#they exist so i can use them to process my trauma and to be put in outfits i love my kids

[lightbulb-warning]

my ocs don't exist in a "story" or a "lore", they exist in a relationship chart that looks like this

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4) Clear Skies (Part 5)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny: First official chapter

The busy hospital was on its last leg. Nurses and interns were scattered, running around like mice.

Sounds of trauma care patients and emergency care patients alarms were constantly ringing.

In the midst of it all, one calm collected doctor cared tenderly for each patient.

He, was Danny Fenton, who used to be known for having two crazy ghost enthusiasts for parents. He still loved his parents despite how hard it was growing up as half ghost.

Jazz had told them a long time ago and they had ignored it for the most part. Like that side of him didn't exist.

It had hurt at the time but Danny had managed to move past it. After successfully securing his position as ghost king (on accident) he put his newfound authority to good use making the ghosts swear a vow to behave.

A ghost vow is a big deal, which is why Danny swore a vow in return acknowledging them, if ever a ghost were in danger he would help them.

After the lack of ghost attacks Danny found he had next to nothing to do. His only hobby outside of playing video games had been ghost fighting. He hadn't realized how used to it he had gotten.

Danny hadn't even picked the college he wanted to go to yet.

Danny approached the Nasty Burger, his last refuge.

That's when he noticed a man who seemed a little out of it. The man stumbled making Danny wonder if he was drunk.

Danny turned to go inside when the man collapsed. Danny rushed over to the man and rolled him on his back. He checked for a pulse but couldn't find one.

Of course he wasn't exactly medically trained.

Danny dialed nine-one-one and started to perform CPR as best he could.

He explained to the operator clearly the situation and the ambulance came in no time.

Later that night Danny was processing the events in his head and instead of feeling scared or nervous he felt excited.

He was thrilled to have something to get his blood pumping again. Which is why he applied for med school. He studied hard, using all the time he had to memorize all the medical information that he could.

After graduation he interned at Amity Parks local hospital before moving up his position to resident.

Only a week after getting his new position he was forced to leave the hospital. It was closing because of a lack of funding.

"Please sir! What about the staff or the patients?"

The head of the medical board shook his head.

"Dr. Fenton, this hospital runs on little to nothing to begin with, we are lucky to have even made it this far. The patients will be transfered and the staff, relocated"

Danny furrowed his brows in concern.

"Don't worry Dr. Fenton, your quite literally the best we've seen walk these halls, your sure to get a good recommendation"

Danny clenched his fist.

"What are my options?" He asked.

The board looked at his sheet, flipping several until he found the right one on his clipboard.

"You said you wanted to work at a busy hospital right?"

Danny nodded yes.

"There aren't too many around here, the busiest hospital I can think of belongs to a crime ridden city a bit far  from here." He said.

"Gotham City"

Danny's breath hitched. He had heard about Gotham before. It was notorious for its villains.

Despite that, it was alluring.

"There! Send me to Gothams hospital!" He said suddenly and eagerly.

"Okay, if you say so. Do us all a favor and survive alright"

Danny laughed, "sure, I'll do my best. No promises though"

Just like that Danny packed up moved to Gotham.

He had little time to research Gotham before hand but he had heard several mutters in passing of a place called Crime Alley, a strange nickname for sure.

Danny was sure that this place would either be completely clean due to police intervention or incredibly overrun.

Danny signed a lease at the Shirley Apartments.

"Are you sure about this young man" the desk lady asked him.

He smiled kindly.

"Yes I am, I've heard the rumors and have weighed the risk. In the end it might be helpful to know just how my patients love to receive the injuries they do"

The lady sighed.

"That's right, you said your a doctor. Be careful out there, any talent in Gotham is either warped by a villain or destroyed"

Danny was a little startled by the warning, apparently there was even more to Gotham than he knew.

"I'm sorry I forgot to ask for your name"

"Didn't give one, in Gotham it's best to remain anonymous"

Danny blinked a little surprised.

"It's that dangerous, well I'll take your word for it then, thank you miss" he said as he took the key from her.

He had been able to store the old car his dad had given to him in a locked garage. He wasn't sure how well it would hold up but there was only so much he could do against humans.

Ghost powers had little, of any, effect on humans when it came to offense. Defensively they were pretty great to have.

He had only brought five boxes with him, no furniture. Back in Amity he had been busy studying and had brushed aside buying furniture.

Unfortunately that meant he had no bed.

Danny was glad to have found a beaten up wardrobe. It was missing it's doors and was leaning to the side, even so Danny was able to fix it and hang his clothes up in it.

He grabbed one of the boxes and smiled warmly when he saw a Fenton Emergency pack inside.

His mom must've stuffed it there when he was looking, lucky for him it had a sleeping bag.

An air mattress would've been nice too, but it's the thought that counts.

Danny safely stored his two favorite pictures. One of him with his family and one with his friends.

They were hidden just in case someone decided to break in, not that there would be much to find anyway but it never hurt to be careful.

Danny went to sleep soon after despite the sounds of the city.

Danny woke up feeling refreshed. He grabbed his bags and hopped in his car.

Danny hadn't realized how busy Gothams hospital actually was. Danny pulled into Gotham General and as soon as he was in his scrubs and coat he was dragged into the frey.

"We need a doctor over here!" Someone called just as Danny had finished with a patient.

Despite having to run around all day Danny wasn't tired, his ghost half supplied him energy after his human side ran dry.

All in all Danny first day on the job was hectic and he had worked for fourteen hours.

Once he was back in his apartment Danny set up a table that he had pre ordered online.

Then he got to work. According to his knowledge, most of his patients had suffered from some kind of attack or other.

Most of the heavy hitters were villains named Joker, Penguin and two face.

The riddler was taken care of, Poison Ivy had been rehabilitated and Harley Quinn had broken free from Jokers choke hold on her.

There was also the less obvious villains, like the business man lex Luther.

Lex Luther was shady at best, while no one could get hard evidence on him most people knew to be wary.

But just being informed didn't stop them from falling into his traps.

Lately Bruce had done official business with Lex Luther, which made him a suspicious person whom Danny had decided to keep tabs on, he was wary of the rich and for good reasons.

The cork board above Danny table has a litter of documents and pictured pined by red string. The players who were out of the game were crossed off.

Then there were the vigilantes. A few of them had been known to be rough, a necessary violence.

Still they seemed to have little awareness of what their little battles did to other people. Because many people came in for minor injuries due to being caught in the crossfire.

Which meant Danny had to find a way to keep everybody in line so patients would decrease in number. Danny let himself sleep for four hours before returning to the hospital.

"Oh my gosh, Doctor Fenton is still here" one nurse whispered. It had been a full day and half, Danny was running on his ghost half that seemed to keep replenishing itself due to the toxic air of Gotham. A positive side effect.

"How does he never get tired?"

"Maybe he's superhuman" one girl cracked. They noticed as he rushed by them to get to another patient.

"He's quite handsome too" one said wistfully, "but who wants a husband that works all the time"

Danny noticed the next patient seemed tense and he kept screaming for his daughter.

Danny whispered in the man's ear and put a hand on his forehead. He had used a ghost technique he learned from Nocturne and the man calmed down.

The other doctors were impressed as they worked to care for the man's injuries.

Finally the head of the unit noticed Danny and after reviewing his chart had forced him to go home.

"I don't feel fatigued at all sir, I promise I am not compromised. I can care for the patients"

The head wasn't having any of it.

"Above all your health is just as important as the patients we care for. For them to get healthy, you have to be healthy. Go home Dr.Fenton, you can come back after you get at least ten hours of sleep."

Danny wanted to argue but he knew the head was right.

"Yes sir" he said before changing into civilian clothes and leaving the hospital.

Now that he was out of a hospital setting things like hunger started to appear.

Maybe he had been to focused to notice how hungry he had been.

Danny blearily noticed a fast food place. His instincts told him the food would be greasy and way too unhealthy.

Mmm, comfort food.

The nostalgia fought with his doctoral instincts and won. All Danny wanted was to sit in a booth and eat some greasy food.

Danny ordered the double cheeseburger with bacon with a side of ten pieces chicken nuggets and large order of fries.

Waiting, even for five minutes, was starting to make Danny ravenous. As soon as he got his food he sat down and started gorging himself.

It was pretty good food for a little fast food place in the world's worst city.

Danny liked the tenderness and crispiness of the burger, the cheese was melted just right too.

Danny dipped his nuggets in sweet n' sour sauce while fighting the urge to kick his legs like a happy little kid.

As Danny left the restraint he saw an alert on his phone for a villain attack and rushed to the scene.

To his satisfaction the culprits were already being hauled away in police custody. They were just small fries, not of them appeared connected to a big player, so Danny was free to shut them out of his mind.

Which is exactly what he did. Danny drove back to his apartment and let out a sigh of relief.

That's when he noticed his door was slightly ajar.

His guard was up immediately. Danny stepped inside cautiously. He was relieved when everything appeared untouched but the scare had sent him a trip to get stronger locks.

On his way back to his car from the store he heard sound of a glass bottle breaking in a nearby alley. It was small alley, from what Danny could tell it was also a dead end alley.

Taking a risk Danny stepped in and chills went down his spine when he heard labored breathing.

Danny rushed over and froze at what he saw.

[retroaria]

★ unlikely trio

⟡ ݁₊ what it was like working with osamu dazai and chuuya nakahara as port mafia operatives ₊ .⟡

platonic!dazai + chuuya x gn!reader | this is definitely based on 15-18 y/o dazai and chuuya! they are both executives and you’re under them but still high ranking. use of y/n btw. this is short i just wanted to do some silly hc's for my favorite boys :)

• | BSD M.LIST | reblogs are apprectiated! | •

⋆˙⟡ chuuya hates to make you the mediator, but dazai insists. when these two are locked in on one upping each others level of arrogant asshole, dazai seeks you out to be the final voice of reason just so he can see which of them will be scolded the most - he knows they’re both being stupid. because of his vulgarity, chuuya usually gets the shorter end of the stick in these competitions (competitions that exist only in dazai’s head btw)

D: “Did you see that!? Chuuya just bit me!”

C: “I did not bite you, i’m not some kind of wild animal.”

D: “No, I think you’re a creature far more sinister actually…”

C: “If you don’t shut the hell up I’ll actually bite your head off.”

D: “You see! Y/n! Someone has to reprimand this feral beast.”

Y/N: “Chuu~ you can’t just say you’re gonna bite his head off…”

C: “HE STARTED IT AND HE LIED!”

D: “My accusation doesn’t seem too far off for someone who just threatened to orally behead me, read the room Nakahara.”

⋆˙⟡ pushing and shoving each other to get through the doorway first. you or chuuya usually assume the role of line leader but when it comes to making an entrance dazai can’t help but weasel his way in there with an annoying amount of force. this doesn’t necessarily pertain to you, as dazai does this when it’s just him and chuuya as well…or anyone really - he’s gotta make a grand entrance.

⋆˙⟡ letting you win at arcade games just so chuuya feels like the only one who couldn’t beat him.

⋆˙⟡ you being the only thing that could get those two to sit down and have a normal meal together. they know you mean business when you invite them out to eat so they put their big boy pants on.

⋆˙⟡ you and dazai coming up with dangerous but efficient plans that chuuya spends the entirety of the mission refuting. alternatively: you and chuuya coming up with safe and well thought out plans that dazai spends the entirety of the mission ruining.

⋆˙⟡ they both go to you to talk about their troubles id think, although dazai does it in a much more sly manner; not really telling you anything but just wanting to have someone to talk to. chuuya really lets it all out on you, he’s a a bit of a trauma dumper when he feels he can be. sometimes one of them will walk in on you when you’re with the other and they both look at you feeling so betrayed.

D: “I can’t believe you double booked…today is MY DAY.”

C: “Shut it freak, I had plans with them first you’re such a little brat.”

D: “So cold…I’ll have you know I was invited.”

⋆˙⟡ dazai spends a lot of time trying to get you to understand the way he thinks. he’s totally emotionally and mentally stunted though, so he ends up speaking in riddles and not getting his point across as smooth as he’d like to sometimes. chuuya doesn’t explain his thought process to you at all and then gets mad when both dazai and you aren’t getting what he’s putting down.

⋆˙⟡ they both feel the need to get your opinion on big decisions they might be making concerning operations. dazai will dance around his proposals and take in your reactions based on the little info he gives you. chuuya tells you the situation straight up and asks what you would do if you were him.

⋆˙⟡ dazai feels that you need very little protection and can handle things on your own, his logic is that you couldn’t have gotten as far as you did if you weren’t capable. chuuya sees you as one of his valued subordinates and will go out of his way to ensure your safety (though he doesn’t do that for anyone else but if you died who else would protect him from dazai’s emotional abuse?)

[trans-axolotl2]

I've been reading Cripping Intersex by Celeste Orr and one concept that I think is absolutely crucial and one of the best resources I've found for understanding my own experiences as an intersex person is the term Compulsory Dyadism.

Dr. Orr coins the term: "I propose the expression 'compulsory dyadism' to describe the instituted cultural mandate that people cannot violate the sex dyad, have intersex traits, or 'house the spectre of intersex' (Sparrow 2013, 29). Said spectre must be, according to the mandate, exorcised. However, trying to definitively cast out the spectre via curative violence always fails. The spectre always returns: a new intersex baby is born; one learns that they have intersex traits in adulthood; and/or medical procedures cannot cast out the spectre fully, as evidenced by life-long medical interventions, routines, or patienthood status. And the effects of compulsory dyadism haunt in the form of disabilities, scars, memories, trauma, and medical regimens (e.g., HRT routines). Compulsory dyadism, therefore, is not simply an event or a set of instituted policies but is an ongoing exorcising process and structure of pathologization, curative violence, erasure, trauma, and oppression." (Orr 19-20).

They continue on in their book to explore compulsory dyadism as it shows up in medical interventions, racializing intersex + sports sex testing, and eugenic and prenatal interventions on intersex fetuses. This term makes so much sense to me and puts words to an experience I've been struggling to comprehend--how can it be that so many endosex* people express such revulsion and fear of intersex bodies and traits, yet at the same time don't even know that intersex people exist? Why is it that people understand when I refer to my body in the terms used by freak shows, call myself a hermaphrodite, remember bearded ladies and laugh at interphobic jokes--yet do not even know that intersex people are as common as redheads? Understanding the term compulsory dyadism elucidates this for me. Endosex people might not comprehend what intersex actually is or know anything about our advocacy, but they do grow up in a cultural environment that indoctrinates them into false ideas about the sex binary and cultivates a fear of anything that lies outside of it.

From birth, compulsory dyadism affects every one of us, whether you're intersex or not. Intersex people carry the heaviest burden and often the most visible wounds that compulsory dyadism inflicts, as shown through often the very literal scars of violent, "curative" surgery, but the whole process of sex assignment at birth is a manifestation of compulsory dyadism. Ideas entrenched in the medical system that assign gender to the hormones testosterone and estrogen although neither of those hormones have anything to do with gender, a society that starts selling hair removal products to girls at puberty, and the historical legacy of things like sexual inversion theory are all manifestations of compulsory dyadism. For intersex people, facing compulsory dyadism often means that we are subjected to curative violence, institutionalized medical malpractice that sometimes includes aspects of ritualized sexual abuse, and means that we are left "haunted by, for instance, traumatic memories, acquires body-mind disabilities, an ability that was taken, or a 'paradoxical nostalgia....for all the futures that were lost' (Fisher 2013,45)." (Orr 26).

Compulsory dyadism works in tandem with concepts like compulsory able-bodiedness and compulsory heterosexuality to create mindsets and systems that tie together ideas to suggest that the only "normal" body is a cisgender one that meets capitalist standards of function, is capable of heterosexual sex and reproduction, and has chromosomes, hormones, genitalia, reproductive system, and sex traits that all line up. Part of compulsory dyadism is convincing the public that this is the only way for a body to function, erasing intersex people both by excluding us from public perception and by actively utilizing curative violence as a way to actively erasure intersex traits from our body. Compulsory dyadism works by getting both the endosex and intersex public to buy into the idea that intersex doesn't exist, and if it does exist then it needs to be treated as a freakshow, either exploiting us to put us on display as an aberration or by delegating us to the medical freakshow of experimentation and violence.

Until we all start to fully understand the many, many ways that compulsory dyadism is showing up in our lives, I don't think we're going to be able to achieve true intersex liberation. And in fact, I think many causes are tied into intersex liberation and affected by compulsory dyadism in ways that endosex people don't understand. Take the intense revulsion that some trans people express about the thought of medical transition, for example. Although transitioning does not make people intersex and never will, and the only way to be intersex is to have an intersex variation, I think that compulsory dyadism affects a lot more of that rhetoric than is expressed. The disgust I see some people talking about when they think about medical transition causing them to live in a body that has XX chromosomes, a vagina, but also more hair, a larger clitoris--I think a lot of this rhetoric is born in compulsory dyadism that teaches us to view anything that steps outside the sex dyad with intense fear and violence. I'm thinking about transphobic legislation blocking medical transition and how there's intersex exceptions in almost every one of those bills, and how having an understanding of compulsory dyadism would actually help us understand the ways in which our struggles overlap and choose to build meaningful solidarity, instead of just sitting together by default.

I have so much more to say about this topic, and will probably continue to write about it for a while, but I want to end by just saying: I think this is going to be one of the most important concepts for intersex advocacy going into the next decade. With all due respect and much love to intersex activists both current and present,I think that it's time for a new strategy, not one where we medicalize ourselves and distance ourselves from queer liberation, not one where we sort of just end up as an add on to LGBTQ community by default, not even one where we use a human rights framework, nonprofits, and try to negotiate with the government. I agree with so much of what Dr. Orr says in Cripping Intersex and I think the intersex and/as/is/with disability framework, along with these foundational ideas for understanding our own oppression with the language of compulsory dyadism and curative violence, are providing us with the tools to start laying a foundation for a truly liberatory mode of intersex community building and liberation.

*Endosex means not intersex

Endosex people, please feel free to reblog!

[system-of-a-feather]

hi, i have been thinking about the topic of fusion, and what i want my long-term goals to be, and i was wondering. do you ever feel like being fused is exhausting? not the process of fusion, i know thats exhausting because healing is exhausting. but like. do you ever feel overwhelmed due to being all parts of yourself at once? i havent experienced any fusions yet (hopefully in the future!) but ive seen people talk about how even when fused, none of the parts disappear but instead are all part of the "you" that always exists. my only frame of reference for how that feels for myself is blendy cofronting, which in my experience can be pleasant with 2 or 3 parts, but any more than that gets overwhelming and disorienting

Actually? Surprisingly? No. Not really at all honestly. The funny thing is that I used to wonder the same thing so I absolutely understand the frame of reference and perspective and assumptions that go with it, but its extremely comfortable and LOW energy to be fused for me.

The actual thing that happens is that you don't really get that "too many parts in front" fatigue like... ever or fronting fatigue like ever - at least thats how it is for me.

I relax a whole fuck ton better as a fused whole and while a lot of fusion still has me having to learn my new / fused "me" and how I operate on a baseline, thats an entirely different thing than trying to balance all the differing and contrasting parts or trying to understand and negotiate that because like... They are all simultaneously me and I VERY freely and fluidly exist as and between all of them. There isn't really "compromise" I have to make because.... we just co-exist harmoniously as one without even needing to explicitly talk about it or discuss or put intention into coming to a shared understanding, we just... do and know and its really really really really fucking easy living as a fused whole compared to being multiple parts

Like even if you were to ask me just as ONE part versus how I am now, there is not a single part in our system that has ever actually been so comfortable and so not-fatigued existing as I am as a whole

Everythings a lot more balanced, managable and our window of tolerance is STUPID fucking large - and I don't mean that in a "relative to where we used to be" or "relative to someone with as much trauma as I do" but genuinely STUPIDLY huge compared to most generally neurotypical non-traumatized not-severely-mentally ill people and I largely thank that to Post Traumatic Growth honestly.

But like... tldr, not really at all for me surprisingly. Maybe really early post fusion when I was still figuring myself out a lot but like.... Thats more so the process of fusing than being fused itself imo.

(Side note edit: Sometimes I DO think itd be better to explore a situation and issue as independent parts and so sometimes I DO operate in a more system / plural way of existing for however long its beneficial, but thats less to do with fusion not helping me as much as it is that I think a plural lens and perspective has a lot of perks in navigating complicated situations.)

Anyways tagging a few others who might have a different answer / perspective on this since they are either in a different stage of a fusion / integration and/or have a different way of existing with their fused / integrated state than me.

@hiiragi7 @reimeichan @subsystems

[dorsvenabili1777]

Katniss isn’t the main character and that’s what makes the hunger games great

I know that this has probably been said before but after I reread the hunger games (after not reading them for about 7 years) the biggest thing that stuck out to me is the fact that in the end Katniss is not what you expect. I remember her as the rebel, the mockingjay, the one that brought down the Capital and President Snow. But then I read the books again and I realised how wrong I was.

Katniss has consistently been put into situations that completely destroy her. First she and Peeta are used by the capital, before, during and after the games as ‘the Star-crossed lovers from District 12’. A new thing, perfect for the entertainment of the Capital citizens. Forced to act and pretend to be exactly that. Victors mostly get to choose who they are and what their life will be to some degree after the games. But with Katniss she has to be with Peeta, there is no other option.

Then she is used as the Mockingjay for the rebels in District 13. They save her from the arena (you could argue that they kidnapped her as she didn’t know or consent to it) basically on the condition that they could use her as their mascot, the fake leader of the rebellion, the outward facing leadership, while the real ones hide behind her.

It isn’t till the third book that you truly see the effects all this trauma has had on her. You see it partly in the first half of the second book but it isn’t until she is away from the capital and the Districts that she basically falls apart. And in the end when she tries to get to Snow in the capital, she fails, killing most of her team in the process. She never even reached him.

The way you are supposed to think of Katniss is this inspiring leader who brought down the fall of the Capital and the games. But actually she is a young traumatised girl who was only trying to protect her family.

Anyway, my point that I am trying to make is that yes Katniss is the main character of the books but she is not the main character of the world she exists in, she is not in charge of the rebellion. She was the straw that broke the camels back, she was not in charge of anything but did inspire. That is what makes these such great books, Suzan has chosen to tell a different perspective on rebellion, one that’s about more than fighting, one that’s about how and why people rebel in the first place. By choosing Katniss she is able to add in themes about the entertainment industry and society, things that the reader can more easily understand and relate to compared the the world that the story exists in.

I think that the reason why I thought of Katniss as what I said at the start is because what she inspired, what the hunger games inspired, that whole Dystopian genre became about the leaders of the rebellion. The Hunger games focuses on a casualty of that rebellion. It focuses on the effects that can have on a young girl.

After all, Katniss is only 16-17/18, she is in no position to be in charge of a rebellion. Her skills are perfect to help her survive the games but not to win a war. So why is it that the dystopian genre became so obsessed with preteens being the leaders of a rebellion when they are the least qualified?

[funnier-as-a-system]

I think with this recent discourse on our blog, we need a quick refresher on certain small details here. Don't worry, this isn't some major discourse post, just some corrections to common misconceptions that we've seen.

For one, no, DID, OSDD-1, and the like are not trauma disorders. They are dissociative disorders that often come from trauma. The primary issue in these disorders is the dissociation (and the problems that causes), not the trauma that may have caused that dissociation, as it would be with a trauma disorder. Tackling trauma is often a step in tackling the dissociation, but that's not the main focus of treatment.

For another, yes, anti-endos count as bigots. They are intolerant and prejudiced against another group for their beliefs, mere existence, and, to quote one definition, "membership of a particular status". The severity of their actions compared to other forms of bigotry does not play a part in whether or not anti-endos are bigots, especially since systems are too unknown to be able to accurately gather data on the exact severity of their actions and effects.

For a third, no, you don't need to have a dissociative disorder to be plural, or a system. Plural is an umbrella term that includes a number of dissociative disorders, but there are people with those dissociative disorders who don't identify as plural, and plurals who don't have a dissociative disorder. "System" is a very general term that has a long history of being used by anyone who considers themselves more-than-one, and thus, also isn't restricted by disorder or origin.

For a fourth, no, I won't read or respond to your hate anons. You just get blocked as soon as I realize you're spouting shit, and then I go and make a positivity post on my other blog about the minority you were bashing. This is a very simple process.

For a fifth, this is a general thing, but I'm going to be giving all these asks (and this post) a specific tag so people can avoid them. The tag will be: why did the inbox explode again I wasn't looking

As a final note, in case anyone's curious, a collection of system resources and links was recently put together on all sorts of systems and *gestures at blog* this sort of "discussion", which may be of interest to anyone who's followed along with all this. Here is a link.

Please keep yourselves safe, everyone. We will be answering some more asks we received when we can.

[amuseoffyre]

Have had a couple of days and a rewatch and some mulling to put together my thoughts:

The good:

the writing - I've talked at length about the use of metaphor, symbolism, allegory and the like to add meat and substance to the narrative

the continuity tied in to S1 and the foreshadowing coming full circle, plus running themes continuing

the music is flawless throughout - both the soundtrack with songs and the original score and the way old motifs are used to add parallels and depth to scenes

the acting across the board has been staggeringly good. Especially for Taika, Rhys and Con. I can see why so many reviews had been raving about it.

the bits of set-up for S3 that have been planted if/when they get it

new characters who are an absolute delight

Family Trauma the TV show - intense to watch but cathartic af

Badass ladies and the soft boys who love them

Auntie.

The bad:

too much story and not enough time to tell it

sacrificing a lot of crew-related stuff - I know this is primarily the Ed and Stede story, but we're told that Olu was always talking about Zheng, but we never even got a single line of it. Buttons' disappearance gets one sus line. We gloss over the probation and why Ed is back in his leathers literally the next day. Again, I know, time constraints, but it does feel weaker for it.

speedrunning so much that it's taken several rewatches to catch everything that's going on - yes, it can work as a narrative device, but not all the time

still not over Zheng falling for Ricky's gift. Do not trust the aristocratic white dude, especially not when you've been blackmailing him. And I know there's some logical sense to her being so used to being able to manipulate desperate people on the fringes with both carrot and stick, but it feels like severe underestimation on her part about how ruthless and cruel and petty Ricky could be. He's not like the pirates - he has the power and privilege and it feels like she ignored that.

whatever that Teal Oranges pivot was so Jim could have a girlfriend, especially since they didn't have time/space to actually develop the Olu/Zheng and Jim/Archie stuff. Archie was barely a scrape of characterisation because of time constraints.

The ... Forbs Boding

Izzy - it falls under the typical archetype of Loss of a Role Model especially given all Ed's dad issues, which I thought we were beyond, but then it also fits with the running motif of the show of change, death and rebirth. We've had confirmation of the existence of a place between life and death plus a character who was beaten to death coming back from it and a seawitch turning up at the grave. I can see why it was done as it has been foreshadowed since "the only retirement we get is death" but after all his growth in S2, having Ricky be the one to get the jump on him is... hm. I feel like they had him and Ricky talking and Ricky causing his death for a reason. Feels like there's set-up for S3 planted and ready. My Forbs, they are A-Boding. ffs, they Obi-Wanned him right after he did a speech about "our spirit will last beyond your whole fucking empire". Strike me down and I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine vibes.

The way trauma is/isn't being dealt with - I feel like there's stuff there that is set up for S3 as well, because we've seen how Stede is still bottling all his stuff and hasn't dealt with any of it, while Ed has done some processing and started to make peace with himself over it. Stede still has his mental lockbox and while he tries to pretend it isn't there, it still informs so many of his decisions.

All the Star Wars vibes - I've always been convinced this was the Empire Strikes Back season and now, they have all the pieces in play for the Return of the Jedi arc: Stede and Ed are together and recovering but will have a role to play, Izzy is in carbonite with a seawitch control panel, their allies are out there getting pieces in place, and the Imperial figurehead villain who showed up in S2 is still out there and convinced he holds all the power. And I just realised that this means that if they use Hornigold, he's the equivalent of Boba Fett - Bounty Hunter for the Empire XD

On the whole, I am content with it and am already having thoughts about the potential for S3, but I find it incredibly frustrating knowing how much more it could have been with the budget/time they wanted and didn't get.

[fizzigigsimmer]

This has been nibbling at me for days, but "Billy's Fantasy Girl" is such a weird awkward as fuck inclusion in the VR game. Allowing for the fact that I am not male, and I do not know for certain how the average hetero dude is conceptualizing their existence and processing their deepest desires and insecurities, but it just feels incredibly clunky and odd that Vecna is filtering Billy's weaknesses through a female of no face and name.

Do men project their weaknesses onto their partners and search for meaning within their relationships just as much as women do? Abso-fucking-lutely. My issue is not with Billy's Fantasy Girl's existence within his psyche, but with how she exists and why she exists. FG exists to reveal to the audience something about Billy. Several things, in truth. One of them, quite deftly, that Billy has all the insecurities of a budding abuser himself. His fantasy woman is someone so broken and desperate that she will put him first in everything, because he's the only one or thing that can make her feel like she has any kind of value or presence in the world (because that's how he feels). And before anyone climbs down my throat about it, lets just all agree that this is the bed soil of many a toxic relationship.

Because Billy is never going to find that, the resentment/pain/frustration will continue to build and it is likely he will seek to control his partners in the future and try to force them into the shape he needs - keep them locked in the trunk and by his side. We see the seeds of this developing in the canon with him and Max. He cares about her whether he's accepted that or not, and when she steps outside the box or does things that put her or him in harms way he lashes out.

The second thing FG exists to do of course is flip the script and show us just how broken Billy is. How worthless and desperate he feels, because he is a victim right now. More important than any potential abuse he could visit on some imaginary girlfriend or wife of the future is the abuse Billy has suffered and is suffering right now, which has made him the perfect target for The Mind Flayer - an abuser, who has literally come along to tell Billy that he's seen, understood, and he can have everything he wants if he just literally gives up control of his self and devotes himself to the monster and his monstrous desires.

All of that tracks, and is frankly the kind of deep exploration of trauma cycles that the Duffer Brothers failed to do. My issue with it is that there were much cleaner ways to make the same points, without filtering Billy through a female lens. Choosing to focus on a female and filter Billy through that female is what we call A Choice. They did not need to do it, and in just about every way there were easier ways to get the same points across without risking loosing less media literate players in the muddy waters of nuance, metaphor, and symbolism.

We could have seen Billy filtered through the eyes of the wounded child again. Vecna could have promised him a picture perfect family, like maybe his mom never left, or maybe he gets to punish her for leaving and Neil for being a piece of shit. IDK there are just dozens and dozens of ways they could have shown us he is love starved and just as desperate to give up control as he is to control his world, without literally forcing the audience to imagine a female and then saying - this is Billy btw. LOL like, y'all don't understand. Choices were made.

[incorrectquotesconaisseur]

I see a lot of discourse abt whether or not dhawan master comes before or after missy even though it's canon that he comes after. and it DOES make sense narratively speaking if you think about it. the master is naturally unhinged- just because missy seemed more in control than other regenerations doesn't mean it wasn't true. and even if her redemption did occur at the end, she started down this path to redeem herself because of selfish reasons. you can't put any iteration of the master in a box bc they're such a wonderfully complex character. and I think that the pain of the timeless child arc, combined with the trauma of the time lords planting the drums in their head AND missy's ultimately futile quest for redemption were what added up to the untamed anger that defined dhawan master. it's all the hurt of his previous regenerates PLUS his new trauma. missy never properly dealt with what happened with simm master - she just tried to move on as swiftly as possible and then there was the whole fiasco of them meeting and disturbing the timeline.

so it makes a lot of sense for dhawan master to come after missy.

HOWEVER, I think so many people tend to forget that -

Missy comes after Simm master.

Simm master was a psychopath (my absolute fave babygirl, but a psychopath nonetheless). And all of his existence was centered around a centuries old hurt that grew and grew until it was unbearable - the abandonment issues, the fear, the rage and the insanity that set him off on a path of destruction that wasn't even 100% his fault.

But his arc is honestly one of the best ones in nu who if you ask me - all the evil things he did in s3, all intertwined with brief moments of gentleness and acid pain when allowing himself to talk to the doctor openly... his death scene (which can even be discussed as religious penance but that's another story)... and then in s4, his entire motivation being trying to get rid of the drums and find out what they are and what he is.

His arc culminates with him realising that the doctor DID choose him in the end - he didn't leave him again, he saved him. And in exchange, he saves the doctor and sacrifices himself in the process.

So, especially since he doesn't remember his regeneration into missy fully and so his actual final moments are fuzzy, simm master essentially regenerates after his final act was to save the doctor.

That desire to more or less do right by him and keep that feeling of "us against the world" that they had in EoT is what motivates missy. Missy, who strives her entire life to be the doctor's friend again.

It all came from simm master's arc.

Which honestly breaks my heart and makes me claw at walls and no one ever talks about it.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

ok, once more I realize that my own kindness and friendliness has been taken for implied consent, and as always, the troubles that are brewing now are connected to OCs.

So let me be clear and frank one more time, one last time, because I have NO INTENTION of going through what I went through in 2021.

While I am always immensely happy that my Original Characters are enjoyed and that they can serve as source of inspiration, they are NOT however a template for anyone to base their OCs on.

They are not something that you can take in their entirety, change whatever suits you, and then call it your own.

It doesn't work like that, especially because, and allow me to reiterate this once and for all, OCs are *immensely* personal.

They are an extention of the soul of the person that creates them.

So taking whatever suits your fancy and use it for the "aesthetic" or the "vibes" is immensely disrespectful and, dare I say, rather impertinent, especially when both characters happen to belong to the same fandom.

Now, I am not talking about certain tropes and subjects that are typical of certain genre, of course not.

We are all somehow reinveting something that's already there when we work with OCs and stories.

What I am talking about is taking certain specific idiosyncrasies that make a certain character unique, change them to suit your character, and then being SO IMPERTINENT to just call it your own and parading it around without even having the courtesy to quote the person that has inspired you, taking advantage of the fact that I am just a small creator with a small following.

This is a huge No No for me.

Huge.

I appreciate that other creators might have a different opinion or perspective when it comes to OCs, and while I do not share entirely in that, I sure as hell respect it.

But allow me to be crystal clear: if this happens to me, like it had in 2021, that's the *easiest* way to lose all respect I might harbour for you, and I seldomly get mad or angry.

I am always accomodating, always supportive, and I think I have proven it aplenty in the past few years.

But this is something that I cannot condone nor agree with.

And it's not just a matter of ethic, in this sense: it's a matter of also hurting me, and literally put my whole creative process into shamble.

It's a matter of having respect of others.

Now, you might say: who cares if they hurt you? they are characters that do not exist, just move on and have thicker skin!

Well, as I said above, for when it concerns myself, my OCs are an extention of my own soul, a way for me to formulate and explain feelings that sometimes I have a hard time let out; a way for me to actually face, fragmentize and analyze my own trauma through them;

and most important of all, they are OFTEN a love letter to both the world I am exploring with them AND my own husband and child, such as in the case of Jacob and Dorothea,for whom, as I said often in the past 5 years, I have poured A LOT from myself and my husband's own story.

You could say that it probably my fault for having bared my feelings so much and poured so much of myself into a character;

And you might be correct, because I have learned my lesson, and ever since Dorothea and Jacob, no other character has been infused with as much of my own being as they were.

but that doesn't mean that it stings any less when I see it unravels in front of my eyes.

I am tired.

[e-claire]

Misophonia sucks so fucking hard and no one anywhere ever wants to talk about it. Literally the only people I've ever had listen to me about my Misophonia are other people with Misophonia. So fuck it, Misophonia Awareness Post or something, I want to vent.

Allow me to describe what it is first for all the lucky people who aren't fucked over. Misophonia is likely an Audio-Processing Disorder (Potentially some form of Synesthesia) in which certain sounds trigger a fight or flight reaction. Trigger sounds can vary and sometimes after long term exposure it can create a reaction to the visuals associated with those sounds. It is possibly genetic, there is no known cause, there is no known treatment, there is only suffering and ways of generally kind of reducing that suffering. When I hear people chewing I am filled with a rage that can only be described as "Bordering on a primal desire to Kill." and there's nothing I can do about that. A family member or friend takes a bite of something crunchy and I have to sit there and exist with thoughts of pounding their fucking skull into paste with my bare god damn hands and then afterwards I have to go back to "being normal". I have to just pretend that didn't happen, I can't do anything with those emotions, I can't put them anywhere, I can't talk about them with anyone or gain any understanding or sympathy from others for having them.

When I see someone chewing food anymore it's borderline impossible for me to remain in the room with them for any more than a few seconds because the mere sight of them chewing makes me physically ill and inspires in me a sense of deep disgust and panic that I could never ever hope to describe.

I tell people about what it's like and I get one of four reactions :

"Oh I think I have that too" With a weird amount of curious excitement at the concept of having a fun new quirky thing to mention in conversations. This means that they don't have it, and they'll then proceed to list off a couple different things that literally no human being likes to hear and how much that thing "annoys them". This makes me want to kill myself.

"Wow, Yikes." Through a grimace. This means I was too open about how it makes me feel and they now think i'm a either a freak, liability, time bomb, or over-dramatic, and will do everything they can to avoid the subject in the future so that I can't make them uncomfortable. This makes me want to kill them AND myself.

Immediately eats something really loudly to set me off as a "joke". This means that they're an obnoxious piece of shit that I have to try my absolute hardest not to beat to death with my bare hands. This makes me want to kill them, if that wasn't already obvious.

"Oh. So that's what this is called." This means they have it, and we can both engage in a brief period of mutual trauma sharing that helps us know we're not alone, and that our curse is unfortunately shared with others. This makes us both somewhat melancholy, and kinda ruins the vibes until something fun happens.

And then we get into the "How do you make the pain stop", and good news! You can't. There is no way to make it stop. But you can make it hurt less with ✨Spending Unbearable Amounts of Cash✨

You can buy a billion different types of earplugs that will all do great at muting the world but always leave you incredibly unaware of the world around you and leave you fucked in-terms of listening to media.

You can buy normal headphones that will kind of work but never mute the world around you anywhere near enough and vaguely frustrate you constantly, but hey at least you're a bit more accessible! Try combining these with a combination of rain and static noise playing at all times in the background for an extra layer of silence :)

You can buy ANC headphones that cost infinitely too much money and are almost always built to break so that they can farm cash from you in repairs, but the ANC is so useful despite not working perfectly that you can't really exist without it so you're gonna spend 200+ dollars every couple years because you don't have a choice, and spend every single day 24/7 wearing hot heavy over-ear headphones! Use the Rain and Static Noise combo with this as well for the best ANC effect.

And inevitably, all of these options will give you hearing problems, potentially make you aware of new trigger sounds, and always leave you a step behind everyone else when a conversation happens. Pro-Tip : For when the sounds are really intrusive and you're on the verge of a breakdown, Combine ANC with Ear Plugs and the R&SN background audio to basically kill noise in it's entirety for a little while :)

AND NOW WE GET TO THE PART WHERE I SAY WHAT THE FUCK CAN YOU NORMIES DO TO MAKE OUR SUFFERING LESS FUCKING CONSTANT.

Listen to us. Don't ostracize us for experiencing emotions we can't control and don't mean or want to act on. If you can, try your best to do the trigger noises quietly, and try your best not to do the trigger visuals in-front of us. We know it's not something you can control entirely, but if you can make the effort to make our lives suck less, we'll really fucking appreciate it.

And if you try to get back at us during a fight by eating something really crunchy to abuse our disorder for your benefit, I swear to god I will hunt you down personally and subject you to the most violent and painful torture I can manage before killing you and hiding your body somewhere no one will ever find it so that your loved ones never have the closure of knowing if you died or if you're still somewhere out there. Thanks for reading even though I know you didn't because the length of this post is frankly unhinged and i'll probably only get like 2 likes at best.

[destinygoldenstar]

“Feeling like you’re nothing is… kinda normal. If people even feel like that in the world I came from.”

TW: DISCUSSIONS OF SUICIDE

So this line specifically has been on my mind.

Obviously Pomni does not outright say she’s depressed. But she doesn’t need to. The show trusts us to pick it up for ourselves.

At first I thought it was just trauma, because… DUH. WHAT HAPPENED.

She experiences nightmares, she has zone outs, she closes herself off from her peers, panic attacks, etc. All pretty real responses to a traumatic event.

BUT THEN WE HAVE THIS LINE.

Now, I wouldn’t think too much of it if she said “In the world I COME from.” Present tense. So that would indicate she’s talking about the circus.

But she uses PAST TENSE here.

“In the world I CAME from.”

So she’s not talking about the circus.

We know she’s not because we know she was once a human in the real world.

Gooseworx confirmed that the Digital Circus characters DO remember their past lives, just not the key identify-defining details like their names. Which makes sense cause, well, if they had full amnesia they wouldn’t know they came from anywhere else at all.

So this implies she’s talking about her life in the real world before this.

So this may indicate that in the real world, human Pomni had anxiety & depression.

A theory someone else said, but I liked and could see being possible, was that each Digital Circus character represents certain mental illnesses. (My idea: Pomni - Generalized Anxiety & Major Depression Disorder, Ragatha - Separation Anxiety Disorder, Jax - Sociopathy, Kinger - Schizophrenia, Gangle - Bipolar Disorder, Zooble - Dysphoria) While it is questionable for some characters whether they experienced these in the real world or they gained them in the circus (Kinger is probably one of the latter’s case), considering Pomni’s new to the circus, it’s easy to assume the former. You don’t develop these mental problems overnight.

So here’s my theory: Human Pomni was an accountant at C&A, and got her hands on the information of the Digital Circus. As in, she knew EXACTLY what it would do to her…

…but she put the headset on anyway as an act of suicide.

This could be proven wrong in a future episode, but that is my belief on what happened to her. Would also explain how she had a vague idea on how the video game’s outside maps worked.

BUT, you may be asking, “If Pomni knew and did it as sudoku, why would she want to leave immediately?”

Survival reflex. (And I’m partially thinking about that Bojack Horseman speech at the penultimate episode of that show. You know the one.) It IS a thing for someone to attempt suicide, and then change their mind on it pretty quickly, whether it be the pain that came with it, or the fear of death. And this is in both cases whether the attempted succeeds or fails at the deed.

So the beginning of the show could be Pomni’s brain, scattered as it is, experiencing just that.

“Wait a minute. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to end it. I have to stop myself!”

But it’s too late.

She made her choice. She didn’t want to be ‘her’ anymore.

So she put the headset on.

She did the act.

There’s nothing she can do about it.

And since she TECHNICALLY isn’t dead, this is her processing her own existence, old and new, and what to do with it now.

THAT’s another reason why she has that nightmare about abstracting. Which could easily be seen as ‘mental suicide.’

A horrifying image on the outside. And on the inside, an image that’s far too real for her.

But she doesn’t have to have that be her fate.

There are people to help her and there are people that WOULD care if she dies.

Her story is about fighting the worst thoughts known to mankind and come out of that fight as a more emotionally realized person. As someone who wants to live. As someone who ISN’T nothing.

(This is a theory. Is open to be wrong.)