorpio Man Secrets here.

Scorpio – The Scorpion

The sign of the scorpion certainly has a reputation among astrologers. It is a watery, fixed sign, meaning that Scorpios are likely to have lasting and strong emotions.

But it also takes time to build up those emotions and establish intimacy with others.

This bodes well for relationships, as Scorpio natives are some of the most loyal, hardworking partners you can find.

Building an emotional connection is paramount in capturing a Scorpio man’s full attention which will allow him to make the running.

Most people view Scorpio as the sex symbol of the zodiac – and they are not wrong! Not only does Scorpio rule the sex organs, but also these natives tend to explore intimacy and passion in relationships through physical contact, which includes lovemaking.

However, their intensity and passion pour over into other aspects of their lives as well. To create a solid foundation for a long-term relationship, there needs to be both give and take on each side.

Ruled by Mars, Scorpions have strong desires for power and control. You may have even noticed your Scorpio crush is always steadily at work or focused upon one thing. That’s because he’s determined when he sets his mind on an objective. Chances are that he is truly enjoying whatever he’s engrossed in.

Scorpios are also master manipulators, keenly observant, and very secretive. Sure a “bad” Scorpio may try to control or emotionally overpower others, but a “good” one will use that power much more responsibly.

In a romantic setting, this means Scorpios generally put out subtle hints of an attraction. While this may be seen more in women, Scorpio men are more proactive. Still, they desire a degree of emotional security (being a water sign), so they are cautious of forming attachments.

You will likely be courting a Scorpio male for a while before he deems you a worthy partner unless you appreciate what makes him tick in a romantic way. To discover how to get a Scorpio man crazy with desire for you, check out Scorpio Man Secrets here.

The Scorpio Male

A male Scorpio will act very differently to a female Scorpio, mainly due to Mars being the ruling planet. Men are more likely to act out Mars energy than women.

But because Scorpio is a water sign, any action will be more secretive and power-preserving as opposed to the impulsive, loud, often regretful Aries.

His drive for power will lead him to take control of his life. Just watch him command his friends from a distance with only a few words or a gesture.

This is not to say he isn’t confident, just that the Scorpio energy operates under the radar. His hidden ambition may cause him to pursue a career as a researcher, scientist, detective, or another profession that requires attention to detail and high focus.

The Scorpio man is fiercely loyal to his woman as much as his projects. Passion bleeds into his romantic life, and he loves learning everything about his partner. (Think of all his dedication, loyalty, and curiosity focused on you.)

But not so fast! Even though they share the passion of Mars, their watery, fixed nature gives them respectable patience when it comes to dating and relationships. Relationship coach Anna Kovach explains how to bring a Scorpio man out of his shell in Scorpio Man Secrets here.

With the basics out of the way, how can you really tell a Scorpio man is interested in you?

The Subtle Signs a Scorpio Man Likes You

Without further ado, here are a few signs you can look for to know whether that Scorpion hunk is into you.

Checking You Out

It would be disingenuous to say a Scorpio doesn’t appreciate good looks. You HAVE to look, dress, and act your best with him. Remember, if you are to be his woman, he’s going to think about how you contribute to his image. If you catch him looking you up and down, you have probably passed his “looks test.”

Making (penetrating) Eye Contact

When a Scorpio man locks eyes with you from across a room and gives you that sexy George Clooney smirk, you know he is interested.

Think about it: a Scorpio usually has his own agenda on his mind. He may be interested in you, but be so preoccupied in his own world that what’s on his mind takes precedence.

So when he makes such a blatant move (for him), you can be quite certain he likes what he sees.

Asking Personal Questions

A Scorpio usually acts towards his goals. If he takes you out and asks personal questions about your childhood, where you grew up, etc., he’s not trying to be a creep! His goal is to get to know you, and who you are on a deeper level.

Scorpio’s watery element needs emotional security before committing wholeheartedly. Asking personal questions helps gauge whether or not he should seal the deal or continue looking for the one. If a Scorpio man likes you he will ask questions.

He Avoids Manipulating You… For Now

Sorry to say, but any Scorpio native is going to try to dominate you at some point or another. But if you notice he treats you a bit differently or is not as controlling as he is with other people, he respects your individuality.

Believe it or not, Scorpio men are actually turned on by women who are capable of exercising their own feminine power independently. He wants to see (and value) who you are first… before he steers the boat later in a relationship.

The YouTube video below puts into pictures some of the signs a Scorpio man likes you. I hope this article has now made it easy for you to recognize the signs your crush is hot for you.

youtube

Final Thoughts

A Scorpio man can also be direct about what he desires. Most likely if he approaches you he will be upfront and clear about his attraction. It could be an intense first meeting if he is not tactful nor has the right intentions.

But if he is making dates, giving appropriate compliments, or just flat out expressing his attraction for you, take the hint and make a move! He may not do so again to save face. To make sure you are prepared when he makes his connection with you check out Scorpio Man Secrets here.

For Other Feature Articles

Looking for more tips regarding a Scorpio man? See my homepage here for everything you need to know!

#likes you #relationship #Scorpio man #zodiac signs

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thar-be-scribbles-here · 6 years ago

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Doctor! Doctor! [Julian/Nazali *Lemon*]

Guess now’s a good time to come off anon and say I finally finished this whopping 5.6K WORDS OF UTTER SELF INDULGENT FILTH. Special thanks to @devofuck for encouraging me to finish this, I probably would have abandoned it otherwise. A few other people asked to be tagged/expressed interest in seeing this when I finished it this so here ya go lovelies :D My only hope is that I even came close to meeting your expectations haha. @bazzpop00 @sinningforasrian @izzycle

I’m gonna go to bed and hope to god I don’t regret this haha.

You can also read this on Ao3

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

Most of the time, Julian was fixated one thing. He wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to help and heal people.

To be needed.

He had been ecstatic when Nazali had taken him under their wing. Nazali was the perfect balance of fun-loving and practical. They always seemed to have a smile on their face and witty quip on their tongue. Yet they always knew exactly how much tact was needed to handle any situation. They were the kind of calming force that someone as ludicrously dramatic as Julian needed in their life.

Julian was grateful for the wealth of knowledge that Nazali had provided for him in his many months as their protege. Especially regarding more difficult or developing medical practices. But there were plenty of other things that he had learned about himself in his time with his trusted mentor. Or perhaps they were things he always knew. Nazali had simply been... very encouraging, so to speak.

Sitting at a polished sturdy desk, Nazali appeared to be deep into their studies. Their cheek rested lazily in their hand and their eyes skimmed the pages of a book. Julian sat across the room at his own slightly less ornate desk. He should have been studying as well, but his mind was far elsewhere. Every time he tried to focus, his gaze would flicker back to Nazali sitting across the room. Usually Julian's unending stubbornness was enough to keep him from being distracted. But other times, it was difficult to think about books or medicine or anything else with such a fetching image before him. The ever present slight curl of their lip, their fire red hair, the moles speckled on their face like scattered stars in a city night sky...

Nazali had noticed Julian's eyes on them several minutes ago. But they had done nothing to give it away despite how much they wanted to burst out laughing with each yearning glance that Julian stole. Julian was already so easy to catch off guard, but letting the tension build for a bit was still more fun.

Finally, Nazali's eyes shifted in Julian's direction. The movement was so slight that it took a moment for Julian to notice. He jumped in his seat as their eyes finally met, his long legs bumping his desk with a loud thud! in the process.

"Distracted again today, Ilya?" Nazali remarked playfully.

Julian frantically reached over to stop a pile of books from toppling off the desk. He attempted to compose himself and play it off. "Ahem, um... what ever do you mean?"

With a brief huff of laughter, Nazali closed their book and leaned forward with their head tilted thoughtfully and their chin resting on their folded hands. "Maybe studying can wait another time. What do you have in mind? Something a bit more... hands-on?" The suggestive lilt in their tone was emphasized by the devious perk of their crimson brow.

A hot blush spread across Julian's face. Despite steam practically coming out of his ears, he flashed Nazali a dazzling grin. "Oh ho~ you know me too well, Doctor Satrinava," he replied with a flirtatious chuckle.

Nazali's own smile widened and they shook their head. No matter how much time they spent together - or how they used that time - Julian's need to address Nazali so formally was still funny to them. Nazali's shoulders bobbed with laughter as they refrained from assuring Julian that there was no need for such formalities for the fiftieth time. "No, not really. You are just very easy to read."

Julian shifted his gaze to the side, cleared his throat and tugged awkwardly at his shirt collar. "Well...um yes, that too." Nazali responded with only an amused hum as they stood up from their desk and approached Julian before placing a hand on his shoulder. They leaned down close until their lips brushed his ear. "Wait here. I'll be right back." Nazali teasingly clacked their teeth close to Julian's vulnerable neck and stepped away, tracing their fingers across his broad shoulders all the while. Julian shivered as Nazali's touch still lingered on him as they walked away.

Nazali stopped in the doorframe that lead to their private quarters and tossed a sly glance over their shoulder. "Oh, and clear the books from my desk would you? We'll need it." With a final wink, they disappeared into the next room.

***

Julian paced the room and muttered to himself as the minutes passed slowly. The books and papers that had been scattered across Nazali's desk had been neatly put away for what felt like an hour. He knew that Nazali was only stalling to rile him up.

They always had plenty of patience for this sort of thing. While Julian had absolutely none. The time Julian spent waiting only made him more antsy and more eager, just the way Nazali liked him. Julian could picture them right now, leaning casually just on the other side of their bedroom door and smiling to themselves in devilish satisfaction as they listened to Julian's relentless back and forth footsteps.

"Ilya."

Julian stopped mid stride. He had been so busy mumbling to himself that he had not noticed Nazali re-enter the room. He turned around and his brow piqued with immense intrigue.

Nazali leaned casually against the door frame, their usual crimson scarf draped lazily off their shoulders and a loose, silky matching wrap was tied at their waist. A split opening in the wrap revealed their strong thighs as well as peculiar black leather straps hugging tightly at their hips. A telltale bulge poked out through the wrap right between their legs. They also held a familiar bottle of some slick, slightly viscous clear liquid.

Julian swallowed hard as Nazali walked casually towards him. When they got close enough they whipped the scarf off of their shoulders, grabbed the other end and pulled it taunt between their hands. "Hope you didn't mind the short wait," they said with a knowing smirk.

Short?! Julian blinked owlishly before faltering to a smile laced with eager anticipation. "Not at all, doctor."

Nazali raised their brow and looped their scarf around the back of Julian's neck and tugged him closer. Their faces were barely an inch apart now and Nazali could feel the heat radiating from Julian's. "Good." Their warm breath brushed against Julian's lips. They let the scarf slip off Julian's neck and stepped away just he was compelled to lean forward, leaving the poor man stumbling and barely managing to catch himself. It was going to be a fun night. Nazali chuckled and Julian over to their desk.

As Julian followed, he left a trail of his clothes in his wake until he was stripped naked. He tried to exude an air of confidence in his long stride, but that facade faded fast when they met Nazali's piercing gaze. By the time he stood before them, his inhibitions had fled him almost entirely. His eyes were alight with desire and he was already putty in his mentor's hands without them having to lift a finger. "I... I'll do whatever you ask."

Nazali stood with a relaxed but still somehow imposing stance, hand leaned into one hip and their eyes roaming Julian's lithe body as they sized him up. They smiled, set the bottle aside for now and patted the surface of the desk expectantly. "Ohhh you know what to do, Ilya."

Julian nodded eagerly. He fixed Nazali with a longing gazs as he bent himself over the desk, spread his legs apart and folded his arms behind his back. He looked back at Nazali over his shoulder while sporting both a bright blush and a playful grin. "Do whatever you must, doctor," he said with an inviting wiggle of his hips. Despite his attempt to be at least somewhat composed, his voice was tight and pleading and he was half hard already.

Nazali snickered at Julian's shameless display and wove their scarf around his crossed wrists, binding his arms behind his back. They grabbed a fistful of Julian's hair yanked his head back, eliciting a sharp gasp from their eager protege. "And what is it I must do, exactly?"

Julian swallowed hard. "W-whatever it is that you please, o-of course."

Nazali shook their head. "You're going to have to be a little more specific than that, Ilya."

Julian bit his lip and shuddered at the subtle yet enticing sense of authority in Nazali's voice. His eyes went half mast as they gave his hair another insistent tug. He took a deep, wavering breath to prepare himself. Nazali liked it when he begged, and lord was he good at it. "Please... hurt me." His voice came in a rough and feverish whisper. "Just hurt me, doctor. I beg of you."

Nazali pursed their lip and tilted their head. "Still a bit vague," they remarked with a small shrug. But a moment later their smile returned. Their composure had not faltered at all in the face of Julian's pitiful front. "But I guess it's enough." They released their grip on his hair and laid their hands on his bare back. "Now... where to start?" they mused quietly to themselves as they grazed the tips of their fingers down over his pale skin with just whisper of a touch.

Julian shivered as the teasing, ticklish sensation of Nazali's finger tips sent slight tremors through his anxiously waiting, ravenous body.

"Ahh, I know," Nazali continued with a soft singsong lilt in their smooth voice. "What about this?" They punctuated their question with a hard open faced smack on Julian's ass, easily leaving a pink hand print on his pale skin.

Julian let out a sharp cry and arched his back as if presenting himself for more. "Y-yes! Yes more! Oh doctor please hurt me more!"

Nazali grinned and reeled back, smacking Julian again but harder this time. His responding groan was a perfect mingling of pain and delight. Nazali struck him again and again and again and again, drawing out the pauses between each strike just a little more. Each time their hand came down harder than before.

Julian followed each resounding slap with a sharp euphoric cry as the wondrous, tingly pain intensified each time. He rested the side of his head against the desk as he was spanked continuously for several minutes. A small puddle of drool began to form on the desk under the corner of his panting mouth. It wasn't too long before Julian's pale ass was bright red all over. His needy moans began to dissolve into strained whimpers, but he did not struggle or beg for mercy. He only craved more.

Nazali paused and leaned in a bit closer as Julian's soft whimpers faded into shaky breaths. They got a look at what an absolute mess Julian had made of himself already and smiled. "Yes... very good, Ilya," Nazali purred, their voice almost tender.

The air in the room felt cool against the hot stinging sensation on Julian's reddened skin and he shivered in response. The sting seemed to spread tremors up and down his whole body, amplifying even the lightest touch. Julian cast Nazali another glance over his shoulder and knitted his brow into a deeply longing expression. "Please... oh please doctor... d-don't stop."

Nazali raised their brow incredulously for a moment before breaking into a sly grin. "Oh? But you're so tender now, Ilya," Nazali replied, brushing their hand teasingly over the stinging skin of his bare bottom.

Julian's breath caught in his throat and he trembled harder as the warmth in Nazali's hands briefly intensified the sting wherever they touched. "I-I'm fine r-reall-," he bit back a strangled whine as Nazali's fingers suddenly curled inward, gripping his ass tight until they left moon shaped dents in his flesh with their fingernails.

Nazali let out another brief huff of laughter as Julian's face flushed pink with slight embarrassment. They grabbed Julian's upper arm and lifted him off of the desk into a standing position before instructing him to face them and get on his knees. Julian quickly obeyed and knelt on the floor, taking care not to lose his balance as his hands were still tied securely behind his back. Nazali ran their fingers through Julian's hair as he tilted his head up towards them with an eager shine in his eyes, practically begging his mentor to give him another command.

And Nazali was more than happy to oblige.

With a choice tug of the loose fabric tied at their hip, the silk wrap fell away to reveal a rather lengthy and thick strap-on. Julian gaped at its magnificent girth and swallowed hard, practically salivating already. He looked up a Nazali again, his thin lips trembling with a desire that he could not contain if he tried.

Nazali smiled down at him with amusement written all over their handsome face. Finally they tangled their fingers tightly into Julian's auburn curls once more and tugged him forward just a fraction of an inch before grabbing the length of their strap-on and pressing the tip to Julian's lips. "Suck it."

Julian nodded once and almost immediately obeyed. With Nazali's hold supporting him, he leaned forward to take the length in his mouth. The somewhat flexible material did not have the pliancy of a real cock, but that hardly mattered to Julian. The feeling of it sliding across his tongue while Nazali's watchful eyes bored into him from above was enough to elicit a satisfied moan from the back of his stuffed throat. Julian bobbed his head up and down, making wet slurping and suckling noises all the while. With his mouth full, he glanced up at Nazali from behind the stray red curls hanging in his face, his eager eyes begging for validation.

Nazali's ever present casual grin widened at the pretty sight. They looked a bit farther down to see Julian's own throbbing erection, precum leaking profusely from the tip. "Are you that worked up already, Ilya?" Nazali jabbed with another laugh. Julian's was only able to offer a muffled groan as a response as his blush spread all the way to his shoulders.

With a glimmer of mischief and curiosity in their eyes, Nazali placed their hand on the back of Julian's neck as their other hand tugged at his hair insistently. "I wonder if you would cum just from something like this," they mused. "Should we find out, Ilya?" Julian's tired eyes went half lidded and a shudder passed through his body. The teasing edge in Nazali's voice was enough to make his cock twitch in excitement. He leaned forward eagerly a bit more and gave a small nod.

Nazali chuckled softly and pushed on the back of Julian's neck just enough to move him forward a fraction of an inch and held him there firmly. "Are you sure?" Their brow raised in mock contemplation as Julian began to tremble harder.

A muffled whine rose from the back of Julian's throat once again and he squirmed in Nazali's grip, his eyes glistening with unfallen tears.

Again, Nazali's cool exterior did not falter in the slightest. The look in their eyes promised their poor protege nothing and everything all at once. They reached down and grasped the underside of Julian's chin to quiet him somewhat even as a single tear slipped down his pretty face. "Alright, alright. So impatient, Ilya," Nazali teased as Julian's whining gradually subsided for now. Finally, they braced both of their hands on either side of Julian's head, grasping at his hair as they began to thrust in and out of his mouth.

Julian's eyes fluttered and rolled back in his head at the exhilarating feeling of the Nazali's cock sliding across his tongue and down his throat with such force. It was so thick that he could hardly breathe, but that only made it more exciting. His arms tensed as he instinctively tried to reach out and grasp Nazali's hips to push as much of the strap down his throat as possible. But his hands were still bound and Nazali's strong grip held his head fast in place as they roughly fucked his face over and over. Beautiful little choking noises and whorish moans reverberated in his chest alongside his rapidly beating heart. With every thrust he could feel more and more warmth pooling in his slender hips. Finally, a sharp jolt passed through his body as he was finally pushed over the edge of climax. He came hard and slumped in Nazali's hands, his cheek leaning hard against their touch.

Julian's knees ached from kneeling on the floor, his bottom still stung from the earlier spanking, his throat felt sore from the assault it had just taken and now his thighs were sticky with his own cum. But despite all of that, when Nazali pulled out of his mouth he had the most blissful, dazed smile on his face.

Nazali caressed underneath Julian's chin, tilting his head further up to pin him with their stare. Julian shuddered when Nazali's fingers grazed his sensitive neck, every nerve in his body still felt electrified from his intense orgasm. But Nazali wasn't finished with him quite yet. They reached over to the bottle that they had put aside on the desk and swirled the somewhat thick but slippery substance inside.

Julian's eyes lit up at the sight of it.

Nazali fixed him with a sultry, promising smile. "Are you ready, Ilya?" they purred.

Julian let out a rough, lustful chuckle and nodded into Nazali's hand. "Oh... always."

Nazali responded with a satisfied hum and let Julian's chin drop from their grasp. "Good. Now come on, stand up."

With a bit of a struggle, Julian managed to get one foot under him and Nazali pulled him up the rest of the way. By the time they had him pinned face down on the desk again, he was already aroused once more.

Nazali pulled the cork from the bottle with their teeth and poured some of the slick lubricant into their hand. They coated their fingers generously before reaching down to rub them against Julian's twitching hole. As always, they took a little time to tease him first by swirling their slickened fingers in circles against his entrance, not pushing inside just yet.

Julian's whole body tensed and he whimpered helplessly. He looked back at Nazali, his messy red hair falling in his glimmering grey eyes. "Doct-..." But before he could even finish his plea, Nazali suddenly thrust their finger forward down to their knuckle. Julian gasped, his toes curled hard against the floor in pleasure and he slumped more heavily onto the desk's surface.

Nazali began to move their finger in and out at a tortuously slow pace. Even they could not help but bite their lip as Julian begged, mewled and squirmed and his soft warm insides clenched tightly around their finger. Julian always made the most lovely sounds when Nazali teased him this way.

Julian felt a second finger sliding inside of him and another shudder raced up his spine. His whole body was hot, flushed and beaded with sweat. His breath hitched sharply with each deep push of Nazali's practiced fingers. He tried to roll his hips backward in a silent plea for Nazali to go faster, but their other hand clasped his hip to hold him in place. Every time he tried to form words, Nazali just barely hooked their fingers to teasingly brush against his prostate. The briefest whisper of overwhelming pleasure could course through Julian's body for just a moment before Nazali went back to slowly thrusting in and out. Julian stubbornly still tried to push himself back and whimpered loudly as his efforts proved fruitless.

"What is it, Ilya?" Nazali asked with a taunting chuckle. "I won't know unless you tell me~"

Julian swallowed hard and tried to clear some of the haze from his mind, tears blurring his vision from the sheer effort of concentration. He managed to say a single word but its coherence was lost in another helpless gasp.

"Hmm?" Nazali leaned over him closer until the heat of their bodies joined. They shoved their fingers in deep and wriggled them in a scissoring motion to stretch Julian's hole in preparation of what was to come. Their breath tickled Julian's ear as they persisted. "What was that?"

A broken shuddering breath shook Julian's chest and he pressed his forehead against the desk as hot tears rolled down his face. With another light flick against this prostate, he completely lost it. He moaned and threw his head back dramatically. Suddenly frantic pleas flowed from his lips like a dam bursting, interrupted with harsh gasps of roaring lust and frustration. "PLEASE!! H-harder! Faster! Oh please faster! I-I-I need it! Oh god I need it! O-oh god N-Nazali please!"

The sound of Nazali's first name on Julian's lips was a rare thing. He only seemed to save it for moments like this. But what a beautiful sound it was. Nazali grinned and placed a gently chastising kiss on Julian's back. "Alright," they whispered, their own voice had grown deep and husky with intrigue. "How's this?" They shoved their fingers deep, bringing the pace up faster and faster, rubbing Julian hard and stretching him open and jabbing his sweet spot again and again.

"Yes! O-oh yes please, more! More! More! Please!" Julian arched his back as much as his compromising position would allow. His mouth was stretched into a wide and shameless smile as he begged and begged for Nazali's skilled fingers to fuck him harder. Finally a third finger slipped inside of him and his chest fluttered with excitement. It was a only a matter of time now before Nazali filled him up and fucked him senseless with that thick cock that he craved so much. He begged Nazali to peg him now, to fuck him against the desk until he couldn't think anymore and not to stop even after that.

Suddenly Nazali paused. Julian choked on his words and looked back at them wide-eyed, his expression nearly on the verge of panic. But Nazali simply shook their head and pulled their fingers out. A strangled whine rose from the back of Julian's throat. He suddenly felt so empty.

Nazali laughed softly. As much as they admired Julian's enthusiasm, they couldn't have him cumming again just yet. Not before they ravaged him properly. Nazali placed both of their hands on Julian's sides and slowly grazed their fingernails across his over-sensitive skin as the thick shaft their strap rested teasingly against his well prepared hole.They shook their head and tsked like a disappointed teacher. "Now now, no need to get so greedy."

Julian thought that he might unravel right then and there. "I-I'm sorry," Julian whimpered, his breath faltering as the felt the thick strap rubbing against him. He needed it inside him now , but he intended to beg for as long as it took. "I-"

Nazali shushed him gently and reached for the bottle of lubricant on the desk again. "Just relax, Ilya." They poured it into their palm and started slicking up the length of their strap, their knuckles brushing up against Julian beneath them all the while.

Julian's breath grew more ragged as he tried hard not to squirm or whimper since he knew any such fuss would likely prolong his agonizing wait. Finally he felt something thick, slippery and hard nudge his twitching entrance as Nazali grasped his hips tightly once again. He tried not to speak - oh gods he tried - but at this point he could not help himself anymore. "Please... o-oh please..." he begged between soft puffs of hungered breath.

Predictably, Nazali paused and clicked their tongue once in contemplation which drew out another regretful whimper from Julian. They could push in inch by inch, forcing Julian to resist the insurmountable urge to beg until they were completely sheathed inside before fucking him hard against the desk. They could, but Nazali decided for a more direct approach. Within the span of a couple seconds, Nazali released their grip on Julian's hips, reached up to grasp a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back to force his back into a sharp arch. With their grip on his tangled mess of auburn hair being now their only leverage, Nazali snapped their hips forward to fully sheath themselves inside Julian.

Julian's whole body jolted. He was quiet for a heartbeat as if the breath had been knocked out of him before cried out loud and long. His lewd voice completely filled the room and most likely spilled beyond the walls. The sweet stretching sensation with just a hint of pain was nothing short of bliss to him. Intense pleasure washed over him in crashing waves as Nazali began to thrust in and out at a steady pace. They continued to only hold him by his hair, further adding to the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. Tears welled in his eyes from the sheer ecstasy of the thick cock moving inside him. "Ohhhh yes! Yes! Th-thank you! Oh thank you doctor!" Julian gasped in between shameless moans.

"You're certainly making a lot of noise aren't you Ilya?" Nazali teased. Their voice was as steady and serene as ever, a sharp contrast to Julian's frenzied cries. They pushed deep inside and fell into a rhythm of shorter, faster thrusts which jabbed at Julian's prostate each time. "Does it feel that good?"

"Yes!" Julian practically shouted, a wide wobbly smile spreading across his flushed face. He glanced back at Nazali as they pounded into him, far too lost in the pleasure to be even the slightest bit embarrassed of anything anymore. "Y-yes! Oh it's s-s-so good. S-so wonderful..." his words lost coherence halfway through as his body shuddered with the effort not to cum yet. His body begged for release, but he wanted to draw this out at least a bit more.

"Hmmm," Nazali hummed with a sly smirk curling their lip. If Julian wanted to bide his time, then they were more than happy to help. They chuckled softly, with just the slightest touch of malice. "If you want to make this last, Ilya... then we will." Their thrusts became slower, longer. Nazali pulled out almost all the way before pushing back until they were sheathed all the way inside once more. Over and over.

Julian's knees trembled beneath him and precum leaked onto the floor between his feet. Short breathy gasps mingled with frequent blurred pleadings and encouragements. When Nazali started to thrust harder and faster once again, Julian's legs nearly gave out beneath him, but a strong hand clasped at his hips to keep him upright.

For quite some time, Nazali kept up that pattern. They would slow their pace just as intense tremors wracked Julian's body and then they would slow down again, denying him release. It continued until Julian was openly weeping and whimpering, his cock throbbed almost painfully and the puddle of precum on the floor steadily spread.

This time when Nazali slowed again, Julian whined loudly and attempted to push himself back hard onto the thick strap like before. But Nazali reprimanded him with a quick smack on the ass and held him in place. "Use your words, Ilya," Nazali chided.

Julian groaned and dropped his forehead against the desk's surface again. It took him a moment to collect himself enough to speak, but the words were practically knocked out of him as Nazali started to thrust quickly once again. "I-I want to cum! Oh p-please doctor... please let me cum."

Nazali laughed and slowed their pace again instead. "Just a little more, I promise."

Julian swallowed hard. His body was hot, his breathing was hoarse, he was dizzy and his head was clouded in a thick fog of mingled pleasure and an aching need for release. Finally - just when he thought he could take no more - Nazali suddenly began to thrust into him harder and faster than ever, giving him a new moment of stark clarity.

The sounds of his moans were discordantly beautiful music to Nazali's ears. They pounded into him, not bothering to slow anymore when his slender muscles tensed. With one final, hard push they reached beneath him and grabbed his rock hard cock. Almost the second their fingers touched him, Julian let out one final cry before he instantly came. Cum dripped off the side of the desk, down Julian's stomach and between Nazali's fingers.

Exhausted, Julian couldn't help but slump to his knees when Nazali pulled out, their strong hands slowing his descent for the most part. His was breathing raggedly and he knew he would be sore in the morning, but there was a listless and contented smile on his face.

Nazali knelt down behind him, released the bonds on his wrists and wrapped one arm around his waist for support. They pressed their naked chest to his back lifted their hand to show him their cum-covered fingers, making him flush deeper red. Julian felt Nazali's smile against his neck as they brought their fingers to his mouth. He parted his lips and let out a soft, pleased groan as he cleaned his own cum from Nazali's dripping fingers. He swallowed hard and leaned back against Nazali, completely spent.

Nazali sighed deeply in contentment and then stood up, pulling Julian up with them. Before his legs could give out under him, Nazali scooped him up easily into their arms. Though Julian was tall, his skinny frame made him very easy to carry.

Julian wrapped his arms around Nazali's shoulders for support. His face was flushed an even darker red than when he had been getting pegged. His eyes shifted from one place to another as Nazali carried him into their bedroom, not wanting to meet their eyes. "Um Doctor Satrinava, I-I'm fine I don't need to be carri-"

Nazali shook their head and cut him off. "Oh stop, Ilya. Did you intend to crawl instead?"

Though still embarrassed, Julian chuckled and gave Nazali a curious look while sporting his signature grin. "Perhaps. Would you have liked me to, doctor?"

Nazali rolled their eyes but also couldn't help but snicker. It never ceased to amuse them how quickly Julian could sway between tones like this. They laid Julian on their bed and took off their strap-on before leaving the room again shortly. A few minutes later, they came back with a bowl of warm bath salt infused water, a washcloth, and a bottle of sweet smelling oil. They dipped the washcloth into the bowl and rung it out before gently beginning to scrub down Julian's sweat and cum covered body, starting with his neck and working their way down.

The whole time, Julian was uncharacteristically quiet. He bit his lip hard as the warm cloth brushed against his still tingling skin, refusing to look Nazali in the eye. He started to protest again but Nazali shot him an incredulous look and he immediately shut up, his cheeks flushed deep red. Somehow this was far more embarrassing than anything else they had done to him that day. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the soothing smell of the bath salt.

Nazali patted his side insistently and told him to roll over on his stomach. To which Julian reluctantly complied. He folded his arms beneath him and buried his face deep in the soft sheets as Nazali began to wash his back.

"Yes yes Ilya, I know. Having someone else take care of you is the worst thing in the world," Nazali scoffed in exasperation. Julian lifted his head just a bit, his voice still somewhat muffled. "No I-I just... I'll be fine, you r-really don't need to-" Nazali cut him off with a laugh "You're living proof that doctors make the absolute worst patients."

Julian's blush deepened. No matter the circumstances, something about his trusted mentor referring to him as a fellow doctor made him very happy. He hid his face again, but this time he also a hid a huge smile. "Thank you..."

Nazali understood the meaning behind his words, but still couldn't help but poke fun at him. "Only you would thank someone for calling you the worst at something, Ilya."

The quip got Julian to laugh, which brought attention to all of the muscles in his body that would be sore come the next morning. He winced and decided that perhaps - just this once - it would be alright if he let Nazali take care of him for just a bit longer. After they finished scrubbing him down, they poured a bit of the massage oil on his back. Julian groaned softly at its pleasant warmth and relaxing fragrance. Nazali worked their strong fingers into the numerous tension points on Julian's back and shoulders until he was practically melted into the bed. Julian sighed contently and let himself get swept up in a rare moment of peacefulness.

Soon enough Nazali heard the soft sound of Julian's snoring beneath them. They blinked in slight disbelief before a small swell of pride spread in their chest. They must have done exceptionally well tonight if even a notoriously awful sleeper like Julian had managed to nod off. They stifled another laugh and stood up from the bed. They quietly redressed into their usual comfortable attire, deciding that they would return to their study for a few more hours to let Julian get the rest he needed.

Nazali pulled the sheets over his shoulders and hoped that his moment of serenity would follow him into his dreams tonight.

"Goodnight, Ilya."

#I'm so sorry #Unless you think this is good... in which case I'm not sorry at all lmao #the arcana #the arcana a mystic romance #the arcana game #julian devorak #ilya devorak #the arcana julian #nazali satrinava #lemon #my writing

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manipzone · 6 years ago

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Colette’s Manip Tutorial

Requested by @weryourlegacy and @claurps

This tutorial will take you through how I personally make my manips. I know there are a lot of differing ways out there on how people make their manips but this is just the technique which I personally follow and find easiest. But before I start, I need to credit Geri, my co-owner of this blog, for teaching me how to manip all these years ago. The process which I follow is not exactly the same as hers but extremely similar so a link to her personal manip tutorial is linked here.

Now, underneath the cut I will show you how I created the following manip of Ryan Gosling and Lyndsy Fonseca using Adobe Photoshop CS6:

Selecting Your Images:

To select my images I usually just do a quick google image search of whom I am looking for. In this case, I was looking for images of Ryan Gosling and Lyndsy Fonseca.

Typically, I use a select range of different phrases when looking for photos as follows:

“Celebrity name” party

“Celebrity name” after party

“Celebrity name” event

“Celebrity name” candid

“Celebrity name” night candid

As shown in the above picture, this time around I searched “Ryan gosling after party” to get the image that I will be using for this manip. Once you have entered the keywords which you are looking for into google images, hit the tools button, select any color and choose black. The reason which I recommend doing this is because it is typically easier to manip and play around with images that have a dark background for blending and erasing purposes.

From my Google Searches I have selected the following images which we will be using in this tutorial:

Creating The Manip:

1. Start off with a new blank canvas and use the paint bucket tool to fill it in black. To start off I typically use a 500x600 pixel canvas.

2. Copy and paste your first image into Photoshop. Resize and position it how you please on your canvas. You can resize and play around with your image by keeping the image proportions in tact if you hold down the shift key on your keyboard whilst drag the corners of the images as highlighted by the red circles.

3. Copy and paste your second image onto the same canvas. The following red circle highlights a drop down menu.

If you click on that drop down menu you should get a list that looks like this:

Select lighten and your canvas should now look like this:

You should now be able to move your layers around and resize images to decide where you want them to be the same way I explained above when playing around with Ryan’s layer. For example, in this situation after I lightened Lyndsy’s layer I then went to make her image smaller and positioned her next to Ryan Gosling like so:

I also used this opportunity to decide which image I wanted “on top.” In this case, I decided to keep it as Lyndsy’s layer in the main foreground.

4. Now the erasing begins. I usually start off with a slightly larger brush to begin with-- usually with a size around 70px and a hardness of 100%. With your top image still lightened, begin erasing the area which you want deleted. E.g, since I wanted Ryan Gosling in this image I erased the area where Noah Bean was in Lyndsy’s photograph like so:

I also decided whilst erasing that I wanted to resize Lyndsy’s layer a little bit and crop the image down to size. Don’t be afraid to do so and make adjustments as you go as you can always ctrl z you’re mistakes.

5. Once you’ve erased enough to get a clearish image of what your end product will look like, use the drop down menu again to make all layers “normal” once again and continue erasing.

I recommend zooming in and slowly making your brush size smaller and smaller as you go to get around all those hard to reach nooks and crannies -- for example, Ryan’s hair.

Also don’t be afraid to erase the background’s of images if they are not working for you. In this case, I erased much of Ryan’s background and a good amount of Lyndsy’s too as they did not blend well together. For some images, they’ll blend in effortlessly-- other’s you will need to erase. This this case, I erased both their backgrounds and used our original black base as the background for this manip.

6. Once you’re finished your erasing you should be left with something that looks like this! Well done, you’ve made yourself a manip! But next we need to edit the picture a little more to make sure both layers match up and look the same. Or at least, close enough to perfect as possible.

7. For each image layer you’re going to want to play around with the colouring to make the image look as seamless as possible. Select a layer then go to Image >> Adjustments >> Color Balance.

Clicking color balance will bring up a box like this. Just play around with the little slider bars until the colors of your images begin to look relatively similar. And don’t be afraid to go back and forth on both of the images, adjusting each one several times to get it as close as you can. It doesn’t have to be perfect as long as it looks close enough-- a good PSD will help you out with this later.

8. I also would recommend sharpening your layers as some images may look softer/harder than others. To do this select a layer, click filter >> sharpen >> sharpen. Then repeat with the other layer if you think it needs sharpening too.

9. Now we will merge the two images together so that instead of having two separate layers it becomes one. Open the layer menu and click flatten image. And boom~ there you have it! A completed manip.

Optional Steps:

10. Auto Tone, Auto Contract and Auto Color occasionally work well depending on your image. In this case I applied all three of them. Sometimes I don’t apply any of those filters at all, while in other cases I may use one of two so it’s really up to you and how you perceive it to be.

PSD’S:

11. PSD’s are a great way to help with coloring and a good PSD will help you to hide the imperfections in your manip. There are 3 PSD’s that I use-- unfortunately, I only have links to 2 out of the 3 but I will link them here and here.

I usually just play around with the layers and adjustments in order to achieve the outcome I want. Sometimes, I will also use multiple PSD’s on top of each other to achieve the desired effect that I want.

Unfortunately, I do not have the links to the PSD’s which I used in this case but the outcome I ended up with was this as my completed manip:

Hopefully this tutorial has been of use to you. If you have any questions or queries feel free to send them my way. And if you have found this helpful, please feel free to like or reblog this tutorial. xx

#photoshop tutorial #manip tutorial #photoshop #manip #manips #colette

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hstiajcnes · 6 years ago

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have you been re-introduced to [ hestia jones ] ? last we heard , the [ half-blood ] was most familiar with [ timeline three ] . I don’t recall if they were always a [ ravenclaw ] , but I’ve heard the [ sixth year ] is still [ tactful , selfless , tenacious ] and [ stubborn , brash , insecure ] , so that’s familiar. at least [ she ] remembers their way around the castle.

hello there ! i’m rhia & i’m super excited to be here with you all ! anyways , i’m terrible at intros , so excuse me if this is lame lmao. if you want more info on my girl , i’ve got a pinterest here & a bio here ( that will probably need to be updated ) but yeah , let’s just jump right into this !

( TW: death , murder , & just overall very sad themes. )

BACKGROUND:

Born October 23rd , 1961.

Hestia is the youngest of the Jones siblings , as well as the only daughter. For two bright , wonderful years , she was surrounded with love & warmth.

Unfortunately after those two years her father left. Her brother & her mother both made the decision to keep his identity away from her , so she wouldn’t go looking for him. She’s never had the desire to , which was a relief to the both of them.

Her father was a muggle , & with him absent from her life , she was raised entirely in the Wizarding World. She was always curious about muggles though , & did all she could to study their culture & how they survived without magic. She’s very curious about all the muggle inventions they’ve come up with over the years.

Growing up , she spent most of her time with her brother , Adrian , due to her mother’s work & her not being around often. Adrian practically raised the two by himself because of this , Hestia became very dependent on him.

LIFE AT HOGWARTS:

As expected , at age 11 she received her first Hogwarts letter. Going to school was a dream for her , since starting at a young age , she had a love for learning & discovering the secrets of the world. Being sorted into ravenclaw was no surprise to anyone who knew her.

Ambitious , like her mother , she quickly soared to being one of the top in her class , overachieving in every way she could. All of her teachers adored her. she was well on her way to follow in her mother’s footsteps in joining the Ministry of Magic. Although Hestia’s relationship was strained due to her absence in her childhood , there was no denying the Ministry would be rewarding work. At least , that’s what Hestia believed..

However , her life changed drastically due to the murder of her brother , Adrian. He was the one constant in her life , her best friend , & the person she depended on the most.

Nobody knows who committed the crime , all anyone can suspect is that Death Eaters were behind it. After all , Adrian was helping Professor Dumbledore with something important , with the possibility of a future war on the horizon.

For a long time afterwards , Hestia was angry at the world & spiraling out of control. She didn’t care about anything anymore , & was desperate to feel something other than pain.

It took her a lot to recover , & even now she isn’t the young , innocent , optimistic girl she used to be. Now , she’s much more reckless , & pessimistic about the world , only seeing it in a ‘black & white’ perspective.

She has become too afraid to let herself trust others again , & with the timelines all messed up , the people she once knew aren’t who they used to be.

She finds herself curious about her brother's possible fate in the other timelines ( mostly with timeline one ) so she may gently tiptoe around the subject with her peers , but never fully mention it in fear of the answer she may get.

TIMELINE INFORMATION:

timeline one : with no war on the horizon , there was no need for adrian jones to join the order & die for the cause. this is the only timeline that he has survived , & therefore hestia is still living the same life she always has been. those who may have been close with her in this timeline , will be very surprised to see the girl so changed.

timeline two : the death eaters have won the war , & hestia is glad to know that no matter what the outcome turned out , she was on the order’s side. she is mostly the same with her current timeline , except she is much colder & more cynical than what is usually seen from her. still , she continues the fight no matter what.

timeline three : the timeline hestia is most familiar with. with war inevitably in the future , hestia is continuing her education so that one day she can join the order officially & continue her brother’s work. there is no way to know what the future holds , but she continues to have hope for a better future.

OTHER INFO:

Wand : Pine , Phoenix , 13 3/4" , Pliant

Amortentia : Pumpkin Pasties , parchment paper , peppermint tea , coffee , & the smallest hint of jasmine.

Boggart : Her boggart as a young girl was always the thought of her brother leaving her & never coming back. As she got older , the image changed into his death. Now with him gone , & her boggart coming true , it has manifested into something more complex & truly terrifying : the war itself , & with her on the losing end.

Patronus : Hestia does not have the ability to produce any form of a patronus at this time , & she probably never will. Her happiest memories are those with her brother , & after his death , those memories now bring pain & sadness.

Appearance : Hestia has never cared much for her appearance. She relies heavily on her natural looks , & doesn’t care much whether others think of her as beautiful. She’s never regarded herself as a beauty , just someone with average looks. Outside of the classroom one could find her in a simple button up blouse with some plain trousers to match. When in uniform , she’s often dressed down , her tie usually loosened , & her robe unbuttoned.

MBTI Type : ISFJ ( The Defender ) ❛ Defenders are true altruists , meeting kindness with kindness - in - excess & engaging the work & people they believe in with enthusiasm & generosity. ❜

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

ex best friends ; the person hestia used to be closest to in the world , but lost due to her spiral out of control. now when they see each other in class or in the halls , its as if they never knew each other.

confidant ; though the two may not appear close , these two share experiences that they feel no one else can relate to. somehow they’ve found each other & found solace in the comfort of the other. whatever they talk about is just kept between the two.

ex boyfriend ; the two were a sweet couple together , & were together for quite a while , up until the tragedy. once hestia got out of control , the couple were forced to split. now they don’t talk much & when they do , there’s an awkward tension between the two. ( bonus points : if this person is from timeline one & doesn’t remember the breakup or her brother’s death )

i have an entire page of more ideas here if you wanna check ‘ em out , or we can brainstorm something ! i’m open to anything tbh.

#━━ ⟢ sᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ⦂ ⋰ * ✧ OOC.#diversions.i #death tw #murder tw

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mander3-swish · 6 years ago

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The Importance of Losing ‘Virginity’

“[R]eplacing the phrase ‘losing virginity’ with ‘making the sexual debut,’ a shift of power occurs that does not look at something being lost, but a natural occurrence taking place. ‘Virginity’ shouldn’t affect a person’s perceived value, and intercourse shouldn’t be seen as some transformative experience that is more powerful than all other forms of sex. “I like to think that in reframing and taking the power away from that concept,” Green states, “we actually give power back to people.””

-Kayla Heisler — July 5, 2016

Posting this in relation to comments, tags, and posts across multiple fandoms I follow in regards to ‘losing their virginity’ is something I’m getting annoyed at.

Below the cut is a full article speaking about the history of the term, basically that “‘virginity’ as a harmful myth created to oppress women.”

From https://everydayfeminism.com/2013/08/losing-virginity-for-good/:

1. Virginity Is Sexist

2. Virginity Contributes to Slut-Shaming

3. Virginity Frames a Woman’s Worth as Inversely Proportional to How Much Sex She’s Had

4. Virginity Is Heteronormative

5. Virginity Erases Queer and Trans Folk

The fact that this even matters to so many people obviously says something about how much we as a culture value virginity (way, way too much) and how we view virgins and non-virgins differently.

Because of how non-inclusive and sexist virginity is, using it is extremely problematic, as it contributes to these social problems.

By applying the concepts and values of virginity to your own and other’s sex lives, you are reinforcing patriarchal norms about sexuality and women’s worth.

The patriarchy wants you to commodify sexuality and hold sexist attitudes about it because that is how they can keep the status quo in tact.

By forcing sexuality to exist in this small, heteronormative, cissexist, heterosexist box, they can effectively erase the experiences of all people that don’t fit inside of that. August 23, 2013 by Erin McKelle - “5 Reasons Why We Need to Ditch The Concept of Virginity For Good”

I first questioned the concept of virginity’s validity when I was eighteen. I had just watched a Laci Green video entitled ‘Let’s Lose Virginity,’ and it depicted ‘virginity’ as a harmful myth created to oppress women. Reading Simone De Beauvoir’s ‘The Second Sex,’ a text that demonstrates why the myth of virginity was established and is still believed, reminded me of this video.

The concept of virginity was introduced during the Neolithic Era, when proving paternity by refraining from intercourse gave women access to shelter, food, and goods. Birth control didn’t exist, and remaining celibate proved to a man that a woman was responsible. Non-virgins were typically seen as unmarriageable and often forced into prostitution. The construction of virginity is tied to the commodification of the female body and is still used as a weapon of shame and control. De Beauvoir states, “Man’s hesitation between fear and desire, between the terror of being possessed by uncontrollable forces and the will to overcome them, is grippingly reflected in the virginity myths. Dreaded or desired or even demanded by the male, virginity is the highest form of feminine mystery.”

The contradiction between women being looked down upon for being virgins and for not being virgins at different points in history in different places represents the struggle women face to both be chaste and not. De Beauvoir points out that thirteenth century Tibetans did not want to take a virgin woman for a wife because it indicated lack of desirability, while to this day certain French villages display a bloody sheet after a wedding night to prove that the bride was a virgin.

The sheet ceremony represents man attempting to dominate woman by using the construct of virginity as a weapon. De Beauvoir states, “What determines women’s present situation is the stubborn survival of the most ancient traditions… In the patriarchal regime, man became woman’s master; and the same characteristics that are frightening in animals or untamed elements become precious qualities for the owner who knows how to subdue them… Therefore, he wants to annex woman to him with all her riches intact.”

The notion that the woman is viewed in the same light as the animal is an appalling one, but the metaphor is unfortunately accurate. Just as men are praised for teaching a ferocious lion to perform circus tricks or commanding a pet dog to sit down on cue, so too are they congratulated for ‘mastering’ the body of the woman. Like the lions and dogs, the woman is rewarded for her obedience; she abstained from sex until her wedding night and is praised as being ‘good’ and ‘virtuous.’

One might question why women continue to buy into a concept that was created only to control them. De Beauvoir provides a solid explanation: “Men’s economic privilege, their social value, the prestige of marriage, the usefulness of masculine support–all these encourage women to ardently want to please men… She thus has to be described first as men dream of her since being-for-men is one of the essential factors of her concrete condition.”

As Green points out, women are still being killed around the world because of the value people place on the idea of virginity. Because a woman abstaining from sex until marriage is equated with purity, some families are considered dishonored unless they kill their ‘soiled’ daughter after she has premarital sex or is raped. De Beauvoir explores man’s obsession with controlling everything: “He finds the mysterious alchemies of life repugnant, while his own life is nourished and enchanted by the tasty fruits of the earth; he desires to appropriate them for himself; he covets Venus freshly emerging from the waters.” Here, De Beauvoir focuses both on man’s longing to dominate naturally occurring phenomena and on his fear of what is uncontrollable. Man sees the non-virginal woman as a wonder who has experience that does not rely on him—she does not need him for pleasure—she can find it elsewhere. This ties back to the fear men feel about a woman’s autonomy, so rather than acknowledging the sexually active woman as a person who can take charge of finding her own pleasure, she is cast off as something defiled, marking her broken instead of strong.

It is not enough for man to just love or to even make love to woman; he is driven to feel that he must have dominion over her body. The female is converted from human to object–easily quantified and stolen. This gives rise to man’s fascination with reducing woman to mere body parts and numbers. She is a set of breasts. She is a pair of legs. She is a seven or a nine or just a four, but a four with a really nice ass. Can they boast that they’ve slept with a dozen or two dozen or one hundred women–the quality of the women nothing, the quantity everything? How many ‘virginities’ can they crow about having ‘taken’? When men had control over all land, businesses, and property, women were seen as mere objects to be controlled. The idea that a construct that has been inherently oppressive is still in use demonstrates how much progress is left to be made in terms of gender equality. The subject of equality itself brings to light another issue: virginity is a construct built on a heteronormative model that excludes the queer community.

Still, what about the men (we must always ask this question)–the man ‘virgins’? Men and boys who haven’t had sex are derided for their abstinence and are made a mockery of in films such as ‘The Forty-Year-Old Virgin’ and ‘American Pie.’ Though the patriarchy harms them too, compelling them to mutate into the abominable bros crooning about their ‘number of conquests’–even if imagined–women are still made to suffer further in the presence of the label of virginity, as De Beauvoir asserts, “Undoubtable, there are stylized images of man as he is in his relations with woman…but men are the ones who have established them, and they have not attained the dignity of myth… while woman is exclusively defined in her relation to man.”

The man’s fear of being cast-out for not having sex causes women to suffer by being even more readily degraded. Because men feel their masculinity is validated by treating women like commodities, women are placed at an increased risk for being used and/or abused. Men feel they are placed in a situation where it’s ‘me or them:’ I can either treat this woman like an object, or I can be the object of humiliation of all of my friends.

“Perhaps the myth of woman will be phased out one day,” De Beauvoir writes, “the more women assert themselves as human beings, the more the marvelous quality of Other dies in them.” Green makes a point for the power of language. She posits that by replacing the phrase ‘losing virginity’ with ‘making the sexual debut,’ a shift of power occurs that does not look at something being lost, but a natural occurrence taking place. ‘Virginity’ shouldn’t affect a person’s perceived value, and intercourse shouldn’t be seen as some transformative experience that is more powerful than all other forms of sex. “I like to think that in reframing and taking the power away from that concept,” Green states, “we actually give power back to people.”

By allowing room for a shift in speech, we create room for a shift in thought. We have the power to challenge the way future generations think and feel about sex and their self-image. Women have been chastised for too long over an irrelevant status, and the only way for things to change is to examine why these ideas have continued to persist for so long.

-originally post on public www.seminar.org

#skamfr #skam france #roswell new mexico #druck #skam italia #long post #the myth of virginity #IWD2019 #international women's day #feminism #trample the patriarchy #shadowhunters #too

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astravarra · 6 years ago

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Barcode

TW: Brief mention of self-harm (in reference to song lyrics)

~~ One of my favorite artistic works of 2018 is the song "Barcode" by Haon and Vinxen, who wrote the lyrics and performed it on High School Rapper 2. It’s a back-and-forth in which they make arguments for their respective perspectives in life, which also largely reflects each of them as people. It's a very personal song, and it was a bold but highly rewarding decision for their mentors to pair them together for this round.

I've taken away a lot from this song, and from these two kids (teenagers, but whatever). They can be polar opposites—there’s Haon, a cheerful spirit whose favorite hobby is meditation and who writes raps from a place of positivity, and there’s Vinxen, a somewhat brooding soul who draws lyrical expression from places inside him that are as vulnerable as they are deep. In “Barcode” these young artistic forces come together in a rhythmic dance of poetry and philosophy. In their first performance especially, they’re both still competing in the show so there’s that added tension of giving it all they’ve got for a purpose.

Two Perspectives

This song drew me in from the first few lines:

I want to end all of this. I want to let go of everything. I want to ask mom how she feels when she scans barcodes, but will I get hurt when I find out?

The first words waste no time in establishing Vinxen’s tone in the song, but it’s the last two lines of that section that really got me. It paints a cold and sterile picture for me of a woman scanning barcodes under fluorescent lights; numb at worst, tired at best. It makes me think of the harsh but also dull realities of the average person. This image plus the minimal instrumental give off a bare-bones and contemplative aura to the song.

Haon’s first lines contradict Vinxen’s, but also immediately show what kind of perspective Haon has about his experience in life:

What is happiness? It's nowhere to be found, but at the same time it's in anything.

These lines, along with the rest of the verse, introduce his wise-beyond-his-years philosophy on happiness. While his language becomes more casual in his later verses, in this first one he sounds very much like a peaceful and scholarly monk.

In the last part of the song (which almost sound more like a bridge), the composition changes up and intensifies, and each line of Haon’s and Vinxen’s verses directly parallel and challenge each other. Of particular interest to me are their first lines, which call attention to each of their lack of perspective on the other person. On the one hand:

[VINXEN] Meditation doesn't help my tension. Who has the time to sit around?

Vinxen shows a limited understanding of how something like meditation (not necessarily sitting meditation) can offer great benefits and opportunities for growth, but may require coming out of his comfort zone or working through actual or perceived mental restrictions. On the other hand:

[HAON] Depression doesn't help my tension. It's a waste of time to be lying around depressed. Haon shows that he lacks either an understanding of depression, the tact to discuss it, or possibly some combination of both. I also wonder if he hasn’t yet experienced something that has truly crushed his spirit. I don’t wish that for him, of course, but given his emotionally intelligent and open-minded nature, those words simply reveal his youth (which isn’t a bad thing).

The Barcode Metaphor

The barcode metaphor is woven in a few different times throughout the song. The first is here at the end of Vinxen’s first verse, when he likens the self-harm scars on his arm to the lines of a barcode:

The black lines on white make me look down at my arms and I wonder whether it's worth living like this again.

Within this verse he’s questioning his sense of value, a loaded concept that becomes even heavier when he makes that reference.

The chorus consists of Haon and Vinxen “scanning” the barcodes of their life experiences and choosing what to do with the “receipt” of that experience:

[VINXEN] Beep, next. Beep, next. Throw away the receipt for my last bit of pride. [HAON] Beep, next. Beep, next. Give me the receipt for our memories.

Going back to the last verse, you can see from Vinxen’s part that in line with “throwing away the receipt” of the hardship, his desire is to escape it and be rid of it entirely:

I'll use my barcode as a crossing to escape beyond this box.

Meanwhile, Haon, who wants to “keep the receipt for our memories”, also makes a reference to the motion of being scanned but with a feeling of empowerment, by running on the conveyor belt, using it to his advantage so he can move forward:

If I have a barcode, I'm on a conveyor. Hold onto all the outer and inner influences and make a run for it

Final Thoughts

The song ends on Haon’s part of the chorus, with both of them reciting the “for our memories” line, that thin silver lining that maybe things will turn out for the better if we stay positive. It doesn’t take away from the tension of the rest of the song though; it largely remains an internal battle of holding onto hope versus losing it. The conclusion of “Barcode” feels less like “Everything will be okay if you stay positive!” and more like “Maybe if I accept these things in my life, I have hope of overcoming their power over me and living with a little more joy in my heart.”

youtube

#natsu writes things #apparently #this was supposed to be a post on my regular blog tying to my experiences in 2018 but i ended up going ham on the analysis #anyway i love this song #high school rapper 2 #haon #vinxen #barcode

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builder051 · 7 years ago

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hi there! You by no means have to do this, just thought it was a cute prompt: Peter is on his way to spend the weekend at stark tower while it’s raining, and because he’s a Rebellious Teen®️ he didn’t take a jacket like aunt May told him to, so he’s soaked by the time he gets there. He makes it a couple hours before he gets all feverish and chilly and such, and by the middle of the night it’s a full on flu! And tony lectures him about listening to his aunt from now on (:

Hey! That is a cute prompt; in fact it’s a little bit too cute for me.

This is absolutely nothing against you, but I just can’t hang with the ‘character gets a cold after being out in the rain’ trope.

I have written a Spider-Man fic featuring the rain and sick/hurt Peter and caring Tony, which I will paste below for you. I hope that sort of satisfies??

If anyone else wants to pick up the original prompt, please go for it!

_____

Running (Spiderman: Homecoming)

This was a prompt from AO3. Warnings for a little angst and a little emeto.

_____

When they get out of the car in front of the Avengers compound, all Peter wants is to take the elevator up to his room and collapse across the bed. Or maybe he’ll take the stairs. He’s not sure he trusts the throb in his head to stay out of the realm of nausea if he’s closed up in another moving vehicle.

But he doesn’t even get a step through the front door when Mr. Stark’s hand crashes down on his shoulder.

“No,” Tony says. “You’re not going anywhere until we’ve talked about this.”

Peter sighs. His suit feels too hot and too tight, but it’s doing nothing for the prickling of cold goosebumps on his arms. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He continues to shuffle across the entryway. “I said I was sorry.”

“That doesn’t cut it, kid,” Tony says. He steps around Peter, blocking him from escaping upstairs. “Sorry doesn’t matter. I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”

Peter lets out another breath and shrugs. “I was just doing my job. Same as you.” He’s too tired to arrange his face into anything but exasperated and serious.

“If you still think we have the same job…” Tony breaks off shaking his head. “That’s the problem.”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to save people?” Peter internally cringes at the whininess seeping through his voice. Mr. Stark obviously thinks of him as a child, someone irresponsible and too naïve to handle responsibilities. His tone isn’t helping, and there’s no way to explain that it’s born more of exhaustion than an actual attitude.

“Of course you’re allowed to save people,” Tony replies, as if this is obvious. “You help me. Together, we save people.

“But I’m not, like, legit enough on my own.” The level of irritation start to rise. “Better not let me physically drag anybody out of harm’s way. Then Ironman won’t get the credit.”

“Fuck, kid, it’s not about credit. You are not allowed to take risks like that. You could’ve been killed.” Tony’s hands are balled into fists. “So, excuse me for caring about your safety.”

“If I hadn’t been there, that little girl would’ve died!” Peter explodes. The image of her tear-streaked rosy cheeks still shows in his mind’s eye. “I have to be allowed to keep a little kid from dying.”

“You can’t sacrifice yourself!” Tony shoots back. “Not in front of me.”

“But isn’t that what you were going to do?”

“No. I jumped in front of you and incinerated the bastard. And the bullet.”

“Big difference.”

“It is a big fucking difference.” Tony jams a finger into the spider logo on Petr’s chest. “My life wasn’t on the line.”

“So give me bigger weapons! Better armor!” Peter comes back. He takes a step backward away from Tony’s reach. His suit is starting to feel like a Halloween costume compared to Tony’s plain clothes and serious expression, his Ironman suit stowed away in a briefcase like the high-and-mighty businessman he is.

“That’ll just fuel your risk-taking. That’s the last thing I’m gonna do.” Tony gives a derisive laugh. “I’m not turning you into me.”

Peter changes his tact. “If I die saving someone, I don’t care. That’s what I do. I save people on the ground.” He swallows hard and clasps his cold, clammy hands behind his back. “If I put that much value on my own life…maybe I am too much like you.”

“Yeah, alright,” Tony spits. “So I’ll just say goodbye to all hopes you’re gonna go on to discover a cure for cancer, or get a PhD by the time your 25, or be the governor of New York, or president of Stark industries. I’ll go flush your college fund down the toilet while I’m at it. Or maybe bust it on booze, since you’re not opposed to people fucking themselves up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Yeah, you did,” Tony say. “You’re gonna throw it all away. Just like you did last time I offered you something.”

Peter’s chest fills with guilt, which mixes with his anger like baking soda and vinegar. The throb in his head increases to skull-splitting. He needs to get out of here, but Tony’s still blocking all paths upstairs. “You know what. I can’t do this right now. Fuck you,” he says, with as much force as he can while keeping his volume under control. He turns on his heel and shoves back through the compound’s front door.

A light rain has started to fall, and it quickly cools Peter’s rage. He feels bad the moment he’s on the other side of the heavy glass that fronts the building. The adrenaline fueling him is waning, and within seconds he goes from frustrated to emotionally limp.

He should turn around and apologize. Go up to his room and take a painkiller and a nap and let things blow over. But…he can’t. Something’s keeping him standing under the low-hanging clouds, hating Mr. Stark. And possibly hating himself more.

Maybe it’s pride. Or maybe masochism. But whatever it is, it leads Peter to point his boots away from the compound, toward a misty tree-lined ridge. He walks maybe half a football field before he starts feeling downright cold, shivering slightly beneath the fabric of his suit. By the time he reaches the tree line, his teeth are chattering.

The walk helps clear his head a little, but it does nothing for the pain in it. Earlier Peter had assumed it was just a post-mission crash, a little low blood sugar, a little dehydration, a little hormonally burnt out. But now that the throb has roughly timed itself up with the cold tremors wracking his limbs, he feels barely a step from feverish.

He weaves between trees in various states of leaflessness. Damp twigs and natural mulch crunch beneath his thin-soled boots. The softness of the forest floor feels uncanny, a sharp contrast from the hard tile and wood floors back at the compound. It’s almost like the little stand of trees wants to make him comfortable more than Mr. Stark does.

“What did I do?” Peter mutters under his breath. He backs up against a tree and leans into it, pressing his slightly damp gloved hands over his face. The pressure of tears is built up behind his eye sockets like water balloons about to burst. Mr. Stark’s probably going to fire him. Take away the suit again, for good this time. All because he can’t listen. He’s a hardheaded teenager with a lack of respect for authority. It sounds like a bad report card.

But all of it stems from a maddening desire to change the world for the better. What on earth is wrong with saving a little girl’s life? If he died doing it, there’d probably be a statue raised in his honor. Which is honestly a lot more recognition than he’s getting right now as Mr. Stark’s kid sidekick. Peter’s head gives a particularly strong throb, and he slides down the roughness of tree bark until he’s seated on the forest floor with his head pressed into his knees.

He doesn’t really mean to shut his eyes in the first place, but when Peter opens them, it’s downright dark out. The rain’s picked up, falling harder and colder through the network of branches over his head. He unwinds from the ball he’s been curled into and almost falls over. Vertigo takes over all fumbling thoughts, and Peter’s left to scramble for a hold on the tree trunk to keep from face-planting.

Peter painfully shakes his head and tries to remember where the fuck he is. It clunks into place along with why the fuck he’s there, and a fresh wave of guilt flows down to his stomach while quiet nausea works in the other direction. He’s only a few minutes’ walk from the compound. He needs to go back, if only because he’s freezing and wet and not feeling well. It hardly matters if he still doesn’t completely forgive Tony. He needs to think of himself, his health, and put attitude aside… So maybe Mr. Stark does have a point after all.

Peter finishes hauling himself to his feet, the roughness of tree bark pulling the spandex of his gloves. He starts back down the hill in what he hopes is the direction of the compound. It’s a little disconcerting that he doesn’t completely remember. And also that he’s having a hard time walking in a straight line.

When he breaks through the trees, rain starts hitting him hard. It’s turning to mixed sleet, and the moisture cuts through his suit instantaneously. Peter can’t control the chattering of his teeth, and his throat is so tight he’s going to fall over retching at any moment.

He walks forward, looking down so the icy droplets don’t cut against his cheeks. So when the sunny beam of headlights cuts into his visual field, Peter isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at. He blinks against the sudden brightness, trying to make out the outline of the car. It’s low-profile and red, inching along atop wet grass, though it’s obviously meant for stretches of highway. Or racetracks.

“Oh my god,” Someone shouts. The car’s driver door opens, and Mr. Stark emerges, looking frantic. He’s wearing the same clothes he had on under is Ironman suit, and no jacket to protect from the weather. He sprints up to Peter and grabs him in an embrace that seems to catch them both off guard.

“What the fuck, kid?” Tony asks. “I didn’t know if you’d gone back to the city, or into town, or… I definitely didn’t think you’d gone hiking…”

“Huh.” Peter’s too cold, and his jaw’s too tightly wired to say much of anything. But he feels his face crumple, and warm, salty tears join the droplets of cold rain streaming down his face.

“It’s ok,” Tony comforts him, patting him on the back with a touch too much force.

“S-sorry,” Peter chokes out. He means sorry for crying, sorry for leaving, sorry for yelling, sorry for everything.

“I’m not mad,” Tony murmurs. “Jesus, you‘re freezing. Get in the car. I’ll get you someplace warm.”

Peter means to say ok, but his body’s had enough of talking and shivering and pent up emotion. When he opens his mouth, he ends up pitching forward in a body-wracking dry retch.

“Or, ok, throw up a little bit first,” Tony says with what sounds like the verbal equivalent of a shrug. Peter heaves again, bringing up bile and not much else.

When he’s able to semi-straighten up, coughing, Tony maneuvers him over to the sports car, practically picking him up to stick him in the passenger seat. Then he walks around to his own side and sees to pointing every vent at Peter and blasting the heater.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re taken care of, ok?” Mr. Stark says. He pats Peter’s shoulder a little more gently this time. Peter has an idea he’s not just talking about right now.

He shakily nods. “Ok.”

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thehealherdiaries-blog · 7 years ago

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GUEST HealHER 3 I Tried to Sleep It Away.... Depression has so many silent symptoms that you don’t recognize that you’re depressed until it’s too late. One of those silent symptoms is excessive sleeping. For those who have known me for years, you know how sleep ranked in my life. Between adolescence and adulthood, I’d say 80% of that time was spent in bed. It still amazes me to this day how some people from Bowie State University say they remember me when my daily routine was to go back to my dorm, throw on my sweats, throw on a movie, and sleep until I felt the need to wake up, eat, and do it all again for the four years I was on campus. Because I did it so often, I thought this was my normal. I mean, who doesn’t get tired from the daily tasks of life? But typically in those moments, a quick power nap would do the trick. Not so much in my case. If I was sleep, it was guaranteed that it would be for hours at a time and still be able to sleep through the night. Being awake was a burdening chore. After mustering up the strength to appear okay in front of family, friends, classmates, coworkers, and pretty much the world, I was left drained on a daily basis. Disguising deep-seated sadness you’ve carried throughout your life from childhood (i.e.- parent’s divorce, father’s bipolar disorder, mother’s depression, loneliness, anxiety, etc.) through a sham of smiles, exaggerated exceptionalism, deflecting sarcasm, and all other forms of feel-good forgery is tiring. So I used sleep to cope. I used sleep to escape. For years I justified this practice of sorts as a means of helping to “fuel my creativity” through my dreams. There were times that this was true; when I did dream of something and I immediately went to go write about it when I awakened. But after a while, I stopped writing. I stopped creating. I found more comfort in darkness than my dreams. It was not until fairly recently when I saw the warning signs that something was off. The pressures of the PhD work/life balance got me from the gate. It was only through the grace of God that I made it that year with both my new job and school status barely in tact. Adding a few other life adjustments (i.e.- moving into my own apartment by myself for the first time, gaining/losing friends, trying to love people with a broken heart, etc.), I stayed true to the only coping method I knew of at the time. In hindsight, I notice now it was not so much the fact that I was sleeping that was the problem, but what I was doing to myself to get there. Increasing my drinking for the sole purpose of falling asleep was a typical approach for a year or two. Whole weekends would pass where I would be in the bed with no desire to get up and do anything. Had it not been for my neophyte who stayed with me for a short time, there may have been moments where I didn’t eat. When I turned about 27, I cut back on the sleep/drink approach because I started to hate the hangovers. They can be a bitch to deal with on top of dragging yourself out of bed to go to school or work. As a substitute, I would take Benadryl or some antihistamine from time to time to sleep. While there were no hangovers, there were still effects. My sleep-a-thons were spilling over from my weekends to the work week. There were times I would not show up for class or called out of work. I would often do this particularly on days when I woke up with tears in my eyes because I had to endure yet another day. I stopped taking Benadryl after reading about the adverse effects that it had on continued use. I got a little better at going to class and showing up to work, but often with a kind of sadness in my smile I was just existing through life, not living it. It was at 30 when I discovered Zzquil. On the package, it usually says that Zzquil is non-habit forming. It’s kind of true in a sense, I guess. It wasn’t so much the drug itself I craved (because I generally hate grape-flavored anything), but what it did. I wasn’t taking it to get a better night’s sleep every other night for months at a time. I was taking it to escape. Life was too much to deal with some days, so this was my way out of it. I really was no different than addicts who used synthetic drugs to “take them to another world,” but it didn’t look that way. Who ever heard of a sleep addiction? That’s silly, right? My wake up call (no pun intended) came at 31. One day I was taking my shot of Zzquil (like in an actual shot glass) and beside me was a bottle of Hennessey White I got from a friend who went to the islands. After I took the shot and started to go to sleep, I stared at the bottle and contemplated whether I should take an additional shot of it to really do the job. After toying with the idea for five minutes, the little logic left in my mind screamed, “What the fuck are you thinking, Ashley?” Had it come to this? Grant it, not much may have happened if I tried it one night but who knew what tomorrow could bring? In a span of 5 years, I went from alcohol, to Benadryl, and now to Zzquil to fuel my sleep habit. Who’s to say I wouldn’t revisit this idea but next time with Ambien? Again, what the fucking fuck, Ashley? When I woke up the next day, I decided I needed to be more honest with my mental health than I had been, which is tough when you’ve watched a parent you loved spiral out of control with theirs as a child. In a strange sense, I felt I had to hide my sadness. I was taught to do so because if I didn’t, I would get the same treatment as my father did (which is a whole ‘nutha story for a’nutha day). So what I couldn’t hide behind my sullen smile, I hid in my slumber. I thought that if I did nothing, I was doing something. What a twisted logic we have with that. But when I finally came face-to-face with my reality, I saw my truth. I was not okay and had not been for decades. But it wasn’t the fact that I was not okay that was the problem; it was the lack of action that was. And I think that’s what’s missing from the conversation regarding Black mental health. We have to be honest with our true selves and take a good, hard look at the things that keep us away from them. For me it was sleep. For someone else, it could be work. For someone else, addiction. And there are a myriad of other vices we use to keep are real selves at bay while upholding these false images for the public. Today, I can honestly say I’m doing better than I was. I have a great therapist I talk to once a week and I’ve found better ways to cope with life outside of self medicating myself to sleep. I do have my moments, but not nearly as severe as before. The road certainly has not been easy. I’ve lost friends being open about my struggle, but I’ve also gained some new ones on the same journey I am. To those who have a similar story to mine, I encourage you. I see you. You can take the first step, just like I have. Don’t wait until you’re life has fallen completely apart to get your shit together.

#CranesInTheSky #Solange #Depression #SuicideAwareness

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nedcanquen · 8 years ago

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Chapter 2: Mr 7th Floor

And this is continuing for now, a short update. I’m actually halfway through chapter three, but chapter three has angst, and I don’t like angst without a resolution so I’m still typing it out.

Tags: Slow Burn (like...really slow burn) - endgame is NedCan but they don’t get there directly, Single POV, Yep, Canada will date other people before endgame because he’s very desirable even if he doesn’t always know it.

Pairing: NedCan (endgame)

Image from Pexels / Tranmautritam

They won the Maplecorp project. Matthew reads the email and feels relieved but more than that...disappointment, because as the former team lead on Maplecorp’s audit team, he can’t work on the project itself. It also leaves the opportunity open if the company decides to re-tender for their auditors again in four years’ time - by then the rollout of Daan and Arthur’s project would be complete, leaving no conflict of interest for Francis’ team to step back in, and Matthew by extension. Career wise it’s good, Matthew has actually gotten Ha a place on the team and recognition for his help. However, Matthew can’t help but feel stupid for being disappointed. The problem with this entire ordeal is that Arthur’s meddling (no, he wasn’t the type to intentionally meddle in something like Matthew’s heart, if it was Michelle though…) is that Daan is now Daan, not Mr 7th floor. He’s fair, he’s brilliant at what he does and unlike Arthur he allows his people to work independently. In fact, he hires people who can, but it doesn’t mean that he abandons them either. Daan’s type of leadership is a type of tough love, he’ll bail you out while you learn but he’s so brutally honest he can make you cry. Matthew’s not so sure how much he likes the reality of Daan versus whatever boyish fantasy he could indulge in with Mr 7th floor.

And yet, he doesn’t really know him. Daan is still not quite human, more like a man with a Partner mask. Maybe that’s why still having residual feelings for a Partner at Matthew’s lowly level felt complicated, and Matthew feels like this is more an affection of habit than anything else. There were all the rules as well, though dating a Partner wasn’t exactly against any written rule as long as people were professional about it, Matthew was keenly aware of how his relationships could be scrutinized. This was the added burden of being an auditor, having to be so free of potential conflicts and corruption in his work that the laws reached into his personal business - it defined the relationships he could have, especially if his significant other were attached to an organisation he had to audit, it defined the shares he bought (Matthew made it simple for himself and invested in none). Within the firm however, well...work was work, it was just the strong hammer of public opinion that could be stifling - an unfortunate result when a compliance-based culture and a highly people-based culture coincided. Of course people didn’t really keep to these rules all the time, he knew about the messy scandal at their rival firm, Heta & Lia, the Partner in their own firm who married an Associate who was barely a year in (the Associate resigned), he knew about the the long hours that made colleagues seek out arrangements of convenience with each other, the manager who fell in love with his married client...but these people weren’t Matthew, he just didn’t have it in him to risk such a thing and besides...this was his office crush! Nothing more than that. This was the concept he (and his team damnit) went to when they needed a break from the intensity of work. It could go back to that.

The thought made him feel better (liar) and he laughed to himself. Matthew had been coming up with excuses for his disappointment as if he actually had a chance with the man (he didn’t). So Matthew finished all his reports with an unexpected dose of motivation.

“So...spill, how was the 7th floor? You’ve been keeping it to yourself for a month but I think it’s about time you shared” Ha was not usually the type to ask, but she seemed to see past his exhaustion and was trying to distract him the age old way

Michelle walked up behind him. “It's 6pm, time for Friday drinks. You coming?”

Matthew looked at the clock. Where had the day gone? “Yeah, but...not the company’s bar? If you guys want to know what I have to say about that floor, let’s have drinks at mine.”

There was nothing quite like a tradition of wine and cheese with friends to end a week. Wine helped loosen the tongue, put everyone at ease. Since the flat was Matthew’s, recently purchased thanks to his savings and promotion (which left him otherwise broke), Ha and Michelle could safely stay over as well.

“You know what we mostly want to know is, how is Mr 7th floor in real life?” Michelle prods as soon as she kicks off her heels and sinks down on his couch.

“How was reality? Is he really as scary as people talk him up to be?” Ha asks as she pours out the wine.

Matthew accepts a glass and isn’t quite sure how to answer. “It was just two meetings? Um...I know he has a reputation for being kind of terrifying but he’s not, not really. He’s not the most tactful person out there but he seems reasonable…”

The two women look at each other incredulously and then back at him.

“You sound like Arthur that night when he was trying to pay the man a compliment and didn’t quite manage to.” Michelle scoffs.

Matthew laughs and decides to settle cross-legged on the fuzzy, carpeted floor. It’s his own floor, he can even lie down on it later if he wants. “Now I know why. The guy is...he’s kind of a workaholic? In that respect, I can see why he and Arthur work well together. He lets people work pretty much on their own and Arthur kind of...well, he’s Arthur and works with you a lot so they balance each other out. Their team is-”

“MATTHEW!” They both yell and he has to laugh.

“Congratulations! He’s a workaholic, just like you! And Arthur. This firm is filled with workaholics! That wasn’t what I asked, do you still like him? Is there any chemistry?!” Michelle demands in exasperation. It’s worth it just to see the look on her face.

Matthew let out a single breath of laughter and shrugs. “Look I...I mean I was attracted to the guy, I am still, he’s...very attractive, but I never knew anything to confidently say that I liked him? And I don’t know if I can because...I’m so embarrassed.” He groans and buries his face in his hands. “Really, it’s not his fault I’m so flustered around him and I’m not really myself and I can’t think straight. It’s just that every time I had to speak to him I thought about how my entire team has stalked him for three years because of me! And I know things about him that I shouldn’t, like the fact that he’s a cycling enthusiast, his father is Dutch, he loves tulips, he lives near Francis, he spent some of his early years in Asia it’s like...I just feel embarrassed, like I want to forget all of that and just meet him neutrally and professionally but I can’t. I can’t exactly tell him the truth either. And he’s kind of...”

The two women lean forward, curious. “Kind of…?”

“He’s really Partner-y. I mean...there are Partners like Francis who have been doing it for a while so they’re comfortable in their own skin and maybe it’s because Daan is a really young Partner but...he’s still trying to prove something? As a boss, a Partner, it’s a good experience to work with him, you learn a lot by necessity. As a uh...on a personal level? You see hints of the guy he is but mostly you’re speaking to a guy who is really invested in being a Partner. That’s probably why it’s easier to talk about him in work terms rather than anything...personal.”

“Ah.” The two women nod at each other and at him. Matthew hopes that whatever he’s said is enough for them, and now that he’s met the man, maybe this embarrassing saga can be put behind him.

Months pass and Matthew falls back into his old routine with a few changes and he’s barely had a chance to sit at his desk during office hours, since he divides his time between several clients - managing teams, correcting audit reports, coaching new associates and conducting meetings. He almost manages to convince himself that he’s forgotten about meeting Daan beyond just sharing an elevator occasionally, because Daan is often away - either in Europe for Maplecorp, which has also dragged Arthur away as well - or Daan is in Japan where he’s won more long-term projects with Honda Corp and a plethora of others in the region. Jack and the other advisory folks take to asking him to join them for lunch when they’re in the office themselves, and he gets to know them as more than the stereotypes of their floor.

But nothing beats being able to enjoy a fun lunch with Michelle and Ha. They joined the firm together, went through the same induction ceremony and now they’re the last three from their group to have stayed with the firm. They were all busy with their own projects though, Ha was working on the Maplecorp project locally, and technically Matthew managed Michelle on another audit project but she was a more-than-competent team leader whom he could leave to work independently, leaving him time for everything else that more urgently needed his attention. Still, days where all three of them could actually see each other (and not during after-office drinks) were to be treasured.

“I want to go to the pho place! It’s the real deal!” Ha practically skips in happiness down the street to the place in question. “Real Vietnamese herbs and everything! Stuff that I don’t usually get here.”

Matthew nods, curious about what that new taste profile would be like. “Is it a new place?”

Ha opens the door to the Vietnamese restaurant and Matthew stops, causing Michelle to walk into him. He quickly apologizes and looks to the waiter in front of them, perhaps a little too intently because the man just stares back at him as if he’s scared.

Daan apparently, is back from his many travels and luck is not on Matthew’s side because the Partner has realized he’s in the restaurant and is looking at him. It would be rude not to look back or talk or...damnit. The waiter is leading them to the empty table next to Daan’s anyway. Well, Daan and a pretty lady who had slightly darker hair and the same green-colored eyes. Matthew recognized her from reading the business sections in the newspaper - Belle deBoer, a Director from their rivals Heta & Lia. He had paid attention before because of her surname, the familiar shade of her eyes and the fact that she was from the Acquisitions team in her firm as well, too similar to the deBoer that he knew. Now that he could see the two of them together though…

“Matthew.” Daan smiles at him in greeting, that familiar small thing with no teeth but somehow still genuine, while Belle beams at him. Matthew almost stops short because now that he is closer he can see that Daan doesn’t look well. He can’t say that the man looks like a wreck because he’s still well put together, but those black circles under his eyes and the fatigue in his body are harder to hide.

“Hi, nice running into you here,” Matthew greets, then not wanting to be rude, he turns to the woman whom he assumed was Daan’s sister. “Hello, I’m Matthew. These are my teammates, Michelle and Ha.”

She shakes their hands with a cat-like smile and a laugh. “And I am Belle, such a pleasure to meet you all. You must be resilient souls if my brother is your boss.”

“It’s been a while.” Daan nods at them, then turns to his sister, “And they report to Francis, you remember Francis?”

“Of course! I once reported to him too, I worked at PKDE for a short while, it must have been just before you three joined. It feels like ages ago, that practically makes us teammates too! Do tell him I say ‘Hello.’”

“Oh that’s...great, I certainly will.” It was fascinating, and now those pictures that Francis sends him have a more mysterious meaning but Matthew detects a story that would take too long to tell. “And Daan, when did you get back?” Michelle and Ha seem to take that as their cue to politely smile their farewells and sit down, finally freeing the waiter who was waiting for them to do so and give them menus.

“This morning.”

Matthew raises an eyebrow. “They couldn’t spare you for one day? Are you on Japanese time right now or Dutch?”

“Thank you!” Belle exclaims before turning back to Daan. “See? It’s not just me.”

Daan gives her a dry look of exaggerated suffering before shaking his head and looking back to Matthew in mock outrage. “My sister finally gets that promotion to Partner that she deserves after working too long under an asshole,” She looks like she’s about to object when Daan raises an eyebrow at her and continues, “Yes, an asshole, and I’ll shout it from the rooftops, Antonio knows exactly what I think about him... and I can’t take her out to lunch to congratulate her. Would you do this to your siblings Matthew?”

Matthew’s heart thumps as he laughs. His chest blossoms with a sweet warmth that is different, more intense than how he used to lose control over it before. “My brother and I…” He couldn’t really summarize the relationship he had with Alfred into one sentence, as much as he did love his brother. “I don’t quite know how to describe it. We abuse each other differently, but you know...with love.”

The two deBoers chuckle at that and Matthew thinks about the ‘asshole’ who was Belle’s boss. Matthew figures that Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, once the Managing Partner at Heta & Lia was legendary in his day, until he was caught with an associate, whom Fernandez had apparently tied up naked to his desk with a few ties one late night. The whole scandal was horrifying and bizarre and somehow Heta & Lia had managed to survive it. They were convinced for a while that the firm would fold.

Belle waves her hand. “Well I can’t agree with how it happened, but do let me defend Antonio in one thing and one thing only - they’re actually in love.”

Daan rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“I’m serious! Look, I was concerned, I thought maybe Antonio may be abusing the power in his position but...I know his lover too, and I know he was a consenting adult. They are so much happier now, since they resigned. Antonio moved in with L-” She coughs, stopping herself from revealing the associate’s name, which was mercifully kept confidential so as to not destroy that person’s future. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo had been adamant about that. “With his lover. It is real. You wouldn’t recognize him now Daan, Antonio is now a completely different person! A better person. He doesn’t even care about money or firms anymore, he plays his guitar and cooks all the time. You may even get along with him now.”

“Don’t fucking count on it.”

This seemed to be a conversation that Matthew didn’t really belong to so he excused himself and sat down. The two siblings turned back to each other and Belle started speaking in French - a more European sort of French but Matthew could understand it all the same and almost dropped his menu.

“They’re so darling, and he’s very cute. You owe me one for not making you look bad in front of them, no you did that on your own.” She laughs. “Then you make it sound like you came back for me when I know you’re not going to pay for my lunch!”

“Fact remains,” Daan responds in French with the same accent as his sister’s, “I did come back to see you, even if I know you are perfectly capable of paying for your own lunch. If it wasn’t today, I don’t know when I’d be able to see you, with you flying to Kinshasa tonight. And yes Belle, let us very discreetly communicate in French, the second official language of Canada, next to a table filled with people who work with Francis, whom you know specifically hires bilingual staff.”

Matthew swears that Daan is glancing at him when he says that so he desperately tries to play it cool and breathe, focused on the menu but not seeing anything.

Belle just laughs and Matthew can’t see her, but he hears her switching to a language he can’t understand and Daan responding in the same language. It’s...nice, very nice to hear them speak what Matthew assumes is Dutch, though to his untrained ears it still sounds like they’re speaking the language somewhat differently from each other. Odd, where when they spoke French they sounded the same. Matthew had forgotten just how much he liked Daan’s voice, even though at the moment he looked like he was annoyed and exasperated while his sister appeared to be having the time of her life. Matthew guessed there was continued teasing going on.

“What will your order be?”

Matthew jumped in his seat. “Oh, uh, um...pho.”

The waiter just looks at him while Michelle tries not to laugh. “What kind of pho?” The waiter asks eventually.

Ha saves him by responding in Vietnamese, apparently ordering for him. Matthew trusted her but still, this was going to be a long lunch.

#nedcan #fic: Mr 7th floor

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nacsygen · 6 years ago

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speaking of fashion, i feel like rambling about my boobs, and this is my tumblr, so i will. also bc this is tumblr, i will frame my rambling about my boobs in the context of my mental health journey.

over the past coming up on four years, my mental health has had a drastic (thought not constantly) upwards trajectory, from ‘’trembling waif unable to hold a conversation without wanting to literally run and hide and/or cry’’ to ‘’wow, i just realized it’s been like two years since i felt like absolute shit for no real reason for more than, like, a day at a time. is this like...is this what being happy is like? wow!*” *”oh shit, now i have to actually live past 25...” part of it was maturing yes, bc no matter what bullshit they tell you, you’re still growing and maturing in your 20s too - and after that, too, for your whole life, really. the idea that you should have all your shit figured out by the time you’re 22 is some kind of implied propaganda we all internalized around when they were showing us the charts in middle school that showed the average incomes of people with different levels of degrees. and if you’re not the kind of person to have your shit together by 22 - say, you’re not neurotypical, or you’ve got un-dealt-with-traumas, or you’re just not the kind of person or at the stage in your life where post-secondary is the right fit for you, or any combination of the above, or anything else - when you DON’T have your shit together by the time you’re “supposed” to, it just feels like salt in the wound, when you’re different. it feels - no, it IS damaging, especially if you’ve never been able to really internalize the idea that it’s O K to be on a different life path than what you’re “supposed” to be. that is, in fact, the very thing that culminated in the worst and last (and i sincerely hope it’s the LAST) depressive episode of my life, around my 25th birthday. i feel sorry for the girl who was me from 20 to 25. poor thing hurt a lot, and too often. but the main part of my getting better was just getting help. or rather, my mom reaching out to do the research for me, finally recognizing that i wasn’t going to magically get better on my own and that guilt tripping and anger were not helping my crippling depressive withdrawal (and while i know that the physically disabled tend to not care for the psychologically disabled using the term “crippling”, in my case it definitely extended to the physically disabling in several very literal ways that i won’t get into here). my mom did the research and made me make the calls. i was very lucky that there was a low-income mental health center 15 minutes down the road. i was exceedingly lucky in that i got an incredible counselor who’d been through it herself, herself now (then) in her late 20s, early 30s, maybe one or two levels up from where i am now. my sessions with her literally changed and quite probably saved my life. i went from crying in every session and her gently and considerately seeing me out the back door of the office to minimize the strangers who’d see my raw vulnerability, to the sessions being the highlights of my week, with me eager to share with her my progress - to delight in finally becoming my true self again, to be vibrant, to find joy in things, to have things i could be happy to share with a professional friend. because of her guidance i learned how to change the way my mind had wired itself in a negative way, and to love myself again. because of her i was able to move on, move out, become self-sufficient - eventuallym because of how she taught me, to take care of myself and to keep growing, to love myself the way i love the world. to be happy, most of the time, when at the time we first met, i wasn’t sure i ever would be again. to take care of myself again but i was talking about boobs and fashion, right? the thing is, i’ve had essentially the same body type, my “adult” body, since i was 13. this body has, no matter its weight fluctuations, had proportionately significant breasts. (a blog post about afab body image and mental health would not be complete without at least one teenaged semi-traumatic anecdote - i once when i was in eighth grade got accosted by a group of older girls in the courtyard at school before class, demanding to know what i stuffed my bra with, and getting increasingly hostile and physically investigating said bra with harsh gropes when i said i didn’t stuff it at all. this was, needless to say, humiliating and traumatic, and i didn’t wear that tight turtleneck again for years.) the thing is this body that contains me is also exceedingly small in all other directions (except my head, i’ve got an adult human-sized head) compared to normal humanity. very short in height, narrow ribcage, ectothermic body structure, narrow limbs, narrow hips, child-sized hands and feet, etc. even when i was at my lowest weights, which i will always associate more with my worst depressive episodes than any kind of diet-culture positive, even when they were to my eye as flattened pancakes, i still had pretty alright boobs that i liked. but then, once i got healthy again, i naturally gained healthy weight. it came with eating more healthily, and eating with purpose, and not just because i would die if i didn’t, and even for a depressive starvation’s not a good way to go. it came from caring for the human animal, from realizing that i could never live with myself if i neglected a pet the way i was treating my human animal, because if i didn’t care for it, who would? eating with structure, at set times every day, and maintaining at least a mininum amount of calories needed, necessarily entailed that i would gain weight. and i welcomed that! most of my body issues when i was younger stemmed from my skinniness - i hated my fragility. i longed for and desired (in the gay way too, and probably though i didn’t realize it yet the non-cis way) and wished to be like girls with weight and heft to them, girls with thick thighs and arms, girls with muscle, girls with softness and roundness, girls with strength and solidity of frame. in comparison i felt like a ghost close to being torn to pieces in the wind, a collection of fragile bone in the shape of a person. but that’s not who i am anymore, and that’s no longer what i fear. but at least i always had my boobs, and with them, with being healthier mentally and physically going hand in hand, i was and have been able to measure my own healthiness by their size. by cupping them in my hands and counting how many fingers it takes to go from ribcage to the edge of areola, i can measure my own growth and well-being. they’re most of where i gain weight, and i’ve gone from two fingers and change at the worst to all four fingers plus a spare inch, besides, now, at what is currently the best. despite my current stressful situation, i am ultimately at my healthiest physically and mentally i’ve been since i was like 11. more, even, because i’m no longer anemic. and accordingly, my breasts are the largest they’ve ever been (not counting that time i was on birth control for a couple months, and my least tactful roommate asked if i was pregnant, and i stopped taking it because i decided crying myself to sleep every night for no reason probably wasn’t worth it). which brings me to fashion. and boobs. i’ve alluded to here and outright stated before that i identify as somewhere between nonbinary and bigender. all i know, really, in our limited current vocabulary, is i’m not cis female. but you know? i like my boobs. i’m pan, i reserve the right to like boobs, even love them, even if they’re on my body, even if i’m not “female”. i live in and love and feel at home in a climate, and otherwise a culture, where female-coded dress (tank tops and short-shorts, sundresses) are far, far more comfortable than male-coded dress (heavy thick shorts or jeans, a t-shirt with an undershirt for god knows what reason - they can’t know we have nipples!!). i reserve the right as a non-binary/bigender person (yes i’m aware that’s a contradiction in terms, so am i) to reject the idea that my physical interpretation of my presentation as leaning femme means i’m female. fuck you. you ever wore a sundress in the florida summer? you ever wore heavy khaki knee-length cargo shorts paired with sneakers and socks and an undershirt and a t-shirt in the florida summer? which would you guess is more comfortable? i rest my case. oh, i almost forgot to get to the point, which is that as my breasts have gotten more prominent, some of my favorite comfy dresses have somehow become Problematic in Public. they are now Too Booby. larger breasts in and of themselves, even in the same dresses but instead of with smaller breasts (that’s Fashion tm), carry with them Implications of Sexiness. Luridness. Provocativeness. as someone who’s had both small boob privilege and big boob sexy, this is completely obnoxious and at the same time culturally unavoidable. in my current favorite dress, which fits me like it was tailored to me despite got from goodwill, it cups and supports my breasts lovingly in its bodice and flows beautifully asymetrically down from the high waist line that is also flattering to my body type. i love it, i absolutely adore it, i love the way it makes me look, i love the way it fits me perfectly, i love the way it makes me feel. but it is definitely a Boobs On Display dress. it’s so low cut in the front of the neckline, and boosts my already large breasts enough, that you can see a significant curve of underboob. and they are objectively gorgeous breasts! but this dress, having them On Display, apparently, instead of my love of its supportive and flowing embrace of my body, indicates i’m On Display when i wear it. that’s...a little dysphobic and dysmorphic. it means i can’t wear it in any situation where i want to appear Professional, bc boobs Aren’t Professional. it means i have to think about what situations i can wear it in and how people will judge me for it, this my new favorite dress. it means people will think i’m Lurid and Sexual by virtue of having and showing so much cleavage, while in my mind i’m just delighting in how comfortable it is and how good i feel in it.. yeah, i’m not cis, yeah, i love looking pretty, fuck me, i guess. my last girl told me once “holy shit, you’re like jessica rabbit” after i sent her some of my favorite chest-centric selfies. i’m not bad, i’m just drawn that way. i’m not a comic book heroine, i was just born that way. except also with a gut and no ass. life is full of compromise.

#t #i'd rather you not reblog unless you can identify also in this extremely specific way and if so leave tags

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type2diabetestreatments-blog · 8 years ago

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Navigating the Friendly Skies with Diabetes

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/navigating-the-friendly-skies-with-diabetes/

Navigating the Friendly Skies with Diabetes

From now until the end of the year is the nuttiest time of year for traveling. And with stricter Transportation Security Administration (TSA) rules, shoe removals, the ban on liquids, and ever-longer lines, airport security is a whole new form of torture these days. It got even more complicated last year, when TSA announced they were rolling out more extensive security screenings, including the infamous backscatter machine, or for those who refused, very thorough pat-downs.

For those of us wearing insulin pumps, this can pose even bigger hiccups as we try to make our way through security with our dignity in tact. Kelly Kunik, a diabetes blogger based in Philadelphia, has been an outspoken advocate of the rights of PWDs, especially when traveling. As we approach the one-year mark of the new TSA rules, we wanted to hear from Kelly about what she's learned and what all of us PWDs can do to fare a little better as we hit the airport.

A Guest Post by Kelly Kunik

Airport travel today is nothing like the glamorous days portrayed in the series "Pan Am."

Nobody dresses up to go to the airport, there's no such thing as "elbow room" on the plane, and smoking has been banned for quite some time (which is actually a good thing).

As far as the "Coffee, tea, or me?" goes, not much is free on a flight, including the movies. Unless of course you're flying US AIR, which no longer shows any movies on domestic US Flights, regardless of how long you're actually in the air for.

Gone are the days when you could show up 20 minutes before take off, with your ticket and a smile.

Air travel in 2011 pretty much sucks, no matter how you slice it.

Look, I get the reasons behind airport security and I'm all for protecting our safety. But it's the half-assed way that airport security handles our "safety" that leaves much to be desired in regards to both our safety and our sanity, IMHO. They've made some unacceptable flubs in dealing with travelers with medical conditions in the last few years, no doubt — including confiscating insulin from a pregnant woman with diabetes.

Security lines have become ridiculously long, to the point that one might actually miss one's flight if one doesn't show up ridiculously early. And TSA doesn't really care how they handle your carry-on. Have I mentioned that security screeners dropped my laptop after they made me take it out of the shock-pocket last year at Philadelphia International? And then there's the whole insulin pump TSA "pat you up, pat you down" fiasco. Honestly, I've had more action during an airport pat-down than I have on a good second date!

You need to speak up and know your rights as person traveling with diabetes. My advice: Use your diabetes voice, know your rights well, and voice them accordingly.

I go a step further by using TSA's own words to my benefit. So should you.

According to TSA's most recent announcement, the agency has made various "updates" to their protocol and procedures for holiday travel. They've implemented something called "Risk Based Security Measures" designed to expedite screening:

• Disability Cards available for us to print out pre-arrival and hand to our screener. According to TSA, the cards don't actually exempt us from a pat down, but they may help prevent a more invasive one. Hmmmm, OK.

• Expedited Screening Program: this "pre-screening" pilot program is currently underway only for individuals traveling on Delta Airlines at Atlanta International and Detroit/Wayne County airports, and traveling American Airlines at Miami International and Dallas/Fort Worth International airports. Passengers are required to volunteer information about themselves prior to flying in order to expedite (potentially) the screening experience. TSA has plans to expand this program to McCarran International, Minneapolis St. Paul International and Los Angeles International airports in the coming months, though no exact date was given yet.

• Kids under 12 can keep their shoes on and have less evasive screenings.

• New Privacy Protection Software on all millimeter wave body scanner machines nationwide; they've been upgraded with new software, further enhancing privacy protections by eliminating the detailed image of a passenger body and replacing it with a "generic outline of a person."

To read more about these TSA and others in more detail, click here.

Now Regarding TSA and Insulin Pumps:

The TSA waters are still murky here. They won't officially comment on any incidents regarding people with diabetes and insulin pumps who may have experienced difficulties during a security screening. ADA lawyers, in an email to Amy that she shared with me, simply stated: "While TSA does not make public its internal policies on pumps, they have assured us that this policy has changed."

I have no idea why TSA won't comment publicly on insulin pumps. Lord knows enough of us wear them and are concerned about the way TSA handles them and the people who wear them! I think TSA needs to address the insulin pump issue head-on — like, yesterday!

Personally, it's been my experience that if you're wearing said insulin pump, you don't necessarily have to have a pat down or go through a X-ray.

WHY? Well, according to the TSA website: "You have the option of requesting a visual inspection of your insulin and diabetes associated supplies."

But (and there's always a but) you have to ask for a visual inspection "BEFORE THE SCREENING PROCESS BEGINS," or you're screwed.

And FYI, your insulin pump and tubing are considered diabetes supplies, just like your insulin, needles, test strips, and meter.

The TSA website goes onto state:

Medication and related supplies are normally X-rayed. However, as a customer service, TSA now allows you the option of requesting a visual inspection of your medication and associated supplies.

You must request a visual inspection before the screening process begins; otherwise your medications and supplies will undergo X-ray inspection.

If you would like to take advantage of this option, please have your medication and associated supplies separated from your other property in a separate pouch/bag when you approach the Security Officer at the walk-through metal detector.

In order to prevent contamination or damage to medication and associated supplies and/or fragile medical materials, you will be asked at the security checkpoint to display, handle, and repack your own medication and associated supplies during the visual inspection process.

Any medication and/or associated supplies that cannot be cleared visually must be submitted for X-ray screening. If you refuse, you will not be permitted to carry your medications and related supplies into the sterile area."

Now, the last bullet point mentions running your supplies through an X-ray, if said supplies cannot be cleared visually. But here's the thing, I know for a fact that my old Medtronic 512 can be cleared visually. And I know for a fact that they can and do swab insulin pumps with plastic parts for contamination. And I know that they take it a step further by swabbing your hands. And I'm OK with that, swab away!

If you're being given a hard time, state these facts, or even better, print out several copies of the regulations listed on their website beforehand, so you can give them their own copy. Just make sure to keep a copy for the return flight home.

Chances are, the person your talking to doesn't know all the rules and regulations regarding their own company. I've had instances where three different people working in the same TSA line have given me three different answers regarding my insulin pump, potential pat down and X-ray.

Also: if your pump is made with metal parts, take it off beforehand and give it to them — but be sure to ask for a visual inspection before the screening process begins! Push for the TSA worker to swab your hands for "dangerous residue" instead of automatically giving you a pat down/ full body scan X-ray. Hey, your insulin pump is no longer on your person. It's in their hands.

Nobody likes to flip their Diabetes Bitch Switch more than I do, but my advice is to keep your cool, state your facts and stay calm.

After all, these people are trying to do their job, and as person with diabetes, you're doing yours. Your job is to live your life healthfully and safely, but also with dignity. And in order to do that, you must protect you and your diabetes accoutrements.

BOTTOM LINE: As people with diabetes, we shouldn't be punished or treated unfairly because we have broken pancreases. Nor should any other person living with a medical issue/ medical device.

Know the laws and know your rights!

*If you have any issues at all with your TSA experience, let them know by calling the TSA Public Affairs office at: (571) 227-2829, emailing them at [email protected] or pinging them on Twitter at @TSAblogTeam.

Thanks, Kelly, for sharing these tips and your perspective on flying with diabetes. Safe travels, everyone!

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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