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cy-cyborg · 30 days

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Dealing with Healing and Disability in fantasy: Writing Disability

[ID: An image of the main character from Eragon, a white teenage boy with blond hair in silver armour as he sits, with his hand outstretched. On his hand is a glowing blue mark. He is visibly straining as he attempts to heal a large creature in front of him. /End ID]

I'm a massive fan of the fantasy genre, which is why it's so incredibly frustrating when I see so much resistance to adding disability representation to fantasy works. People's go-to reason for leaving us out is usually something to the effect of "But my setting has magic so disability wouldn't exist, it can just be healed!" so let's talk about magic, specifically healing magic, in these settings, and how you can use it without erasing disability from your story.

Ok, let's start with why you would even want to avoid erasing disability from a setting in the first place. I talked about this in a lot more detail in my post on The Miracle Cure. this line of thinking is another version of this trope, but applied to a whole setting (or at least, to the majority of people in the setting) instead of an individual, so it's going to run into the same issues I discussed there. To summarise the points that are relevant to this particular version of the trope though:

Not every disabled person wants or needs a cure - many of us see our disability as a part of our identity. Do difficulties come with being disabled? absolutely! It's literally part of the definition, but for some people in the disabled community, if you took our disabilities away, we would be entirely different people. While it is far from universal, there is a significant number of us who, if given a magical cure with no strings attached, would not take it. Saying no one in your setting would be disabled because these healing spells exists ignores this part of the community.

It messes with the stakes of your story - Just like how resurrecting characters or showing that this is something that is indeed possible in the setting can leave your audience feeling cheated or like they don't have to worry about a character *actually* ever dying. healing a character's disability, or establishing that disability doesn't exist in your setting because "magic" runs into the same problem. It will leave your readers or viewers feeling like they don't have to worry about your characters getting seriously hurt because it will only be temporary, which means your hero's actions carry significantly less risk, which in turn, lowers the stakes and tension if not handled very, very carefully.

It's an over-used trope - quite plainly and simply, this trope shows up a lot in the fantasy genre, to the point where I'd say it's just overused and kind of boring.

So with the "why should you avoid it" covered, let's look at how you can actually handle the topic.

Limited Access and Expensive Costs

One of the most common ways to deal with healing and disability in a fantasy setting, is to make the healing magic available, but inaccessible to most of the population. The most popular way to do that is by making the services of a magical healer capable of curing a disability really expensive to the point that most people just can't afford it. If this is the approach you're going to use, you also typically have to make that type of magic quite rare. To use D&D terms, if every first level sorcerer, bard, cleric and druid can heal a spinal injury, it's going to result in a lot of people who are able to undercut those massive prices and the expense will drop as demand goes down. If that last sentence didn't give you a hint, this is really popular method in stories that are critiquing capitalistic mindsets and ideologies, and is most commonly used by authors from the USA and other countries with a similar medical system, since it mirrors a lot of the difficulties faced by disabled Americans. If done right, this approach can be very effective, but it does need to be thought through more carefully than I think people tend to do. Mainly because a lot of fantasy stories end with the main character becoming rich and/or powerful, and so these prohibitively expensive cure become attainable by the story's end, which a lot of authors and writer's just never address. Of course, another approach is to make the availability of the magic itself the barrier. Maybe there just aren't that many people around who know the magic required for that kind of healing, so even without a prohibitive price tag, it's just not something that's an option for most people. If we're looking at a D&D-type setting, maybe you need to be an exceptionally high level to cast the more powerful healing spell, or maybe the spell requires some rare or lost material component. I'd personally advise people to be careful using this approach, since it often leads to stories centred around finding a miracle cure, which then just falls back into that trope more often than not.

Just outright state that some characters don't want/need it

Another, admittedly more direct approach, is to make it that these "cures" exist and are easily attainable, but to just make it that your character or others they encounter don't want or need it. This approach works best for characters who are born with their disabilities or who already had them for a long time before a cure was made available to them. Even within those groups though, this method works better with some types of characters than others depending on many other traits (personality, cultural beliefs, etc), and isn't really a one-size-fits-all solution, but to be fair, that's kind of the point. Some people will want a cure for their disabilities, others are content with their body's the way they are. There's a few caveats I have with this kind of approach though:

you want to make sure you, as the author, understand why some people in real life don't want a cure, and not just in a "yeah I know these people exist but I don't really get it" kind of way. I'm not saying you have to have a deep, personal understanding or anything, but some degree of understanding is required unless you want to sound like one of those "inspirational" body positivity posts that used to show up on Instagram back in the day.

Be wary when using cultural beliefs as a reasoning. It can work, but when media uses cultural beliefs as a reason for turning down some kind of cure, it's often intending to critique extreme beliefs about medicine, such as the ones seen in some New Age Spirituality groups and particularly intense Christian churches. As a general rule of thumb, it's probably not a good idea to connect these kinds of beliefs to disabled people just being happy in their bodies. Alternatively, you also need to be mindful of the "stuck in time" trope - a trope about indigenous people who are depicted as primitive or, as the name suggests, stuck in an earlier time, for "spurning the ways of the white man" which usually includes medicine or the setting's equivalent magic. I'm not the best person to advise you on how to avoid this specific trope, but my partner (who's Taino) has informed me of how often it shows up in fantasy specifically and we both thought it was worth including a warning at least so creators who are interested in this method know to do some further research.

Give the "cures" long-lasting side effects

Often in the real world, when a "cure" for a disability does exist, it's not a perfect solution and comes with a lot of side effects. For example, if you loose part of your arm in an accident, but you're able to get to a hospital quickly with said severed arm, it can sometimes be reattached, but doing so comes at a cost. Most people I know who had this done had a lot of issues with nerve damage, reduced strength, reduced fine-motor control and often a great deal of pain with no clear source. Two of the people I know who's limbs were saved ended up having them optionally re-amputated only a few years later. Likewise, I know many people who are paraplegics and quadriplegics via spinal injuries, who were able to regain the use of their arms and/or legs. However, the process was not an easy one, and involved years of intense physiotherapy and strength training. For some of them, they need to continue to do this work permanently just to maintain use of the effected limbs, so much so that it impacts their ability to do things like work a full-time job and engage in their hobbies regularly, and even then, none of them will be able bodied again. Even with all that work, they all still experience reduced strength and reduced control of the limbs. depending on the type, place and severity of the injury, some people are able to get back to "almost able bodied" again - such was the case for my childhood best friend's dad, but they often still have to deal with chronic pain from the injury or chronic fatigue.

Even though we are talking about magic in a fantasy setting, we can still look to real-life examples of "cures" to get ideas. Perhaps the magic used has a similar side effect. Yes, your paraplegic character can be "cured" enough to walk again, but the magic maintaining the spell needs a power source to keep it going, so it draws on the person's innate energy within their body, using the very energy the body needs to function and do things like move their limbs. They are cured, but constantly exhausted unless they're very careful, and if the spell is especially strong, the body might struggle to move at all, resulting in something that looks and functions similar to the nerve damage folks with spinal injuries sometimes deal with that causes that muscle weakness and motor control issues. Your amputee might be able to have their leg regrown, but it will always be slightly off. The regrown leg is weaker and causes them to walk with a limp, maybe even requiring them to use a cane or other mobility aid.

Some characters might decide these trade-offs are worth it, and while this cures their initial disability, it leaves them with another. Others might simply decide the initial disability is less trouble than these side effects, and choose to stay as they are.

Consider if these are actually cures

Speaking of looking to the real world for ideas, you might also want to consider whether these cures are doing what the people peddling them are claiming they do. Let's look at the so-called autism cures that spring up every couple of months as an example.

Without getting into the… hotly debated specifics, there are many therapies that are often labelled as "cures" for autism, but in reality, all they are doing is teaching autistic people how to make their autistic traits less noticeable to others. This is called masking, and it's a skill that often comes at great cost to an autistic person's mental health, especially when it's a behaviour that is forced on them. Many of these therapies give the appearance of being a cure, but the disability is still there, as are the needs and difficulties that come with it, they're just hidden away. From an outside perspective though, it often does look like a success, at least in the short-term. Then there are the entirely fake cures with no basis in reality, the things you'll find from your classic snake-oil salesmen. Even in a fantasy setting where real magic exists, these kinds of scams and misleading treatments can still exist. In fact, I think it would make them even more common than they are in the real world, since there's less suspension of disbelief required for people to fall for them. "What do you mean this miracle tonic is a scam? Phil next door can conjure flames in his hand and make the plants grow with a snap of his fingers, why is it so hard to believe this tonic could regrow my missing limb?"

I think the only example of this approach I've seen, at least recently, is from The Owl House. The magic in this world can do incredible things, but it works in very specific and defined ways. Eda's curse (which can be viewed as an allegory for many disabilities and chronic illnesses) is seemingly an exception to this, and as such, nothing is able to cure it. Treat it, yes, but not cure it. Eda's mother doesn't accept this though, and seeks out a cure anyway and ends up falling for a scam who's "treatments" just make things worse.

In your own stories, you can either have these scams just not work, or kind of work, but in ways that are harmful and just not worth it, like worse versions of the examples in the previous point. Alternatively, like Eda, it's entirely reasonable that a character who's been the target of these scams before might just not want to bother anymore. Eda is a really good example of this approach handled in a way that doesn't make her sad and depressed about it either. She's tried her mum's methods, they didn't work, and now she's found her own way of dealing with it that she's happy with. She only gets upset when her boundaries are ignored by Luz and her mother.

Think about how the healing magic is actually working

If you have a magic system that leans more on the "hard magic" side of things, a great way to get around the issue of healing magic erasing disability is to stop and think about how your healing magic actually works.

My favourite way of doing this is to make healing magic work by accelerating the natural processes of your body. Your body will, given enough time (assuming it remains infection-free) close a slash from a sword and mend a broken bone, but it will never regrow it's own limbs. It will never heal damage to it's own spinal cord. It will never undo whatever causes autism or fix it's own irregularities. Not without help. Likewise, healing magic alone won't do any of these things either, it's just accelerating the existing process and usually, by extension making it safer, since a wound staying open for an hour before you get to a healer is much less likely to get infected than one that slowly and naturally heals over a few weeks. In one of my own works, I take this even further by making it that the healing magic is only accelerating cell growth and repair, but the healer has to direct it. In order to actually heal, the healer needs to know the anatomy of what they're fixing to the finest detail. A spell can reconnect a torn muscle to a bone, but if you don't understand the structures that allow that to happen in the first place, you're likely going to make things worse. For this reason, you won't really see people using this kind of magic to, say, regrow limbs, even though it technically is possible. A limb is a complicated thing. The healer needs to be able to perfectly envision all the bones, the cartilage, the tendons and ligaments, the muscles (including the little ones, like those found in your skin that make your hair stand on end and give you goose bumps), the fat and skin tissues, all the nerves, all the blood vessels, all the structures within the bone that create your blood. Everything, and they need to know how it all connects, how it is supposed to move and be able to keep that clearly in their mind simultaneously while casting. Their mental image also has to match with the patient's internal "map" of the body and the lost limb, or they'll continue to experience phantom limb sensation even if the healing is successful. It's technically possible, but the chances they'll mess something up is too high, and so it's just not worth the risk to most people, including my main character.

Put Restrictions on the magic

This is mostly just the same advice as above, but for softer magic systems. put limits and restrictions on your healing magic. These can be innate (so things the magic itself is just incapable of doing) or external (things like laws that put limitations on certain types of magic and spells).

An example of internal restriction can be seen in how some people interpret D&D's higher level healing spells like regenerate (a 7th level spell-something most characters won't have access to for quite some time). The rules as written specify that disabilities like lost limbs can be healed using this spell, but some players take this to mean that if a character was born with the disability in question, say, born without a limb, regenerate would only heal them back to their body's natural state, which for them, is still disabled.

An external restriction would be that your setting has outlawed healing magic, perhaps because healing magic carries a lot of risks for some reason, eithe to the caster or the person being healed, or maybe because the healing magic here works by selectively reviving and altering the function of cells, which makes it a form of necromancy, just on a smaller scale. Of course, you can also use the tried and true, "all magic is outlawed" approach too. In either case, it's something that will prevent some people from being able to access it, despite it being technically possible. Other external restrictions could look like not being illegal, per say, but culturally frowned upon or taboo where your character is from.

But what if I don't want to do any of this?

Well you don't have to. These are just suggestions to get you thinking about how to make a world where healing magic and disability exist, but they aren't the only ways. Just the ones I thought of.

Of course, if you'd still rather make a setting where all disability is cured because magic and you just don't want to think about it any deeper, I can't stop you. I do however, want to ask you to at least consider where you are going to draw the line. Disability, in essence, is what happens when the body stops (or never started) functioning "normally". Sometimes that happens because of an injury, sometimes it's just bad luck, but the boundary between disabled and not disabled is not as solid as I think a lot of people expect it to be, and we as a society have a lot of weird ideas about what is and isn't a disability that just, quite plainly and simply, aren't consistent. You have to remember, a magic system won't pick and choose the way we humans do, it will apply universally, regardless of our societal hang-ups about disability.

What do I mean about this?

Well, consider for a moment, what causes aging? it's the result of our body not being able to repair itself as effectively as it used to. It's the body not being able to perform that function "normally". So in a setting where all disability is cured, there would be no aging. No elderly people. No death from old age. If you erase disability, you also erase natural processes like aging. magic won't pick and choose like that, not if you want it to be consistent.

Ok, ok, maybe that's too much of a stretch, so instead, let's look at our stereotypical buff hero covered in scars because he's a badass warrior. but in a world where you can heal anything, why would anything scar? Even if it did, could another healing spell not correct that too? Scars are part of the body's natural healing process, but if no natural healing occurred, why would a scar form? Scars are also considered disabling in and of themselves too, especially large ones, since they aren't as flexible or durable as normal skin and can even restrict growth and movement.

Even common things like needing glasses are, using this definition of disability at least, a disability. glasses are a socially accepted disability aid used to correct your eyes when they do not function "normally".

Now to be fair, in reality, there are several definitions of disability, most of which include something about the impact of society. For example, in Australia (according to the Disability Royal Commission), we define disability as "An evolving concept that results from the interaction between a person with impairment(s) and attitudinal and environmental barriers that hinder their full and effective participation in society on an equal basis with others." - or in laymen's terms, the interaction between a person's impairment and societal barriers like people not making things accessible or holding misinformed beliefs about your impairment (e.g. people in wheelchairs are weaker than people who walk). Under a definition like this, things like scars and needing glasses aren't necessarily disabilities (most of the time) but that's because of how our modern society sees them. The problem with using a definition like this though to guide what your magic system will get rid of, is that something like a magic system won't differentiate between an "impairment" that has social impacts that and one that doesn't. It will still probably get rid of anything that is technically an example of your body functioning imperfectly, which all three of these things are. The society in your setting might apply these criteria indirectly, but really, why would they? Very few people like the side effects of aging on the body (and most people typically don't want to die), the issues that come with scars or glasses are annoying (speaking as someone with both) and I can see a lot of people getting rid of them when possible too. If they don't then it's just using the "not everyone wants it approach" I mentioned earlier. If there's some law or some kind of external pressure to push people away from fixing these more normalised issues, then it's using the "restrictions" method I mentioned earlier too.

Once again, you can do whatever you like with your fantasy setting, but it's something I think that would be worth thinking about at least.

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cheshiresense · 8 months

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[Last Part]

Can't have a Yuzu POV without a Karin POV lol~

-0-

Karin makes it back before curfew with fifteen minutes to spare. Their brother had extended hers and Yuzu's curfew to 10pm since they'd hit their double-digits, and she's always been mindful to never break it. Yuzu isn't usually one to stay out late, but Karin likes her freedom to wander around without supervision enough that she isn't going to risk a grounding just because she couldn't be bothered to check the time. Besides, she knows kids her age don't get half as much trust or leeway from their guardians, so Karin isn't going to disappoint Ichigo's expectations by not following the few rules he'd set for them.

Not to mention she has exactly zero faith in her own ability - or honestly anyone else's - to slip under her brother's radar anyway. Only an idiot would think they could, and Kurosaki Karin wasn't raised a fool. Sneaking in late isn't even worth considering.

So she's back by 9:45 sharp, and she unlocks the apartment door to reveal a scene in the sitting room that's not entirely unfamiliar ever since dinner last Tuesday.

"Shoes," is Ichigo's greeting, and Karin immediately rallies.

"I rinsed them!" She insists defensively. "Thoroughly!"

She had. Karasu River, specifically that spot where their mother had died so everyone's avoided it ever since like they might get cursed if they stray too close, is a great place to get rid of evidence.

"And now you're thoroughly tracking water through the door," Ichigo points out dryly, which, oh yeah, she is, whoops.

Karin makes a vaguely sheepish face before quickly toeing out of her sneakers and leaving them outside to dry instead. Just her luck that Yuzu dropped a vial of her newest poison yesterday and burned a hole straight through the entryway doormat, and they haven't had a chance to replace it yet.

She shuts the door, drops her duffel bag against one wall, and ambles over to her brother for a hug and a cup of tea from the fresh pot on the kotatsu. Or rather, Ichigo goes about pouring her one while she slumps into his side with a content, if tired, sigh.

Ichi-nii has never really been one for hugs, even when she and Yuzu had been smaller, and that's no different now. Occasionally, on a birthday or new year or when - very rarely - something had made them cry, he'd dole one out to each of them, stiff and a little awkward, but genuine in a way Karin knows he'd had to learn just for them, and that alone had made it precious. Besides, he's never refused their hugs when they take the initiative to go in for one, and Karin knows full well that anyone else would be thrown across the room or tossed out a window, Mizuiro included, so that's just as good even if Ichigo doesn't often return them.

She leans against him now, and he endures it stoically, handing her tea and also casting a surreptitious eye over her for any signs of injury. There are none of course— Karin's been learning how to protect herself ever since her brother had become the undisputed head of the household, even if Isshin still remains determinedly blind to anything related to his son to this day. And on top of that, Ichigo's long since ensured their safety from most lesser predators in this town, so it's not as if they have anything to worry about.

Of course, there are still morons who slip through Ichigo's iron-fisted oversight - or rather, are allowed to slip through - either because they're new to Karakura or they're lured in from a neighbouring town, all of them deemed harmless enough prey for Karin and Yuzu to play with. They make for wonderful test subjects for Yuzu when she's getting creative again, and very convenient outlets for Karin whenever soccer and karate aren't enough to siphon off her excess energy. Unlike Yuzu, Karin really isn't made to sit still or stay indoors all day.

She blinks when Ichigo jostles her out of her thoughts with a nudge and a succinct reminder, "Greet."

Karin's pretty sure there's some kind of What Manners And Social Norms To Teach Your Kids So They Can Fit Into Society self-help book squirrelled away in Ichi-nii's room somewhere. Possibly even a series. Of course, her brother certainly doesn’t follow his own lessons on conduct, but this is one of those things that Ichigo has always implicitly expressed his preference for her and Yuzu to ‘do as I say, not as I do'.

So Karin can only swallow a forbearing grumble along with her tea before nodding curtly across the table, "Good evening, Hirako-san, Urahara-san."

Ichigo's already turned back to some papers in front of him, because bright side— her brother's number of fucks to give begins and ends with the most perfunctory of civilities, so at least Karin doesn't have to waste time on small talk. Yuzu, her crazier half, is the only one of them who actually enjoys that stuff. Karin sometimes can't believe they're related.

"Brat," is Hirako's response, and his voice says amusement but his eyes say caution. Well, amused caution, but Hirako seems to find almost everything a little funny, and it's not even some weird bravado because his reiatsu manifestation is constantly a glittering field of yellow-gold-blue that takes the form of a sunny beach. Usually.

On the other hand— "Good evening, Kurosaki-san," Urahara returns, perfectly polite, with a perfectly pleasant if distracted smile, perfectly suited for someone who's genuinely glad to see an acquaintance's sister home safe. Except his reiatsu manifestation is a fucking ocean of blood, deep and dark and completely still on the surface no matter what he says or does. The only times Karin's seen even just a ripple in it is when Ichigo is talking. Her brother at least seems to have a knack for taking Urahara off-guard. Nobody else though, and the external mimicry of human reactions - no matter how expertly crafted - doesn't impress Karin one bit when she can see the disconnect between his insides and outsides.

So she snorts and goes back to ignoring them both. Since the dinner last week, these two have come back a couple more times, mostly meeting with Ichigo for something or other, probably a ghost-related problem, with Urahara also dropping off a stack of books and scrolls for Yuzu, and they seem like they'll be sticking around for a while. But until Ichigo tells her that they're going to be part of the family, like Mizuiro, Karin's not going to waste her time on getting to know them. Honestly, just by dint of being people, and worse, troublesome ones, means that they're more likely to get themselves offed at the business end of Ichigo's swords than anything else.

"Ichi-nii," She says instead. "I have another away game on Friday. Can you sign me out of class?"

Ichigo makes a noise in the affirmative. "Leave the form on the kitchen table before you go to bed. Is it in Naruki City again?"

"Yeah," Karin makes a face. "Back-to-back matches against Hiromasa. Dunno why they even bother when they're not serious about it anyway. And they're so annoying. We always kick their asses but they still look down on us cuz I'm a regular on the team. What, a girl can't play soccer now? But we literally run the score up into the double digits every time we play and all they say is that they were going easy on us cuz we've got girls on the team!"

She stops and takes a deep breath. She's actually complained about this before, multiple times, ever since she'd turned nine and been deemed old enough - and tall enough - to play in official matches. Or as official as elementary school club competitions can get anyway, and being able to play against other schools was awesome, but that didn't mean some of their opponents weren't dickheads. At least she'll finally enter middle school next year and probably won't ever bump into this particular group of idiots on the field again, but until then, she's no doubt going to complain some more.

And her brother always listens with the sort of patience he wouldn't extend to anyone else's whining, which Karin likes to take shameless advantage of, but on occasion, she also needs other ways to vent, and that was really what today had been all about after enduring last Friday's game.

Right on cue, Ichigo asks without looking up, "Haven't you gotten it out of your system yet?"

Karin huffs and takes another long drought of tea before speaking. "Kind of? But the guy didn't even put up a fight! He even pissed himself, Ichi-nii! Before I even did anything! It was gross!"

Ichigo finally lifts his head just to level a look at her. "You play with your food too much."

Karin stares indignantly back at him. "I do not!"

"How long have you had your eye on this latest one?"

Since like, three weeks ago, but that's not Karin's fault! "It's not my fault he took forever to take the bait. You'd think it would've been easier with the way he stalked my jogging route every single day just to see me in a tank top and shorts. Besides, I was saving him for after last Friday's match! You know, as a treat."

"And now it's already Tuesday," Ichigo mutters, but he also pats her on the head in a vaguely comforting if condescending manner, like he's consoling her for a botched job.

Karin splutters. "Ichi-nii!"

Ichigo smirks briefly. "You're still young. You'll get better. There's no rush."

Karin pouts into her tea. Eleven - literally twelve in less than half a month! - isn't that young. She's definitely not a kid anymore. Ichigo was already scaring the crap out of half the town before he'd even hit his pre-teens. He hadn't even killed anyone yet back then but people twice his size would pick fights with him that he'd always win, and then he had started killing once he'd turned thirteen, which had only cemented his reputation. Karin and Yuzu had had to beg forever to get their brother to teach them some of the tricks of his trade, because they hadn't wanted to wait years to follow in Ichigo's footsteps, and Ichigo had thankfully agreed that it made sense for them to learn how to protect themselves.

Still, no matter how many bodies she and Yuzu have put in the ground - not that many actually, they've got a long way to go to catch up to Ichigo - Karin isn't so oblivious that she doesn't know that a good portion of the respect they receive these days is entirely down to their brother's looming shadow behind them. But everyone needs a goal or two in life, and one day, she wants people to look at her and flinch because she's scary enough all on her own.

"Did you clean up properly tonight?" Ichigo adds like an afterthought.

Karin rolls her eyes. "I would've called you if there was a problem. You know I have like three different cleanup crews and Mizuiro-nii on speed-dial."

She can't wait until she's tall enough to bag and carry adult corpses around on her own. It's embarrassing to have to call someone every time she - okay, she admits it - makes a bit of a mess. It's not an issue when Ichigo is there, and she just has to help him, but when she's alone, it pays to have extra hands in the aftermath, even if it feels kind of like she still has to be babysat.

"Cleanup crews?" Hirako suddenly interjects from where he's just been watching them and listening like he's never heard a single conversation in his life and it's somehow super fascinating. What a weirdo. "Where'd ya get those from?"

Karin squints at him. Why does he want to know? Shinigami old as dirt still don't know how to do their own cleanup?

"They're just local yakuza," Ichigo actually takes the time to answer, which seems exceptionally tolerant of him. He must really like this guy for some reason. "Someone always has some free time to lend a hand, and they don't mind sharing their dump sites."

Hirako arches an eyebrow. "They don't?"

Ichigo smiles lazily at him. "Not anymore."

Hirako stares at him for a beat longer before bursting into raucous laughter, except the sunny beach from before is shifting, sliding, fucking shimmering, and then it's no longer a beach even if it's still a field of yellow-gold-blue. Instead, sand dunes rise where there'd only been wild grasses and rocky outcrops before, an endless desert as far as the eye can see, while the sea isn't a sea at all but something that could be an oasis or just a mirage, now gone hazy behind a wave of heat, and all of it so deceptive and deadly that you might wonder how you could've ever mistaken it for anything remotely harmless at all.

And it's even worse beside him, because Urahara is sitting there, blandly smiling away from behind his fan, and he doesn't look much of anything, but the ocean of blood he's literally submerged in stirs for a minute like there's something large and lethal swimming in its depths. Karin can't see what it is though because the blood is so thick that she can barely even make out Urahara's face, let alone anything else.

She rubs at her eyes. They're giving her a headache. This is why she prefers baseline humans over ghosts. Ghosts naturally have more reiryoku than average living beings, and Shinigami have even more than that - way more - so Karin in turn sees a whole lot more than just flashes of transparent images when she has to look at them. And it would be bad enough if it was just that, but these two lie so much. She doesn't know if it's a Shinigami thing or Ichigo just attracts complications, although now that she thinks about it, Mizuiro had given her headaches at first too. It'd just been easier with him because when he'd started coming over to hang out, he didn't have anywhere near as much reiryoku as these two guys, and now Karin's just used to him so it doesn't much matter anymore.

But these two. She doesn't even know what Hirako's deal is, because as far as she's aware, he hasn't really lied about anything so far. His insides match his outsides, so to speak. But his manifestation also seems to imply that everything he says is as much a truth as it is a lie, or that it could be a lie just as much as it could be a truth, depending on the situation. Which doesn't make any sense, at least not to her.

And don't even get her started on Urahara. That man oozes shady vibes so it's not exactly a shock that his manifestation reflects that. It's just... who the heck has an ocean of blood representing their soul? It's not the fact that it's blood that confuses her; it's that the blood is all there is. Even if you kill a person a day for a thousand years, it can't be all that you are, right? Even Ichigo doesn't have something like that. Although to be fair, his reiatsu manifestation can probably come across as pretty disturbing too. But Karin basically grew up with it so she can't really say for sure. It's certainly never frightened her. Not that Urahara frightens her either. It's just... weird.

Both of these old dudes are so weird. They're the first people she's come across whose manifestations are as complex as her brother's, but she doesn't really know what she can interpret from them because manifestations are different from emotions, and besides that, emotions are her sister's wheelhouse anyway. Yuzu is the one who can pick up what someone is feeling at any moment and extrapolate from there. Karin just gets a bunch of pointless shitty abstract art shoved at her eyeballs, and Shinigami are clearly the worst about it.

And just to make it really unfair, Yuzu says that emotions rarely get too loud for her. Karin doesn't know if it's because her sister had been born with natural talent when it comes to controlling her ability while Karin... hadn't, or if Karin's ability encompasses so much of one of the senses she depends on most in everyday life that it simply affects her more easily, but either way, if the manifestation is a powerful one, then the longer she focuses on it, the more it can overwhelm her.

It'd been almost unbearable at first when she was younger, all of eight years old and finally tapping into her portion of the family inheritance, except even a glimpse of another student with slightly above average reiryoku levels could wipe her out for hours. There'd been days where Ichigo had had to pull her out of school just so she wouldn't have to see anyone, living or dead, and she'd needed almost six months before she'd gotten a proper handle on it.

During last Tuesday's dinner, she actually couldn't even see what Hirako and Urahara's faces looked like until near the end of it. Their reiatsu is just that strong, which means their manifestations appear completely solid and three-dimensional, and that means that those manifestations are the only things Karin sees most of the time when she has to look at them.

She doesn't even get the benefit of practically being able to read minds like Yuzu can. Although Yuzu always says it's nothing like reading minds. Karin remains unconvinced. Emotions can reveal a lot, especially with context clues. Manifestations on the other hand almost never react to whatever is happening in real time. Unlike emotions, they're rarely a consequence of outside stimuli. Hirako's had changed earlier, from illusory beach to the real desert hidden underneath, but that's because his manifestation has always been like that, switching between the two when the mood - his mood - strikes. Even now, it's already settling back onto the beach scene. It may have been somewhat affected by what Ichigo had said - by cleanup crews??? - but it hadn't shown anything that hadn't already been there, part of Hirako's soul.

In contrast, Urahara's the real outlier. Karin doesn't even want to think about his manifestation, never mind look at it. It's not that his soul has become something new either - the whole person would have to be swapped out for that to happen - but she's never met anyone, ever, whose manifestation seems to hinge so absolutely upon one person before. She's not even sure if Urahara is aware of how... fixated he is. And she definitely doesn't know what it means. Ichigo doesn't even like the guy, and Urahara - inside or outside - doesn't seem particularly hung up on Ichigo. Except of course for the little matter of how his actual-facts immortal soul is doing the near-equivalent of placing itself in the palm of Ichigo's hand, which- what. Didn't they just meet like two seconds ago? If Karin actually believed in love at first sight, she'd say this might be what it would look like if it could manifest a physical form in the creepiest way possible, but she doesn't, so to her, Urahara's just insane.

Anyway, no one can blame her for not wanting anything to do with these crazies, especially when coupled with her ability. She wouldn't give it up if she could, because it's hers, and it makes her special like Yuzu, like Ichi-nii, makes her part of the family in a way no one else but the three of them can be, but at the same time, it's honestly a pretty useless skill. Manifestations are just... portraits of souls laid bare, which sounds all kinds of impressive and philosophical but is actually just a fancy way of describing a lifetime of squatting in an art museum with all its exits sealed.

It's terrible all around, made doubly so by their houseguests, and in Karin's opinion, the sooner Ichigo gets tired of them, the better.

The room has gone silent, and Karin only notices when the mostly empty tea mug is plucked from her hand. She's pinching the bridge of her nose with her other hand, eyes closed, but she opens them then to peer up at her brother.

"It's getting late," Ichigo says without much inflection in his voice, but he also pats her head again, and a flare of reiatsu floods her retinas like cold spring water on a hot day, washing away the pain. "Go to bed. Lights out by eleven."

Karin's more than happy to get out of there, away from Less Crazy 1 and More Crazy 2.

"Mm, I know," She gives her brother a quick hug before clambering to her feet. "'Night, Ichi-nii. I'll leave the form in the kitchen."

Ichigo grunts his acknowledgement, and Karin spares a moment to nod in the general direction of the Shinigami before wandering away, pausing only long enough to scoop up her bag before making her way up the hall and to the master bedroom. She and Yuzu still prefer sharing each other's space even though Yuzu is fastidiously possessive about her own belongings, so Ichigo had given them the biggest room when they'd moved in, while he and Mizuiro had split the single and study-turned-bedroom between them. The best perk of this is of course the fact that she and Yuzu get the en suite bathroom to themselves.

Her sister is still up, bopping to some music on her headphones while reading one of the scrolls Urahara had given her. She barely glances up when Karin comes in, although she wrinkles her nose plenty when it's clear Karin hasn't had time to do her laundry.

Karin rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her. "I won't leave anything lying around, don't faint."

Yuzu glowers at her. "I don't faint!"

Karin snickers as she ducks into the bathroom. "Whatever you say, princess."

The thud of a pillow hitting the bathroom door is her reply. It's actually pretty hilarious when Karin thinks about it. Yuzu's manifestation is a sterile white room lined with perfectly preserved faceless corpses wall to wall, but give her a human body with its guts spilling out, and she immediately runs for the nearest toilet. She doesn't mind the scent of blood, but gods forbid any stains linger where they shouldn't.

Speaking of, Karin digs out the set of clothes she'd changed out of earlier, after her stalker had been dealt with. She hadn't even gotten them very dirty this time, and she'd made sure to scrub everything clean in the river anyway before coming home, but she'll still have to toss them into the washer again if she doesn't want Yuzu nagging her about it. In the meantime, she shoves it all into a vacuum seal bag and leaves it in the corner. She can haul them over to the laundry room next door in the morning with the rest of the past week's load.

Her knives are tucked inside the duffel as well. Those she'll take care of tonight. Ichi-nii went all the way to Nagasaki to commission them for her from a semi-retired blacksmith last year. They're elegant and gorgeous, and they cut like a dream, sheathed in black leather and embossed with a small stylized K on the flat of each blade, only noticeable when the metal runs red. It's the best gift Karin has ever received, and if they ever rust, or she ever loses them, she'll probably bawl her eyes out.

She hops into the shower next, sighing happily as she relaxes under the hot water. Despite the atrocious company Ichigo keeps these days, today's still been an overall good day. She'll be able to go back to her jogging in peace starting tomorrow, and the upcoming match on Friday doesn't seem quite as irritating now that she's had someone to stab a time or ten. Of course, after the match is another matter entirely. Maybe she can tag along to Yuzu's bake sale on Saturday. There's always a couple suckers at the outskirts of Karakura too stupid to live.

It's something to look forward to. For now though, she finishes her shower, brushes her teeth, and then gets to work cleaning her knives. She doesn't have all night.

"Was Onii-chan still talking to Hirako-san and Urahara-san?" Yuzu asks a little later as they get ready for bed because their brother always knows if they stay up too late.

"Yeah," Karin says around a yawn as she sets her alarm. "They might still be out there. Can't you sense them?"

Yuzu shakes her head, leaning over to switch off the lamp on her nightstand. "They're... quiet, I guess. Quieter. I have to be in the same room as them to pick up on their emotions."

Karin hums as she rolls herself into her blankets. "What do you think about them?"

"I don't, really," Yuzu admits easily, so they're agreed on that at least. "Although if Onii-chan gets rid of them, I hope he can wait until after Urahara-san has finished teaching me."

Karin snorts. Typical.

They're silent for a moment until Yuzu speaks up again. "I think they're trouble. I mean, Onii-chan did mention it during dinner last week. But I think it's a different kind of trouble than the usual stuff. Not like yakuza or random creeps or even the monsters. Worse, I think they're going to bring trouble."

Karin frowns into the dark. Well, it's not anything she hasn't thought of herself. It's another reason why she dislikes them. If they've got problems, why do they have to dump them at Ichigo's doorstep? What have they ever done for Ichi-nii?

Still, "Ichi-nii will be able to handle it," Karin says with certainty. She's never known her brother to fail at anything. There has never been a problem Ichigo couldn't solve. He'd even cowed their father without ever laying a single hand on him, and that was back when Isshin had still been stronger than Ichigo.

"Well, obviously," Yuzu says, equally confident. "Maybe Onii-chan will even have some fun with it. I know the monsters don't give him any kind of challenge anymore. And he likes Hirako-san and Urahara-san well enough."

"He likes Hirako," Karin corrects, shooting a flummoxed look at the bed across the room. "Urahara, he could take or leave. I'm surprised Ichi-nii lets him come here at all."

"Yes," Yuzu says with an audible smile. "Onii-chan lets him come here."

Karin blinks. ...Huh.

"So, what, is it like... a crush?" Karin grimaces. Ew. "They're old and weird!"

Yuzu giggles. "I don't think I'd go that far. Yet. Besides, they're also powerful and interesting and not afraid of him, and you know what Onii-chan's like."

"Yeah, but I also thought Ichi-nii doesn't get crushes," Karin grouches. "I can't believe it's both ways."

"Both ways?" Yuzu echoes, and Karin can almost hear her eyes go wide. "Urahara-san too?"

Karin squints up at the ceiling. "What, you didn't pick that up from him? I mean I don't think it's actually a crush. Like you said. But there's something there."

"Urahara-san is a bit strange about Onii-chan," Yuzu agrees thoughtfully. "But I'm not exactly sure what it is. His emotions are hard to read sometimes. Hirako-san is easier. And nicer."

Karin makes a disgruntled sound. 'Nice' isn't how she'd put it, considering Hirako's reiatsu manifestation.

"Hirako-san isn't that bad," Yuzu says, amused. "And they're both kind of like Onii-chan, so that might be good. It's good to have friends."

Karin shrugs and grabs an extra pillow to hug. "Whether they're like him or not, if they do something dumb, Ichi-nii will handle it all the same."

Yuzu laughs, bright and cheerful and just a little anticipatory, even if she does seem to have a better opinion of them than Karin does.

The conversation between them fades away. Karin shuts her eyes and lets her thoughts drift. She has morning practice tomorrow and can't be late, so old weird men calling on her brother are frankly the least of her priorities.

#bleach #myscrap #stunted empathy verse #kurosaki karin #kurosaki ichigo #hirako shinji #urahara kisuke #kurosaki yuzu #karin's way less impressed with the two old dudes who followed her brother home #not that yuzu was all that impressed either beyond what kisuke could do for her lmao #anyway fleshing out karin and smacked her with a much more unique ability than yuzu's lol #not that yuzu's is particularly common in the bleach world but you see the empathy trope in general more often #they're kind of opposites in that #yuzu's relatively more normal in the spiritual powers department #not so normal with her poison obsession in everyday life #karin kind of doesn't want to have much to do with the spiritual side #and is more normal with her daily life #kind of #okay murder's not normal but she goes about it more straightforwardly at least #the main point is i hope they actually feel like people instead of cardboard cutouts lmao #sorry kubo but they were so flat in canon

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oracleact · 1 year

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« nothing on me »

bayverse raph x reader / fluff + angst

notes: 1.8k words, first person pov, established relationship, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used,) details of injuries and tending to said injuries.

a knock on the window at 3am? that only means one thing: the turtles are here. smiling, I rub the remnants of sleep from my eyes and hop out of bed to open up the curtain. only one turtle faces me at the window though - raphael.

I open the window and help his wide frame step down from the ledge, but my previous smile fades fast when raph groans in pain as he steps onto the floor.

“raph, what’s wrong? where are the rest of the boys? what happened?” I speak as fast as possible to try and get to his answer, worry eating away at me with each second that passes.

my raph is the mass strength and rough hand amongst the turtles. he can handle a lot of damage since he always manages to deal out more than what is done onto him. seeing him bent over, actually using my arm for support and not simply holding me because he wants to, groaning in genuine pain rather than letting out his usual gruff noises of acknowledgment - that scares me. it terrifies me when I don’t know what has happened.

“I told them to check on dad,” he begins breathlessly, “I needed you. it’s really bad this time.”

my eyes widen and I hurry him to the side of my bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. I grasp his face in my hands to check him over, turning his head every which way, but see nothing apart from a few new scratches on his skin.

“what do you mean ‘really bad,’ raph? you’re scaring me.”

“my—“ he lifts his arm and tries to reach for the back of his shell, failing miserably and almost howling out in pain, “my shell, sweetheart. I haven’t seen it yet but I heard it crack and this pain is too much for it to just be taped up.”

I scuttle around his large form and am immediately hit with the sight of a deep crack in the middle of his shell. he was right to come straight to me with this one. he should always come to me with injuries but is too stubborn most of the time and rides out the pain: ‘it may look bad to you but it’s nothing on me.’

when the boys started to properly use their skills outside of the lair, with the risk of larger injuries increasing, I began to research and teach myself how to handle ones specific to these mutants. thanks to many in depth articles about turtle care, I have safely cleaned and covered up small cracks before. the only difference between the boys and ‘normal’ turtles in regards to care like this is their size - it takes longer and requires more focus to clean cracks, ensuring that they can heal appropriately over time. although tonight’s damage will take double that, and maybe more.

“oh raph, oh my…how? wait, don’t answer that. I’m doing my first aid stuff then we can talk about it, okay?” he nods with a sad smile and all I can do is reach out and cup his cheek, returning the expression he gave me. he moves my hand to his lips for a quick kiss before I start scurrying off to grab what I need.

let’s see - chlorohexidine solution, q-tips, cotton pads, adhesive patches and a towel. is that all I need? I have no idea right now; I’m so scared to touch him that I feel like stalling for as long as I can.

I walk slowly back to where he sits on the edge of my bed, his head resting in one hand as the other rubs at his tired eyes. I lay down all that I grabbed from the bathroom before taking a deep breath and sitting down behind him. the room is silent for a couple of minutes after that, my heart beating loudly in my ears. I can’t break my anxious stare away from the crack in his beautiful carapace.

“hey…” raph speaks ever so softly to get my attention.

“yeah— sorry. I’m sorry,” I feel tears begin to form in my eyes. I hate seeing him hurt like this. “I’m going to fix you up. I promise I’ll fix this. I’ll touch around your shell, away from the crack, and you tell me how it feels. let me know how much the pain has spread.”

he gestures ‘yes’ to me but with a frowned brow, “don’t cry, love. everything is okay. I’m raphael, remember? this is nothing on me!”

but I can see it - I can see the pain written on his face, the way his eyes look misty. I don’t want to push him to talk nor do I want to directly acknowledge the pain I can see; I don’t want to break his protective wall at a time like this. it wouldn’t be fair to do so. I wipe my tears and get straight to work instead.

my small hand reaches out for him, gently patting around the edges of his shell then smoothing over the surface, “that’s not bad at all. it just feels tingly, like the nice kind of tingly you give me.” I giggle at him. it’s a relief that the shell hasn’t shattered or anything and he can feel my hand like always.

I’ve spent so many nights tracing over the faint patterns of his plastron and committing the texture to memory. it helps calm him after a stressful training day or when he can’t sleep. it secretly calms me too because it’s just us in those moments, the rest of the world fading away and leaving only raph and I. there’s no need to jump away from my hold to save new york when my touch melts away the city completely. nothing can break us out of that warm paradise as long as we are together.

despite the touch test going well, the cleaning of his wounds will definitely be painful since the crack is open and noticeable. I pour some of the solution onto a q-tip and tell raph to start breathing slowly and deeply. I help him set a pace for it before I begin to clean.

he hisses in pain when the piece of cotton comes in contact with the wound and my tears start to flow again, “I know baby, but this part is important,” I sniffle and reach my free hand for his, “use me to balance yourself.”

“I’ll break your little hand,” there is a fracture in his voice as he speaks but he still manages to let out a chuckle with his words.

“breathe and squeeze, raph, don’t worry about me.”

and so he did - each time I dipped the cotton into the crack he inhaled and exhaled quickly whilst grasping my hand in his. I rubbed my thumb over his rough skin in an attempt to ground us both over and over again.

“one last clean and then I’ll patch it up and be done for tonight.” he lets out a loud sigh at that, obviously glad that the stinging will be over soon. I hear him lowly whimper but force a cough after in an attempt to hide the noise. once again I don’t press him on it, I just kiss the back of his hand to let him know it’s alright.

the last step is to cut adhesive patches to fit the crack, making sure to leave small gaps at the ends to allow air to flow through. this process isn’t all that different from putting a bandaid on a human arm, and thank goodness for that. I want to do everything I can to help raph, to ease his pain, so this being a somewhat ‘easy’ task to complete means luck is on my side right now.

with the last piece secure I get up from the bed to face him again, giving him a small smile to let him know it’s done. I slip myself between his legs and reach out to untie his bandana. his eyes close as he presses his head onto my chest to give me access to the tie at the back.

sliding the cloth from his face, I set it on the bed and wipe underneath his eyes; he looks so worn out. my fingers move down to draw along the scars from previous battles and to check over any new cuts, the pad of my thumb eventually landing on the most prominent scar across his upper lip. my raph, my hero, our hero…with the scars to prove it all.

“give it a week and see how the shell starts to heal. if we need to do more then I’m ready for that. I’ve done my research, you’re looking at a certified mutant turtle nurse,” I wink at him as he laughs and nuzzles further into my hold.

he looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes, the light of the moon catching in them. he may be hurt but he’s here with me and healing in my arms, and I’ll hold this man forever to show him how much he means to me. he’s looking at me in the same way - in awe of what’s in front of him - both of us dumbly grinning at each other. although, he does break eye contact when a yawn suddenly comes bursting out.

“do you want to talk about what happened, or do you want to catch some z’s first?”

“hmm…as much as I want to tell you about how much of a badass I am, I really want to crash.”

he moves to lay on his back before I catch his shoulders with high pitched squeak, “shell!” I whisper-yell at him. his lips form an ‘o’ and I shake my head. only raph could forget about his injuries that quickly.

I slip into the bed first and hold out my arms, beckoning him to follow and to lay on his stomach. he does so almost instantly, getting comfy against me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“thank you for everything. I trust you with my life, you know.”

“and I trust you with mine, big red.”

I’m seemingly stuck staring down at him, just in stupid awe once more. watching how his eyes are effortlessly closed, evident that he is exhausted, with a faint smile playing on his lips as he shifts around to find the best snoozing position. his shell is now what catches the attention of the moon and I feel satisfied with my work on the crack. I’m still worried but the patch looks good and secure from afar so I’ll take it for it now.

I’m so happy that this brave and unstoppable mutant turtle trusts me with his open wounds, with his physical and emotional scars, with his love and being. this life of ours is crazy in so many ways but I wouldn’t ask for anything to change. well, less wounds here and there would be nice but that might be asking for too much.

#my first turtles story! I don’t normally write fics I have so many ideas that just play out in my head but I’m glad I wrote this one down #I think I’ve only ever posted one other fic on this account before (a beel one) so hopefully I’ll write some more in the future #well if people like them then I’ll post more hhh I have no idea how to gauge the quality of my own writing at all #oracleact chats #tmnt #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raph #bayverse raphael #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse raph imagine #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #I don’t actually know how to tag this…will this do? :<#blossom 💌 raph

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dolliestfairy · 1 year

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𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛. ༊ ๋ 𝆹 ׅ

Slasher headcanons with Nymph!fem!reader.

the pictures above is yet again from @fairydxlll on pinterest<3

ᖭི Character's that will be include : Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire, & Jennifer Check

ᖭི what is a nymph?

A nymph, sometimes spelled nymphe, in ancient Greek folklore is a minor female nature deity. Different from other Greek goddesses, nymphs are generally regarded as personifications of nature, are typically tied to a specific place or landform, and are usually depicted as maidens.

ᖭི Quick Explanation : you were a no human maiden that live in the forest. one time you try peeking out of your true world trying to see whats outside of it without you noticing that You've just caught the attention and curiousty of someone you shouldn't have.

ᖭི Warnings : Bo sinclair being The Bo sinclair he is. a little bit of Necrophilia [ he's fucking crazy ] reader's death in bo part. reader is naked around the woods. reader skin color is not specific. Manipulating, innocent kink (maybe?) stalking & kidnapping in brahms part. this is kinda dark. read at your own risk :) i've warned you.

ᖭི Bo Motherfucking Sinclair. ๋ 𝆹 ׅ

• first met when he was out in the town, now dont get me wrong, he actually love his town but he was just tryna break himself from his work by taking a walk in some forest outside of his town.

• after taking a walk he heard some other stepfoot coming around him from the cracks of the leaves it made. he then become wary and look around only to find the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid his eyes on. he sees you.

• you were um.. naked. but you still look pretty as fuck and it makes him overwhelmed. but his wariness is not out gone yet, so he trying to aproach you little by little step, he sees your legs were injured and he insisted to take you to the town, and yes you're accepting.

• at first, after he healed your leg injury, just like the Bo Sinclair he is, he's thinking about killing you, and after he kills you he wants to play with your body a little bit, but the second he sees you he cant help but having a symphaty once his harsh eyes meet your innocent once.

• he's trying to communicate with you, talking about you of whats happening in this town. at first he's kinda hesistant to tell you to what he have been done in this town and that he had a very very big sins and debt to pay, but after a while he manage to talk honest to you.

• and the last choice is yours, you accept him for everything he did and he let you live here. although he probably gonna use your beautiful face and he can and he WILL for sure manipulate your innocent nature to get you to do what he want you to do. but if you refuse? i suppose you're not gonna be anything but a pretty corpse.

ᖭི Vincent Vanilla Sinclair. ๋ 𝆹 ׅ

• the first time he had laid his eye on you he thinks you're one piece of an Art, A truly beautiful, masterpiece Art, and also the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

• the first time he sees you he have a feelings that you were no human because of how much beauty you had within you.

• he's flustered by your appereance, he want to talk to you but he's worry that you'll be scared by his wrecked face :(

• and yet he still tried anyway, although he kinda tell himself that she wouldnt accept him because of what he is.

• and instead, you accept him! oh he felt like that was the moment where he could feel the happiest in him. he would literally spoil you so much with jewelry, beautiful clothes, and anything that you may like from the victims, he even made a wax sculpture dedicated to you. not to mention the paper where he had been drawing you for thousands countless time.

• and different from Bo, He would NEVER use or manipulate your innocent nature. instead he want to keep it safe from every humiliating and manipulating things that exist in this world, such as his own brothers.

ᖭི Brahms Crusty Heelshire. ๋ 𝆹 ׅ

• Heelshire mansion is located literally in the middle of the forest so it probably wouldnt be that hard to find creatures like you.

• when he was on the wall he sometimes trying to get out once the mansion is quiet and silence and him was the only person left there. he trying to see from the window in the mansion to see whats going on there and here.

• When he's peeking he sees you wandering around the forest not far enough from the mansion. you're still visible so he can still see you through.

• his curious is sparkling, he wants to know who you are but he also scared to come out of the mansion (this boy..) he tried very slowly like at first he would be more likely to just watch more often in the window, trying to search your appereance, and he also start to realize that you were no human. and yet its making the curious in him more sparkling and sparkling. until he realize that you actually wandering towards the heelshire mansion! so he waits and waits until you're close enough to get catch on.

• after he catch you, he would explain by the letters that is written next to brahms doll of who he is and why you're here and what this place are and what you have to do for him to be able to live here and bla bla bla.. some sort things like that. he really want to come out of the wall and talk to you but he's just soooooo.. unsure if he would do it or not. like Vincent he's worry that he would scare you.

• so he would just see you from the back of the wall, waiting and waiting time and trust and loyalty from you to get him sure enough that he would introduce himself face to face with you.

• its just a matter of time of when this Mr.heelshire decided to couragely enough to introduce himself right in front of you. and he hope you would want to wait patiently for that moment also.

ᖭི Jennifer Badbitch Check. ๋ 𝆹 ׅ

• this woman smh.. first meeting after she just ate one of her victims in the middle of the woods, and then she found you naked wandering around the woods.

• at first she doesnt really care and she actually dont know how to react. she was kinda flustered but also confused by your nude appereance

• but after she sees you enough and she realize you're still not recognize her appereance she start shouting "Hello!" while walking towards you.

• and of course it'll flinch you. you look around and see her walking towards you. her sudden appereance will make you scared and not to mention the blood that was covering her clothes and body and mostly the part of her mouth that was covered enough blood to drip.

• she then would ask you question like "who are you?" "what are you doing?" "whats your name?" "where do you live?" and "what kind of manic girl would wondering alone in the woods with nude body besides me?" and something like that.

• at the end she would ask you if you want to come to take a bath with her in some lake around the woods. and the answer is up to you.

• if you accept, she would be so happy, and after she finds out that you're not a human either she would be more confident enough to tell you what kind of creature she is. but if you refuse? she most likely let you go, but only for a while, because the curiousty in her is sparkling enough to make her go to the woods and search for you. and i'm telling you, this woman is a determined one.

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notquitecanon · 8 months

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Sacrifice & Devotion // Din Djarin x Reader

Hurt comfort lil fic

here's a fun lil game of spot the dialogue I stole from criminal minds!

tw: no mentions of gender, mention and description of canon typical injury, mention of canon typical violence, reader is a bounty hunter, specifically a sniper, unedited, written in one sitting while I pulled an all nighter

fics where two idiots who are obviously in love are so terrible at pretending to not be in love that it circles back around to one of them thinking its unrequited/being so oblivious they still don't notice are my bread and butter

Summary: Reader and Mando both have insecurities that are starting to boil over and cause some heavy miscommunication. It takes a blaster wound for them to talk it out.

You had stalked off to lick you wounds before the Crest’s engines even cooled, finding a cozy rooftop with a good view of the city, dark enough to feel concealed but enough ligh to tend to yourself.

Mando hadn’t been able to catch you, he had to deliver proof of service to your contractors. The waiting credits were much needed to repair the ship’s latest malfunctions if either of you wished to leave this system in the next rotation.

Not to mention the med pac that would need replenishing after you were done. In favor of not bleeding out, you had started with the most severe, the blaster wound to your shoulder. The med scanner had informed you it was primarily superficial, but was at risk of infection.

You sniffed, for something so superficial, the wound sure was leaking blood like a broken tap. The scanner had suggest a bacta infusion, but after your last hunt, the last bacta infusion was only half full. Still, even half would slow the bleeding and lower the risk of infection. You hissed after spraying it with a coagulant and then cursed with the auto-injector of the syringe delivered the half dose of bacta. Next, you moved onto bandages, wrapping the gauze in looping circles.

Metal clinked quietly behind you, alerting you to your company. Mando hovered in the shadows until you turned halfway towards him, like he didn’t want to startle you but also didn’t want to attract you frustration if you hadn’t cooled off yet.

His modulator didn’t hide the concern in his voice, even if he tried to, “Those are too loose, you’ll get an infection.”

“Well, are you gonna lurk in the shadows or come help me?” You sighed, nodding to the other discarded cargo crate beside the one you had pulled into the light, “How’d you find me?”

Mando looked around as he approached and sat beside you, like it was obvious, “Easily accessible rooftop, city views and eyes on the ship. Removed but still involved. Sniper’s paradise.”

You tried to ignore the flush of heat up your neck, sometimes between the very few words Mando spoke it was easy to forget how astute his observations could be. It always shocked you when he voiced his perceptions of you, and flustered you when they were correct. So you cleared your throat, “Where’s the kid?”

The bounty hunter chuckled before stepping to the side, revealing the pram, closed, “Little one’s been asleep since we hit atmosphere.”

Mando waited a moment before holding his hand, “Let me help you with those.”

You licked your teeth before offering the roll of bandages to him. His gloved fingers closed around it before unraveling your previous handiwork. Fortunately the bleeding had mostly stopped, but you didn’t miss how his visor paused on the stained smears of blood down your arms and across your clothes. It made you bristle all over again, which he obviously noticed since he quickly started wrapping the injury before you rescinded your cooperation. It pained you to say he was right, your wrappings had been way too loose. Still, the tightness made you flinch more than you were proud to admit, making you feel like a child at a doctor’s office. Especially with how gentle he was being, how sincere his apologies were with every flinch. Your frustration welled back up at his gentility, your jaw setting which only made the split of your lip hurt worse.

“You’re upset.” He observed, taking the bacta gel and spreading it on a cotton swab so he could dab at the open slice across your thigh which gave him the perfect excuse to drop his gaze from yours. Sometimes you wished you also wore a helmet, make it a little harder for Mando to read your emotions. Make him play body language trivia during every interaction of every day, “I shouldn't have left you alone. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. You have every right to be upset."

Especially, if he was going to to read them incorrectly and break your heart in he process. Of course he thought that’s what you were upset about. The Mandalorian- all beskar steel, blaster smoke, and the worlds he balanced on his shoulders.

You slumped your shoulders, ignoring the ache from your newly bandaged wound. You averted your gaze off to the Razor Crest, watching half a dozen workers frantically making two dozen repairs. Mando sighed, gingerly working the bacta into the gash with one hand, meanwhile you became acutely aware of his other gloved hand holding your thigh still. Gentle, yet firm, and his thumb was rubbing soothing circles against your exposed skin. Mando took so much on himself and never expected any sort of reciprocity, didn’t know how to accept it. It filled you with anger all over again.

“Mando. I’m not mad at you for not being there to protect me.” You shook your head, glancing at his hand on your thigh before meeting his visor. You wondering if his eyes were as sad as his posture let on, quickly followed by a train of thought about his eyes that you decided to misattribute to the blood loss.

“I should have been there. That sleemo never should have gotten close enough to touch you, much less do this.” He growled, taking the tube of liquid bandage and squeezing it across the gash.

“Yeah, Mando, you should have been in two places at once and done my job for me. You’re right.” You groaned sarcastically, trying to snatch the tube out of his hand only to have him catch your wrist. Seeing your sharp look, he dropped your wrist but didn’t hand over the tube, instead finishing his application in silence.

“Oh my stars- that was sarcasm Mando. I’m being facetious.” You were gobsmacked, did that helmet cut off airflow? Was his brain so oxygen deprived that he thought you truly expected that of him? How deep did this self martyrdom run?

“You really don’t trust me, do you?” You finally asked, breaking all contact to retract your legs from him. If he kept rubbing those circles on your thigh… you might do something dramatic, “I know I’m not a Mandalorian, and I’m probably not the best bounty hunter you’ve ever met, but if you can’t trust me to do my job then why let me keep tagging along.”

Mando’s helmet was kind of doing a little spiral motion as if trying to follow your logic, “What? I trust you, of course I trust you.”

“But not enough to do my job.” You snipped, “If you trust me so much why do your part of the job and mine before I even get the chance? Always swooping in to finish things, even when I have it under control. Why call me your partner if I’m basically a piece of cargo you have to feed? Why keep me around if I’m such a hinderance?”

Mando actually flinched back at your sudden outburst, and you quickly looked away, maybe you had let more of your own insecurity show than you meant to. But it was all true. If he told you to take care of the perimeter, he’d flush out the inside and do a perimeter sweep before you even got to a good stakeout spot with your rifle. If you were both engaged in hand to hand combat, he’d recklessly rush his fight so shoot your opponent for you.

The armored warrior was silent for a good long while, his visor watching you as you started to squirm under his gaze. You were about to interject, tell him to drop it and not worry about it, but as you opened your mouth he held a hand up to stop you, “I have no reservations about your skills. I trust you with my life.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, reopening the cut through the one over your left eye, “Then-“

Once again, he interrupted you by saying your name quietly… reverently. You went silent.

“When I went against the guild on Nevarro, you were the only guild member to stand with me. I never would have made it off planet with the child if you hadn’t intervened. You gave everything up to help me, you didn’t know me and yet you threw your life away to help me escape with the child. You could have earned enough credits to retire three times over by turning me in, you’ve had chance after chance to betray me, and yet,” He paused to look at you, really look at you, “You’ve risked your life time after time for the child, for me. You devoted yourself to this quest as if it were your own. How could I do any less than you?”

His gloved hand reached for yours, his thumb grazing over your split knuckles from a up close encounter with a pirate, “Every time I allow someone to hurt you, it’s an affront to your sacrifice.”

Your eyes softened, letting him dab that bacta cream across the marred skin, “Mando, we’re bounty hunters. Getting hurt is an occupational hazard. I knew the risks when I did what I did.”

He was silent; his visor tipped away from you over to the pram where the Child slept, “You do too much for us.”

“Hypocrite.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood. His confession had eased your frustrations, a balm to your own insecurities. Of course this had come from a place of protectiveness, how very… Mandalorian. Considering him for a moment, you angled your body back towards him. You knew all this duty weighed on him, and often there wasn’t much you could do to help, but at the moment, on your perfectly chosen rooftop, you knew what he needed. You handed him a new cotton swap and the small bacta patches that would prevent the cuts on your face from scarring, “Do my face so we can find some dinner?”

He nodded quickly, taking the supplies and pulling you a bit closer to him, so close that you knee overlapped his own armored thigh, and you were close enough to count the scratches on his chest plate, even in the dim light. The slight lean taxed your sore core and back muscles, so you steadied yourself by placing a hand on his knee. He almost jerked, but cleared his throat, taking a moment to relax again. Your lip tugged up, he unconsciously moved closer.

You let him work in silence for a long pause, enjoying the night breeze. He gingerly cleaned each cut and scrape, gloved fingers grazing your cheeks, the slope of your nose, your lips and a whole bunch of other places you knew weren’t injured. You tried not to let your breath catch, in case that would spur him to stop.

Eventually, he stopped pretending to be using both hands, leaving his left one cupping your cheek ’to keep you still’. You leaned into the touch, allowing the softness of the moment before your next bounty or side quest came along. You liked when it was just the two of you, Mando talked a lot more, he was unintentionally one of the funniest people you knew.

You were shocked to find his company so enjoyable after all the rumors of him being only slightly more human than an assassin droid. Sure he was stoic, usually silent, focussed, but he was also kind, more compassionate than he would admit, and unwaveringly loyal. Dank Farrik, he made it hard to stay mad at him.

Closing your eyes (a big sign of trust for a sniper), you laid your hand over the one cupping your cheek, “Mando, I didn’t make this sacrifice expecting anything from you. I just wish you’d let me help you more, you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I hate seeing you hurt, more than I know how to explain.” His voice was gruffer than usual as he placed a patch over the split in your brow. Your hand on his knee squeezed gently.

“I don’t need you to protect me, I need you to know that, especially at the risk of your own safety.” You reminded him with a softness to your voice that you seldom used to anyone other than the Child. A thumb brushed across the peak of your cheek before moving a stray piece of hair so he could patch a scrape under the corner of your eye.

“I know that, ner kar’ta.” His tone matched yours: soft, gentle, intimate. Your head cocked to the side, but Mando wasn’t feeling up to explaining so he continued on, placing another patch across the bridge of your nose, “Still, I think I’ll stay on the job a while longer.”

________

After dinner and chasing the pit droids out of the Razor Crest, it was time for some well needed rest. Mando had managed to scrounge up some light dosage pain medication when he stopped to replenish the medpacs. Not enough to leave you delirious, but strong enough to make you drowsy and a little loose with your thoughts. Nothing you’d regret, just a couple more direct than usual questions for you beskar wrapped bunkmate. You watched him putter around the cargo hold from your cot with half lidded eyes, as he went through and checked over everything the droids might have touched.

“How much longer?” You couldn’t help but ask, wondering if your days with the Mandalorian were already numbered. Mando’s helmet turned towards you before sliding the circuit panel back into the wall.

“Sorry, I’m almost done. Try to get some sleep.” He answered quietly, trying to minimize the noise he made as he moved about the small space.

“Not that.” You waved him off, the motion much clumsier, heavier than usual, “Protecting me- a fool’s errand by the way. You said you’d stay on the job a while longer.”

Mando sighed, moving towards his rack, the one with the closing door that he’d tried to give to you, but you refused. It was the only place other than the privy he could remove his helmet, you refused to let him give that away. He flicked lights off as he went, leaving only the dim glow of button lights to reflect on his armor. He was silent long enough that the darkness lulled you into a bit of a half sleep. Maybe that was his goal, still he answered you. Quietly, in that same reverent tone he’d said your name with earlier that evening.

“Every single day for the rest of my life.”

Exhaustion, blood loss, and narcotics dulled the effect of that declaration, but you heart still clenched at the sincerity of his voice. Your eyes wouldn’t open anymore and your thoughts were becoming increasingly sluggish with every beat of your heart.

“Thanks, Mando.” You breathed, listening to the clicks of his armor being disassembled and neatly placed away, finally the hiss of his helmet being disengaged, knowing it must be dark enough he wasn’t worried about you seeing his face.

“Din, that’s my actual name. You can call me Din when it’s just us.” He breathed into the night, barely registering in your mind, but you tucked away that information where you’d remember it tomorrow. You heart clenched again at his offer to you, showing how much he trusted you.

“Thanks, Din."

-----

Ner K'arta - my heart

now that's what I call shitty writing

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian x reader

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msbarrybeeson · 2 years

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Don’t | Donnie X Reader

A/N: This was so lovely to write. In my opinion, Donnie would be the most challenging of the four brothers. I think there are specifics to his behavior and personality, so trying to accurately replicate it does take some time. Apologies for any out-of-characterness from Donnie. Remember that constructive criticism is always appreciated, especially for characters, and enjoy!

Requested: @sunnyselks

Summary: You were wounded from protecting Donnie. When you were waving off his demands to treat you, he had to take it into his own hands to tend to you.

Genre: Hurt-Comfort

Reader: Second POV. Gender-neutral pronouns if any.

Pairing: Rise!Donnie X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, needles, cuts. Argument over each other’s safety.

Word Count: ~1060

“Don, I’m fine.”

“Oh, sure, tell me that while your clothes are soaked in blood!” Donnie yelled. “Take off your shirt, (Name), or I’m not letting you leave the grounds of this room.”

“Donnie,” you stressed, clutching the wound on your arm.

“(Name), don’t.”

You turned away from him, about to leave his room despite his warning. “It’s a minor injury, I’m perfectly fi—.”

Suddenly, small chips leeched onto your arm, catching you off-guard. They unfolded into wrist binds, where you realized this was his way of forcing you to stay put.

“Don!” you grunted, as the binds pulled you toward facing a wall. “Are you serious!?”

“As Galileo is about his heliocentric model.” Donnie took a binder clip from one of his desk drawers. “You leave me no choice, (Name).” As soon as the turtle lifted your shirt up from behind, chills ran over your skin from the cold air hitting the other cut on your back. He wrapped the hem over your collar, then proceeded to clip it.

“I could’ve done this myself or gone to a hospital,” you muttered.

Donnie scoffed. “And let them force you to pay expensive bills as your last resort when you have me? I thought you knew better than that.” He cleaned the blood around your wound with a wet paper towel before applying an alcohol wipe to disinfect.

“You know full well you can’t stitch your own back either. You wouldn’t want to risk inquiring your parental guardians for help in the end and being forced to give a whole explanation.”

“...”

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Donnie picking up a needle. The thought of it puncturing you made you shudder. There were vaccinations and blood tests, but they never changed your tension with needles.

You wanted to get this over with— the suspense was only making you more vulnerable.

“Are you going to inject the needle, Donnie—?” Your nails immediately dug into your palm as pain struck. "Argh..!" You winced badly.

“Don’t move,” he paused, “if that wasn’t obvious enough.”

“Easier said than done when I'm not used to having my skin pricked—!” You seethed, “Urgh.. couldn’t you have numbed it?”

“What, with lidocaine?” Donnie replied monotonously. “No, because you wouldn’t learn and would try to save me again—,” he pricked the needle the fourth time, “even though you are a human who could’ve gotten killed— God—why in the name of logic did you do that, (Name)!?”

“I did it to protect you!” you argued.

“Don’t you dare ignore the fact that you could’ve gotten killed!”

“I am capable of my own safety.”

“Scoffs. Think common sense, (Name). You’re a human,” he reminded, the anger in his voice showing. “I’m a mutant turtle; I have the biological features to defend myself!”

“You’re a soft-shelled turtle.”

Donnie stopped moving the needle. "Really, assuming that my soft-shell automatically makes me vulnerable? Are you trying to tell me I’m unable to protect myself because of that, (Name)?”

He frowned. “I have my technology— my intelligence to accommodate, so don’t put yourself in danger whenever the hell possible and let me handle myself. End of discussion.”

You wanted to slam your fists. As he was about to add another stitch, your body shook.

“They destroyed your battle shell!” Anguish scratching your voice. “Just because you're a mutant or because you have your military-grade tech, doesn't mean you won't get murdered, crushed!

God, don’t take it the wrong way. I’m not trying to assume or belittle neither you nor your tech. All I'm concerned about is keeping you alive!”

“...”

“You weakened your voice. “If me getting injured means you’d be okay, then that’s enough for me.”

Donnie’s breath hitched.

..You knew your turtle wasn’t great at apologizing, but his silence told you everything. He didn’t make a snarky or sarcastic remark.. instead, he listened.

“..I’m sorry.”

“I know. But don’t put yourself down.. I never once thought you're supposed to be perfectly strong or invulnerable. That applies to everyone all the same. Flaws happen, whether we're fine with it or not.”

You turned your head to look at Donnie. Something was still bothering him.

“But I’ll try not to scare you again if that makes you feel better.” The tension left his face, and he proceeded to finish the last few stitches.

It was all calm and quiet until he dragged his cold finger lightly over the stitched-up wound. You shuddered.

“You keep flinching so much.”

“You’re one to talk, you’re sensitive to touch as much as I am, if not so much more.”

“No, no, not that. I find it interesting, because.. I don’t see you reacting so violently when April stitched up the other cut on your back. You know, from falling off the table.” As Donnie applied a cotton pad and tape to cover your wound, he looked up to meet your eyes.

But you quickly faced away to the other direction.

Donnie leaned the same way, one of his brows raised.

And you avoided eye-contact yet again.

Ah.

“You’re flustered.”

“What?” The red rushing to your ears.

“Flustered,” he repeated. “Its definition being ‘agitated, confused, ruffled—.’”

“No, I meant: how am I flustered?”

Donnie dragged his finger along your skin again. You felt your face heat up.

“You’re flustered from having your back exposed to me.”

“I’m not.” You sensed his ego returning.

“Tell that to my lie-detector and we’ll see how that goes.”

“You have a polygraph?”

“Of course not,” Donnie actually scoffed. “We all know polygraphs are never accurate enough to be trusted.” He unclipped your shirt and released the binds on your wrists.

You groaned, rubbing your aching hands. “You had me binded to a wall, and lifted my shirt to stitch my cut— so of course— I would feel exposed.. and flustered.” You sat in your turtle's desk chair.

“Yes, exactly, I did that to treat you." He crossed his arms. "And I find that hypocritical, considering you exposed yourself and your whereabouts on the Internet."

You gave him a look, before holding your knees to your chest. There was a change in expression as you whispered, "..Thanks."

Donnie stood awkwardly, rubbing his arm once he heard you and finding sincerity on your face. The soft-shelled turtle stepped closer to you and slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

"Hey, I thought you don't like this intimate stuff," you joked.

Now Donnie himself became flustered. “Don’t, (Name).”

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rise of the tmnt #rise of teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rottmnt x reader #reader insert #imagine #fan fiction

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lets-try-some-writing · 12 days

Text

Dumb Ways to Die Snippet

I've been working on this in my free time when no other Au or fic feels like functioning. It is goofy and will turn serious later. For now though, enjoy a tired Reaper Ratchet as he is forced to deal with one very clumsy Orion Pax.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Reaper.” The Primes sat upon their lofty thrones, their gazes chilly and without emotion. Ratchet knelt before them, his helm bowed respectfully. He abhorred having to lower himself, but there was no denying the superiority of the creatures that watched him with optics so alien that it was hard to believe they were once living beings at all.

“Primus’s chosen has been forged in the living realm. He cannot be allowed to perish until his duty is complete.” Ratchet sighed as the unspoken order registered. This was one of his duties, regardless of whether or not he liked it. As a Reaper, he was not only to collect the dead and guide them home, but he was also obliged to watch over specific sparks that had divine plans that involved them.

He hadn’t actually had to deal with such a thing before. A few other Reapers had been assigned to mecha of importance, but Ratchet was new. He had only joined the ranks of the Reapers shortly after the Quintessons were driven from Cybertron’s surface. A bitter part of his mind reminded him that the reason he was probably receiving this assignment was because of his ranking amongst the Reapers. The pricks higher up on the chain had most likely seen fit to throw the work on him so they didn’t have to bother watching out for a fragile mortal for millennia on end.

Those slaggers.

“You will watch over him and ensure his continued functioning until you are recalled.” One Prime spoke. Ratchet didn’t dare look up to see who. It was not his place.

“You are permitted to restore him regardless of his injuries so long as there is a rational reason that the order may use to make the repairs real.” Another’s voice rang out, powerful and commanding. If Ratchet were still living, he was sure his plating would be flaring in instinctual fear. At that moment, he was more than thankful for his lack of physical frame as he nodded in understanding.

“Watch over him, Reaper. He is a kind spark.” A firm but definitely feminine voice echoed. He knew her voice. She was the one who chose new Reapers to add to the order. She was the one who stood beside his dying frame and soothed him, promising him a chance to continue living in another form.

“I trust that you out of all our Reapers will tend to him faithfully.” He risked looking up so that he could see Solus Prime smile. Viewing the trust in her expression had all the anger in his spark dissipating like smoke. If it was her order that had him in his new station, then he could accept it. Surely the one she had chosen him to watch over couldn’t be too difficult to keep alive, right?

━━━━━━

“This is the third time this stellar cycle, mortal.” Ratchet wanted to bang his helm against a wall as he greeted his target yet again. Orion Pax was, once more, dying of a shattered spine after falling down the stairs in the Archives.

“I apologize, Reaper. I promise I did in fact watch where my pedes were going this time. But unfortunately-”

“You lost hold of your datapad and scrambled to grab it, leading to your tumble of doom.” Ratchet finished for him. Orion shuffled in the void, his expression the embodiment of embarrassment. This was not the first time they met, nor would it be the last at this rate.

Ratchet hadn’t been assigned to the Archivist for a full vorn yet, and Orion had somehow managed to die in over twenty ways in less than twelve deca-cycles. It was honestly quite spectacular. How he managed to last so long prior to Ratchet’s arrival was a complete and total mystery to him at this point.

“Forgive me. I shall do my best to improve and pay closer attention to my surroundings.” Orion bowed his helm slightly, his wispy form shifting as Ratchet rubbed the soft metal beneath his optics and prepared to do what he always did.

“I’ve heard that enough times already. Don’t bother making a promise you can’t keep.” Sighing, Ratchet stepped forward and grasped at Orion’s spark. His ghostly form disappeared in an instant, and Ratchet exercised what control he had to build himself an avatar. It was as easy as venting for him, in large part due to the frequency of which he was forced to revive his target, but also due to his relative youth amongst the Reapers. He remembered what it was like to live, and that made entering the living realm easier.

“Slag, you really messed yourself up.” Looking down, Ratchet almost wanted to gag. He had been a medic prior to his death. He’d seen more than enough corpses to be largely unphased. And yet somehow, Orion Pax always managed to kill himself in both the most ridiculous and unsettling ways possible.

“Let’s get this over with.” Wishing he could be anywhere else, Ratchet knelt before the shattered corpse of Orion Pax and slowly eased the Archivist’s spark back into his frame. Mangled limbs straightened with painful sounding cracks, shattered spinal struts clicked into place while popping like bubble wrap. Before long, the Archivist gasped and coughed as his systems came back online. He lived again.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #pre war cybertron #ratchet #orion pax #reaper au #alternate universe #the thirteen primes #ratchet is SO done in this au #Megatron is going to have a ton of fun yeeting Orion into dangerous situations just to see if he will walk it off

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wheelie-sick · 19 days

Text

okay

Let's talk police interaction and Deafness and protests

PT: Let's talk police interaction and Deafness and protests

Generally it's good advice for disabled people to never discuss medical conditions or disabilities with the cops. ... unfortunately this does not hold true with Deafness.

While discussing your Deafness with a police offer does put you at risk it's far safer than not hearing an instruction, being perceived as willfully disobeying, and ending up with charges for it, injuries, or dead.

Know your rights!

PT: Know your rights!

‼️ You are legally entitled to an interpreter beginning at arrest. ‼️

.... unfortunately prior to arrest you are not entitled to an interpreter. In these situations police officers are still legally obligated to communicate via notepad and pen. (Which rarely happens, but, like, it is required)

How I manage

PT: How I manage

Keep in mind I have residual hearing, some of this advice will be specific to people with residual hearing because that's my own experience.

I always go with a hearing buddy. The buddy system is important for all people at all protests but it's especially important with Deafness. I make sure that whoever I'm with is A. aware of my Deafness and B. aware of how to respond to a cop trying to interact with me. I usually prefer going with someone who can interpret in a pinch but have not always done that. I give whoever I'm with a script to follow in the event a cop tries to speak with me. This is the script I personally give to people, I'm not sure of its legal soundness but I wanted to share it anyways: "He is Deaf. He can't hear your instructions and is not resisting. If you want to communicate with him you will need to find another means such as writing your instructions down. [and, if applicable] I am able to facilitate communication if needed" I also make sure that whoever I'm with informs me of any important announcements. Even if I choose to stay in a situation where I am risking arrest I like to know I am risking arrest. Having a hearing person say you are Deaf is important beyond facilitating communication. I am personally able to state I am Deaf but cops often don't believe me. I am more likely to be believed if I have someone else tell them that I am Deaf.

I do not rely on residual hearing. Even if you have significant residual hearing it is important that you accurately understand directions. Use the most effective modality for you, not the one most convenient for the officer.

I do not sign around police. Police are known to murder Deaf people for signing because they view our signs as threats. It's also always important not to talk to the cops, whether hearing or Deaf. Even if they don't kill you they will translate your signs and use them against you. Once the cops show up my hands stop moving.

I do not speak once cops are around. Cops have rocks for brains and think that speaking = hearing. They might deny you an interpreter if they hear you speak. This is illegal but will not stop them.

I do not nod my head or otherwise show agreeability. The Deaf nod serves us well in regular conversation but this is not regular conversation. Nodding when you don't fully hear something to seem agreeable can turn into a confession of guilt in the court of law. Do. Not. Nod.

I make sure protest organizers are aware of my presence. I like to let organizers know that I'm Deaf and exactly what I need during the protest. Speaking as someone who has organized protests, we are there to help you. I let organizers know exactly what I need, which for me looks like: making announcements repeating anything said to the crowd by cops, repeating information multiple times so I have multiple opportunities to hear it, and announcements when cops show up--this will look different for everyone based on preference and the specific protest. It's something you get a feel for with practice. Additionally, having more people who know you are Deaf means more people to back you up if the cops don't believe you. I also like to let organizers know that my FM system is not recording- this just makes people feel less paranoid about it.

I sometimes let street medics know I am Deaf. This is just in case I get injured or otherwise need help. Street medics quite disproportionately know sign language, this makes them very cool. They usually want to know how to communicate with you in the event you need help, this is really up for you to figure out. My personal advice is to not rely on anything visual in case you get a chemical weapon in your eyes. I really only do this if I'm planning on being around if/when it becomes a shit show. While there's always a chance of getting caught up in something unexpected, if you're planning on booking it when riot cops show up this is less necessary. (If it's a low risk protest I also usually identify myself as Deaf in other ways, see point #9)

I film everything. The minute I see cops the camera comes out and it's all on video tape. This is generally good protest advice even for hearing people but especially if you encounter a cop refusing to accommodate you then you will need evidence to protect yourself. Deaf people end up with unjust resisting arrest charges all the time and you do not want to be one of them.

I sometimes wear clothing identifying me as Deaf. I have a pin I wear on my mask that says I'm Deaf. This is a tough one to balance because it makes me identifiable. It is sometimes worth it and sometimes not. Weigh the risks with this.

This is all coming from personal experience and may not be the absolute best way but I haven't ever seen advice for Deaf people protesting before so I wanted to put something out there. Just like, go into this with the consideration that I'm some guy with protest experience but by no means am I an expert.

Additions/discussion welcome but only if you're knowledgeable about this. No guesses please, experience-tested tactics only 😁

#physical disability #physically disabled #cripple punk #cripplepunk #actuallyDeaf #Actually Deaf #actuallyhardofhearing #actually hard of hearing #actuallyHOH #actually HOH

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moonshynecybin · 3 months

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[regarding my latest Rosquez and because the idea came when I saw your tags on that text post] Austria 2023 (10th GP of the season, first Sunday race Marc finished last year), Marc going to Vale on Sunday night and asking him for something to smoke (“Oh, come on, don’t make this face, you’re Valentino Rossi, of course you can get whatever you want wherever we are in the World”)

Anyway, they end up sitting next to each other, passing the blunt back and forth in silence until Marc says “Everyone’s making a huge deal of the fact I finally finished a race on a Sunday but the only reason I finished is because I didn’t push. Not pushing put me P12. I don’t race to finish 12th.”

Valentino also asks him if he’s started thinking about his options and Marc chuckles, asks him “Why? You’re offering me a job?” and Valentino laughs, half-evades the question with something like “You deserve a good bike, everybody deserves to see you at your best”.

If Marc gets cold, I think there is a chance that Valentino wraps his arm around his back.

Marc does not let his head fall againt Valentino’s shoulder.

marc genuinely not knowing where to get weed and going to valentino is so funny… save me dirtbag… save meeee

i think marc going to vale is also insane in this context bc marc was crashing alllll the fucking time then like notably more than usual not even finishing races just a miserable time. and then he goes FINE i will have to be content with mediocrity bc constantly crashing like that isn’t sustainable, but he’s also probably so MAD and frustrated about it bc he’s never been content with mediocrity in his life!!! so like. marc is most likely in an insane headspace here wrt his overly competitive little brain. truly i think the way he sees it, his two options are both intolerable: injury or mediocrity. because winning is not an option. hell world. leaving for gresini but not quite ready to let go world.

so he’s like. keyed up here. anxious and trapped results-wise in a situation that is just as painful as his arm injury but for entirely different reasons. and going to vale about it is insane bc divorce but! i could see him being desperate and not being popular or comfy enough in the paddock to know literally anyone else with drugs (and anyone else that he is a. in love with and b. able to relate to about specific ass sporting woes. literally you can’t fix this one with a surgeon buddy you need the DOCTOR.) so he reaches out again like he so often does…

HOWEVER !! i think this situation is also fucking BANANAS from vale’s emotional standpoint. like even outside of being his nemesis’s weed supplier (truly i think some part of him is like GOD okay needs to chill out so fine i’ll give him some pot. like perhaps no one else on earth has needed a hit more), it’s crazy in the context of vale’s myriad theoretical complexes about marc’s riding style. like. insane for him.

so it’s going fine until marc brings it up to him maybe after a few puffs. they’re like loose with weed and giggly (and a little unconsciously handsy. somehow marc’s head IS on vale’s shoulder but that’s just bc it’s cold and he fits there. and weed. no other reason dwai.) and!! maybe vale is relaxing into it. letting marc lean back against him and remembering how uncomplicated this can be. thinking about marc’s pink cheeks that first time he took a hit off of vale’s joint back in 2014, and how he’d teased vale for thinking he would cough. but marc shifts a bit, chewing on his cheek, clearly working through some residual stress. and he brings it all up bc he needs advice about his dogshit situation and vale is literally the only yardstick he will EVER measure himself with, but vale reads it as him almost like. asking vale for absolution concerning his riding habits and the risks he takes. which is something vale at this point can under no circumstances give him. because he’s stillllllll terrified he’s going to lose marc. so he pulls away and marc’s side is suddenly cold and it implodes from there…

#vale starts very sweet like you’ll be okay you need a better bike :) thumb on marc’s shoulder.#and then marc says smth clumsy about needing to crash and injury and vale gets um. some not good associations.#callie speaks #motogp #asks #rosquez #this was the ask i almost answered with the weed meme if anyone was curious #also scheduled this to post while i’m asleep. for whatever reason.

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luvfy0dor · 6 months

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Hi there! How are you doing? I have a bit of a specific request, so if you feel like it’s too much, feel free to decline (:

May I please request a Fyodor x Male! Reader fluff fic? The reader is a scientist and for a particular experiment, he needs to map out the bones of the human body because the experiment calls for extremely precise work and he doesn’t want to hurt himself. So! Because his boyfriend is Fyodor ‘needs-to-remember-to-eat’ Dostoevsky, he decides to use Fyodor as his mapping system so when he does perform his experiment later on, he can do so without to risk of injury.

Here's where the fluff comes in (coming from an ex-med student who’s had to do this XD). Reader has to mark the bones on Fyodor’s body with a marker in order to see properly. As you can imagine, having a marker dragged across places where your nerves collect is ticklish as hell XD. So it turns into a battle of Fyodor trying not to giggle and move away from the marker while a very very mused reader tries to complete the bone map. Sooner or later the mapping is forgotten and the reader just tickles Fyodor to pieces (and perhaps writes a few teasing words on him) ‘in the same of science’. I speak from experience here, it’s the single most flustering thing in the history of ever.

If you feel you cannot do this, don’t stress yourself, it’s all cool. You can decline the request or alter the plot. Whatever’s easier for you ^^. Have a nice day!

“'Till Your Bones Feel Embarrassed From all The Attention ♡” Fyodor Dostoevsky x Male!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; Soft/Silly Fyodor, only proofread to an extent

Description; Reader is a scientist creating a map of the human body, and his boyfriend agrees to help him. When reader starts tracing his bones though, he can't keep himself calm.

A/n; BYE THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD I saw this during my gym class and I got so excited ajsjfjej im sorry if any of this is incorrect, I'll change it if need be! I don't know all that much about anatomy and bones and stuff 😞

ೃ⁀➷

For a particular experiment you were going to perform, you would need a bone map. You thought it would be a little awkward to ask one of your work peers to use their body for refrence, and no one was in the immediate area with you, so your conclusion was go home and ask your boyfriend to be your subject! After work, ofcourse. You sat on the thought for a while, occasionally having second thoughts, but at the same time what's the harm? What reason could he have to deny you? None.

So, you drove home confidently, entering the house with a smile and hanging your jacket. "Fyodor! I'm home!" You called out to him, walking through the house. Just as you reached for the handle of your bedroom door, he opened it. "Welcome home." He greets with a familiar soft smile, lifting your chin to pull you into a kiss. You accepted it with open arms and brushed your fingers through some of his hair. You pulled away after a moment, then interlocked your fingers with his. "Can i ask you a favor?" You questioned, tilting your head a bit as you observed his beautiful face. He hummed with a small nod, one of his hands on the small of your back. "Can I trace your bones through your skin?" He raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"An experiment, I would do it to myself but that would be really difficult and probably hurt. And I'm not gonna ask that of my coworkers." You say, your eyes averting. "Which is exactly why you should let me do it to you. It won't hurt." You say, giving him the most reassuring smile you can muster. He blinks before talking. "Alright, if it's for you I suppose I don't mind." You smile and grab his hand, leading him to the living room. You grab a black marker from the kitchen quickly before returning to you boyfriend who was sitting cross legged on the floor, his ushanka on the nearby coffee table. You sit on your knees next to him, putting the marker down and starting to unbutton his shirt. Once it's completely undone, you toss it onto the coffee table as well. Uncapping the marker, you softly push Fyodor onto his back to lay down, a chill running down his spine as his skin hits the hardwood floor.

"Sorry, Fedya, I'll try to make it as quick as possible." He shakes his head as you bring the tip of the marker to his shoulder. "It's fine, it's for a good purpose, is it not?" He replies. Your legs are on either side of his waist as you straddle him, leaned in for as much precision as possible while one of his hands rests on your thigh. As you drag the felt tip along his skin, he deeply inhales, trying to suppress his giggles. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are tinted red while the ink stains his skin. The further down his chest you go, the clearer it becomes that your boyfriend is a little ticklish. You can't help but grin as you watch his body instinctively try to squirm away from the marker. You go to trace over his ribs and his back arches a little, the soft sound of his snickers make you grin and hold him down by pressing on his belly gently.

"Hey, you can't keep squirming like that! You're only makin' things harder for yourself." You say with a smirk, continuing to press the marker against his skin, drawing the curves of his ribs while his legs tense up with every movement. At some point, his head is thrown back while he tries to not violently shake with laughter. Seeing Fyodor in a silly and more vulnerable light warmed your heart, you truly felt lucky to get this side of him. His face was pretty red when he looked back up at you, seemingly having tears stuck to his eyelashes in suck a beautiful way. You assessed your work with your hands on your hips and nodded. You lifted yourself off of his lap a little and he seemed to have a bit of relief on his face.

"W-We're done, moya lyubov?" He asked while catching his breath. You shook your head, smirking as you twirled your finger in a circle. "No, you gotta turn over so I can do your back; I don't know how quick this marker dries though.." you say, raising an eyebrow and pressing one finger to a line and lifting it, smiling at the lack of transfered ink. "Alright, go on." You say, waiting for him to roll over. He does, resting his head on his folded arms with a small exhale. You return to your spot and push his hair to the side while tracing the top bones in his spine. He immediately inhales harshly and bites his lip, once again attempting to ignore his ticklishness. You notice and grin, deciding to mess around a little to see his giggly side a bit more. You wrote out 'nerd' before his voice finally broke through his giggles. "I don't think that's the shape of my spine, my dear." He says, trying to look at you over his shoulder.

You give him a look of faux confusion, tilting your head and looking at the word. "Hmm...no, no I think that is, actually." Your nose scrunches up in a snicker. Fyodor can't help but smile ever so slightly. "What does it say that makes it so funny?" He questions, propping himself up at his elbows. "It says beautiful." You say, a Cheshire cat-like look on your pretty face. "I can tell you're lying, myshk-ah!" He's cut off by the marker again, his arms outstretching. His forehead is pressed against the floor while his entire body gently quakes with giggles under his breath. His fist pounds the ground quietly once or twice before you reach the middle of the bone structure.

"Is it really that ticklish?" You ask, laughing to yourself. He can only nod. "I think my Fyodor is just a bit dramatic." You say, putting the marker down and starting to tickle his sides. His breath audibly hitches and he tries to scrunch up his body to crawl away, only to no avail. "This was supposed to be for a science experiment! You're getting quite off task." He says through his very rare fit of laughter. Even the softest stroke to his lower back would make his entire body jerk, and it made you smile. He had managed to roll over, and tried to get your hands away from him, but he's not the strongest when it comes to his upper body, so ultimately you got him pinned back down. Through the fit of giggles, you found yourself having such a good time with your lover. It was very rare that something like this happened, but you both never minded it when it did.

Once you calmed down a bit, you peppered feather-soft kisses along Fyodors shoulders, having almost completely forgotten about the mapping. He quietly hummed, running a hand up and down your back. You had made your way to your bedroom and cuddled up next to him while he read a book. You watch his eyes scan the lines of text, your own occasionally reading some paragraphs or sentences. "Thank you fedya, your contributions so science will go a very long way." You say proudly, kissing his cheek. He quietly chuckles and nods. "I'm sure it will, Moya Lyubov. You're very smart after all. I trust that you'll put my utter suffering to good use." He says with a small smirk. "I was right, my Fyodor is very dramatic." You say with a laugh and roll your eyes. He just smiles and continues his reading as you rest your head on his shoulder, sleepily reading along with him.

A/N; Idk if y'all do it too but I rotate through words of the week, this week is "blawg". If someone replies to a msg I sent with a slightly aggressive tone; "blawg did not like that one!!" Also irl I audibly "!!" I'm sorry if y'all don't like "!!" But I can't stop it's ingrained in my blood atp.

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ultraviolet-cello · 4 months

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Good afternoon everyone, late analysis/detail watch for @tristampparty today! Had a busy day and I am ready to chill out by being so so normal about Trigun ^_^

Spoilers for Trigun Stampede and Trimax, CW for me discussing/theorizing abt Vash's injuries + discussion of harm coming to children specifically!

Roberto is my old man blorbo (he is not that old) and I essayed Hard about him today, good luck reading!

So when I originally watched this episode when I saw the tower I was like oh flying saucer haha!

and then it is a flying saucer. I hate that (/j)

the bugs under the rock when I lift it up:

On a more serious note I do like the transition from Wolfwood getting REALLY jumpy (to the point of like. Punching Vash for sneezing. babygirl there are better ways to cope with bringing the man you adore to what is probably his doo- actually there probably isn't, he's on his own) to them working extremely in sync to try and get away from the guards - even in the two months that they've been traveling together they've developed that back to back fighting style. It's very sweet, and I think that aspect of them is heavily emphasized in 98 actually, episode 9 when Wolfwood first appears. I really do miss that episode's story, I think it's my favourite standalone plot :]

Again take this with a grain of salt because my subtitles are Janky, but this line hits me real hard [Where Vash is telling Wolfwood not to shoot at the July guards]. They're at July, this is where Wolfwood needs to hand Vash over despite all his inner conflict; but he values the orphanage, it's so important to him. Would the morally righteous thing to do be trying to fight alongside Vash out of this? Possibly. But the risk is too great; It's not the time to be a saint.

Both of their expressions here - Wolfwood stepping back then forward to try and push Vash out the way, or block the bullet, and Vash just slowly lowering his arms with that real haunted look.

Studio Orange once again knocking it out of the PARK with their facial expressions

[Purging the Vashwood from my system for just a moment] He really does just. Grab him around the waist huh. He doesn't try to spin Vash around to assess the damage, or immediately drag him away, but most importantly he doesn't shoot back. Not after Vash asked him to.

Why's this bitch not clean his table!!! The hell!!! Unsanitary. Or... Or someone was just there. Not sure what's worse at that point. It's also that the shape of that cross is also to accommodate children

[Tucking these screenshots into my purse for safekeeping] [Also CWing this section for a little bit of injury discussion] Most of the injuries here aren't necessarily the scars that Trimax and 98 Vash have, which makes me wonder if he's going to get more post-July. In any case, a lot of these look like failed/only partial skin grafts or wounds that required skin grafts but did not get it [Just trust me on that, don't look it up if you can't stomach gore].

I wonder if Vash can't receive skin grafts due to the sheer amount of scarring/can't receive any donated grafts due to differences in biology, or if he's just... not been able to get them healed. Some of it appears to be patched up with metal, but the rest of it.... Mm.

Anyway!

I think it's very telling that the thing that Roberto starts really speaking up on is challenging Conrad on his treatment of orphans and disadvantaged people. Roberto's a reporter, so of course he's going to have seen how powerful people often use the marginalized as their playthings; and Roberto does have a pretttty good moral code when it comes to it. Time and time again he's chosen to help Meryl instead of preserve his own life.

And now he's actively taking Meryl's side, challenging Conrad, sticking up for people, which. One of the first hints of Roberto that we got that wasn't him being so gruff was his defense of Vash (who was getting the shit beaten out of him) in the very first episode.

I've talked at length abt how children are. Kind of the most precious thing to most people on Gunsmoke/NML - so many of the individual stories revolve around parents and children, brothers, siblings, Wolfwood and Hopeland, Legato sparing all the children in that village in 98, Elendira leaving a gaggle of children alive to bury Livio in Trimax. I particularly remember a scene in Trimax volume 14, chapter 3, when the feathers are falling and a young girl has lost her mother, but these big rough and tough men guide her back. I think that's kind of the essence of what Roberto represents to me.

The average person on that planet is rough, traumatized, probably knows how to shoot, they kill each other, they rob, they steal. And yet when it comes down to a little girl crying in the crowd, they will guide her back to her mother. Noman's Land is made up of families; they hurt each other and they commit atrocities, but at the end of the day, that was someone's child, and people try to respect it.

Roberto has a bit of a stronger ethical streak, but he's really kinda hostile to Conrad in this scene (GET HIS ASS ROBERTO WOOO!!!) and I think when he saw children involved that really signaled part of it to him.

It's also that Roberto has developed as a character, being more open and trusting of Meryl, but I also just. The family thing gets me every time (I think it's because I work with children and am a huge advocate for said children, but. yaknow)

[Pointing at him] I love this guy!!! I miss him!!! I really really thought I was gonna hate him but every rewatch i get sadder that he's gone!!!!!

Also he calls out Conrad on being non-empathetic towards, well experimenting on children which is yeah!!! shit!!! Roberto shuts him down like 3 times!! "What matters is how you feel with these children in front of you" GET! HIS! ASS!

Roberto has progressed so so much, with his ability to actually insert himself into situations according to his opinions and ethics, with his relationship to Meryl becoming softer, and then he's just,,, Gone, soon.

On a lighter note, tf you mean Elendira's powers are equivalent to a supply door Conrad she can kill a man!!! I spose a supply door can also kill a man but like. I wonder if she's gonna get. Bigger nails. More powers in the future.

Also a nice parallel of how Roberto kept dragging Meryl back and flinging her away from danger, but now he's grabbed her and is carrying her with him - it feels different. He really really does care about her and it's so evident in these last couple of episodes.

Also Meryl is just pick up-able what can I say.

Roberto being shocked at his ability to deflect Elendira's nails just feels kinda cruel. Man's been spending the entire anime facing horrors beyond his comprehension and he just figured out he can fight against this one, but in the end she's the one who gets him.

Also I talked about Roberto being really standoffish when he realizes children are being harmed? Uh, that's probably what gets him killed. If he'd have shot Elendira here, there is a decent chance he would have lived; if he hadn't hesitated the several times he did, he wouldn't be so rattled. That's... Painful.

"That was close" I hate everyone here [/j]

Not an unpopular opinion, but I'm not a super fan of what they did to Elendira. I'm of the opinion of her character divorced from her Trimax counterpart is really really interesting, but I have to treat her like an entirely different character, so we'll be moving on with that in mind.

So Elendira's been like this for what, twenty years at least? That doesn't seem to line up with how Plants age - Vash and Knives take like 5 years to look like they're fifteen, and. I hope we all know that humans typically take 18-20 years to reach adulthood lmao.

My three theories on why she hasn't aged is that

A) Whichever Plant cells (Probably Tesla's) that they used on her is inhibiting her growth, disallowing her from progressing past a certain point. Perhaps if she ages more something... Bad will happen to her body. Sub-idea, if it is Tesla's cells, they might not be letting her age past the point Tesla was when she died. Which is a little horrific actually.

B) Conrad and/or Knives are the ones not allowing her to grow, for some reason. I don't really have any ideas of what.

But it seems to me that she is somewhat inverse to Wolfwood; she's been living for at least twenty years, trapped in the mind and body of a child. She speaks with the cadence and articulation of an adult most of the time, but her body's pain tolerance and her subsequent reactions are that of an undeveloped mind/body.

That or she just doesn't wanna go through puberty because she's already trans and just doesn't wanna deal with that shit (valid) but, yaknow. I am a very big supporter of "Let Studio Orange cook, they've done pretty good so far!" but Elendira and Razlo are the two I am. Most scared of seeing how they turn out lmao, and even with Razlo I do have some hopes. But Elendira,,, man. I dunno.

Hooo boy. Okay. I'm ready to talk about Roberto again now. I've been talking about how he recently seems to have softened his demeanor specifically towards Meryl, bringing out a lot of that joking tone, but here is particularly on display.

He tells Meryl that it's okay to run away sometimes and that really really. Got to me. Like he wants her to live. He wants her to do whatever she thinks is right, and he wants her to live, and he is going to do what he can in his dying moments to make that better for her.

I miss him :(

I also wonder if he had anything outside of his job. Friends? Family? A partner? Or was he mostly obliterated along with most of July, kept only in memory by his, now Meryl's, derringer?

Also Vash does Not know that Roberto is dead and if he asks about him post-rejoining the gang in season 2 I'll start screaming.

Oh Knives is here! Yippee!!

So uh. The thing with him saying this is, like a Lot of things Knives does/says in Tristamp, is rooted in truth to some degree.

Like uh. Yeah. That is kind of the basis for a Major part of Vash's personality, the guilt complex of Knives shifting the burden and (honestly projecting a lot of his own guilt probably) onto Vash. But to attribute All of Vash's character to just that is disservice, and horrible for Vash to hear.

The thing about Vash is that he tries. He tries so so hard to make things right, even despite the harm that comes to him and the grief and pain of how he lives his life. Even if it were just his guilt, that is still 150 or so years of healing plants, helping children, going from town to town to do what good he can.

Love, in that case, is not inherent, but created. It's hard to just unconditionally love something just because it's in your life, but if you work at it, dedicate yourself, put in the effort, do so much good, then is that not love in itself? Does it really matter the basis if you love, regardless?

Where it becomes a problem with Vash, is when he refuses to kind of,,, accept that he worked for it instead of just having that love inherent to him, because he's so desperate to hold that guilt complex, that "I'm a bad person" close to him

I dunno, I'm autistic, so maybe I have a strange reading of this because I personally have had to work towards the things I hold dear to me, but it's,,, definitely a facet of Vash, to me.

I Do Not Like This Photograph. In Trimax, it seems they took Tesla and Immediately began experimenting on her - Some arguments over ethics with Rem, yeah, but overall the dissenters were overruled. But why have this picture? Tesla is clearly not a baby in this image. Did she have more contact and interactions with the scientists?

The cruelty in Tesla's story, at least in my view, is that she never got to be a character. Her agency was stripped from her by scientists, by death, and then by Knives. We don't know shit about her - did she die cursing all of humanity? Would she have agreed with Knives, that the pain inflicted on her was an example of the great atrocity of humanity? Or would she have decided people can grow and change, that she just got a bad lot, that people are messy and complicated but ultimately capable of love? Did she see Rem, and wonder if she knew humanity better than Tesla did?

We just don't know - will never know - and that's why Knives using her as an excuse for his actions is particularly egregious. Did her death traumatize him and irreparably damage his trust of humans, sending him down a spiral he was too unlucky to fight his way out of? Yes. Does that make it justifiable to try and commit a genocide under her name, assuming she would have wanted that even if there's a possibility she didn't? ....Definitely not.

millions-dykes referred to Conrad as looking "DILFy" in this scene and if I have to suffer that, so do you. sorry

There's a couple of bits of language in that ending scene that I find particularly uh. Interesting (derogatory) (deeply interesting and analysis-worthy), but I'll be saving those for next episode so I'll pop them in there :]

Today was a hell of an essay! Thanks for reading as always, I'm so >:3 about all the fun comments and ideas ppl have added on.

#cli analysis #cli speaks #trigun #trigun stampede #tristampparty

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bikenesmith · 9 months

Text

Despite [Xavier's] previous insistence that he is only whole when able-bodied, he comes to terms very quickly with his return to disability: “My back is shattered, a parting gift from the Shadow King… It appears… if I am ever to achieve my dream… I will need all of you… to walk me there” (Nicieza 23). In the span of a single panel, Xavier acknowledges that he is once again disabled, accepts it, and asks his teammates for help. Due to his previous elation at becoming able-bodied, one would think he would require more time to adjust, to shift his identity once more from “able-bodied” to “differently-abled.” The ease in which Professor X resumes his disabled identity lends itself to the notion that being able-bodied, not disabled, is a plot device. He takes more time to adjust to using his legs than he does to losing them, a pattern generally reversed when other characters become disabled. This smooth transition back to disability implies that his truest identity is as a disabled man.

(emphasis mine) was reading crippled crusaders: disability representation in the superhero genre by cassandra m. nicol a few days ago and was struck by this bit....the idea that charles' "true" self is a disabled self is really interesting. (edited) crosspost from twitter:

the dominant, most objective read is that charles becomes abled, is disabled, + becomes abled again ad nauseam. yet those narrative tendencies have inadvertently created a reading where charles' disability is, functionally, a chronic illness that flares due to outward stimuli.

whether charles' paraplegia is due to physical injury or a brain/psychosomatic/astral issue isn't clear, having been complicated over the years by all the different ways the text has chosen to able + re-disable him.

what makes the most sense to me is leaning into that ambiguity. its both — either mental or physical injury/ailment can cause him disablement. and the back + forth of charles' paraplegia signifies he's uniquely in danger of that specific disablement — paraplegia/spine issues. and those issues happen ALL the time in real-life non-psychic people who experience (non-psychic….i presume) brain damage. the brain + the spine, the central nervous system, they're basically extensions of each other, and are some of the most important parts of your body.

so you can extrapolate that charles has a particularly "weak" spine, and it's likely to give out if he experiences intense physical or psionic injury. and as an x-man, he risks that often.

i also think the "ease" with which he moves from ability one state to another that nicol mentions is important to this. to be clear: we have seen charles agonize over his disability, and especially losing his ability. it's undeniable that it impacts him emotionally. but charles doesn't go through the intense "grieving" process a lot of newly disabled ppl do — the kind he went through himself when he was recovering from his first spinal injury. as nicol points out:

In Xavier’s next appearance two issues later, he is seated in a golden wheelchair and seems insistent that his disability not hinder his participation in X-Men adventures. Instead he emphasizes his usefulness with his telepathic powers, declaring, “I too shall be coming. Though I am crippled once again, my particular talents may be needed there” (Portacio and Byrne 6). His disabled status is stressed through a visual weight of the word “crippled,” both bolded and italicized in the comic panel, similar to how “whole” was stressed when he became able-bodied in 1983. But here, “crippled” is not laden with judgment. It is merely an acknowledgement of Xavier’s condition. This smooth transition back to disability in some ways rectifies his description of “able-bodied” as “whole,” as Charles insists that even paraplegic once more, he is still more than capable of being an X-Man, and he is still the most powerful mutant in the world. Regardless of the state of his physical body, Charles knows that his disability need not impose limitations on his actions; he harnesses his role as leader of the X-Men and his disability is, effectively, relegated to background information.

of course this is in part bc he'd already been paraplegic for years, but you can also see it as him just being ready for it. seeing it as an eventuality, a familiar state that he will return to throughout his life. a chronic disability that exists whether or not he can walk.

There is one more major instance in which Professor X becomes able-bodied. In 2002, a mutant named Xorn restores Xavier’s ability to walk (Morrison, “All Hell” 32). This is the most short-lived instance of Xavier being able-bodied. Only a year later, Xorn is revealed to be Magneto in disguise, one of Professor X’s oldest enemies; Xorn removes the nano-sentinels that had been holding Xavier’s spine together, crippling him again (Morrison, “Planet X” 19). Later, once freed from captivity, Xavier reappears in a chair with alien-like legs, giving him autonomous movement (Morrison, “Phoenix Invictus” 27). This time, he makes no mention of his return to paraplegia. He is in full command of the X-Men, and has again made a smooth identity transition from “able-bodied” to “differently-abled.” The fact that this occurs once more stresses that to be disabled is part of Charles Xavier’s truest identity, and that being able-bodied is a temporary plot point rather than a character trait.

and that raises the question…what does this mean in the krakoa age? does a newly grown body come without that disability? or is it a "symptom" of his mutation? is it imprinted in his mind-soul-whatever you want to call what part of a person cerebro catalogues?

throughout all of krakoa era, there's never been any mention of what charles feels about making his bodies ambulatory. the closest thing we have is the knowledge that he brought his own wheelchairs with him to krakoa which is a solid point in that theory's direction at least.

(interjection from a subsequent thread:

keep thinking abt the fact that charles brought his chairs with him to krakoa…in this place allegedly free of death or sickness he still prepares for his needs to change, as if its an immutable part of him that can resist miracle drugs + literal resurrection.

its so quintessentially x-men that we only get that interesting insight in the backdrop of an ableist story beat where a character is punished and humiliated by…. being dis-abled.

i'm still floored by how incompetent and tactless that whole thing was but that was the same book that gave us hits like kitty's "viking funeral", emma flashing men to distract them instead of using her, you know, telepathy, emma worrying about eating carbs, + other such bullshit. but i'm still surprised it went so under-discussed in x-comics fandom)

via xuân's resurrection, we know that its possible to request your physical disability be preserved when you're resurrected. so this must have been an active choice of his.

i don't think it's odd at all that charles would choose to walk considering his past feelings about it i just wish the text contended with that like at all 😭 but getting into charles' feelings abt his disability is a long ass post for another day.

(i accessed this paper on proquest here via my alma mater. if you would like to read it yourself but are not connected to an institution or library that has access, dm me and i'll send you the pdf!)

addendum: examples of charles’ disability as neurological illness and/or chronic illness

#charles xavier #professor x #xmen #x men #cherik #Me If Tagging Posts That Are Just About Charles or Erik Separately As Cherik Was A Job: 💵💵💵💵💵#x.txt

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a-scary-lack-of-common-sense · 8 months

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I see scoliosis, and now I must project my constant back pain onto Heavy specifically because have you seen how that man holds his weapons???

mans got a shit back, and it only gets worse when they go to colder climates, which he hates because that means he's in more pain when he's trying to focus on his family when he gets to see them

his Mama makes him rest, and he gets made fun of by his sisters, and he just smiles cause the other Mercs are just like this

My GOD I'm not the only one who gets concerned about how Heavy carries his weapon!!! Like:

HEAVY... BABE, GIRLYPOP.. BESTIE... plz, I know it's a very heavy gun, and this is probably the most efficient and comfortable way of carrying it for you but THINK OF YOUR POOR SPINE!!

Imo, he probably has a bit of Lordosis and Scoliosis (like me!!). Basically, for those who don't know: Lordosis is when your lower back/spine protrudes too far forward than normal; and Scoliosis is when your spine is crooked (when seen from the front)

Now, I personally have a very mild version of these, so I don't wear a brace. BUT, maybe Heavy has to wear medical back braces to reduce the strain during off times! Like these fancy adjustable fellas:

OR alternatively- although it probably wouldn't really help fix the back problems he already has- a weight belt might be helpful to reduce risk of worsening his already fucked spine and avoid any serious back related injuries.

A weight belt is something commonly seen worn by weightlifters, with the main purpose of reducing the stress on your back, and providing support to your lower spine where most of the weight will be going. I don't actually know if this would help for a spine that already has Scoliosis, but who knows!

Once again, friendly reminder that I am not a medical professional in any way, so I might have been wrong or incorrect in some areas!! Please feel free to correct me, or simply add your own little tidbit of information if you happen to know more!

#tf2 #team fortress two #asks #disabilitymercs #tf2 heavy #disability #scoliosis #silly chatters

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cpericardium · 1 year

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Taylor's locker didn't give her toxic shock and claiming it did is ignorant and misogynistic

When I was growing up, my mother didn't let me or my sister use tampons, citing the risk of toxic shock syndrome. We didn't have them in the house. Literally I thought I'd die the moment that thing entered my glovebox. I also went to an all-girls convent school for much of my life and never met anyone who used or advertised the use of anything other than pads.

My sister has since moved on to using cups, but even now I don't think I can ever use a product that you insert. Lingering Catholic guilt, you understand. But I looked into toxic shock syndrome anyway to counteract the terrible sex ed I was getting from both my school and my mother (father's a doctor, so for all his conservativeness he's more inclined to give me unvarnished medical information). Because it's my body, and being AFAB I'm practically required by law to be afraid all the time. May as well find out which fears should be prioritised.

Toxic Shock Syndrome (TSS) can develop when staph bacteria, and in some cases strep bacteria, enter the bloodstream via open wounds like cuts and abrasions. These bacteria are normally harmless and live all over your skin, but under certain conditions they can multiply rapidly and release toxins. Adolescents are more susceptible, mostly because they haven't developed the antibodies to fight the infection.

“The first is vaginal colonization with a strain of S. aureus, which can make the toxin; the second is production by the S. aureus of the toxin; the third is penetration across the vaginal epithelium of enough toxin to cause disease; and the fourth is a lack of adequate titers of the neutralizing antibody to the toxin,” says Dr. JoAnn Pinkerton, executive director of The North American Menopause Society.

The incidence of TSS is estimated to be around 0.8 to 3.4 per 100,000 in the United States. Cases have declined massively since peaking in the 1980s. The point is: TSS is an incredibly rare complication of a complication that requires specific conditions to develop under.

So why is it on the worm subreddits and discord servers and forums, there are always people insisting that the locker incident was an act of bioterrorism, that her bullies need to be shipped off to Guantanamo for what they did? Why are there so many wormfics where Taylor physically rots in the locker as a result of TSS compounded by aggressive necrotising fasciitis, and this necessitates Amy staying with her for days to tend to her failing organs? Why are people doing nonsensical Tampon Math to justify her being on the verge of death when she's found? See thread for more inane arguing.

Yes, the locker was biohazardous and it was inarguably a cruel prank, a disgusting experience all around. But absent other circumstances (like the bullies deliberately planting a virus or Taylor uhhh getting impaled on a coat hook? both of which I've seen in more than one fic), Taylor in all likelihood didn't get TSS from it. Sure, authors can do what they want, but out of all the possible deadly infections, why oh why do they always specifically choose TSS?

Is it because of the tampons?

The reason it happens with tampons is that the bacteria can become trapped in the vagina and enter the uterus via the cervix. Most cases result from the use of highly absorbent tampons, as dry tampons can abrade the skin when removed and thus provide more entry points for bacteria. The National Organization for Rare Disorders estimates that TSS related to tampon use occurs in about 1 in 100,000 menstruating women. It usually happens if the tampon is inside them and they left it in there for days. The risk of toxic shock via tampon rises significantly after eight hours.

The tampons were not inside Taylor. She was also only trapped in the locker for about an hour and a half. Afterwards, she spent a week in the psych ward, and as far as we know had no significant physical injuries. But, detractors say, all her struggling might have broken skin, and the bacteria on the tampons could have fermented over winter break!!! Have you ever fished out a used tampon that's been in a bin for a while (i.e. weeks)? Just saying, Taylor is more likely to get an infection from all the used hypodermic needles that are undoubtedly a large component of Winslow bathroom trash.

To quote Kyakan whom I had to pester for the canon info about Taylor's stay,

"There are a lot of things that can go bad with the human body when exposed to X Y or Z conditions, but we survived long enough to evolve. It's not like touching blood will instantly disintegrate us. Human bodies are resilient even without modern medicine."

Here’s my theory. People don’t understand what TSS is, its risk factors or its rarity. They have a vague idea that it’s the icky female period disease even though only about half of all TSS cases are menstruation-related, so obviously Taylor contracted it from touching icky female period blood.

I won't say it couldn't happen to Taylor, ever, in (fan)fictional stories written by men. Just that it's not as likely as you think.

A final note—if you, the author, are fixating on gruesome medical details and describing the contents of the locker in terms of microbiology, you are completely and tragically missing the core of Taylor Hebert's trigger event. .......but that's just a theory! a worm theory

#wormblr #wormwebserial #wildbow #taylor hebert #parahumans #long post #personal stuff #menstruation #geez it's like none of you have ever been shut in a tampon locker before #the truth is taylor did get toxic shock but it was unrelated to the prank #she just didn't change the tampon she was wearing for 10 hours

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